Fic: A Certain Thought that Lingers - (17/20) (Clark/Bruce)
Title: A Certain Thought that Lingers
Pairing: Superman/Batman
Rating: R
Verse: DCU/DCAU
Word Count: 13,439
Summary: The decision to use a telepathic link to allow the Justice League to communicate during battle backfires, creating a special bond between Superman and Batman. Batman finds the situation...unbearable.
XVII.
Batman touched the Batwing down on a stable ice sheet in the middle of the Antarctic, cursing Superman the entire time. Visibility was zero and he dared not try to get any closer to the set of coordinates Superman had provided for fear there wouldn’t be a suitable place to land the jet. But the thought of trekking through the snow and the swirling wind to a set of coordinates that did not exist had substantially soured an already sour disposition. He didn’t have time to play hide and seek with Superman.
Properly attired and armed with his datapad to provide accurate navigation, he exited the plane and started the short hike to the coordinates. It was midday, and but for the snow, he would be able to see for miles in any direction. It took ten minutes to crest the hill so he could make out an object in the distance.
It was a castle. An amazing castle made of ice, or some sort of crystal. Batman immediately knew it was Superman’s Fortress of Solitude but, for some reason, he never thought Clark would invite him here. The knowledge of where he was going quickened his step. Before too long, he had reached some sort of entranceway.
Superman was waiting there.
“You made it.”
Bruce stopped in front of his teammate, pulled back the weather guard that protected his face. “Why did you bring me here?”
Clark’s face fell, and Bruce almost felt bad, but it wasn’t as if he had said he was leaving-
“You showed me around the Watchtower, and I’ve been to the Cave often enough. I thought-maybe-I could return the favor. Show you something of mine.” His tone was hopeful.
“I thought you were still mad at me over the Rayner incident.”
“I am, but that’s besides the point. Can’t we just-” Clark made a hand gesture, indicating that Bruce could follow him inside, if he wanted to. Bruce considered for a moment, but, really, he was curious, and a tour of a Kryptonian structure certainly would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The interior of the building was much…bigger than it seemed from the outside. As he and Clark talked about everything from the statues of his parents to the Fortress’ Kryptonian computers, from the crystals to the regenerating sunstone, from the robots to Kryptonian customs and legends, he came back around to that fact. Clark explained that the Fortress existed in a tesseract, outside of time and space, very comparable to the construct of the Phantom Zone. It was the reason why no one could find the Fortress unless they knew where to look for it.
“An infinite amount of space; right out of line with normal time?”
“Exactly. We could stay in here…forever…and when we went back out, we’d be right at the same point as when we left-unless we told the computer to keep us in line with normal time. Usually, I have that set as the default. It gets…complicated otherwise.”
“And now?”
“We’re outside of time.”
“So we could stay here as long as we want?”
Bruce watched the heat rise in Clark’s face.
“Uh, exactly.”
Bruce nodded. “There’s food here?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Clark led the way.
They ate, probably some of the best food Bruce had ever eaten, though it was all Kryptonian, and made by robots, so he was unsure if the comparison was valid. Afterwards, he convinced Clark to let him play with the computer, and he was pleased that his host left him to it for many hours, never bothering him but simply watching from the other side of the great hall as Clark worked on a portable device that looked very much like a laptop.
But, eventually, he pulled himself away from the computer, walked over to Clark, who watched his advance warily.
Clark closed the device and got to his feet.
When Bruce was within an arm’s length, he asked, “Why did you bring me here, Clark?”
“What do you mean? I thought you might like-”
Bruce shook his head, interrupted. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything.”
That was blatantly not true. Clark offered everything, wanted everything in return, and Bruce had nothing to give.
“It’s not going to work out the way you want it to-anything we do here. It won’t change anything. I’ve done this a thousand times before, Clark. I have a reputation, and I cultivate it religiously. It never means anything to me in the morning.” His voice had become harsh. “Is that what you want?”
Clark reached out. His hand started at the shoulder and moved surely to the base of his throat, where fingers worked free the fastening that secured cape and cowl. They both fell away. “I want whatever you want.”
The next few hours were…singularly remarkable in every way, at least, in Bruce’s estimation, and he’d had his fair share of experience with which to compare. Clark led him to what could only be termed a bedroom, but it was unlike any bedroom on Earth. Prismatic light in rainbow shades, and the distinct feeling of floating in starlight. And Clark-how anyone could reach twenty-nine years of age and still be so…innocent, so untouched, was simply beyond comprehension. When everything in the world had become jaded and worn, somehow Clark had remained innocent and new to every intimate experience.
It was…more than he thought to be given, and as they stripped each other of the trappings of their outside life and fell onto the bed, Bruce felt his inner life shift, shape itself to the stars in Clark’s eyes.
And it scared him to death.
It was the reason why he refused to stay; the reason he completely ignored the hurt and only sought to drive the wedge deeper.
“I don’t want to stay, Clark. I thought I made that plain at the beginning…”
It was the reason why he was hiking back to the jet in the freezing cold, feeling like he had just wrecked his whole life. Knowing he couldn’t stop himself from doing so, even if he wanted to, because to fail once was to fail forever. To fall once was to fall forever.
* * *
Weeks passed, and Batman pushed himself harder than ever. In Gotham, with the JLA, with troubleshooting the Watchtower systems-he left not a spare moment to dwell on the situation with Superman, not a moment to remember what it felt like to be with him, to touch him, to be touched by him. He spared no sympathy for Clark’s feelings, for the dreadful depression he seemed to be in, that Batman could feel along their link like it was his own.
Yet, nothing changed. The situation didn’t get any better. In fact, scientifically speaking, Batman would have to say his symptoms were getting progressively worse.
It wasn’t only the ability of another person’s thoughts and feelings to overwhelm him at any moment-when he was on patrol, when he was in the Batcave, when he was at home in bed at night, when he was at a meeting and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blue mirrors that reflected himself both inside and out-it was the fierce sense of possessiveness, the almost animal attraction that seemed to draw him towards Clark as if they were negatively charged. Even when he knew, rationally, that he had no cause to be-what?-possessive, obsessive, out of control, he couldn’t seem to help himself.
The team-they learned quickly to stay as far away from Superman as was possible. Even Kyle, who was often belligerent and would take up a position close to Clark just for spite, eventually learned that the stakes were higher than he realized, and that he played a dangerous game when even sitting with Clark in the cafeteria caused Batman to hover nearby, incandescent, with such jealousy and rage as he had never dreamed could touch him.
The only thing he could think to do was what he always did to surpass any obstacle-he worked harder. With J’onn, on the mental exercises that were supposed to teach him control but which were having no affect whatsoever. But it was the only plan he had.
Pairing: Superman/Batman
Rating: R
Verse: DCU/DCAU
Word Count: 13,439
Summary: The decision to use a telepathic link to allow the Justice League to communicate during battle backfires, creating a special bond between Superman and Batman. Batman finds the situation...unbearable.
XVII.
Batman touched the Batwing down on a stable ice sheet in the middle of the Antarctic, cursing Superman the entire time. Visibility was zero and he dared not try to get any closer to the set of coordinates Superman had provided for fear there wouldn’t be a suitable place to land the jet. But the thought of trekking through the snow and the swirling wind to a set of coordinates that did not exist had substantially soured an already sour disposition. He didn’t have time to play hide and seek with Superman.
Properly attired and armed with his datapad to provide accurate navigation, he exited the plane and started the short hike to the coordinates. It was midday, and but for the snow, he would be able to see for miles in any direction. It took ten minutes to crest the hill so he could make out an object in the distance.
It was a castle. An amazing castle made of ice, or some sort of crystal. Batman immediately knew it was Superman’s Fortress of Solitude but, for some reason, he never thought Clark would invite him here. The knowledge of where he was going quickened his step. Before too long, he had reached some sort of entranceway.
Superman was waiting there.
“You made it.”
Bruce stopped in front of his teammate, pulled back the weather guard that protected his face. “Why did you bring me here?”
Clark’s face fell, and Bruce almost felt bad, but it wasn’t as if he had said he was leaving-
“You showed me around the Watchtower, and I’ve been to the Cave often enough. I thought-maybe-I could return the favor. Show you something of mine.” His tone was hopeful.
“I thought you were still mad at me over the Rayner incident.”
“I am, but that’s besides the point. Can’t we just-” Clark made a hand gesture, indicating that Bruce could follow him inside, if he wanted to. Bruce considered for a moment, but, really, he was curious, and a tour of a Kryptonian structure certainly would be a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The interior of the building was much…bigger than it seemed from the outside. As he and Clark talked about everything from the statues of his parents to the Fortress’ Kryptonian computers, from the crystals to the regenerating sunstone, from the robots to Kryptonian customs and legends, he came back around to that fact. Clark explained that the Fortress existed in a tesseract, outside of time and space, very comparable to the construct of the Phantom Zone. It was the reason why no one could find the Fortress unless they knew where to look for it.
“An infinite amount of space; right out of line with normal time?”
“Exactly. We could stay in here…forever…and when we went back out, we’d be right at the same point as when we left-unless we told the computer to keep us in line with normal time. Usually, I have that set as the default. It gets…complicated otherwise.”
“And now?”
“We’re outside of time.”
“So we could stay here as long as we want?”
Bruce watched the heat rise in Clark’s face.
“Uh, exactly.”
Bruce nodded. “There’s food here?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Clark led the way.
They ate, probably some of the best food Bruce had ever eaten, though it was all Kryptonian, and made by robots, so he was unsure if the comparison was valid. Afterwards, he convinced Clark to let him play with the computer, and he was pleased that his host left him to it for many hours, never bothering him but simply watching from the other side of the great hall as Clark worked on a portable device that looked very much like a laptop.
But, eventually, he pulled himself away from the computer, walked over to Clark, who watched his advance warily.
Clark closed the device and got to his feet.
When Bruce was within an arm’s length, he asked, “Why did you bring me here, Clark?”
“What do you mean? I thought you might like-”
Bruce shook his head, interrupted. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want anything.”
That was blatantly not true. Clark offered everything, wanted everything in return, and Bruce had nothing to give.
“It’s not going to work out the way you want it to-anything we do here. It won’t change anything. I’ve done this a thousand times before, Clark. I have a reputation, and I cultivate it religiously. It never means anything to me in the morning.” His voice had become harsh. “Is that what you want?”
Clark reached out. His hand started at the shoulder and moved surely to the base of his throat, where fingers worked free the fastening that secured cape and cowl. They both fell away. “I want whatever you want.”
The next few hours were…singularly remarkable in every way, at least, in Bruce’s estimation, and he’d had his fair share of experience with which to compare. Clark led him to what could only be termed a bedroom, but it was unlike any bedroom on Earth. Prismatic light in rainbow shades, and the distinct feeling of floating in starlight. And Clark-how anyone could reach twenty-nine years of age and still be so…innocent, so untouched, was simply beyond comprehension. When everything in the world had become jaded and worn, somehow Clark had remained innocent and new to every intimate experience.
It was…more than he thought to be given, and as they stripped each other of the trappings of their outside life and fell onto the bed, Bruce felt his inner life shift, shape itself to the stars in Clark’s eyes.
And it scared him to death.
It was the reason why he refused to stay; the reason he completely ignored the hurt and only sought to drive the wedge deeper.
“I don’t want to stay, Clark. I thought I made that plain at the beginning…”
It was the reason why he was hiking back to the jet in the freezing cold, feeling like he had just wrecked his whole life. Knowing he couldn’t stop himself from doing so, even if he wanted to, because to fail once was to fail forever. To fall once was to fall forever.
* * *
Weeks passed, and Batman pushed himself harder than ever. In Gotham, with the JLA, with troubleshooting the Watchtower systems-he left not a spare moment to dwell on the situation with Superman, not a moment to remember what it felt like to be with him, to touch him, to be touched by him. He spared no sympathy for Clark’s feelings, for the dreadful depression he seemed to be in, that Batman could feel along their link like it was his own.
Yet, nothing changed. The situation didn’t get any better. In fact, scientifically speaking, Batman would have to say his symptoms were getting progressively worse.
It wasn’t only the ability of another person’s thoughts and feelings to overwhelm him at any moment-when he was on patrol, when he was in the Batcave, when he was at home in bed at night, when he was at a meeting and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blue mirrors that reflected himself both inside and out-it was the fierce sense of possessiveness, the almost animal attraction that seemed to draw him towards Clark as if they were negatively charged. Even when he knew, rationally, that he had no cause to be-what?-possessive, obsessive, out of control, he couldn’t seem to help himself.
The team-they learned quickly to stay as far away from Superman as was possible. Even Kyle, who was often belligerent and would take up a position close to Clark just for spite, eventually learned that the stakes were higher than he realized, and that he played a dangerous game when even sitting with Clark in the cafeteria caused Batman to hover nearby, incandescent, with such jealousy and rage as he had never dreamed could touch him.
The only thing he could think to do was what he always did to surpass any obstacle-he worked harder. With J’onn, on the mental exercises that were supposed to teach him control but which were having no affect whatsoever. But it was the only plan he had.