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Clark stopped fighting when there was nothing else to punch. For a moment, his world was entirely the thrill of the fight. His chest heaved with exertion. What had just happened? Where had all the invaders gone? They were invincible and yet they were all one. They had been defeated. They were nowhere to be seen.
He pressed on his comm. "Meetup at HQ?"
Instead of Bruce, Diana's voice replies: "Get there as soon as possible. We all need to talk."
They need to talk? Clark almost laughs. How ominous. They had just won the fight--what did they need to talk about? No, the only thing Clark wants to do now is plant a big one right on Bruce's mouth--didn't matter how many people were watching. "Okay," he says, smiling big at the thought of it. "On my way!"
He shoots toward their headquarters with a vigor he didn't think possible after a fight like that. He was exhausted, but he wanted to see Bruce more than anything, and he always found energy for Bruce.
He reaches the front door in seconds and fiddles with his cape while it slides open.
"Good," says Diana when he goes in, "You're here. Come to the meeting room."
Clark beams at her. "Everybody else here yet? How long is this meeting gonna last?"
She doesn't look into his eyes. "They aren't here yet. I wanted to talk with you before they arrived."
"Why? What's going on? Please tell me Bruce isn't sending us on another mission. He said he was going to take us to France and I--"
"Clark." Diana reaches up and takes his shoulder. They haven't reached the meeting room yet--they're still in the hallway, and it feels awful cramped. "Listen to me."
"Has Bruce gotten here yet?"
"Clark."
Clark suddenly feels very, very cold. He tries to take a step back but his back hits the wall. "Diana, what's going on?"
"Bruce is..." She swallows. Clark can hear her heart pounding in her chest. "He..." She can't finish. The words catch in her throat.
"What did he do?"
"He got rid of the invaders. That's what he wanted."
No. No, this isn't happening. Clark shoves her away and speeds toward the door again, tearing through it without a care and he hovers for a moment in space, finding every heartbeat on the planet beneath him, studying each of them, trying to find the comforting beat he'd come to know so well.
Nothing. There's nothing. He can find every single member of the League but not the only one who really matters. Not Bruce--not his Bruce.
"Clark," says Diana, coming up behind him. "He--"
He doesn't hear what she says. He feels like he's surrounded by kryptonite, like it's dragging him down, like it's tearing him apart. He sags. His entire body feels weak.
Three words float toward him--probably Diana again.
He loved you.
Clark closes his eyes.
Bruce made him more complete. But who is he, now that Bruce was gone? Who is he without the love of his life?
Who is he supposed to go to France with? Who is he supposed to grow old with?
Suddenly he can't hear a single heartbeat but his own, and the only thing he knows is that it should have been beating with another's.