[ He won't be surprised, because he already knows- at least a little. He knows that Lex was in Smallville before; that Clark had been his friend when they were much younger; that Clark blames himself for Luthor's degeneration.
(He just wanted someone to talk to- Clark had told him that once, seated on the cliff where the Luthor mansion had been. And Bruce had looked at him and couldn't think of anything to say.)
He tips his head back, visibly thinking before he spoke. ]
I've never known them as Jonathan and Martha- just Pa Kent and Ma Kent. The first time I met them- they told me to call them that. [ He ducks his head- suddenly human, suddenly sheepish, his voice softening slightly and the usual menace he wears around him like a shield gone. ] They are- good people. They didn't even know who I- really was, but they took me in, sat me on the table, and fed me pie.
Pa Kent wears glasses. Thick ones, with heavy black frames. He loves farming; loves the land and the corn and Smallville. He never thought the place to be small. Clark said- [ it slps, from Superman to Clark- ] that it was his father who thought him to look at every little detail in his life. That everything matters, right down to the last ear of corn.
Ma Kent is- formidable. Incredibly sharp. She realized who I was even before I told her. [ And he flashes a smirk to Clark. ] She's a wonderful cook- [ and he comes way too close to giving too much away, to saying that she keeps trying to get him to make something, saying it's like chemistry- but he knows himself too well to try; and he almost says- she gets along with the man I think of as my father- ] and she taught Clark that it's- fine, to concentrate on himself. That he has to be strong, but invulnerability does not equate invulnerability.
[Two times he said that. Good people. That was exactly what he thought of his parents at home, too. It was what Jor-El and Lara had said about them, when they'd spoken. Jonathan and Martha Kent were good people; they'd chosen them because they were good people, who would bring him up the way that they wished they could, teach him to be human.
And no matter what world, no matter the differences, this single fact was true.
Clark's smile became softer, warm and distant. He felt close to them through Batman, and close to Batman through them. And while it was weird to quantify, it didn't really make much sense, it didn't really matter either. It was what it was.]
[ They mean a lot to him? He guesses so- the man he calls a best friend wouldn't have existed, wouldn't be the way he is- if not for Pa and Ma Kent. He wouldn't have been the great inspiring heroes if he doesn't have great people to look up to and follow; he wouldn't have inspired so many people to follow him and to be heroes themselves if not for how he's taught.
The world owes a lot to that unassuming old couple in Smallville, who raised a son who became a hero who saved thousand of lives daily just by existing.
(That's one thing about their relationship- despite their fights, their disagreements, their different methodology, Bruce believes in Clark, and Clark believes in Bruce. In a world where they have to fight gods on a weekly basis and save the world from imploding everyday- the faith is a rock that goes both ways.
While Bruce was chained up in Desaad's lab, he knows that Clark has called Code Amber. He knows that- somehow- he and Diana would've saved the world. That the Justice League would've saved the world. That's why they do.
That's part of why he doesn't run, in the end.) ]
I guess. [ He folds his fingers in, and wishes that he can touch his own skin instead of sweaty leather. ] They are the kind of parents that I- believe my own would have been, if they had been given the chance to live.
[Clark knows that feeling of doubt well. Years of believing that every Kryptonian was inherently monstrous, that his own parents were, and he eventually would become a monster too--that had been hard. But he also knew that he'd been wrong. Inherently, children were the most judgemental of their parents, and the most forgiving. It was just the way things were.
And Batman's parents? They would have been Batman's parents, even if they hadn't been Jonathan and Martha Kent. He'd have loved them. Maybe. People could be good or bad and still have children, but it was hard to really lose someone's love.]
What happened to them?
[He knows it may be pushing too much, suspects that Batman won't tell him anything; this is about his identity, after all. But if he doesn't answer, Clark won't push it. He wouldn't dream of pushing it.]
[ It's a simple question, really. One that anyone might ask if they know his parents are dead. But Bruce has gone all of his life without having to answer it- people who ask are generally given horrified looks by those in the know and pulled away before he has to answer. There's an advantage to being ridiculously rich and thus having his own share of fame; advantages to being a 'prince' in Gotham and having his parents' deaths being the herald of a darker age. It gives him a lot of excuses.
Or maybe not. He'll rather have his parents back. He will never want to see the pity in anyone's eyes again about what happened.
He turns around and just- sweeps past Clark, cape billowing around him. ]
None of your business.
[ Because it's been nearly three decades and he still doesn't know how to tell the story. How does one say that you've watched your parents die? How can he ever describe what it feels like to hear his mother's breath, rattling in his chest as she chokes on her own blood? How can he ever describe the sound of his parents body against the ground? The smell of their murderer's aftershave? The cold that seeps through his clothes even as he reaches forward and grabs onto their rapidly cooling, stiff hands?
He never does. Ever. It had taken him two years before he learnt to speak again after what happened, simply because he couldn't find the words. ]
[Clark looks after him, and he feels the pity in his own expression; knows Bruce can feel it burning into the back of his head, and turns away again.]
I thought it might not be.
[He's tempted to say more, but chooses against it, leaving the other man in his stoic silence. Nothing else he has on the topic will draw it out of him, and it's not his place to try.]
[ There's a pause there, when Bruce closes his eyes and just- looks at him for a moment. He hates this topic, hates this subject, and there's a reason why he never thinks about it. Whenever he does, the memories just play back, again and again, like some macabre tape that his mind cannot and- sometimes he thinks- will not stop.
He breathes out sharply and contemplates telling Clark to leave. But- there are still things that he needs to know. Differences- and it will take his mind off what they're talking about, too. ]
[The change of subject is a welcome one, and Clark folds his arms across his chest, raising his head just slightly.]
They wouldn't call themselves superheroes. [Pause. And he starts with Chloe; starts with her, because otherwise he'll forget and feel guilty. She's dedicated her life to this, after all, and if that isn't heroic he doesn't know what is.] Watchtower, Green Arrow, Impulse, Aquaman, Cyborg and Black Canary. Then there's Kara, of course, and Zatanna.
[He considers Batman for a moment before going on. It's safe to tell him this; he probably knows them anyway. And Superman trusted him. He has to constantly remind himself.]
Martian Manhunter, Hawkman and Stargirl. There are others, but they've either died or never belonged in my time in the first place, and some of them--well, some of them I wouldn't know if they were heroes or not.
[And there's Lana. But there's a reason he didn't mention her name.]
[ The only name he doesn't recognize is Watchtower. Though- Impulse. Impulse? Of all the speedsters that a young Clark Kent could've met- no, it mght not be. Test it- ]
Oliver Queen. Bart Allen. [ He watches for Clark's reaction. ] Arthur Curry. Victor Stone. Dinah Lance. Kara Zor-El. Zatanna Zatara.
[ He smirks a little- he notices the hesitation, and presses on. ]
J'onn J'onzz. Or John Jones, if he's feeling particularly maudlin. [ There's a wry, wry humour there. ] Carter Hall. Courtney Whitmore.
[ He folds his hands. ] Watchtower is a space station. Not a person. [ Headtilts. ] I've never heard of that name.
[ Implied is that: if he hasn't heard of it? It doesn't exist. ]
[Clark is admittedly stunned. He knows them all by name. Not codename; their actual, real names. He stares, and his expression doesn't falter even at Bart Allen; that is his name, after all.]
The Legion didn't know her either. [It's deeply forboding, and Clark does his best to pretend it doesn't mean what he thinks it means.] Chloe Sullivan. She's the brains behind our operations, and I've known her since high school.
[ Dismissive. He has something bigger to focus on-
Bart Allen. Bart. The tiny little kid who hangs around Max Mercury's house and is his third son's age is <>the same age as Clark in that world. He cannot imagine-
Wait. What does that mean about Wally? And Barry? Bruce might not like them much, but their presence as the Flash is a somewhat regular presence in his life- and he can't imagine them not existing-
Wait. Wait. ]
Have you ever heard of Green Lantern? Barry Allen? Wally West? [ He sucks in a breath. ]
Wonder Woman?
[ Diana. The other person whom Clark trusts with his back with any battle- well. Until Maxwell Lord. ]
[He would punch you in the face if he felt it would help, but he's going to pretend that dismissing Chloe is alright, that she's safer that way, with everyone underestimating her. A quiet breath. Calm. Okay, business.]
The Green Lantern's a member of the JSA, right? The others I haven't heard of, but I take it the Allen is some relation of Bart's?
[The tension in those names is almost palpable.]
Most of the Justice Society are dead. Icicle killed them.
[ He'll return to Chloe later- brains of the operation, right? (Where the hell is he?) But he's more concerned with the people he knows simply not existing in another world
And of course there is JSA- what? ]
They- [ pause ] died?
No. that's not possible. The Justice Society are made of heroes who have been fighting since the Second World War.
They don't die just like that. [ Literally. For some. And yes- there's a little bit of a child there. A child whose hero is Alan Scott and who will never believe that he's dead.
(He got to work with him once. Bruce will never get over that.) ]
The Justice Society of America were nearly destroyed. Their secret identities were ripped out into the open, they were arrested for crimes they didn't commit, and when they got out of it they went into hiding, essentially. Then there was Checkmate.
Kent Nelson, Sylvester Pemberton and Wesley Dodds all died within days of each other. The others... From what Hall was saying it sounded like those that weren't scattered were dead, and everything that used to define them was locked up in a dusty old museum.
[A long pause, and then he shakes his head, bows it, defeated.]
Even heroes can die, Batman. As much as you may wish that they were immortal. Even you and me.
[ ... It can't be. Alan's secret identity has always kept, and Jay- god, they have families
Doctor Fate. Skyman. Sandman. [ Long inward breath. ] What about Alan Scott? Jay Garrick? Pieter Cross? [ Green Lanter. Flash. Doctor Mid-Nite. ] Ted Grant? [ Wildcat. ]
I know that heroes die, Clark. [ He snaps it out. ] But the Justice Society lasted for decades. They sat through two Crises.
[He corrects in a muted voice.] The Star-Spangled Kid, I think. Less of a kid--Stargirl is his protegee. [The others--Hawkgirl, The Atom, he's seen them in the painting on the wall, seen their relics, but they're gone. Dust. Just names.]
You know that our worlds aren't the same. This is what happened in mine. Checkmate brought them down, and when they were buried they set about killing them off.
Then they went after the Kandorians, and Zod stepped in. There was nothing I could do to stop him.
(He just wanted someone to talk to- Clark had told him that once, seated on the cliff where the Luthor mansion had been. And Bruce had looked at him and couldn't think of anything to say.)
He tips his head back, visibly thinking before he spoke. ]
I've never known them as Jonathan and Martha- just Pa Kent and Ma Kent. The first time I met them- they told me to call them that. [ He ducks his head- suddenly human, suddenly sheepish, his voice softening slightly and the usual menace he wears around him like a shield gone. ] They are- good people. They didn't even know who I- really was, but they took me in, sat me on the table, and fed me pie.
Pa Kent wears glasses. Thick ones, with heavy black frames. He loves farming; loves the land and the corn and Smallville. He never thought the place to be small. Clark said- [ it slps, from Superman to Clark- ] that it was his father who thought him to look at every little detail in his life. That everything matters, right down to the last ear of corn.
Ma Kent is- formidable. Incredibly sharp. She realized who I was even before I told her. [ And he flashes a smirk to Clark. ] She's a wonderful cook- [ and he comes way too close to giving too much away, to saying that she keeps trying to get him to make something, saying it's like chemistry- but he knows himself too well to try; and he almost says- she gets along with the man I think of as my father- ] and she taught Clark that it's- fine, to concentrate on himself. That he has to be strong, but invulnerability does not equate invulnerability.
[ Pause, and he shrugs- false-casual. ]
They are good people.
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And no matter what world, no matter the differences, this single fact was true.
Clark's smile became softer, warm and distant. He felt close to them through Batman, and close to Batman through them. And while it was weird to quantify, it didn't really make much sense, it didn't really matter either. It was what it was.]
They mean a lot to you.
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The world owes a lot to that unassuming old couple in Smallville, who raised a son who became a hero who saved thousand of lives daily just by existing.
(That's one thing about their relationship- despite their fights, their disagreements, their different methodology, Bruce believes in Clark, and Clark believes in Bruce. In a world where they have to fight gods on a weekly basis and save the world from imploding everyday- the faith is a rock that goes both ways.
While Bruce was chained up in Desaad's lab, he knows that Clark has called Code Amber. He knows that- somehow- he and Diana would've saved the world. That the Justice League would've saved the world. That's why they do.
That's part of why he doesn't run, in the end.) ]
I guess. [ He folds his fingers in, and wishes that he can touch his own skin instead of sweaty leather. ] They are the kind of parents that I- believe my own would have been, if they had been given the chance to live.
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And Batman's parents? They would have been Batman's parents, even if they hadn't been Jonathan and Martha Kent. He'd have loved them. Maybe. People could be good or bad and still have children, but it was hard to really lose someone's love.]
What happened to them?
[He knows it may be pushing too much, suspects that Batman won't tell him anything; this is about his identity, after all. But if he doesn't answer, Clark won't push it. He wouldn't dream of pushing it.]
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Or maybe not. He'll rather have his parents back. He will never want to see the pity in anyone's eyes again about what happened.
He turns around and just- sweeps past Clark, cape billowing around him. ]
None of your business.
[ Because it's been nearly three decades and he still doesn't know how to tell the story. How does one say that you've watched your parents die? How can he ever describe what it feels like to hear his mother's breath, rattling in his chest as she chokes on her own blood? How can he ever describe the sound of his parents body against the ground? The smell of their murderer's aftershave? The cold that seeps through his clothes even as he reaches forward and grabs onto their rapidly cooling, stiff hands?
He never does. Ever. It had taken him two years before he learnt to speak again after what happened, simply because he couldn't find the words. ]
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I thought it might not be.
[He's tempted to say more, but chooses against it, leaving the other man in his stoic silence. Nothing else he has on the topic will draw it out of him, and it's not his place to try.]
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He breathes out sharply and contemplates telling Clark to leave. But- there are still things that he needs to know. Differences- and it will take his mind off what they're talking about, too. ]
What other superheroes do you have in your world?
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They wouldn't call themselves superheroes. [Pause. And he starts with Chloe; starts with her, because otherwise he'll forget and feel guilty. She's dedicated her life to this, after all, and if that isn't heroic he doesn't know what is.] Watchtower, Green Arrow, Impulse, Aquaman, Cyborg and Black Canary. Then there's Kara, of course, and Zatanna.
[He considers Batman for a moment before going on. It's safe to tell him this; he probably knows them anyway. And Superman trusted him. He has to constantly remind himself.]
Martian Manhunter, Hawkman and Stargirl. There are others, but they've either died or never belonged in my time in the first place, and some of them--well, some of them I wouldn't know if they were heroes or not.
[And there's Lana. But there's a reason he didn't mention her name.]
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Oliver Queen. Bart Allen. [ He watches for Clark's reaction. ] Arthur Curry. Victor Stone. Dinah Lance. Kara Zor-El. Zatanna Zatara.
[ He smirks a little- he notices the hesitation, and presses on. ]
J'onn J'onzz. Or John Jones, if he's feeling particularly maudlin. [ There's a wry, wry humour there. ] Carter Hall. Courtney Whitmore.
[ He folds his hands. ] Watchtower is a space station. Not a person. [ Headtilts. ] I've never heard of that name.
[ Implied is that: if he hasn't heard of it? It doesn't exist. ]
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The Legion didn't know her either. [It's deeply forboding, and Clark does his best to pretend it doesn't mean what he thinks it means.] Chloe Sullivan. She's the brains behind our operations, and I've known her since high school.
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[ Dismissive. He has something bigger to focus on-
Bart Allen. Bart. The tiny little kid who hangs around Max Mercury's house and is his third son's age is <>the same age as Clark in that world. He cannot imagine-
Wait. What does that mean about Wally? And Barry? Bruce might not like them much, but their presence as the Flash is a somewhat regular presence in his life- and he can't imagine them not existing-
Wait. Wait. ]
Have you ever heard of Green Lantern? Barry Allen? Wally West? [ He sucks in a breath. ]
Wonder Woman?
[ Diana. The other person whom Clark trusts with his back with any battle- well. Until Maxwell Lord. ]
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The Green Lantern's a member of the JSA, right? The others I haven't heard of, but I take it the Allen is some relation of Bart's?
[The tension in those names is almost palpable.]
Most of the Justice Society are dead. Icicle killed them.
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And of course there is JSA- what? ]
They- [ pause ] died?
No. that's not possible. The Justice Society are made of heroes who have been fighting since the Second World War.
They don't die just like that. [ Literally. For some. And yes- there's a little bit of a child there. A child whose hero is Alan Scott and who will never believe that he's dead.
(He got to work with him once. Bruce will never get over that.) ]
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Kent Nelson, Sylvester Pemberton and Wesley Dodds all died within days of each other. The others... From what Hall was saying it sounded like those that weren't scattered were dead, and everything that used to define them was locked up in a dusty old museum.
[A long pause, and then he shakes his head, bows it, defeated.]
Even heroes can die, Batman. As much as you may wish that they were immortal. Even you and me.
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Doctor Fate. Skyman. Sandman. [ Long inward breath. ] What about Alan Scott? Jay Garrick? Pieter Cross? [ Green Lanter. Flash. Doctor Mid-Nite. ] Ted Grant? [ Wildcat. ]
I know that heroes die, Clark. [ He snaps it out. ] But the Justice Society lasted for decades. They sat through two Crises.
They can't be brought down so easily.
[ It's almost as if he's bristling. Like a cat. ]
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You know that our worlds aren't the same. This is what happened in mine. Checkmate brought them down, and when they were buried they set about killing them off.
Then they went after the Kandorians, and Zod stepped in. There was nothing I could do to stop him.
I'm sorry. You looked up to them, didn't you?
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