FIC: "JLA: Necessary Force" (Part 15: "Valley of the Shadow of Death" - 1st Half)
Hi Folks! Happy New Year indeed! :-)
As my flist knows, I've had a terribly difficult time posting this oh-so-long-overdue update, but thanks to the efforts of damos, (and the help of mithen and the good advice of kawahori - thanks muchly, guys!) I'm managing to do so at last. As some of you know, I'd attempted to post Part 15 here last week, but only managed, after much frustration, to post the first quarter of it. Well, I'm reposting the entire first half (followed by the second!) here for easier reading. (apologies for all the confusion, everyone!) But those two previously posted bits can still be seen, together with your comments, on the two posts previous to this one.
For everyone not on my flist, (and forgive the repetition, those who've seen this) I just wish to reiterate this: I can cite many, many reasons for this lack of story recently, mostly to do with RL complications and stresses, but also, honestly, this chapter is the one I’ve struggled with the second-most, (Part 17 being THE most, for various other reasons) and I’ve really hesitated in posting this one. This is partially because it’s a very (to me, anyway) tense and angsty chapter, and a bit on the dark side, and I wanted to put our heroes through the emotional wringer, and face some difficult things, and that’s somewhat scary to do, especially while trying hard to still keep them at least somewhat recognizably in character! I do hope I’ve managed that to some extent.
To my friends and my very lovely and loyal (and extraordinarily patient!) readers, thank you very much for your continued patience, support, and encouragement with this piece. I do very much appreciate it, and lean on it!
I hope you enjoy!!
Pax :-)
Summary of the last part, since it’s been so long since then *blush* - We last left the JLA wrestling with new revelations about their enemy and his army, and struggling with fears about his intentions and power, and with Superman’s precarious position as a spy in Lord Ayestrom’s stronghold. Batman is attempting desperately to come up with a new plan, and most of the League and its reserves are now stationed in Holland. Superman, while trying to extract himself from the lair, has discovered that he has grown significantly weaker, with most of his powers compromised. At this most unfortunate time, the claxons have sounded in the base, and the entire population of denizens appear to have been called to a mass audience with their ruler. Superman is dragged along helplessly, straight towards the last person he wanted to encounter during his mission. We have hints that Batman and J’onn know something more about Superman’s condition, that may have implications for the approaching and inevitable confrontation with their most ruthless and dangerous enemy.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
by Paxwolf
Note: This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!) JLA lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore ‘old’, and has taken several years to see fruition, and therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.
Disclaimer:The Justice League of America and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story. (Which really is quite a pity as I am dirt poor - and it would be oh so fun to be able to earn a living playing in DC’s grand Playground! (Lucky, lucky pro writers and artists!!) Original characters do also exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)
Warnings: Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers’ Discretion is advised.
Thanks To: mithen, without whose constant and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been posted, and to Kungfunurse for some of the original and helpful beta-reading, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by the gracious Gwil and the lovely Janet Coleman Sides, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (Stargate:SG-1 and Gatchaman respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe. Also thanks to damos, for his custom-made icons for this ole Epic of mine, and for technical assistance with posting!
Summary:When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
All Previous Parts of the Fic can be found here, on the Main Page! (or you can scroll back a few entries!)
Summary of THIS Part: The League takes over an Ayestrom-controlled outpost, and in his fatigue and fear, Batman is forced to remember a recent disturbing and evocative encounter with Superman, where the frightening content of his long hinted-at dreams is revealed, which may have deadly consequences for the Man of Steel and the League.
Part XV:
“Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death”
(A)
Batman launched another flying kick as the shot went wide, reinforced boot heel connecting squarely with the mercenary’s face before him. The man went flying back as Batman spun and flung two batarangs in quick succession at the others trying to get the drop on him from behind. Both struck home with a satisfying crunch and his targets were all down.
From his periphery he could see Diana deflecting incoming fire with her bracelets and then leap to engage in some hand-to-hand combat of her own. He whirled at a sound, guard up, to see Green Lantern and Flash take out the final members of the unit, each in his own inimitable fashion.
He straightened, ignoring the pain from overtaxed muscles, flicking more of his weapons back into his belt without bothering to look.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Wally said with a smirk, tossing down an unconscious sentry at Batman’s feet. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”
Diana flew over to them, a soldier in each hand, landing without grace and dropping her likewise unconscious burdens. “All accounted for,” she said shortly.
“I made sure no one got a call out,” Kyle reported, looking at Batman. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his unaccustomedly serious face. “We’re clean.”
Batman gave them all a terse nod. “Good. Get Steel and the Atom into the post to set up the feedback loop. Stat.”
“On it,” Flash said with a sardonic salute, and was gone.
“J’onn?” Batman snapped into his communicator.
“There were no telepaths or psychics in your group, Batman,” sounded J’onn’s calm tones. “The main base should not yet be aware that one of their posts has been compromised.”
Batman only grunted and stabbed the comm off.
“What do you want done with these lowlifes?” Kyle asked, already beginning to pace about in impatience, arms folded tightly across his chest.
Batman frowned inwardly, watching him. But visibly he gave him only a cursory glance and said, “Get them to camp. Make sure they’re safely contained. J’onn and Arthur will be questioning them asap.”
Kyle nodded, saying nothing further before scooping up the group of terrorists in a large ring-willed shovel and taking off into the air. Batman eyed him until he was out of sight.
Diana stepped beside him. “A smoothly run operation, Batman. So far, so good.”
“Yes,” he said darkly. “Too good.”
She looked at him for a moment, and then sighed. “So very pessimistic, Bruce. Things are bound to go our way eventually.” She met his gaze evenly. “Everything balances out.”
“Are you saying that in a misguided attempt at cheering me up, or because you actually believe that?”
A small smile touched her lips. “A bit of both,” she confessed.
He shook his head. “Save it.”
He started to turn away, and was stopped abruptly as she caught his arm. “It is a good plan, Bruce. Believe in it, and believe in yourself.”
“I do,” he snapped. “I always do. I have to.”
“I see. And do you believe in Kal too?”
He jerked around to stare at her. It was such a boldfaced question and right then shocking in its abruptness. She stared steadily back at him.
“I …” He stopped himself and glared at her.
“Do you?” She wasn’t letting it go.
He tore his arm out of her grasp. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. You wouldn’t be in such a frenzy if you …”
“A frenzy.” He lifted his lip in a sneer, and didn’t bother to elaborate.
But Diana just pursed her lips in a sad look of understanding. It irritated him further.
“Bruce, if you did not believe he can take care of himself, you would not have trusted him to carry out his part of the mission. And he succeeded.” She thrust her chin towards him earnestly. “We now know firsthand about the hostages’ location, and more about the enemy’s plans, numbers, and resources. You must believe he will be all right now.”
He set his teeth. “Must I?”
He twisted away from her and strode through the darkened warehouse. He heard a soft sigh from above him. He didn’t look up as she floated overhead.
“I have faith in your plan, Bruce. And I have faith in him. He will prevail.”
“Ordinarily, yes, he would at that. But …” Ruthlessly he cut himself off, cursing inwardly.
“But what?”
He kept walking.
“Is there something you know that I do not?”
“There’s nothing, Diana.” He struggled to say the right words, to not give too muchaway. “Ayestrom …”
“Is powerful, yes,” she agreed. “And dangerous. And yes, Kal was hurt more than he let on.”
He looked up at her sharply. She cocked her head with a wry smile that looked out of place on her classical face. “You forget how well I know him too, Bruce.” She paused. “And I saw the look in J’onn’s eyes when he spoke about Kal’s condition. Nevertheless, as much as I too fear for his safety, he has the fortitude of the gods. He will prevail.”
To Batman’s ears, it seemed as if she was trying to convince herself every bit as much as him with her words. He kept walking.
She released an audible sigh and then suddenly landed in front him. He halted. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“What is it, Bruce?” she finally asked softly. “What is it you know?”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and then shook his head almost violently. “You’re right, Diana. He’ll be fine.” He stepped around her and kept going. “And my plan will work. It will work wonders.”
The word rang out in brittle cruelty. He did not turn around. To his relief, he could hear that she was not following. But another sigh reached his ears.
“Let one of us know when you are finished brooding, Bruce. We will come pick you up.”
His expression darkened. “I’m planning for contingencies,” he snapped. “Not brooding. And I can make my own way back. I don’t always have League assistance when I travel abroad.”
Another sigh in the dark. “Very well. We shall no doubt see you shortly then.” There was a small scrape as her boots left the cement floor again. And then soft words carried down through the emptiness from above. “He will be all right, Bruce. You will see. He will be safe. Have faith.”
After several moments he lifted his head to look at the empty window high in the warehouse wall out of which she had flown. He stopped at the door in the wall, not wanting to step outside just yet.
Have faith.
How long had it been since he had had faith in anything? Anything other than in his own power to see justice overcome the darkness he fought against every day?
He will be all right.
He wished with everything he had right then that he could believe that assertion. But she didn’t know. Didn’t know about the true state that Superman had been existing in for weeks now. Didn’t know about the possible true extent of Ayestrom’s power.
Didn’t know about the nightmares.
He released a long pent-up breath, feeling the exhaustion creep over him again, and for a moment, allowed himself to slump against the wall.
He will be all right, Bruce.
The darkness and silence seemed to rise around him in living waves. They pressed upon him almost tangibly. For the first time in days, he closed his eyes and let himself drift, just for a moment. He tried not to think of anything, just to clear his mind completely of all thoughts, of all memories.
It was futile. A thousand thoughts and images swarmed up unbidden as his guard came down.
He will be safe.
Unwillingly, unable to resist any longer, Batman recalled with eidetic clarity his last exchange with Superman before the alert had come through from Saskatchewan days earlier.
He isn’t safe.
They had been standing on top of the Daily Planet roof, twilight having just trickled in like a dark stain over the Metropolis skyline. The smoke was still visible in the sky from the residual damage sustained to the beleaguered city during the previous day’s attack.
Superman had failed to answer Batman’s pages from the Watchtower for thirteen straight hours. In uncharacteristic impatience, Batman had teleported himself over from Gotham to confront his teammate directly. It was not something he cared to delegate to anyone else.
Neither cared ... nor dared to.
“Any particular reason you’re avoiding talking to me?” he had demanded with his usual bluntness once Superman had - with obvious reluctance - flown to meet him following Batman’s proximity hail. He had taken one look at Superman’s face and decided to be the first to deal the cards in their little game.
Superman had just shrugged, glancing away. “Been a bit on the busy side here, Batman.”
Batman knew that already, of course. After having fought off yesterday’s latest Ayestrom-orchestrated assault on Metropolis - with League assist - Superman had ploughed straight into the relief and rescue efforts nearly non-stop, only once pausing to rush to work and file his requisite article for the Daily Planet. The number of civilian casualties and amount of property damage resulting from the armed terrorists’ attack had been appalling. The fact that meta-powered individuals had been allied with the usual armed mercenary forces had made the ensuing battle all that much more explosive. And if Perry White, the Planet’s managing editor, had not forcefully insisted on the story from Clark Kent, Batman was certain Superman would not even have paused to do that.
“A poor excuse,” Batman now countered testily. “And hardly a valid reason for refusing to answer me. I was calling on League business.”
“I was taking care of ‘League business’,” Superman retorted, stepping back up to the roof ledge. “And I’m not exactly finished, either. If you’re simply here to call me on my lack of polite protocol, you’re wasting my time.” Batman’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do.”
Superman flexed the powerful muscles of his legs in preparation for springing back into the air. Batman made an instant decision and leapt lightly onto the ledge beside him.
“Wait.” And he thrust his hand out in a swift move to grasp Superman’s arm forcibly. He was rewarded with the flash of startled surprise as Superman automatically restrained his leap in order to protect him from the likely fall, and then nearly smiled to himself as Superman lowered them both back to the roof proper.
“What do you think you’re doing, Batman?” Superman hissed, letting him go.
Batman released his own grip and regarded him. “We have to talk.”
“Oh do we.”
Batman grunted. “That was quite unlike you to react in such a fashion, ‘Superman’.”
“Oh, so you’ve got me pegged to a tee, do you?”
“Most times. Sometimes not,” he admitted. “But I know you well enough to recognize when something’s off.”
At Superman’s expression, wordless but eloquent, he clenched his jaw. Clark always did like to make things difficult. He decided to throw his hand down on the table. It would be hard for Superman to outmanoeuvre a straight flush. “You were hurt.”
Superman had wrenched his gaze back to him and set his teeth before beginning to predictably deny the fact. Foolish.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I’m invulnerable, remember?”
“And yet they still got under your skin,” Batman snapped right back. “In more ways than one.”
When Superman turned a sudden glare his way, Batman knew his suspicions were confirmed. It was an instance where he would have much rather been wrong.
“Why are you here, Batman?”
He almost snorted. “You forget to whom you speak, Superman, and just what I’ve been through with you. Invulnerability is, as we both well know, only relative.”
Superman had the grace to blush. He looked away again, releasing a long, resigned sigh. With the sigh seemed to drain away the uncharacteristic surliness, and the resistance. For several long seconds the Kryptonian stood stock still, staring out over the city in silence. Then he turned his head and met Batman’s gaze.
“Yes,” he only said, finally, not elaborating any further.
And Batman knew that simple word was an acknowledgment of far more than just his own last assertion. He looked at him for a silent moment, and then nodded.
“How did they manage to injure you?” he asked, matter-of-factly, settling down to business.
“I don’t know,” Superman answered honestly, lifting his shoulders in a weary shrug, suddenly looking defeated. “It didn’t feel like Kryptonite. Nothing … nothing compares to that.”
“Magic?” Batman suggested, a scowl lining his mouth. How he hated dealing with elements of the supernatural. But it would explain a lot.
“No.” Superman cut that idea off in the bud.
“How can you …?”
“I’m fairly sure it wasn’t. You, well … uh, know how particularly vulnerable I seem to be to magic.” His mouth twisted a bit in an expression Batman realized could be interpreted in countless ways. “It didn’t feel like magic. Nor was it red sun energy,” as Batman opened his mouth. Superman frowned. “Something else. Something powerful.”
“That much is a given.” He looked at Superman, who stood as if braced for yet another attack. Then he looked again, really seeing the drawn face, the dark circles under the eyes, the uniform that had quite clearly seen better days. Was that blood dried into it? He tried to peer through the gloom at the rips and tears visibly evident in the costume.
“I’ve already healed,” Superman was saying, a bit too glibly. “So it doesn’t really matter. You can get going.”
“It most certainly does matter,” Batman snapped, “and I’ll go when I’m good and done here.” Superman sighed. “No punches were pulled in this attack,” Batman then said, indicating Superman’s state of dress meaningfully. “And I am concerned that the first ventures from Ayestrom’s terrorists in this country have targeted Metropolis, and nowhere else. It’s … disturbing just how much power was in play here.”
“Very.” Superman smiled a little wryly, and looked down at the gravel under his boots in thought.
Looking even more closely at him, Batman could suddenly see the strain and exhaustion etching the fine features, in the way Superman held his body. His cowled eyes narrowed further.
“Are you all right?”
Sometimes a blunt question was the best weapon one could have.
“Of course,” Superman said, just a little too quickly, flickering his blue gaze out over the darkening horizon to avoid his stare. “I just told you I was hea…”
“Try again,” Batman growled, squaring his own shoulders and angling his stance in unmistakably clear body language.
“Seriously. Just been one helluva day. I’ll bounce back soon enough.” Superman tried to grin at him, but he wasn’t fooling anybody. Batman could see how his colleague shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, also a rare occurrence.
“There’s more that you’re not telling me,” Batman finally said, flatly.
Startled, Superman darted blue-bright eyes up at him and then seemed to draw his will about him like a cloak and centre himself, calling on inner reserves of strength and fortitude.
“There’s nothing, Batman,” he said, a forced calm resonating in his voice. “The Watchtower’s already analyzing the assault and probable culprits. But we know that Ayestrom was behind it. Just like in Rio. Just like before.”
“Then it’s not about the attack,” Batman said, implacable, moving a step closer. “Tell me.”
He watched as Superman’s jaw clenched, how he restrained himself physically from backing away. “I’m just a bit on the tired side, Bruce. Maybe a little more than usual.” He caught Batman’s look. “And all right, there’s little point in trying to hide the fact that these battles are taking a lot out of me. And that’s something we just cannot afford right now.” He spread his hands and tried to grin one of those blinding, thousand-watt smiles at him. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a solar recharge in the next day or so.”
He might have fooled many another with that disengaging grin of his, but not Batman. In fact, it spoke volumes that he was attempting to use that infamous charm to appease or distract him at all. Superman generally didn’t resort to such tactics. Not with anyone, and certainly never with him. His concern grew. Superman seemed to read that in his unchanging expression and let his hands drop with a sigh.
“I’m just a little tired,” he said again. “That’s all.”
Stubborn idiot.
“Really.”
“Really,” Superman said. He sounded tired. And so completely sincere.
Just who is he trying to fool?
Batman decided to pull out his trump card. “And does simple fatigue explain Lois’ frantic call to me the other night?” He watched with secret satisfaction as Superman visibly paled. “The description she gave of how your screaming woke up half your building was quite … illuminating.”
Superman stared at him, and then bent his head, mouth tightening. He said nothing.
“Well?” Batman demanded, relentless, knowing that the Kryptonian would sense his determination to drag this out of him. Oh no, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not without the truth.
But there was still no sign of surrender on Superman’s part. At his obstinate silence, Batman folded his arms across his chest, his black cape closing over his shoulders menacingly. A silhouette in shadow, he knew he looked entirely forbidding. To his credit, even knowing he was completely outmanoeuvred, Superman stood his ground. Batman suppressed a sigh.
“At the risk of sounding foolish,” he said, trying to gentle the harsh cadence of his voice, “I am going to find out what the matter is, Clark. With or without your cooperation. Your resistance is, as they say, futile.”
Superman looked at him, raising a brow, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Then he shook his head at him. “Lois was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was only a dream,” he murmured, obviously realizing Batman wasn’t going to drop this if he said nothing. And that the no-doubt tempting idea of escape into flight would prove only a temporary respite.
“A dream,” Batman repeated. The air of scepticism was rife in the air.
But Superman persisted anyway, and just tilted his head to the side as if in embarrassed admittance. “Yeah.”
Batman hooded his eyes and stepped even closer, fully invading Superman’s personal space, looking him in the eye, daring him to retreat.
Time to play his royal flush.
“Don’t you mean instead, one of a recurring set of nightmares, Superman? Nightmares occurring so often and so fiercely that you’ve since decided that sleep is a necessity best left for lesser mortals? And this … abstinence from rest going on for nearly a fortnight now?”
Superman’s head jerked up, and his eyes widened. And then Batman could practically feel the slow anger begin to build in the crystalline depths of his eyes. Superman liked his privacy invaded no less than did Batman himself. But it was also extremely unlike him to lose his grasp on his temper so easily. He really WAS pushed to his limits. And Batman didn’t like what he saw at all.
“Tell me,” he repeated, less commandingly this time, but no less determinedly.
For several long seconds, they faced each other, and for a moment Batman was certain he had pushed too far. Then he saw the anger begin to fade from Superman’s eyes. He watched, a tight rein on his own emotions, as his colleague unfisted his hands and then release a long breath. He relaxed his own stance in response.
Superman leaned almost imperceptibly back against the support struts of the giant globe, and rubbed a grime-smeared hand over his face. He didn’t seem to care that streaks of filth ran down his skin like scars.
Batman tried to shake off the ominous feeling at the sight.
For a long moment, silence reigned. Batman did not back down and only waited. He would wait until Superman was ready. He would wait until the world ended if need be.
“Why do you care, Bruce?” Superman asked wearily at last, the sudden words falling like lead weights through the pungent air.
It was that question, and the way he’d said it, that threw Batman more than anything yet had in this encounter. But he rallied quickly.
“If whatever this problem is starts to affect your decision-making and combat ability, then …”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Superman interrupted, mouth thinning almost bitterly. “My usefulness to the League would then be suspect, I’d become a risk for endangering both the team and civilians when Ayestrom attacks again, I won’t be reliable in a fight, yada, yada, yada. Tell me something new.”
Batman stared at him. Superman took his hand down from his face and stared back.
“You’re in worse shape than even I’d suspected,” Batman finally said, sobered.
When Superman unexpectedly said nothing to this, Batman swallowed back the next words he’d had readied, and considered. He opened his mouth, and then hesitated. He realized he wasn’t going to get at the truth with him if he maintained this present tack. The wind had changed; time to readjust the sails, and go for hitting their usual connection that had so often aided them in the past.
“All of those reasons are true,” he admitted. “You know we need to be able to depend on your contributions. And we …”
“It’s not like I’m going to curl up and turn into a ball of dust, you know. I’m not some mewling kitten to cringe at the sound of Ayestrom’s footsteps!” Superman sounded almost disgusted.
“No, you’re not,” Batman said evenly. “I don’t think you know how strong you really are.” Superman looked up at him. “But this is not the same as a physical malady. This is taking you apart at the seams, Superman. And I cannot let that happen. I will not.”
Superman was already shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do, Batman, so don’t even bother trying.”
Batman’s lips drew back. “You have GOT to be the most stubborn man I’ve ever had the misfortune to deal with, Kent.”
Superman bit back a hard-sounding laugh. “Right back at you, Mister Wayne.”
Batman set his teeth.
Superman was looking over the edge of the roof at the city. “I’ve got to go. There’re still some burning buildings out th …”
“We’re not finished,” Batman growled, blocking Superman’s path as he stepped to the side. Superman stopped and looked at him defiantly.
“I think we are,” he said. He sidestepped again and Batman heard him strike the roof edge with his knee as he stumbled slightly in placing one foot on top of the ledge.
“What are you so afraid of?” Batman asked suddenly, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the Man of Steel stiffen and stop in his tracks. “Do you really think I could possibly judge you harshly if I knew whatever the truth is?” He paused. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
Superman gazed out at the city, shoulders set, jaw tightening.
Batman settled his own shoulders. “I had believed we’d been through enough together to establish a greater trust than this.”
“It’s not about trust!” Superman hissed, turning back.
“No?”
“I do trust you, Bruce. God help me, more than just about anyone else in the world. But this isn’t about that.”
“I think it is.”
Superman let out a breath of exasperation. “You’re reading too much into things. Just because you’re paranoid about everything doesn’t mean …”
“Just because I’m ‘paranoid’ doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” Batman shot back. “And if you trust me as you say, you’ll listen to me now.”
He could see that he’d struck a nerve. Superman stood, half poised on the edge, taut and quivering as a tensed bowstring.
“Tell me what is going on with you.” Superman’s hard gaze still did not relent. Batman felt a surge of unfamiliar frustration well up. Only Superman … “Damnit, Clark, talk to me!”
Superman simply shook his head again. “You’ve got an overactive imagination, Bruce.” He gazed out, head tilted, as if listening. “Look. We’re going to have to table this discussion for another time. I’ve still got work to do.”
“NO.” Batman shot his hand forward and caught Superman’s wrist as he was turning to leap back into the air. Superman twisted around at the sudden pressure, and glared down at him
“People need me …”
“We need to talk about this NOW.”
“Batman …”
“Superman.” Batman drew a deep breath. “You asked me why I cared. It’s not just about your state of health, or your usefulness, or League consensus. I care … because …” He gritted his teeth. Why was this so hard to say? “Because I am your friend.”
Superman jerked his head up, eyes wide, eyebrows nearing his hairline. It was practically a state of the Union address when Batman ever admitted to possessing something as human as feelings, and certainly a cold blue moon when he acknowledged having anything like friendship. Superman’s blue gaze bored into him, the astonishment almost literally coming off of him in palpable waves. Batman nearly smiled at the reaction.
I have him.
He forced himself to continue. “And I am … concerned. Concerned that something is causing you a … a not inconsiderable amount of distress.” He paused. “Something is obviously hurting you, Clark, hurting you on more than just a physical level. And I … I want to help.”
He knew his use of Clark’s name sang loud and clear. It would guarantee his attention, as would his rarely verbalized desire to help him.
They locked gazes, staring at each other for a long, heart-pounding moment.
Surrender, Batman willed silently. Give in to what I’m offering. I only want to help you.
Superman swallowed convulsively, and then tore his gaze away. For several beats he held completely still, except for a fine tremor along his jaw. Batman did not back away, implacable.
And then all at once Superman sank slowly to the ground, as if his legs could no longer support his weight. His back slid down against the support strut of the Daily Planet Globe, knees pressed tight against his chest. He was still silent, but Batman, suppressing the great wash of relief that threatened to distract him, knew that at last he had managed to break through the walls that had surrounded Superman for days. Batman’s unusual openness had succeeded where no number of threats or demands ever would.
Whatever it takes …
He lowered himself to crouch directly in front of Superman, and only waited, not pressing any further.
Waiting.
That he could do.
The night pressed in on them, true darkness having stolen in, and the air was chill and damp, still thick and pungent with smoke.
Batman did not say anything further, only watching Superman. Waiting.
At long last Superman began to speak, slowly, hesitantly, but with heartfelt determination.
“They began about two and a half weeks ago.” His voice was low, almost gravelly, so unlike his usual richly timbered baritone. His eyes were unfocused, looking at something Batman couldn’t see. Batman gave a faint nod, and Superman continued hesitantly. “At first, they were simply your typical sort of dream. Flitting images, vague, unclear, confusing … maybe a little unsettling.” His eyes darkened. “Then they started to become all too clear. And grew distinctly … frightening.”
He fell silent again, but Batman did not interrupt. After a moment, Superman continued. “There’s always a good deal of violence accompanying these dreams, but considering the line of work we do, I guess that’s not all that unusual or unexpected.” Superman smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve had some real doozies in the past, as I’m sure have we all. But these … they’re different. Much more real. And they … grow in intensity each night.” His eyes narrowed. “There were so many people, Bruce, countless numbers of them, being … being hurt in them. Being hurt or tormented in various, catastrophic ways. Then it gets worse. Much worse.” He swallowed. “They start being outright killed, in the very worst ways one can imagine, and all right in front of my eyes. Yes,” he added as Batman lifted his head, “I am actually participating in these dreams, not simply watching them as if it’s a movie, like in some sorts of dreams you have. I’m there. But I can only watch, nevertheless. I’m absolutely helpless to do anything about the killing, to stop it. Each and every time. I’m part of the scene, but it’s like I’m physically prevented from coming to the aid of the … the victims.”
Superman paused again, as if to gather his courage.
Batman watched him. “Go on.” His voice was low.
Superman drew a breath.
“The worst part of it is, these poor people, the innocent victims of injury, mutilation, torture, death …although many of them are complete strangers, helpless civilians caught in a crossfire, increasingly more and more of them are people I know. People I … care about.”
He stopped, his head falling forward and dropping into his hands as if to blot out the visions that had to be flashing across his mind’s eye.
“Who?” Batman asked softly, finally, although he was sure he knew the answer. The horror of the dream was making his own hackles rise. Although he was perfectly aware that Superman was deliberately omitting the grislier details, he could guess at them easily enough. He’d had similar nightmares enough times of his own. But though he braced himself, Superman’s answer managed to surprise him nonetheless.
“Everyone.”
Superman’s voice was very quiet.
Batman frowned. “Everyone? How do y...”
Superman lifted his head from his hands and nodded slowly. “Everyone. Everyone I know now … or knew once.” His throat seemed to close up. “The list is long, Bruce. So very long.”
Batman stared at him. Clark wasn’t volunteering anything else. He was going to have to press.
“Who?” he asked again, more forcibly.
Superman grimaced, and then nodded slowly, drawing a shaky breath. “Lois. She’s first. I suppose that’s obvious.” Batman nodded, jaw tight. Of course it would be Lois. “And, well, of course, Ma, and Pa.” He squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, he forced in another breath. “Then there’s Lana and Pete. Their two-year old son, Clark, the one they named after me. Other people from Smallville that I know, folks that I grew up with. And then I see people from here, from Metropolis. Jimmy, and Perry. Even Alice, Perry’s ex-wife, and his adopted son, who’d died a while ago now. And my sister-in-law, Lucy, and Ron, and their child. There’s John Henry and Natasha Irons. Bibbo Bibbowski, Professor Hamilton, Dr. Falkner, all the Cadmus people, really. Our next door neighbours at our apartment. The guy I buy coffee from every morning. Co-workers, in-laws, friends, acquaintances.” He stopped for a moment, as if summoning strength to continue.
Batman nodded at him, masking his own jaw tightening. “I’m listening.”
Superman drew a deep breath. “Conner is there, dying, slowly. And Kara and Linda ... both of them. And I can’t stop it. I can’t save them. I can’t save anyone!” He gritted his teeth and shook his head hard in a jerky motion before gearing himself up to keep going.
Batman arrested a quick motion to reach for him.
This is ... it’s not ...
It wasn’t even his nightmare and he couldn’t seem to articulate a coherent thought just listening to it!
Superman licked dry lips, not looking at him. “Lex appears too, oddly enough. I know. His is a particularly gruesome death.” He shuddered. “Even Krypto is there. God, what they do to him! His yelps …” He stopped again, and fought against the lump in his throat, as if willing himself to continue. Batman bit his lip hard as he watched him. Superman went on after a few moments of internal struggle. “And ... and then ... Diana. She …oh, Diana. I …” He stopped again, for a very long moment, and when he resumed, his voice was so controlled it no longer sounded like his own. “And J’onn. And Kyle. Wally. Arthur … Eel, Ollie, Dinah, the whole League. Reserves, everybody. And … Dick is there.” Batman raised his eyes, and Superman looked almost apologetically at him. “Yes. And even … Jason. And Tim a …a little later.” He swallowed, obviously remembering.
It was getting harder for him to continue. He didn’t want to continue. Batman didn’t want him to continue either. But he had to.
You must.
“Go on,” Batman said, his own voice controlled.
Superman gritted his teeth again, but his voice was quiet. “Barbara. Alfred. I’m sorry, Bruce, I’m sorry.”
Batman shook his head at him. How could he be apologizing? As if it were his fault?
And how could he even be speaking of it so … so ... But Superman sighed out a deep breath of sorrow, and simply went on. “And there are others: Jay Garrick, and Alan Scott, and Power Girl, well, the entire JSA, really. And those who’ve already gone. Barry, and Hal. Wives and husbands and children of members too. And then … then all of the Titans come next. The Outsiders. The other teams. Other heroes I’ve worked with, and called friends. Even our enemies die horrible deaths.” He took another breath. “Near … near the end I sometimes see … my parents. Jor-El and Lara.” Superman squeezed his eyes shut again, very tightly. “People I’ve been able to save in the past. The people I haven’t.” He paused a very long time. “You.” His voice was very soft.
It was Batman who looked away this time.
For a long moment, except for the whisper of the wind, stark silence reigned on the roof.
---
To be continued ... right here.
As my flist knows, I've had a terribly difficult time posting this oh-so-long-overdue update, but thanks to the efforts of damos, (and the help of mithen and the good advice of kawahori - thanks muchly, guys!) I'm managing to do so at last. As some of you know, I'd attempted to post Part 15 here last week, but only managed, after much frustration, to post the first quarter of it. Well, I'm reposting the entire first half (followed by the second!) here for easier reading. (apologies for all the confusion, everyone!) But those two previously posted bits can still be seen, together with your comments, on the two posts previous to this one.
For everyone not on my flist, (and forgive the repetition, those who've seen this) I just wish to reiterate this: I can cite many, many reasons for this lack of story recently, mostly to do with RL complications and stresses, but also, honestly, this chapter is the one I’ve struggled with the second-most, (Part 17 being THE most, for various other reasons) and I’ve really hesitated in posting this one. This is partially because it’s a very (to me, anyway) tense and angsty chapter, and a bit on the dark side, and I wanted to put our heroes through the emotional wringer, and face some difficult things, and that’s somewhat scary to do, especially while trying hard to still keep them at least somewhat recognizably in character! I do hope I’ve managed that to some extent.
To my friends and my very lovely and loyal (and extraordinarily patient!) readers, thank you very much for your continued patience, support, and encouragement with this piece. I do very much appreciate it, and lean on it!
I hope you enjoy!!
Pax :-)
Summary of the last part, since it’s been so long since then *blush* - We last left the JLA wrestling with new revelations about their enemy and his army, and struggling with fears about his intentions and power, and with Superman’s precarious position as a spy in Lord Ayestrom’s stronghold. Batman is attempting desperately to come up with a new plan, and most of the League and its reserves are now stationed in Holland. Superman, while trying to extract himself from the lair, has discovered that he has grown significantly weaker, with most of his powers compromised. At this most unfortunate time, the claxons have sounded in the base, and the entire population of denizens appear to have been called to a mass audience with their ruler. Superman is dragged along helplessly, straight towards the last person he wanted to encounter during his mission. We have hints that Batman and J’onn know something more about Superman’s condition, that may have implications for the approaching and inevitable confrontation with their most ruthless and dangerous enemy.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
by Paxwolf
Note: This fanfiction story originally was begun some years ago, and is therefore set current to the (comic book version!) JLA lineup at the time, specifically during the Grant Morrison and Mark Waid runs on the title, and with certain details from that era still intact. It is therefore ‘old’, and has taken several years to see fruition, and therefore be aware that certain discrepancies and dated information - in terms of continuity - may still be contained within.
Disclaimer:The Justice League of America and its associated characters are owned and copyrighted by DC Comics and Time Warner. No income is being generated by the Internet publication of this story. (Which really is quite a pity as I am dirt poor - and it would be oh so fun to be able to earn a living playing in DC’s grand Playground! (Lucky, lucky pro writers and artists!!) Original characters do also exist in this fic and I suppose that might make them owned by me. ;-)
Warnings: Violence, Some Language, and Mature Themes. Readers’ Discretion is advised.
Thanks To: mithen, without whose constant and sweet encouragement this epic may never have been posted, and to Kungfunurse for some of the original and helpful beta-reading, and to the kind and helpful (years-long!) feedback supplied by the gracious Gwil and the lovely Janet Coleman Sides, both of whom stepped out of their own fandoms (Stargate:SG-1 and Gatchaman respectively) in order to read about the denizens of the DC Universe. Also thanks to damos, for his custom-made icons for this ole Epic of mine, and for technical assistance with posting!
Summary:When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
All Previous Parts of the Fic can be found here, on the Main Page! (or you can scroll back a few entries!)
Summary of THIS Part: The League takes over an Ayestrom-controlled outpost, and in his fatigue and fear, Batman is forced to remember a recent disturbing and evocative encounter with Superman, where the frightening content of his long hinted-at dreams is revealed, which may have deadly consequences for the Man of Steel and the League.
Part XV:
“Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death”
(A)
Batman launched another flying kick as the shot went wide, reinforced boot heel connecting squarely with the mercenary’s face before him. The man went flying back as Batman spun and flung two batarangs in quick succession at the others trying to get the drop on him from behind. Both struck home with a satisfying crunch and his targets were all down.
From his periphery he could see Diana deflecting incoming fire with her bracelets and then leap to engage in some hand-to-hand combat of her own. He whirled at a sound, guard up, to see Green Lantern and Flash take out the final members of the unit, each in his own inimitable fashion.
He straightened, ignoring the pain from overtaxed muscles, flicking more of his weapons back into his belt without bothering to look.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Wally said with a smirk, tossing down an unconscious sentry at Batman’s feet. “Looks like the gang’s all here.”
Diana flew over to them, a soldier in each hand, landing without grace and dropping her likewise unconscious burdens. “All accounted for,” she said shortly.
“I made sure no one got a call out,” Kyle reported, looking at Batman. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his unaccustomedly serious face. “We’re clean.”
Batman gave them all a terse nod. “Good. Get Steel and the Atom into the post to set up the feedback loop. Stat.”
“On it,” Flash said with a sardonic salute, and was gone.
“J’onn?” Batman snapped into his communicator.
“There were no telepaths or psychics in your group, Batman,” sounded J’onn’s calm tones. “The main base should not yet be aware that one of their posts has been compromised.”
Batman only grunted and stabbed the comm off.
“What do you want done with these lowlifes?” Kyle asked, already beginning to pace about in impatience, arms folded tightly across his chest.
Batman frowned inwardly, watching him. But visibly he gave him only a cursory glance and said, “Get them to camp. Make sure they’re safely contained. J’onn and Arthur will be questioning them asap.”
Kyle nodded, saying nothing further before scooping up the group of terrorists in a large ring-willed shovel and taking off into the air. Batman eyed him until he was out of sight.
Diana stepped beside him. “A smoothly run operation, Batman. So far, so good.”
“Yes,” he said darkly. “Too good.”
She looked at him for a moment, and then sighed. “So very pessimistic, Bruce. Things are bound to go our way eventually.” She met his gaze evenly. “Everything balances out.”
“Are you saying that in a misguided attempt at cheering me up, or because you actually believe that?”
A small smile touched her lips. “A bit of both,” she confessed.
He shook his head. “Save it.”
He started to turn away, and was stopped abruptly as she caught his arm. “It is a good plan, Bruce. Believe in it, and believe in yourself.”
“I do,” he snapped. “I always do. I have to.”
“I see. And do you believe in Kal too?”
He jerked around to stare at her. It was such a boldfaced question and right then shocking in its abruptness. She stared steadily back at him.
“I …” He stopped himself and glared at her.
“Do you?” She wasn’t letting it go.
He tore his arm out of her grasp. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Everything. You wouldn’t be in such a frenzy if you …”
“A frenzy.” He lifted his lip in a sneer, and didn’t bother to elaborate.
But Diana just pursed her lips in a sad look of understanding. It irritated him further.
“Bruce, if you did not believe he can take care of himself, you would not have trusted him to carry out his part of the mission. And he succeeded.” She thrust her chin towards him earnestly. “We now know firsthand about the hostages’ location, and more about the enemy’s plans, numbers, and resources. You must believe he will be all right now.”
He set his teeth. “Must I?”
He twisted away from her and strode through the darkened warehouse. He heard a soft sigh from above him. He didn’t look up as she floated overhead.
“I have faith in your plan, Bruce. And I have faith in him. He will prevail.”
“Ordinarily, yes, he would at that. But …” Ruthlessly he cut himself off, cursing inwardly.
“But what?”
He kept walking.
“Is there something you know that I do not?”
“There’s nothing, Diana.” He struggled to say the right words, to not give too muchaway. “Ayestrom …”
“Is powerful, yes,” she agreed. “And dangerous. And yes, Kal was hurt more than he let on.”
He looked up at her sharply. She cocked her head with a wry smile that looked out of place on her classical face. “You forget how well I know him too, Bruce.” She paused. “And I saw the look in J’onn’s eyes when he spoke about Kal’s condition. Nevertheless, as much as I too fear for his safety, he has the fortitude of the gods. He will prevail.”
To Batman’s ears, it seemed as if she was trying to convince herself every bit as much as him with her words. He kept walking.
She released an audible sigh and then suddenly landed in front him. He halted. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
“What is it, Bruce?” she finally asked softly. “What is it you know?”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds, and then shook his head almost violently. “You’re right, Diana. He’ll be fine.” He stepped around her and kept going. “And my plan will work. It will work wonders.”
The word rang out in brittle cruelty. He did not turn around. To his relief, he could hear that she was not following. But another sigh reached his ears.
“Let one of us know when you are finished brooding, Bruce. We will come pick you up.”
His expression darkened. “I’m planning for contingencies,” he snapped. “Not brooding. And I can make my own way back. I don’t always have League assistance when I travel abroad.”
Another sigh in the dark. “Very well. We shall no doubt see you shortly then.” There was a small scrape as her boots left the cement floor again. And then soft words carried down through the emptiness from above. “He will be all right, Bruce. You will see. He will be safe. Have faith.”
After several moments he lifted his head to look at the empty window high in the warehouse wall out of which she had flown. He stopped at the door in the wall, not wanting to step outside just yet.
Have faith.
How long had it been since he had had faith in anything? Anything other than in his own power to see justice overcome the darkness he fought against every day?
He will be all right.
He wished with everything he had right then that he could believe that assertion. But she didn’t know. Didn’t know about the true state that Superman had been existing in for weeks now. Didn’t know about the possible true extent of Ayestrom’s power.
Didn’t know about the nightmares.
He released a long pent-up breath, feeling the exhaustion creep over him again, and for a moment, allowed himself to slump against the wall.
He will be all right, Bruce.
The darkness and silence seemed to rise around him in living waves. They pressed upon him almost tangibly. For the first time in days, he closed his eyes and let himself drift, just for a moment. He tried not to think of anything, just to clear his mind completely of all thoughts, of all memories.
It was futile. A thousand thoughts and images swarmed up unbidden as his guard came down.
He will be safe.
Unwillingly, unable to resist any longer, Batman recalled with eidetic clarity his last exchange with Superman before the alert had come through from Saskatchewan days earlier.
He isn’t safe.
They had been standing on top of the Daily Planet roof, twilight having just trickled in like a dark stain over the Metropolis skyline. The smoke was still visible in the sky from the residual damage sustained to the beleaguered city during the previous day’s attack.
Superman had failed to answer Batman’s pages from the Watchtower for thirteen straight hours. In uncharacteristic impatience, Batman had teleported himself over from Gotham to confront his teammate directly. It was not something he cared to delegate to anyone else.
Neither cared ... nor dared to.
“Any particular reason you’re avoiding talking to me?” he had demanded with his usual bluntness once Superman had - with obvious reluctance - flown to meet him following Batman’s proximity hail. He had taken one look at Superman’s face and decided to be the first to deal the cards in their little game.
Superman had just shrugged, glancing away. “Been a bit on the busy side here, Batman.”
Batman knew that already, of course. After having fought off yesterday’s latest Ayestrom-orchestrated assault on Metropolis - with League assist - Superman had ploughed straight into the relief and rescue efforts nearly non-stop, only once pausing to rush to work and file his requisite article for the Daily Planet. The number of civilian casualties and amount of property damage resulting from the armed terrorists’ attack had been appalling. The fact that meta-powered individuals had been allied with the usual armed mercenary forces had made the ensuing battle all that much more explosive. And if Perry White, the Planet’s managing editor, had not forcefully insisted on the story from Clark Kent, Batman was certain Superman would not even have paused to do that.
“A poor excuse,” Batman now countered testily. “And hardly a valid reason for refusing to answer me. I was calling on League business.”
“I was taking care of ‘League business’,” Superman retorted, stepping back up to the roof ledge. “And I’m not exactly finished, either. If you’re simply here to call me on my lack of polite protocol, you’re wasting my time.” Batman’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do.”
Superman flexed the powerful muscles of his legs in preparation for springing back into the air. Batman made an instant decision and leapt lightly onto the ledge beside him.
“Wait.” And he thrust his hand out in a swift move to grasp Superman’s arm forcibly. He was rewarded with the flash of startled surprise as Superman automatically restrained his leap in order to protect him from the likely fall, and then nearly smiled to himself as Superman lowered them both back to the roof proper.
“What do you think you’re doing, Batman?” Superman hissed, letting him go.
Batman released his own grip and regarded him. “We have to talk.”
“Oh do we.”
Batman grunted. “That was quite unlike you to react in such a fashion, ‘Superman’.”
“Oh, so you’ve got me pegged to a tee, do you?”
“Most times. Sometimes not,” he admitted. “But I know you well enough to recognize when something’s off.”
At Superman’s expression, wordless but eloquent, he clenched his jaw. Clark always did like to make things difficult. He decided to throw his hand down on the table. It would be hard for Superman to outmanoeuvre a straight flush. “You were hurt.”
Superman had wrenched his gaze back to him and set his teeth before beginning to predictably deny the fact. Foolish.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I’m invulnerable, remember?”
“And yet they still got under your skin,” Batman snapped right back. “In more ways than one.”
When Superman turned a sudden glare his way, Batman knew his suspicions were confirmed. It was an instance where he would have much rather been wrong.
“Why are you here, Batman?”
He almost snorted. “You forget to whom you speak, Superman, and just what I’ve been through with you. Invulnerability is, as we both well know, only relative.”
Superman had the grace to blush. He looked away again, releasing a long, resigned sigh. With the sigh seemed to drain away the uncharacteristic surliness, and the resistance. For several long seconds the Kryptonian stood stock still, staring out over the city in silence. Then he turned his head and met Batman’s gaze.
“Yes,” he only said, finally, not elaborating any further.
And Batman knew that simple word was an acknowledgment of far more than just his own last assertion. He looked at him for a silent moment, and then nodded.
“How did they manage to injure you?” he asked, matter-of-factly, settling down to business.
“I don’t know,” Superman answered honestly, lifting his shoulders in a weary shrug, suddenly looking defeated. “It didn’t feel like Kryptonite. Nothing … nothing compares to that.”
“Magic?” Batman suggested, a scowl lining his mouth. How he hated dealing with elements of the supernatural. But it would explain a lot.
“No.” Superman cut that idea off in the bud.
“How can you …?”
“I’m fairly sure it wasn’t. You, well … uh, know how particularly vulnerable I seem to be to magic.” His mouth twisted a bit in an expression Batman realized could be interpreted in countless ways. “It didn’t feel like magic. Nor was it red sun energy,” as Batman opened his mouth. Superman frowned. “Something else. Something powerful.”
“That much is a given.” He looked at Superman, who stood as if braced for yet another attack. Then he looked again, really seeing the drawn face, the dark circles under the eyes, the uniform that had quite clearly seen better days. Was that blood dried into it? He tried to peer through the gloom at the rips and tears visibly evident in the costume.
“I’ve already healed,” Superman was saying, a bit too glibly. “So it doesn’t really matter. You can get going.”
“It most certainly does matter,” Batman snapped, “and I’ll go when I’m good and done here.” Superman sighed. “No punches were pulled in this attack,” Batman then said, indicating Superman’s state of dress meaningfully. “And I am concerned that the first ventures from Ayestrom’s terrorists in this country have targeted Metropolis, and nowhere else. It’s … disturbing just how much power was in play here.”
“Very.” Superman smiled a little wryly, and looked down at the gravel under his boots in thought.
Looking even more closely at him, Batman could suddenly see the strain and exhaustion etching the fine features, in the way Superman held his body. His cowled eyes narrowed further.
“Are you all right?”
Sometimes a blunt question was the best weapon one could have.
“Of course,” Superman said, just a little too quickly, flickering his blue gaze out over the darkening horizon to avoid his stare. “I just told you I was hea…”
“Try again,” Batman growled, squaring his own shoulders and angling his stance in unmistakably clear body language.
“Seriously. Just been one helluva day. I’ll bounce back soon enough.” Superman tried to grin at him, but he wasn’t fooling anybody. Batman could see how his colleague shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, also a rare occurrence.
“There’s more that you’re not telling me,” Batman finally said, flatly.
Startled, Superman darted blue-bright eyes up at him and then seemed to draw his will about him like a cloak and centre himself, calling on inner reserves of strength and fortitude.
“There’s nothing, Batman,” he said, a forced calm resonating in his voice. “The Watchtower’s already analyzing the assault and probable culprits. But we know that Ayestrom was behind it. Just like in Rio. Just like before.”
“Then it’s not about the attack,” Batman said, implacable, moving a step closer. “Tell me.”
He watched as Superman’s jaw clenched, how he restrained himself physically from backing away. “I’m just a bit on the tired side, Bruce. Maybe a little more than usual.” He caught Batman’s look. “And all right, there’s little point in trying to hide the fact that these battles are taking a lot out of me. And that’s something we just cannot afford right now.” He spread his hands and tried to grin one of those blinding, thousand-watt smiles at him. “I’ll see what I can do about getting a solar recharge in the next day or so.”
He might have fooled many another with that disengaging grin of his, but not Batman. In fact, it spoke volumes that he was attempting to use that infamous charm to appease or distract him at all. Superman generally didn’t resort to such tactics. Not with anyone, and certainly never with him. His concern grew. Superman seemed to read that in his unchanging expression and let his hands drop with a sigh.
“I’m just a little tired,” he said again. “That’s all.”
Stubborn idiot.
“Really.”
“Really,” Superman said. He sounded tired. And so completely sincere.
Just who is he trying to fool?
Batman decided to pull out his trump card. “And does simple fatigue explain Lois’ frantic call to me the other night?” He watched with secret satisfaction as Superman visibly paled. “The description she gave of how your screaming woke up half your building was quite … illuminating.”
Superman stared at him, and then bent his head, mouth tightening. He said nothing.
“Well?” Batman demanded, relentless, knowing that the Kryptonian would sense his determination to drag this out of him. Oh no, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not without the truth.
But there was still no sign of surrender on Superman’s part. At his obstinate silence, Batman folded his arms across his chest, his black cape closing over his shoulders menacingly. A silhouette in shadow, he knew he looked entirely forbidding. To his credit, even knowing he was completely outmanoeuvred, Superman stood his ground. Batman suppressed a sigh.
“At the risk of sounding foolish,” he said, trying to gentle the harsh cadence of his voice, “I am going to find out what the matter is, Clark. With or without your cooperation. Your resistance is, as they say, futile.”
Superman looked at him, raising a brow, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Then he shook his head at him. “Lois was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was only a dream,” he murmured, obviously realizing Batman wasn’t going to drop this if he said nothing. And that the no-doubt tempting idea of escape into flight would prove only a temporary respite.
“A dream,” Batman repeated. The air of scepticism was rife in the air.
But Superman persisted anyway, and just tilted his head to the side as if in embarrassed admittance. “Yeah.”
Batman hooded his eyes and stepped even closer, fully invading Superman’s personal space, looking him in the eye, daring him to retreat.
Time to play his royal flush.
“Don’t you mean instead, one of a recurring set of nightmares, Superman? Nightmares occurring so often and so fiercely that you’ve since decided that sleep is a necessity best left for lesser mortals? And this … abstinence from rest going on for nearly a fortnight now?”
Superman’s head jerked up, and his eyes widened. And then Batman could practically feel the slow anger begin to build in the crystalline depths of his eyes. Superman liked his privacy invaded no less than did Batman himself. But it was also extremely unlike him to lose his grasp on his temper so easily. He really WAS pushed to his limits. And Batman didn’t like what he saw at all.
“Tell me,” he repeated, less commandingly this time, but no less determinedly.
For several long seconds, they faced each other, and for a moment Batman was certain he had pushed too far. Then he saw the anger begin to fade from Superman’s eyes. He watched, a tight rein on his own emotions, as his colleague unfisted his hands and then release a long breath. He relaxed his own stance in response.
Superman leaned almost imperceptibly back against the support struts of the giant globe, and rubbed a grime-smeared hand over his face. He didn’t seem to care that streaks of filth ran down his skin like scars.
Batman tried to shake off the ominous feeling at the sight.
For a long moment, silence reigned. Batman did not back down and only waited. He would wait until Superman was ready. He would wait until the world ended if need be.
“Why do you care, Bruce?” Superman asked wearily at last, the sudden words falling like lead weights through the pungent air.
It was that question, and the way he’d said it, that threw Batman more than anything yet had in this encounter. But he rallied quickly.
“If whatever this problem is starts to affect your decision-making and combat ability, then …”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Superman interrupted, mouth thinning almost bitterly. “My usefulness to the League would then be suspect, I’d become a risk for endangering both the team and civilians when Ayestrom attacks again, I won’t be reliable in a fight, yada, yada, yada. Tell me something new.”
Batman stared at him. Superman took his hand down from his face and stared back.
“You’re in worse shape than even I’d suspected,” Batman finally said, sobered.
When Superman unexpectedly said nothing to this, Batman swallowed back the next words he’d had readied, and considered. He opened his mouth, and then hesitated. He realized he wasn’t going to get at the truth with him if he maintained this present tack. The wind had changed; time to readjust the sails, and go for hitting their usual connection that had so often aided them in the past.
“All of those reasons are true,” he admitted. “You know we need to be able to depend on your contributions. And we …”
“It’s not like I’m going to curl up and turn into a ball of dust, you know. I’m not some mewling kitten to cringe at the sound of Ayestrom’s footsteps!” Superman sounded almost disgusted.
“No, you’re not,” Batman said evenly. “I don’t think you know how strong you really are.” Superman looked up at him. “But this is not the same as a physical malady. This is taking you apart at the seams, Superman. And I cannot let that happen. I will not.”
Superman was already shaking his head. “There’s nothing you can do, Batman, so don’t even bother trying.”
Batman’s lips drew back. “You have GOT to be the most stubborn man I’ve ever had the misfortune to deal with, Kent.”
Superman bit back a hard-sounding laugh. “Right back at you, Mister Wayne.”
Batman set his teeth.
Superman was looking over the edge of the roof at the city. “I’ve got to go. There’re still some burning buildings out th …”
“We’re not finished,” Batman growled, blocking Superman’s path as he stepped to the side. Superman stopped and looked at him defiantly.
“I think we are,” he said. He sidestepped again and Batman heard him strike the roof edge with his knee as he stumbled slightly in placing one foot on top of the ledge.
“What are you so afraid of?” Batman asked suddenly, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the Man of Steel stiffen and stop in his tracks. “Do you really think I could possibly judge you harshly if I knew whatever the truth is?” He paused. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
Superman gazed out at the city, shoulders set, jaw tightening.
Batman settled his own shoulders. “I had believed we’d been through enough together to establish a greater trust than this.”
“It’s not about trust!” Superman hissed, turning back.
“No?”
“I do trust you, Bruce. God help me, more than just about anyone else in the world. But this isn’t about that.”
“I think it is.”
Superman let out a breath of exasperation. “You’re reading too much into things. Just because you’re paranoid about everything doesn’t mean …”
“Just because I’m ‘paranoid’ doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” Batman shot back. “And if you trust me as you say, you’ll listen to me now.”
He could see that he’d struck a nerve. Superman stood, half poised on the edge, taut and quivering as a tensed bowstring.
“Tell me what is going on with you.” Superman’s hard gaze still did not relent. Batman felt a surge of unfamiliar frustration well up. Only Superman … “Damnit, Clark, talk to me!”
Superman simply shook his head again. “You’ve got an overactive imagination, Bruce.” He gazed out, head tilted, as if listening. “Look. We’re going to have to table this discussion for another time. I’ve still got work to do.”
“NO.” Batman shot his hand forward and caught Superman’s wrist as he was turning to leap back into the air. Superman twisted around at the sudden pressure, and glared down at him
“People need me …”
“We need to talk about this NOW.”
“Batman …”
“Superman.” Batman drew a deep breath. “You asked me why I cared. It’s not just about your state of health, or your usefulness, or League consensus. I care … because …” He gritted his teeth. Why was this so hard to say? “Because I am your friend.”
Superman jerked his head up, eyes wide, eyebrows nearing his hairline. It was practically a state of the Union address when Batman ever admitted to possessing something as human as feelings, and certainly a cold blue moon when he acknowledged having anything like friendship. Superman’s blue gaze bored into him, the astonishment almost literally coming off of him in palpable waves. Batman nearly smiled at the reaction.
I have him.
He forced himself to continue. “And I am … concerned. Concerned that something is causing you a … a not inconsiderable amount of distress.” He paused. “Something is obviously hurting you, Clark, hurting you on more than just a physical level. And I … I want to help.”
He knew his use of Clark’s name sang loud and clear. It would guarantee his attention, as would his rarely verbalized desire to help him.
They locked gazes, staring at each other for a long, heart-pounding moment.
Surrender, Batman willed silently. Give in to what I’m offering. I only want to help you.
Superman swallowed convulsively, and then tore his gaze away. For several beats he held completely still, except for a fine tremor along his jaw. Batman did not back away, implacable.
And then all at once Superman sank slowly to the ground, as if his legs could no longer support his weight. His back slid down against the support strut of the Daily Planet Globe, knees pressed tight against his chest. He was still silent, but Batman, suppressing the great wash of relief that threatened to distract him, knew that at last he had managed to break through the walls that had surrounded Superman for days. Batman’s unusual openness had succeeded where no number of threats or demands ever would.
Whatever it takes …
He lowered himself to crouch directly in front of Superman, and only waited, not pressing any further.
Waiting.
That he could do.
The night pressed in on them, true darkness having stolen in, and the air was chill and damp, still thick and pungent with smoke.
Batman did not say anything further, only watching Superman. Waiting.
At long last Superman began to speak, slowly, hesitantly, but with heartfelt determination.
“They began about two and a half weeks ago.” His voice was low, almost gravelly, so unlike his usual richly timbered baritone. His eyes were unfocused, looking at something Batman couldn’t see. Batman gave a faint nod, and Superman continued hesitantly. “At first, they were simply your typical sort of dream. Flitting images, vague, unclear, confusing … maybe a little unsettling.” His eyes darkened. “Then they started to become all too clear. And grew distinctly … frightening.”
He fell silent again, but Batman did not interrupt. After a moment, Superman continued. “There’s always a good deal of violence accompanying these dreams, but considering the line of work we do, I guess that’s not all that unusual or unexpected.” Superman smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve had some real doozies in the past, as I’m sure have we all. But these … they’re different. Much more real. And they … grow in intensity each night.” His eyes narrowed. “There were so many people, Bruce, countless numbers of them, being … being hurt in them. Being hurt or tormented in various, catastrophic ways. Then it gets worse. Much worse.” He swallowed. “They start being outright killed, in the very worst ways one can imagine, and all right in front of my eyes. Yes,” he added as Batman lifted his head, “I am actually participating in these dreams, not simply watching them as if it’s a movie, like in some sorts of dreams you have. I’m there. But I can only watch, nevertheless. I’m absolutely helpless to do anything about the killing, to stop it. Each and every time. I’m part of the scene, but it’s like I’m physically prevented from coming to the aid of the … the victims.”
Superman paused again, as if to gather his courage.
Batman watched him. “Go on.” His voice was low.
Superman drew a breath.
“The worst part of it is, these poor people, the innocent victims of injury, mutilation, torture, death …although many of them are complete strangers, helpless civilians caught in a crossfire, increasingly more and more of them are people I know. People I … care about.”
He stopped, his head falling forward and dropping into his hands as if to blot out the visions that had to be flashing across his mind’s eye.
“Who?” Batman asked softly, finally, although he was sure he knew the answer. The horror of the dream was making his own hackles rise. Although he was perfectly aware that Superman was deliberately omitting the grislier details, he could guess at them easily enough. He’d had similar nightmares enough times of his own. But though he braced himself, Superman’s answer managed to surprise him nonetheless.
“Everyone.”
Superman’s voice was very quiet.
Batman frowned. “Everyone? How do y...”
Superman lifted his head from his hands and nodded slowly. “Everyone. Everyone I know now … or knew once.” His throat seemed to close up. “The list is long, Bruce. So very long.”
Batman stared at him. Clark wasn’t volunteering anything else. He was going to have to press.
“Who?” he asked again, more forcibly.
Superman grimaced, and then nodded slowly, drawing a shaky breath. “Lois. She’s first. I suppose that’s obvious.” Batman nodded, jaw tight. Of course it would be Lois. “And, well, of course, Ma, and Pa.” He squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, he forced in another breath. “Then there’s Lana and Pete. Their two-year old son, Clark, the one they named after me. Other people from Smallville that I know, folks that I grew up with. And then I see people from here, from Metropolis. Jimmy, and Perry. Even Alice, Perry’s ex-wife, and his adopted son, who’d died a while ago now. And my sister-in-law, Lucy, and Ron, and their child. There’s John Henry and Natasha Irons. Bibbo Bibbowski, Professor Hamilton, Dr. Falkner, all the Cadmus people, really. Our next door neighbours at our apartment. The guy I buy coffee from every morning. Co-workers, in-laws, friends, acquaintances.” He stopped for a moment, as if summoning strength to continue.
Batman nodded at him, masking his own jaw tightening. “I’m listening.”
Superman drew a deep breath. “Conner is there, dying, slowly. And Kara and Linda ... both of them. And I can’t stop it. I can’t save them. I can’t save anyone!” He gritted his teeth and shook his head hard in a jerky motion before gearing himself up to keep going.
Batman arrested a quick motion to reach for him.
This is ... it’s not ...
It wasn’t even his nightmare and he couldn’t seem to articulate a coherent thought just listening to it!
Superman licked dry lips, not looking at him. “Lex appears too, oddly enough. I know. His is a particularly gruesome death.” He shuddered. “Even Krypto is there. God, what they do to him! His yelps …” He stopped again, and fought against the lump in his throat, as if willing himself to continue. Batman bit his lip hard as he watched him. Superman went on after a few moments of internal struggle. “And ... and then ... Diana. She …oh, Diana. I …” He stopped again, for a very long moment, and when he resumed, his voice was so controlled it no longer sounded like his own. “And J’onn. And Kyle. Wally. Arthur … Eel, Ollie, Dinah, the whole League. Reserves, everybody. And … Dick is there.” Batman raised his eyes, and Superman looked almost apologetically at him. “Yes. And even … Jason. And Tim a …a little later.” He swallowed, obviously remembering.
It was getting harder for him to continue. He didn’t want to continue. Batman didn’t want him to continue either. But he had to.
You must.
“Go on,” Batman said, his own voice controlled.
Superman gritted his teeth again, but his voice was quiet. “Barbara. Alfred. I’m sorry, Bruce, I’m sorry.”
Batman shook his head at him. How could he be apologizing? As if it were his fault?
And how could he even be speaking of it so … so ... But Superman sighed out a deep breath of sorrow, and simply went on. “And there are others: Jay Garrick, and Alan Scott, and Power Girl, well, the entire JSA, really. And those who’ve already gone. Barry, and Hal. Wives and husbands and children of members too. And then … then all of the Titans come next. The Outsiders. The other teams. Other heroes I’ve worked with, and called friends. Even our enemies die horrible deaths.” He took another breath. “Near … near the end I sometimes see … my parents. Jor-El and Lara.” Superman squeezed his eyes shut again, very tightly. “People I’ve been able to save in the past. The people I haven’t.” He paused a very long time. “You.” His voice was very soft.
It was Batman who looked away this time.
For a long moment, except for the whisper of the wind, stark silence reigned on the roof.
---
To be continued ... right here.