Fic: A Certain Thought that Lingers
Title: A Certain Thought that Lingers
Author: tmelange
Pairing: Superman/Batman
Rating: PG
Summary: Batman is faced with an unintended consequence of a decision: he is bonded to Superman for life. Will he accept the change in their relationship, or will he hurt the both of them, trying to find a way out?
Note: This was completed for the 2006 World's Finest Awards sponsored by the worlds_finest community.
I have a strong urge to re-write this story completely--and may do so...soon--since I wrote it in such a rush and it's, you know, missing about 20 pages of actual story. LOL
:-:
We are not permitted to linger, even with what is most intimate. -Rilke
Prelude
He could feel it, in the back of his mind, tickling, echoing. An unwelcome inner vibration that promised-
What? Comfort, safety, an end to loneliness…to never be alone, in his own head, in his own heart-
Bruce Wayne sighed, a tense release of air, grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray as a waiter made his rounds in the crowded exhibition hall and tried to smile at his companion, a certain lovely and talented starlet who was the current darling of the paparazzi. He couldn't even remember her name.
"Brucie," she said, leaning in close to his ear so she could be heard around the noise and the revelry, "it's almost midnight. I want to be up front when the ball drops." Her long lashes fluttered. "Come with me?"
Bruce grimaced, tried to hide it behind a small cough and a nod, allowed the petite brunette to take his arm, lead him in the proper direction. Her touch burned like a branding, even through the material of his expensive tuxedo, but he didn't flinch, refused to extricate his arm, even though the roaring in his head was loud, past bearing.
He could do this. He would demonstrate, to himself most importantly, that nothing had changed.
Conversation was easy, vacuous, the excited undulations of the crowd as the night beat down to midnight a welcome barrier to more personal interaction. Still, he could feel Clark like a ghost, like a shadow that lingered even after the setting of the sun.
He's in Smallville. Home. Family. Such love. He loves his parents so much. So very much.
Bruce felt it as Clark looked up, concentrated, sent a thought through their link that was like a gentle caress, like a whisper of rain against his face, a fall of snowflakes: You're part of my family, too, Bruce. Don't-
Bruce clamped down on their connection hard, the way J'onn had taught him, leaving only the reverberation of a disappointment colored by concern, wreathed in…love.
Later, after the countdown to the New Year had come and gone, after he had convinced his companion to accompany him back to his hotel suite, he again tried to banish the echo of Clark from his mind's eye as he touched her, kissed her desperately, felt the burn, masked the pain, laid her naked body down on the bed, covered her body with his own-
Clark had left the farm. He was flying. He was a star in the sky, falling. He was needed in another part of the world. No rest for Superman…
A cadence, metronomic, even, steady, rather than the usual syncopation that forever sought to strengthen the weakest beat, refused to be silenced in his head as Bruce buried his face in her hair, as he thrust into her, through her. His hands clenched, causing her to cry out in surprise as a sort of stricken longing swept over him, dismantling him, like the lost, bewildered feeling of a child as his mother lets go of his hand on the first day of school.
Don't-
His heart began a rapid, deep, and painful beating that turned him dizzy. His hold on his companion loosened, fell away. Brightness, the intense brightness of a too bright sun blasted through his boundaries, flooded his mind, scorched his soul, blew the husk of his vision away.
:-:
Ironically, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, necessary, even. In fact, it was his idea in the first place.
The seven members of the Justice League were meeting at the Themysciran embassy while they awaited the retrofitting of their new headquarters, the orbital satellite and watchtower that would provide them with an unprecedented ability to protect the Earth and would serve as the first line of defense against alien invasion. They were arguing training and tactics, and, of course, Superman refused to understand the need for even a modicum of preemptive planning.
"Superman," Batman said through gritted teeth, "surely even you can understand the need for communication-"
"No need to try to be insulting, Batman," Superman bit out. "I understand perfectly the need for communications in the middle of battle. I simply feel that our comm links are enough-"
"What if our electronic uplink fails at a critical moment-?"
"We have the back-up system-"
"The back-up system could fail-"
"The moon could fall from the sky, Batman," Superman said, throwing the report he was holding in his hands to the table in exasperation. "But the bottom line is we are all professionals and know how to function in battle. We have a communication system in place that has three levels of redundancies built in, redundancies that you required and designed. Now you're saying that even those redundancies are not enough. Your paranoia-"
Batman got to his feet. "I've had enough of this-"
Diana was at his side, with a placating hand on his arm. "Batman, wait," she said. "Let's talk about this."
"I'm done talking."
"Then wait and let someone else talk. You've presented your case, now let us consider it."
Batman frowned darkly but took his seat. Diana was always placing herself between him and the boyscout in primary colors. When would she ever learn that the two of them were simply fire and ice, oil and water, rational crime fighter and big blue butthead?
"J'onn," she said, taking her own seat, "is this perfectly safe?"
The Martian spoke gravely, "I have studied human physiology, and this poses no threat. The proposed telepathic link between us seven will allow us to talk to each other mind-to-mind. The benefits include a level of instant communication beyond the capacity of electronic devices that will persist as long as I remain conscious. There are no drawbacks."
Superman leaned forward. "How do you shield others from random thoughts, those that you may not want others to hear? Can we turn it off, block it if it's not needed? If one person initiates contact, is the other person compelled to respond-"
"Did you even read my report?" Batman asked out loud, in a disgusted, long-suffering voice. "Do you really think I would allow any sort of mental invasion of my brain that I hadn't fully vetted and narrowly circumscribed?"
"The brain of the Bat is a dark and unwelcome place and not open for visitors…" The Flash said sotto voce, boredom evident and punctuated with a sigh.
"I had a meeting with the president-"
"Maybe you should try reading the report before you-"
"Boys," Diana said, then louder, "Boys-"
"What?" They both turned in her direction.
"Perhaps J'onn could answer Superman's concerns and then we can vote. There's no need to argue about this."
"Fine," Superman said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fine," Batman said, with a growl, crossing his own arms over his chest.
J'onn's eye ridge went up, as if to say, Earthlings, what an interesting people, before he explained in plain terms that the proposed telepathic link would only enable communication if the recipient was receptive; that the exchange was limited to active thoughts alone and that stray thoughts or thoughts below the surface of the active exchange were inaccessible. In that way the link was very much like a comm link or a telephone, even. The Martian made such an effort to reassure Superman of the inaccessibility of stray or underlying thoughts that it caused Batman to wonder what the Man of Steel could be so concerned about hiding. If anyone was an open book, it was Superman. He should be the last one to worry.
They took the vote. The result was unanimous.
:-:
Two days later, a little past eleven o'clock on a dark night when the moon was obscured by cumulous clouds that promised snow by morning, Batman was on the roof of the Gotham Public Library. He was crouched behind a gargoyle, watching the deserted street below, idly bemused by the calm that had descended on his city over the last few days, like the quiet before the storm. He didn't even bother to look up when the obnoxious boyscout in blue tights flitted down out of the night sky like an angel in a piece of particularly bad poetry.
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought we-"
"Don't think. Just go," Batman growled. "Don't you think we've had enough of each other to last the week?"
And that was the crux of it. With the inception of the Justice League, the two of them were forced to spend an inordinate amount of time together. They had known each other for years, both being the most recognizable crime fighters in their respective spheres of influence; they had worked together when necessary, but it had been quite clear from the beginning that their methods and ideologies differed drastically. Consequently, they had maintained an appropriate personal and professional distance at all times, a distance that had effectively been eroded by their current status as "teammates". The new level of tension between them was…distracting.
"I-"
"Are you still here?" Batman said, straightening. "I have work to do."
Superman turned, looked out into the night, on the streets of Gotham. "It's quiet," he said, his voice taking on a slightly pleading note that was somewhat surprising when Batman was so used to his teammate's constant ill-conceived belligerence. "Surely you can spare-"
"What is it, then?" Batman snapped.
"I-"
"Yes, we've established that," Batman interrupted dryly. "Can you cut to the chase?"
"Would you stop it?"
Batman scoffed, low in his throat, at the way Superman seemed to bristle, the way his eyes glared red. Serves him right, Batman thought, for continuing to float out there, forcing me to look up just to speak to him.
"I just needed to talk to you."
Batman shrugged. "I can't imagine what could be so important that you'd need to come to Gotham. We have a League meeting next week-"
"It's not about League business, well, not exactly." Superman bit his lip. Was that a habit? Batman was surprised he had never noticed it before, but he added it to his mental file on the Kryptonian, for future reference.
"It's about you," Superman paused. "And me."
The Man of Steel was still floating in the air, off the edge of the roof, almost as if he were afraid to set feet on solid ground, almost as if by floating, he could assure himself a quick getaway, but he had slowly descended from his loftier angle; Batman could now look him in the eye without having to crane his neck.
"I-"
Batman waited silently. Superman took a deep breath.
"I-"
"If you don't get to the point-"
"Okay," Superman snapped. "Alright." He took another deep breath. "Batman-Bruce-"
Bruce? Since when had they evolved to a first name basis?
"Bruce, I-"
Suddenly, Batman was swept up in the night, engulfed by shadows, wrapped in arms that stilled his instinctive struggles; he was being kissed.
It lasted an interminable length of time, but, finally, it...ended, leaving him agog, amazed, sputtering like an appalled cat.
"What are you doing? Are you insane?"
Superman was running his hand though his hair, looking abashed and apologetic. Batman simply stared at him, waiting for an explanation-for something completely inexplicable.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he said, sighing. "This new telepathy we'll be using-I didn't want you to find out about how I feel some other way."
"How you feel?"
Superman nodded slowly. "I've…felt this way about you for ages, Bruce. There was never a right time…you…don't make it easy."
This had to be a dream, a nightmare. "Batman," he said. "I'm Batman, not Bruce. And you're Superman." Not Clark. "And you're being absolutely ridiculous. I don't even like you."
"Oh, okay, then," Superman said, with a small, embarrassed upturn to the corner of his mouth, a tilt to the head that had him looking anywhere but directly at his teammate. "I thought-I just wanted you to know. I'll leave you to your work."
He was floating high again, turning away.
"I'll see you at the meeting next week, Batman."
Batman stood at the edge of the rooftop, staring out over his city. The sky was a wash of stars. It seemed the clouds had dispersed, the moon shone down on everything in all its brilliance and the night in Gotham was, for once, as clear as day.
:-:
The first time they initiated the telepathic link, it was a disaster.
The fight was against Metallo and the Superman Revenge Squad, and the only thing worse than watching Superman risk his life by rushing in recklessly against a foe with a Kryptonite power source was knowing in advance that he planned to do so.
Batman could never remember what he had done; it was only afterwards, when he reviewed the tapes, when he forced his teammates to recount every last minute of the encounter at least three times, that he finally had to admit that, perhaps, he had been wrong about the usefulness of the link if it could make him lose his mind at the presentation of danger to a teammate.
Still, he wanted to be sure, and it was the second episode-Superman trying to stop Mongul and getting the crap beat out of him and himself rushing in blindly to save him-that resolved the issue. He asked J'onn to meet him in the conference room at the embassy. When he arrived, he found J'onn and Superman waiting.
"Why are you here?" Batman growled at Superman. "To say I told you so?"
"Of course not. J'onn-"
"I asked him to come," J'onn said in his calm voice. "This concerns the both of you."
"I don't see why," Batman said peevishly. "I wanted to talk to you about the link. It doesn't seem to be working reliably."
"It works," J'onn said.
"How can you-"
"It just doesn't work for you."
"Explain."
"The link works reliably for everyone but you, Batman. It even works for you, with everyone except Superman."
Batman eyed the Kryptonian suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
J'onn continued, "For…some reason…what should be a simple surface connection between you and Superman, a link that would allow communication, has…morphed into a physical as well as a mental binding. Your recent reactions are a result of your senses being overloaded with the knowledge that Superman is in danger, and it being imperative that you rescue him."
"Imperative." Batman's voice was flat, unbelieving. "Why only with him?"
J'onn's brow rose. "Only you can answer that."
"Break it," Batman said decisively. "Dissolve the link."
"That is…not possible. Only you-"
"You said there was no danger."
"This was unforeseen. There was no way for me to know, absent scanning your mind that you-"
"Stop." Batman whirled on Superman. "This is your fault," he accused, pointing a finger. "Your feelings-"
"This is not Superman's fault," J'onn said, his tone admonishing.
Superman had his arms crossed and his head down. All Batman wanted to do was punch his lights out.
"If anyone is to blame, Batman, I'm afraid it is you. You hold on too tightly. I can't break the link without hurting you. You won't let me."
Batman stared at the Martian. "What can be done?" he finally asked. He would not live with some sort of intangible connection to Superman, it was unacceptable.
"There are some mental exercises that I can teach you that will enable you to control the flow of thoughts and emotions-"
"How do I get rid of it?"
J'onn paused. "You cannot simply get rid of it, Batman, at least there is no way of which I am aware." Again, J'onn paused, seemingly wistful, on the sharp edge of distress. "My people would search a lifetime to find what you have found by accident. I could no more break this binding than I could kill the spirit of an unborn child."
His mind was processing this information, shifting through the nuances, trying to find some path out of the madness. Still, Superman contemplated the floor. "What will happen?" he asked J'onn. "Over time?"
"Over time the bond will grow, becoming to you the equivalent of an arm or a leg, a vital organ without which life would be possible but meaningless."
Unacceptable. He hadn't fought for autonomy all his life, practiced distance from people, entanglements, the way some people practiced the piano to have it all come down to this-some physical and mental dependency on a super powered alien, even if it was Clark-
"You said I could learn a mental technique to control this? How much control? Can I shut it down to a bare minimum?"
J'onn was quiet a moment, considering. "Theoretically, yes. Depending upon your mental acuity, you could choke the bond, prevent all but the bare minimum to pass through. Eventually, it is possible that you will achieve true quiescence, though I cannot believe that such a state would be healthy-"
"That is what we'll do, then," Batman interrupted, satisfied. "At least until I can do some more research."
He watched Superman nod and turn towards the door. It was surprising that the Man of Steel had nothing to say about all of this. The thought was like a blossoming in his head, and, all of a sudden, he was awash in hurt and disappointment, and an acute sadness that colored the edges of his vision gray. He stumbled, but J'onn was there with a hand on his arm. Superman didn't look back.
"We should start immediately," J'onn was saying.
Batman straightened. "What about him?" Batman said, nodding towards the door.
"Superman is Kryptonian. His is a higher level of mental acuity. He will have no problems controlling the flow of the link. The ability comes to him as a second nature. As I said, this all stems from you. You hold on too tightly…"
I hold on too tightly.
A divine joke, then, at his expense.
:-:
Weeks passed, and the situation became more and more unbearable.
It was not 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 Superman 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 ordinarily followed the boyscout around like a puppy, had learned that merely sitting at the same table as Superman would cause him to hover nearby, incandescent, with such jealousy and rage as Batman had never dreamed could touch him.
Every morning Batman looked in the mirror and saw the face of a stranger staring back at him. Every morning he wondered how he would find his way back to his real self, his old self.
Batman tried-he put all his considerable willpower to the task-to speed up the process of gutting the connection between himself and Superman, smothering it, making it so that it was a non-issue and he could return to the way things used to be, before he had been introduced to a new part of himself-a part that he never knew existed.
Slowly, it was working, he could tell. And Superman kept his distance, and the distance helped. And months passed by, until one day Batman was alone on the newly provisioned watchtower, and he found he was truly…alone.
It was then he decided to return to his regular routine, the one that he had perfected in his years as the Dark Knight of Gotham, in his years as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy. And he was satisfied.
:-:
Epilogue
Slowly, Bruce Wayne opened his eyes. He was wrapped in warmth, soothed by hands that stroked his back, the length of his hip, hands that paused at the curve of his waist, waiting. His head was resting on a broad chest, and nothing-nothing-had ever felt so perfect; nothing had ever felt so true. Bruce raised his head and looked up, and eyes the color of carmine flames with a blue base pulled him in, destroying him.
"Where…?" His voice was dry, gravely, like sand in the desert.
"I sent her away," Clark said, with a small smile. "She thought you were on drugs and had had some sort of a fit. She couldn't get out of here fast enough."
An eyebrow went up, but then Bruce settled back down between Clark's legs, rested his head at the crook of neck and chest, where it fit like a piece to a puzzle, to the inaudible clicking, the interconnection of the missing half of his soul. Who cared about the girl? She was extraneous, and better off gone. She had only been an instrument, the instrument of the breaking, and her song had served its purpose.
"What…?"
"Shh," Clark hushed him, stroking. His voice was low in the dark, a deep rumble like the movement of earth. "I tried to explain, but you wouldn't let me. You may hate me but we…need each other. It's not a simple matter of some mental technique. You can fight it all you want but…" this nail passes through the both of us.
"I'm not trying to hurt you."
Bruce closed his eyes, felt his heart shiver instead of beat at the strong ebb and flow of exchanges, now that he was so close to the source, the terrible space he had carried in his heart for years, since he was a young boy-filled. With truth.
When I need a shoulder to lean on; when I think the night might break me; when my heart bleeds and the tears fall like rain, he'll be there.
"Clark," he whispered. The soft stroking, the slow opening of a door in his mind and the gentle wind that passed through, was his only response. "I don't hate you."
"I don't…hate you either, Bruce."
Bruce smiled, slipped into the quiet place that preceded a deep, cleansing sleep, content in the knowledge that the New Year would bring change. Inexplicable change. The new year would bring love.
finis
End Note: I have some actual references that I'd like to put here for this story, like the actual name of the Rilke poem that I got the beginning quote from, but I can't find my notes. I'll add them at some point in the future. Just know that some stuff came from somewhere...LOL.
Author: tmelange
Pairing: Superman/Batman
Rating: PG
Summary: Batman is faced with an unintended consequence of a decision: he is bonded to Superman for life. Will he accept the change in their relationship, or will he hurt the both of them, trying to find a way out?
Note: This was completed for the 2006 World's Finest Awards sponsored by the worlds_finest community.
I have a strong urge to re-write this story completely--and may do so...soon--since I wrote it in such a rush and it's, you know, missing about 20 pages of actual story. LOL
:-:
We are not permitted to linger, even with what is most intimate. -Rilke
Prelude
He could feel it, in the back of his mind, tickling, echoing. An unwelcome inner vibration that promised-
What? Comfort, safety, an end to loneliness…to never be alone, in his own head, in his own heart-
Bruce Wayne sighed, a tense release of air, grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray as a waiter made his rounds in the crowded exhibition hall and tried to smile at his companion, a certain lovely and talented starlet who was the current darling of the paparazzi. He couldn't even remember her name.
"Brucie," she said, leaning in close to his ear so she could be heard around the noise and the revelry, "it's almost midnight. I want to be up front when the ball drops." Her long lashes fluttered. "Come with me?"
Bruce grimaced, tried to hide it behind a small cough and a nod, allowed the petite brunette to take his arm, lead him in the proper direction. Her touch burned like a branding, even through the material of his expensive tuxedo, but he didn't flinch, refused to extricate his arm, even though the roaring in his head was loud, past bearing.
He could do this. He would demonstrate, to himself most importantly, that nothing had changed.
Conversation was easy, vacuous, the excited undulations of the crowd as the night beat down to midnight a welcome barrier to more personal interaction. Still, he could feel Clark like a ghost, like a shadow that lingered even after the setting of the sun.
He's in Smallville. Home. Family. Such love. He loves his parents so much. So very much.
Bruce felt it as Clark looked up, concentrated, sent a thought through their link that was like a gentle caress, like a whisper of rain against his face, a fall of snowflakes: You're part of my family, too, Bruce. Don't-
Bruce clamped down on their connection hard, the way J'onn had taught him, leaving only the reverberation of a disappointment colored by concern, wreathed in…love.
Later, after the countdown to the New Year had come and gone, after he had convinced his companion to accompany him back to his hotel suite, he again tried to banish the echo of Clark from his mind's eye as he touched her, kissed her desperately, felt the burn, masked the pain, laid her naked body down on the bed, covered her body with his own-
Clark had left the farm. He was flying. He was a star in the sky, falling. He was needed in another part of the world. No rest for Superman…
A cadence, metronomic, even, steady, rather than the usual syncopation that forever sought to strengthen the weakest beat, refused to be silenced in his head as Bruce buried his face in her hair, as he thrust into her, through her. His hands clenched, causing her to cry out in surprise as a sort of stricken longing swept over him, dismantling him, like the lost, bewildered feeling of a child as his mother lets go of his hand on the first day of school.
Don't-
His heart began a rapid, deep, and painful beating that turned him dizzy. His hold on his companion loosened, fell away. Brightness, the intense brightness of a too bright sun blasted through his boundaries, flooded his mind, scorched his soul, blew the husk of his vision away.
:-:
Ironically, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, necessary, even. In fact, it was his idea in the first place.
The seven members of the Justice League were meeting at the Themysciran embassy while they awaited the retrofitting of their new headquarters, the orbital satellite and watchtower that would provide them with an unprecedented ability to protect the Earth and would serve as the first line of defense against alien invasion. They were arguing training and tactics, and, of course, Superman refused to understand the need for even a modicum of preemptive planning.
"Superman," Batman said through gritted teeth, "surely even you can understand the need for communication-"
"No need to try to be insulting, Batman," Superman bit out. "I understand perfectly the need for communications in the middle of battle. I simply feel that our comm links are enough-"
"What if our electronic uplink fails at a critical moment-?"
"We have the back-up system-"
"The back-up system could fail-"
"The moon could fall from the sky, Batman," Superman said, throwing the report he was holding in his hands to the table in exasperation. "But the bottom line is we are all professionals and know how to function in battle. We have a communication system in place that has three levels of redundancies built in, redundancies that you required and designed. Now you're saying that even those redundancies are not enough. Your paranoia-"
Batman got to his feet. "I've had enough of this-"
Diana was at his side, with a placating hand on his arm. "Batman, wait," she said. "Let's talk about this."
"I'm done talking."
"Then wait and let someone else talk. You've presented your case, now let us consider it."
Batman frowned darkly but took his seat. Diana was always placing herself between him and the boyscout in primary colors. When would she ever learn that the two of them were simply fire and ice, oil and water, rational crime fighter and big blue butthead?
"J'onn," she said, taking her own seat, "is this perfectly safe?"
The Martian spoke gravely, "I have studied human physiology, and this poses no threat. The proposed telepathic link between us seven will allow us to talk to each other mind-to-mind. The benefits include a level of instant communication beyond the capacity of electronic devices that will persist as long as I remain conscious. There are no drawbacks."
Superman leaned forward. "How do you shield others from random thoughts, those that you may not want others to hear? Can we turn it off, block it if it's not needed? If one person initiates contact, is the other person compelled to respond-"
"Did you even read my report?" Batman asked out loud, in a disgusted, long-suffering voice. "Do you really think I would allow any sort of mental invasion of my brain that I hadn't fully vetted and narrowly circumscribed?"
"The brain of the Bat is a dark and unwelcome place and not open for visitors…" The Flash said sotto voce, boredom evident and punctuated with a sigh.
"I had a meeting with the president-"
"Maybe you should try reading the report before you-"
"Boys," Diana said, then louder, "Boys-"
"What?" They both turned in her direction.
"Perhaps J'onn could answer Superman's concerns and then we can vote. There's no need to argue about this."
"Fine," Superman said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fine," Batman said, with a growl, crossing his own arms over his chest.
J'onn's eye ridge went up, as if to say, Earthlings, what an interesting people, before he explained in plain terms that the proposed telepathic link would only enable communication if the recipient was receptive; that the exchange was limited to active thoughts alone and that stray thoughts or thoughts below the surface of the active exchange were inaccessible. In that way the link was very much like a comm link or a telephone, even. The Martian made such an effort to reassure Superman of the inaccessibility of stray or underlying thoughts that it caused Batman to wonder what the Man of Steel could be so concerned about hiding. If anyone was an open book, it was Superman. He should be the last one to worry.
They took the vote. The result was unanimous.
:-:
Two days later, a little past eleven o'clock on a dark night when the moon was obscured by cumulous clouds that promised snow by morning, Batman was on the roof of the Gotham Public Library. He was crouched behind a gargoyle, watching the deserted street below, idly bemused by the calm that had descended on his city over the last few days, like the quiet before the storm. He didn't even bother to look up when the obnoxious boyscout in blue tights flitted down out of the night sky like an angel in a piece of particularly bad poetry.
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought we-"
"Don't think. Just go," Batman growled. "Don't you think we've had enough of each other to last the week?"
And that was the crux of it. With the inception of the Justice League, the two of them were forced to spend an inordinate amount of time together. They had known each other for years, both being the most recognizable crime fighters in their respective spheres of influence; they had worked together when necessary, but it had been quite clear from the beginning that their methods and ideologies differed drastically. Consequently, they had maintained an appropriate personal and professional distance at all times, a distance that had effectively been eroded by their current status as "teammates". The new level of tension between them was…distracting.
"I-"
"Are you still here?" Batman said, straightening. "I have work to do."
Superman turned, looked out into the night, on the streets of Gotham. "It's quiet," he said, his voice taking on a slightly pleading note that was somewhat surprising when Batman was so used to his teammate's constant ill-conceived belligerence. "Surely you can spare-"
"What is it, then?" Batman snapped.
"I-"
"Yes, we've established that," Batman interrupted dryly. "Can you cut to the chase?"
"Would you stop it?"
Batman scoffed, low in his throat, at the way Superman seemed to bristle, the way his eyes glared red. Serves him right, Batman thought, for continuing to float out there, forcing me to look up just to speak to him.
"I just needed to talk to you."
Batman shrugged. "I can't imagine what could be so important that you'd need to come to Gotham. We have a League meeting next week-"
"It's not about League business, well, not exactly." Superman bit his lip. Was that a habit? Batman was surprised he had never noticed it before, but he added it to his mental file on the Kryptonian, for future reference.
"It's about you," Superman paused. "And me."
The Man of Steel was still floating in the air, off the edge of the roof, almost as if he were afraid to set feet on solid ground, almost as if by floating, he could assure himself a quick getaway, but he had slowly descended from his loftier angle; Batman could now look him in the eye without having to crane his neck.
"I-"
Batman waited silently. Superman took a deep breath.
"I-"
"If you don't get to the point-"
"Okay," Superman snapped. "Alright." He took another deep breath. "Batman-Bruce-"
Bruce? Since when had they evolved to a first name basis?
"Bruce, I-"
Suddenly, Batman was swept up in the night, engulfed by shadows, wrapped in arms that stilled his instinctive struggles; he was being kissed.
It lasted an interminable length of time, but, finally, it...ended, leaving him agog, amazed, sputtering like an appalled cat.
"What are you doing? Are you insane?"
Superman was running his hand though his hair, looking abashed and apologetic. Batman simply stared at him, waiting for an explanation-for something completely inexplicable.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he said, sighing. "This new telepathy we'll be using-I didn't want you to find out about how I feel some other way."
"How you feel?"
Superman nodded slowly. "I've…felt this way about you for ages, Bruce. There was never a right time…you…don't make it easy."
This had to be a dream, a nightmare. "Batman," he said. "I'm Batman, not Bruce. And you're Superman." Not Clark. "And you're being absolutely ridiculous. I don't even like you."
"Oh, okay, then," Superman said, with a small, embarrassed upturn to the corner of his mouth, a tilt to the head that had him looking anywhere but directly at his teammate. "I thought-I just wanted you to know. I'll leave you to your work."
He was floating high again, turning away.
"I'll see you at the meeting next week, Batman."
Batman stood at the edge of the rooftop, staring out over his city. The sky was a wash of stars. It seemed the clouds had dispersed, the moon shone down on everything in all its brilliance and the night in Gotham was, for once, as clear as day.
:-:
The first time they initiated the telepathic link, it was a disaster.
The fight was against Metallo and the Superman Revenge Squad, and the only thing worse than watching Superman risk his life by rushing in recklessly against a foe with a Kryptonite power source was knowing in advance that he planned to do so.
Batman could never remember what he had done; it was only afterwards, when he reviewed the tapes, when he forced his teammates to recount every last minute of the encounter at least three times, that he finally had to admit that, perhaps, he had been wrong about the usefulness of the link if it could make him lose his mind at the presentation of danger to a teammate.
Still, he wanted to be sure, and it was the second episode-Superman trying to stop Mongul and getting the crap beat out of him and himself rushing in blindly to save him-that resolved the issue. He asked J'onn to meet him in the conference room at the embassy. When he arrived, he found J'onn and Superman waiting.
"Why are you here?" Batman growled at Superman. "To say I told you so?"
"Of course not. J'onn-"
"I asked him to come," J'onn said in his calm voice. "This concerns the both of you."
"I don't see why," Batman said peevishly. "I wanted to talk to you about the link. It doesn't seem to be working reliably."
"It works," J'onn said.
"How can you-"
"It just doesn't work for you."
"Explain."
"The link works reliably for everyone but you, Batman. It even works for you, with everyone except Superman."
Batman eyed the Kryptonian suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
J'onn continued, "For…some reason…what should be a simple surface connection between you and Superman, a link that would allow communication, has…morphed into a physical as well as a mental binding. Your recent reactions are a result of your senses being overloaded with the knowledge that Superman is in danger, and it being imperative that you rescue him."
"Imperative." Batman's voice was flat, unbelieving. "Why only with him?"
J'onn's brow rose. "Only you can answer that."
"Break it," Batman said decisively. "Dissolve the link."
"That is…not possible. Only you-"
"You said there was no danger."
"This was unforeseen. There was no way for me to know, absent scanning your mind that you-"
"Stop." Batman whirled on Superman. "This is your fault," he accused, pointing a finger. "Your feelings-"
"This is not Superman's fault," J'onn said, his tone admonishing.
Superman had his arms crossed and his head down. All Batman wanted to do was punch his lights out.
"If anyone is to blame, Batman, I'm afraid it is you. You hold on too tightly. I can't break the link without hurting you. You won't let me."
Batman stared at the Martian. "What can be done?" he finally asked. He would not live with some sort of intangible connection to Superman, it was unacceptable.
"There are some mental exercises that I can teach you that will enable you to control the flow of thoughts and emotions-"
"How do I get rid of it?"
J'onn paused. "You cannot simply get rid of it, Batman, at least there is no way of which I am aware." Again, J'onn paused, seemingly wistful, on the sharp edge of distress. "My people would search a lifetime to find what you have found by accident. I could no more break this binding than I could kill the spirit of an unborn child."
His mind was processing this information, shifting through the nuances, trying to find some path out of the madness. Still, Superman contemplated the floor. "What will happen?" he asked J'onn. "Over time?"
"Over time the bond will grow, becoming to you the equivalent of an arm or a leg, a vital organ without which life would be possible but meaningless."
Unacceptable. He hadn't fought for autonomy all his life, practiced distance from people, entanglements, the way some people practiced the piano to have it all come down to this-some physical and mental dependency on a super powered alien, even if it was Clark-
"You said I could learn a mental technique to control this? How much control? Can I shut it down to a bare minimum?"
J'onn was quiet a moment, considering. "Theoretically, yes. Depending upon your mental acuity, you could choke the bond, prevent all but the bare minimum to pass through. Eventually, it is possible that you will achieve true quiescence, though I cannot believe that such a state would be healthy-"
"That is what we'll do, then," Batman interrupted, satisfied. "At least until I can do some more research."
He watched Superman nod and turn towards the door. It was surprising that the Man of Steel had nothing to say about all of this. The thought was like a blossoming in his head, and, all of a sudden, he was awash in hurt and disappointment, and an acute sadness that colored the edges of his vision gray. He stumbled, but J'onn was there with a hand on his arm. Superman didn't look back.
"We should start immediately," J'onn was saying.
Batman straightened. "What about him?" Batman said, nodding towards the door.
"Superman is Kryptonian. His is a higher level of mental acuity. He will have no problems controlling the flow of the link. The ability comes to him as a second nature. As I said, this all stems from you. You hold on too tightly…"
I hold on too tightly.
A divine joke, then, at his expense.
:-:
Weeks passed, and the situation became more and more unbearable.
It was not 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 Superman 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 ordinarily followed the boyscout around like a puppy, had learned that merely sitting at the same table as Superman would cause him to hover nearby, incandescent, with such jealousy and rage as Batman had never dreamed could touch him.
Every morning Batman looked in the mirror and saw the face of a stranger staring back at him. Every morning he wondered how he would find his way back to his real self, his old self.
Batman tried-he put all his considerable willpower to the task-to speed up the process of gutting the connection between himself and Superman, smothering it, making it so that it was a non-issue and he could return to the way things used to be, before he had been introduced to a new part of himself-a part that he never knew existed.
Slowly, it was working, he could tell. And Superman kept his distance, and the distance helped. And months passed by, until one day Batman was alone on the newly provisioned watchtower, and he found he was truly…alone.
It was then he decided to return to his regular routine, the one that he had perfected in his years as the Dark Knight of Gotham, in his years as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy. And he was satisfied.
:-:
Epilogue
Slowly, Bruce Wayne opened his eyes. He was wrapped in warmth, soothed by hands that stroked his back, the length of his hip, hands that paused at the curve of his waist, waiting. His head was resting on a broad chest, and nothing-nothing-had ever felt so perfect; nothing had ever felt so true. Bruce raised his head and looked up, and eyes the color of carmine flames with a blue base pulled him in, destroying him.
"Where…?" His voice was dry, gravely, like sand in the desert.
"I sent her away," Clark said, with a small smile. "She thought you were on drugs and had had some sort of a fit. She couldn't get out of here fast enough."
An eyebrow went up, but then Bruce settled back down between Clark's legs, rested his head at the crook of neck and chest, where it fit like a piece to a puzzle, to the inaudible clicking, the interconnection of the missing half of his soul. Who cared about the girl? She was extraneous, and better off gone. She had only been an instrument, the instrument of the breaking, and her song had served its purpose.
"What…?"
"Shh," Clark hushed him, stroking. His voice was low in the dark, a deep rumble like the movement of earth. "I tried to explain, but you wouldn't let me. You may hate me but we…need each other. It's not a simple matter of some mental technique. You can fight it all you want but…" this nail passes through the both of us.
"I'm not trying to hurt you."
Bruce closed his eyes, felt his heart shiver instead of beat at the strong ebb and flow of exchanges, now that he was so close to the source, the terrible space he had carried in his heart for years, since he was a young boy-filled. With truth.
When I need a shoulder to lean on; when I think the night might break me; when my heart bleeds and the tears fall like rain, he'll be there.
"Clark," he whispered. The soft stroking, the slow opening of a door in his mind and the gentle wind that passed through, was his only response. "I don't hate you."
"I don't…hate you either, Bruce."
Bruce smiled, slipped into the quiet place that preceded a deep, cleansing sleep, content in the knowledge that the New Year would bring change. Inexplicable change. The new year would bring love.
finis
End Note: I have some actual references that I'd like to put here for this story, like the actual name of the Rilke poem that I got the beginning quote from, but I can't find my notes. I'll add them at some point in the future. Just know that some stuff came from somewhere...LOL.