Work Text:
Three minutes ago:
It was a pleasant, spring Saturday afternoon. The sun was out, and there hadn’t been any major emergencies that week; Clark had even been able to finish all of his assignments pre-deadline. Earlier that day, he’d gotten all his grocery shopping done too, and Clark had made plans to have dinner with Ma and Pa tomorrow, at six. So, all-in-all, it had been a good day.
In fact, Clark had just settled down to enjoy his newest literary purchase when it happened. One minute he was sprawled on the couch, his favorite plaid shirt unbuttoned, and the next he was somewhere that was not his apartment. It was, to say the least, unexpected. Perhaps, one may have argued, unwelcome.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Now:
Clark picked himself up off the gritty sidewalk and frowned.
Of course, he was no worse-for-wear from his (inter-planetary? inter-dimensional?) whatever fall, thanks to his powers. But Clark still didn’t want to ruin his jeans or the shirt. Or, come to think of it, his book. He bent over and picked it up. “Well, it appears that I’m not in Kansas anymore,” he muttered. Though hopefully this was still Earth…
Clark tucked the book under his arm and did a visual sweep of his surroundings. He could almost hear Batman’s voice in his head as he did so: ‘focus, Superman. Every little detail may be important.’ Right. So what did he see? Well, he was in an alley, for one. There was a dumpster to his left, a puddle, and a telephone pole to the right. A band poster. Some graffiti. The road— but he wasn’t going out there quite yet. Not without seeing if it were possible to learn more about where he was first.
Clark lowered his glasses and peered through the nearest building. Or he tried to, at least. Unfortunately, his vision was blocked. By lead. He huffed. So that was a dead-end, then. But Clark, investigative journalist that he was, would not give up so easily. He walked over to the dumpster to see if he could uncover a sticker with the city name and logo, or any particularly enlightening graffiti. He found both.
First, half-buried in filth, was the clean, simple design of Metropolis’s city logo: the sun rising between skyscrapers. Next was the… enlightening graffiti. “Fuk Fasism— Down with the Regime!” “Long live Metropolis” “Batman 4ever.” Ah. Well then.
As Pa would say, “You’re screwed worse ’n a couple of snowmen in the desert.” Clark just hoped that he could find a certain Bat and then be able to talk to him about his problem. If not, well… Clark didn’t much fancy being one of those proverbial snowmen.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
The thing was, it was a lot harder to get around not using his powers. Especially when he didn’t have his wallet, or know the layout of the city. Oh, it was still Metropolis, but Clark could tell that something major had recently occurred. ‘Recently’ being within the last three to five years.
He could see the cracks in the façades of some buildings— the microscopic symptoms of an unhealthy city— but it was more than that. Clark could also see a lot of new-looking buildings, and even some cranes. It was quieter than it ought to be too, and he saw the more-haggard-than-normal expressions of passersby. Yes, something major indeed: perhaps one of Earth’s greatest heroes going rogue, then starting a planetary dictatorship. And later, a war. Yeah, Clark really needed to find Batman.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
So, what did an undercover, known-supervillain (except, not really) do when they needed to find their (ex-)best friend, who may or may not try to apprehend them? What did said (not exactly) supervillain do, if they didn’t have money? If he were a supervillain, Clark wouldn’t have this problem. If the Superman of this dimension hadn’t become a giant raging dick, Clark could have just flown over to Gotham and asked, “Hey, Batman. You don’t happen to have any inter-dimensional portals laying around, do you?” But, thanks to said counterpart, he couldn’t do that. So Clark got creative.
He messed up his hair (with his luck he might just run into somebody who’d known Clark Kent), and then located the nearest used bookstore. He strolled in, the book still tucked under one arm. Clark was glad he’d had the foresight to hang onto it. It was (literally) his ticket out of here. Pettily, he was annoyed that he’d be unable to read it— until he got home, at least.
He strolled over to the merchant’s line and waited.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“Eight ninety-five.”
Clark nearly groaned. So much for recognizing quality writing. “That’s really the best you can do?” he asked the bored-looking sales associate.
“I can do that amount in cash, or twenty percent more store credit. Take it or leave it.”
Clark sighed. It’s too bad I don’t have a more valuable book on me. Though, really, it deserves better. “Fine, I’ll take the cash. Thanks,” he said wearily.
The associate opened the register. “Here you go.”
“Have a nice day,” Clark said half-heartedly. He carefully pocketed the cash and tried to recall how much an all-day subway ticket cost. He hoped it wasn’t more than $8.95.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
An all-day pass, it turned out, was five dollars. That meant Clark had $3.95 left. Which was basically useless— not enough to pay for a cab, or rent a room, or even buy a proper meal. So when he saw a disabled homeless woman, he tipped the money into her upturned cap. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. This time, Clark didn’t have to work so hard to smile. Though he still felt hollow inside, at the idea of his future prospects. He really hoped he could find Bruce.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark looked at the station’s map and pocketed a complimentary paper copy to sketch out his route to Gotham. That was when he found the first snag in his plan. He’d bought a Metropolis ticket, not a Metro ticket— halfway to Gotham, inside the Metro-Goth tunnel, the transportation system changed hands. So now Clark was left without a ticket for the second half of the trip, and he had no money to purchase a new one.
The second snag was that the Gotham subway system shut down after nine p.m., and it was already close to seven. With rush-hour traffic, not to mention the hour-long trip (plus time added for the multiple stops the train would make) he would barely make it; if he were lucky. Which— considering his current situation— Clark wasn’t feeling. He let out another frustrated sigh. Well, he might as well at least get halfway there and then figure out the rest (he ignored the Batman-in-his-head telling him he was an idiot).
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce took the elevator to the lobby. He ignored the subtle (and not-so) stares of his employees and the other businesspeople he passed. Some were brave enough to say hello. A few thanked him— even though it had been a few years since Kal-El had been put in prison— he ignored this as well. Bruce walked onto the street and climbed into the car. He caught his own scowling reflection in the rearview mirror. The expression seemed stuck in place more days than not now.
Traffic wasn’t horrible, not anymore, but it was still rush hour.
He felt nothing as he sat in the swarm of idling cars. The sound of horns, engines, and the faint music pouring from other vehicles blurred into a monotonous dull thing that slid over him without impression. It was hard for that kind of thing to bother him anymore, Bruce reflected, with a hint of irony. To think that he’d finally become zen after so many years. Of course, the price of this new attitude made the benefits of it negligible.
Bruce sighed and forced himself to pay attention as the cars in front of him finally started moving. As the sign for his exit appeared, Bruce repressed the twinge of emotion it sparked in his gut. He felt nothing. That was how it should be. He felt nothing. It was fine. Except, his heart still told him, it wasn’t. Bruce signaled for the exit and made his way off the highway.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
At the first security checkpoint, the guard barely blinked. He had worked for the private security firm that Bruce had formed for a long time. If things were different, this would undoubtedly have been a military facility. But Kal had wiped out the army, before. And then Brainiac had done the same when he’d invaded later.
The second checkpoint was just as easy, and Bruce took his time with parking, even though the underground parking structure was mostly empty. He took an equally long time walking to the door and checking in at the penultimate security station.
The last guard merely looked at him and waved him by. Bruce almost said something, but he knew himself enough to recognize that the desire (even if it were not entirely unjustified) was motivated by his own internal upheaval. So he only nodded curtly, and strode past the other guards (who all stood straighter), by the first prison cells, and down, through increasing layers of security (he ignored the jeers and shouted insults of the prisoners).
Bruce’s scowl deepened, and he was suddenly and terribly thankful that at least this couldn’t be made more painful by Kal’s ability to hear his pulse (anymore).
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“Hello, sir,” the Warden said, as Bruce reached the last floor before his cell. He nearly groaned. Of course the man would be here— it wasn’t every day that Batman paid a visit to the prison.
The Warden, a gray-haired, burly military-type— whose name Bruce could not remember— had been hired after the first one had quit (citing stress). He was a bit of a yes-man, but otherwise efficient enough that Bruce ignored this flaw. He had originally offered the job to Dinah, but she’d rejected it on the grounds that she wanted to focus on her family. There had been no one else Bruce deemed qualified enough to offer the job to personally.
“I’m not here for an inspection,” Bruce said firmly, hoping the man would take the hint. Thankfully, this seemed to be the case. The Warden’s steps matched Bruce’s own quick ones, and the other man nodded.
“That may be so, but I’d still be willing to offer a status report.” With oft-practiced ease, Bruce swiped his security card over the industrial steel bunker door. He tried not to be annoyed by the Warden’s eager hovering. As the door slowly slid open, he turned slightly and stared at the Warden’s forcefully-blank face.
“No,” Bruce declared. “No, that won’t be necessary. However, if you do have anything to report, I will, of course, be interested in hearing it.” The Warden looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. Bruce nodded. “In that case, you may leave. I’m sure you have better things to do than accompany me.” He slipped through the open door. This would be painful enough without an audience.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
After the bunker door shut, Bruce slowed. He took a last deep breath, and then pressed his security card against the scanner. The final set of glass double-doors slid open (if he escaped, no door would be enough). Silently, Bruce took in his first view of the prisoner.
Kal was half bent over, with his elbows resting on his thighs. If these had been the old days, Bruce would have thought that he was listening to the outside world, be it a distant shout or something more benevolent, like the sound of grass growing. However, the room’s consuming red-glow dispelled that fanciful notion. Kal couldn’t do that anymore. But sometimes Bruce still forgot.
He stood, a few feet back from the glass— he wasn’t eager, and Kal wasn’t a zoo animal— and waited. Sometimes Kal acknowledged him, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes Bruce had to announce his presence (he felt like he’d never get used to this). Today it appeared that Kal had decided to humor him. Or perhaps he was feeling particularly bitter. That makes two of us, Bruce thought tiredly.
“I thought you had forgotten me.” Kal’s eyes glowed with rage— practically glowed with rage. That was another thing he couldn’t do anymore. Bruce sighed. As he felt his shoulders sag, Bruce jerked them up immediately. Best not to let Kal know how much he hurt bothered got to Bruce.
“I could never forget you, Kal,” he replied calmly, if honestly. Neither of them would ever forget the other. What was the harm in admitting that?
Kal laughed. It was a distorted, angry sound. Bruce frowned. Kal stood— and it was curious that even now, after being under the red solar radiation for years, how graceful he still was. “I’m flattered. Why are you really here, Batman?” he asked.
“I’m here to make sure they’re treating you right,” Bruce snapped. “Unlike some people, I give a good goddamn about how my prisoners are treated.” He blinked, realizing how close he’d come to the glass. Damn it.
Kal smiled sardonically. “Oh, they treat me great, Batman! Room service daily, and laundry too. It’s wonderful. I can see why you never tire of it.”
Bruce muttered quietly, “I don’t fucking know why I bother with you anymore.” Kal snarled— he couldn’t hear Bruce— and a petty stab of satisfaction ran through him. How do you like it, Kal— being just like us? “Goodbye, Kal.”
“Fuck you too, Br— Batman,” Superman called mockingly. Bruce turned away before the other man could see his jaw twitch.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
The train arrived ten minutes late, with a great screech. Clark winced. He’d have to ask Bruce to consider investing more in public transit. The rest of his trip was no better.
The moment he got to the final stop before the Metro-Goth tunnel, Clark cursed quietly, “Shit.” He could see at least two ticket officers standing in the crowd outside the train, so ‘hopping’ the Gotham subway really wouldn’t be an option, especially since he— or Kal -El (which was still weird)— was a wanted man here. Interdimensional travel was a pain in the ass.
“This is just great,” Clark muttered. The young woman next to him glanced sideways, then looked back at her phone. He felt briefly embarrassed, then remembered: this was Gotham— or near enough to it. They were used to unstable people. Clark stood in a rush and left the train.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
The fresh, salt air of the bay felt lovely against his face, especially after the cramped atmosphere and crusty air of the subway. Clark took in a deep lungful and tipped his head back into the wind for a brief moment. Feeling a bit better, he opened his eyes and used his powers to scan the immediate area. Nobody around. He considered his path forward: who knew what kind of insane security measures Bruce— this Bruce— had placed around Gotham since… since everything? But, well, he didn’t exactly have any other options.
Clark floated low in the sky and started his (hopefully uneventful) trip across the bay.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
So far at least, Clark couldn’t hear or otherwise sense anything wrong. Not that that guaranteed that Batman’s security system wasn’t going off right now. But it still made Clark feel better than he had the whole time he’d been here. Get to the manor, find Bruce, explain my problem, he thought. Sure, Clark might be detained for a while, but given that Bruce had met him before, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prove that he was not Kal. Hopefully.
Suddenly, Clark heard the rush of displaced air— something (or one) fast was coming.
Clark waited, nerves jangling, for whatever it was to arrive. Knowing Bruce, it could be almost anything. But he was still surprised by what his interloper turned out to be. “Kal?” the blonde teen (wearing his symbol) asked incredulously. “What are you doing out of prison? Batman didn’t say anything about releasing you.”
Clark’s first reaction was: I— he— had a kid? But no, she couldn’t be his; too old, for one. His second thought was: how the fuck did Bruce manage to build a Kryptonian from scratch? But even Batman didn’t have the technology for that. Yet the teen in front of him was clearly Kryptonian.
“Uh. Who are you?” he asked stupidly. The teen’s eyes stopped glowing. She floated forward, tense, and ready to run. Or fight. Clark’s stomach sunk, and for the nth time, he cursed his counterpart and felt a fierce frustration at being sent to this world.
“Kal,” the Supergirl, said, somewhat threateningly, “What are you. Doing. Out?”
Clark set his jaw. So it was going to be like that, then. “Look, I honestly don’t know who you are, because I’m not from here. I’m from another dimension, and I’ve been trying to find Bruce all afternoon. Batman told you about being transported to a different world, right? Well, that’s happened to me. I just need to talk to him,” he replied placatingly.
But Supergirl didn’t seem to believe him, and her gaze narrowed into an angry squint. “I’m not stupid. And you’re not getting anywhere near Batman.” Before Clark could say something, the girl flew at him, with his strength and speed (if less experience). Clark dodged. It seemed he was right about Batman’s insane security system after all.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
As they flew across the bay, Clark felt his civilian clothing give way under the intense speed. Eventually, it peeled away from his body like snakeskin. Thankfully he’d put the suit on underneath it that morning… So far, Supergirl had managed to quite effectively stall Clark both by dive-bombing him, and through her judicious use of heat vision. Which hurt. Once he got to Bruce, everything would be sorted out.
“I’d say sorry for this, but I wouldn’t truly mean it,” Supergirl said, abruptly. Then something painful stabbed Clark’s neck— kryptonite.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce’s cellphone rang as he was pulling into the manor’s driveway. “Hello,” he growled.
There was silence over the other end for a moment, before Kara’s slightly panicked voice cried, “Bruce! You need to get down here right away. I- I just ca-captured Kal-El. He’s being held in Blackgate.”
Bruce frowned and blinked slowly. It— it wasn’t impossible, but it was highly unlikely, given where he’d just been. Kara’s slightly tinny voice asked, “Bruce?” He realized that he’d been holding the phone away from his ear.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there,” Bruce replied evenly; since they’d captured him, Kal couldn’t hurt anyone. Besides, Bruce wasn’t even sure if it was Kal. But… best not to get his hopes up.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
After changing into the suit, Bruce headed to the prison. The gates opened immediately after his vehicle was spotted, which still felt odd. Supergirl, of course, noticed Batman’s arrival first. Through the car’s tinted windows, Kara’s face appeared worried.
Bruce parked and strode briskly away from the vehicle. “I assume they’ve taken him to his usual cell?”
Kara floated at his side and nodded. She still looked anxious. “Why are you so… unconcerned about this?” she finally asked. Bruce sighed.
He pushed open the double doors (already unlocked for his arrival) to the Red Sun Wing of Blackgate. Compared to the rest of the prison, its hallways were pristinely clean, and a wall of guards stood at attention before the final set of double doors. Bruce started to withdraw his security pass from the belt, but the door was already unlocked by the time he reached it.
“Because I don’t think that it is Kal,” he replied quietly.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Kara stayed outside the interrogation room, albeit reluctantly. Bruce sternly reminded her that the red solar rays would sap her powers— which they needed in case he was wrong. Already, his heart felt lighter, thinking that it might be him. But that shouldn’t happen, because this too was temporary.
Kal— Clark— Kal looked up, wincing, at Batman’s arrival. But when his gaze focused on Batman (Kara had used the special Kryptonite-laced sedative Bruce developed), his expression brightened. “Oh, thank God! Bruce, I am so glad to see you—”
Batman held up a hand. “What was the last thing you said to me when I was… there?”
Kal— Clark blinked. He frowned for a moment, in which Bruce’s middle felt leaden. But then the other man replied, softly, “Goodbye, Bruce. And good luck.” Bruce sagged in relief and didn’t even mind Kara’s protesting, which was piped in over the intercom. He ripped off the cowl and looked at the face of his best— (ex)best friend’s alternate.
“I have to go get the Warden to unlock the cell— it shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so. But I’ll be back soon,” he reassured. Clark offered a wan, relieved smile. Bruce nodded back, pulled the cowl up, and strode from the room.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“What was that?” Kara demanded. She looked disturbed.
When Bruce ignored her, she placed an immovable hand on his armor-clad shoulder and jerked him to a halt. He growled but subsided at her concerned gaze. She started scanning him, and Bruce tried to wave her off. “Kara,” he warned. Not here, not in front of the soldiers and police. She frowned flatly and ignored him.
After a moment, she released Bruce and looked somewhat more at ease. “No nanobots,” Kara muttered to herself. Bruce ignored this, and focused on his goal: the Warden’s office, then getting Clark out of here.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
An hour later, Bruce finally secured the prisoner’s release. The Blackgate authorities had made him go through decontamination, take an antidote to Ivy’s toxin, and had Kara scan him for any foreign influences. Then they’d still made Bruce wait for another twenty minutes, in case any ‘symptoms’ showed up. They’d also called the Alexander Joseph Luthor Prison for Metahumans to ensure that Kal-El was still safely locked away.
Logistically, Bruce understood. He’d devised a lot of the safety protocols himself, as mind control was a very real concern; it always had been. However, emotionally, Bruce suspected that if he had to sit there one more minute he would lose his goddamn mind.
They did clear Batman in the end. Kara was quiet during the walk to the Warden's office and threw him concerned looks every now and again. Bruce ignored this, figuring he couldn’t exactly blame her, as she had no idea what was going on. But she would soon.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“You want to release the prisoner?” Warden Ardent asked doubtfully.
Bruce nodded and refrained from growling or any other aggressive action. “Yes, I do. Several years ago, I was… transported to another world, one that closely mirrors this one. Except their Superman never went bad. That man there, in the cell, is not Kal-El. I am positive of it.”
The small office was silent, and Kara set down on the floor in shock (like her cousin, she hovered when worried). Supergirl stared at Batman. Bruce ignored this in favor of meeting Warden Ardent’s concerned gaze. “You’re sure of this?” the man finally asked.
Bruce did not sigh. But it was a close thing. “Yes. I know the difference between Clark Kent and Kal-El. Besides, the man— whichever he is— will still be weak for several hours; I will also have Supergirl’s assistance in handling him. I trust that is enough.” At his words, Kara started.
The Warden, still looking concerned, nodded. “Very well. I’ll allow it… Good luck, Batman.” Bruce didn’t acknowledge these words, as he was already across the room and heading for the door.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark stood eagerly at Bruce’s insistent, “Clark!” He smiled, relieved. It wasn’t that he thought Bruce hadn’t believed him or had decided to abandon him here, but… he’d said fifteen minutes and Clark was pretty sure it had been an hour. At least. It was hard to tell, with the lingering effects of the kryptonite (and the red sun radiation).
Bruce returned his smile, and then called, “Turn off the solar lamps, Kara.” The red lights dimmed, and Clark took in the first deep breath he’d taken in a while. It felt like the difference between a cold and an elephant sitting on his chest. The door to his cell unlocked with a small mechanized click, and Bruce strode forward to open it for him. “Need a hand up?” he asked.
Clark shook his head, but he did take his time walking to Batman’s side. Bruce didn’t even seem impatient. “It’s good to see you,” Clark confessed. “I was getting worried.”
Bruce sighed. It was part frustration, part dark humor. “Well, there are procedures one must follow when they want to let Superman out of prison.” He pushed open the double doors and led Clark into the hall, where Supergirl was waiting. She looked dubiously at him, then slid into position on Batman’s left-hand side, so she could watch them.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“Kara, you can ride with us, or you can head to the manor. But if you’re coming with me, you’ll be in the back,” Bruce said. Kara glared at him, and Clark tried not to flinch. They were almost to Blackgate’s doors, and he’d noticed a lot of strange looks and murmurs thrown their way. Batman ignored the attention, though surely he noticed it.
“I’ll come with you,” Supergirl— Kara said, neutrally. She doesn’t trust me, Clark thought. Once again, he tried not to be insulted. Remember what her prior experiences with Cl— Kal-El have been, Clark reminded himself. He frowned. They reached the car; Kara crammed herself into the backseat and Clark took the passenger’s seat. Then they were on the way to the manor.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
It was silent at first— and not just metaphorically. Clark still had red solar radiation and Kryptonite flowing through his veins, so his powers were pretty much kaput, and would be until morning. When they reached a red light in the middle of downtown, Bruce glanced sideways at him, and asked, “How are you feeling?”
Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Like shit, if I’m being honest. Whatever was in that Kryptonite mix was effective.” Bruce hummed, which meant he wasn’t surprised, maybe a bit pleased that the mix worked, and apologetic that it’d been used on Clark.
“Designed it myself. A mixture of liquid synth-K and morphine in a lead-lined syringe— if your Batman doesn’t have it, I’d recommend he make some.” Bruce’s gaze refocused on the road, and he said quietly, so much so that Clark had to strain to hear him, “I’m afraid you’re in for a slow recovery. For… obvious reasons, the cave no longer has solar lamps.” He trailed off.
Clark grimaced. He only kept from sighing because Bruce would be worried. “I understand.” He felt Supergirl’s stare on the back of his head.
Downtown Gotham soon faded, and they’d progressed into the suburbs before Bruce spoke again. Abruptly, he said, “I haven’t properly introduced you, Kara, have I?” He glanced in the rearview mirror, but the teen didn’t answer. She merely shrugged and returned her perturbed gaze out the window.
“Clark,” Bruce said, “meet Kara Zor-El, otherwise known as Supergirl. Your cousin. Kara, this is Clark— well, one version of him, anyway.” Clark blinked. That certainly explained a few things.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
The car didn’t make its regular turn towards the cave, but rather up the manor’s front-drive, and as a result, Clark was abruptly reminded that people knew Batman’s identity here. Bruce pulled to a smooth stop outside the house and unlocked the vehicle’s doors. “Go on inside, I’ll meet you in the cave.” Clark got out first, and then Kara, looking reluctant, followed suit. Bruce pulled away, and the cousins stood outside until the batmobile had blended into the night.
Kara strode past him and unlocked the door. She walked wordlessly into the manor, and Clark followed. Surely Bruce had done this to give them time to talk, but… What did he even say? Kara clearly didn’t trust him— or even seem interested in speaking to him. But Clark really felt like he should say something. They came to a stop just inside the entryway.
“I understand,” Clark said softly, “if you don’t want to talk to me, and why. But where I come from, I am the last Kryptonian. Maybe that will change someday, who knows— until then, though, I’m alone. So I get it.”
Kara continued hovering with her back to him for a moment longer. Then she touched down on the carpet and gave him a morose look. She sighed. “I… you’re not Kal, I know. You would’ve found a way to escape already if you were. But you look just like him, Clark, and I can’t ignore that. Bat— Bruce knew you before. I didn’t…” she trailed off, but looked as if she had more to say. Supergirl looked at Clark, to gauge his reaction.
Clark nodded. “I understand. But if you— er, your alternate— ever does show up in my world, things will be different.”
Kara offered a faint smile. Then her head cocked to the side slightly, and she rose a few inches off the ground. “Bruce just parked. C’mon.” Clark followed his cousin— not-cousin— down to the cave.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce took his time driving after he dropped Kara and Clark off. He’d never had much blood family to be close to, so he imagined that this ‘reunion’ would mean a lot to Clark; from what he’d gathered, there was no Kara Zor-El in Clark’s world. Bruce remembered that even Kal had been excited upon learning of his cousin’s existence. He frowned, and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter at that thought.
Eventually, Bruce did arrive at the cave. As he parked, he saw that Supergirl and Superman were already waiting for him. Kara more eagerly than Clark. Bruce’s frown deepened, and he felt a profound pang of sadness pass through him. Kal really had destroyed everything he touched…
With a bit more flare than necessary— Clark had always smiled at that— Bruce exited the vehicle. Both Els looked up, and Bruce repressed a sigh and the following flashbacks regarding who else had once waited for him in the cave. Things were different now, and they wouldn’t change. “Let’s head up,” Bruce said, “and I’ll place an order for dinner.”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark opened his mouth to ask why they needed to order out when Bruce had Alfred but thought better of it. If Bruce hadn’t mentioned his father-figure, it was for a reason. He sighed, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long time. This world… it was so broken.
They ended up eating Chinese. The delivery boy didn’t even blink as Bruce opened the door, which told Clark a lot. His heart hurt. Clark felt very relieved that he’d be going home soon.
The meal was eaten largely in silence. Bruce merely took the cowl off and removed the cape. They ate at the immense formal dining table, and Clark was abruptly glad that his powers were gone, or they’d have been screaming at the lack of sound. Bruce actually lived here, Clark reflected with crawling horror. And given that he was eating in the suit, he had nobody to stop him from doing so— he had nobody to remind him to be Bruce. Christ, it was no wonder Bruce had been so messed up by his trip here— it was no wonder why this Bruce was so messed up.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
After dinner had been cleared away, Bruce sent Kara and Clark off to change and he headed down to the cave, saying that he had “things to work on.” Clark, for once, was happy to strip out of the suit— it always felt weird wearing it when he didn’t have powers. Also, after the day he’d had, Clark rather wanted a shower.
As they walked up the stairs to the wing of guest bedrooms, Clark blurted, “Does anyone live with Bruce?”
Kara stopped on the stair ahead of him. She turned and raised an eyebrow. But something in his expression— which was of earnest concern— must have thawed her out. She sighed, and something in her face softened. “Most of the time. I have my own place in Metropolis too, but Gotham’s just as convenient.”
Clark nodded and felt his shoulders sag a little with relief. Good. Bruce had at least one person. At Kara’s questioning silence, Clark looked up. “I’m glad that he has you, Kara,” he replied. Kara still looked confused, and so Clark reluctantly elaborated, “I… I don’t know how things have changed here— most things seem to have started out similarly enough— but in my world, Bruce has a family to look out for him.”
Both Kryptonians fell silent for a moment, on that heavy note. Then Kara, still looking at Clark, swallowed, then said, “We… may not be family, but we do well enough.”
Clark nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce stripped out of the suit and showered. After he’d toweled off and changed, he padded over to the corner of the cave— once the family team locker room— and stopped in front of a massive sheet-covered object. He sighed. No avoiding it. Keeping Clark here any longer than necessary would not only endanger him but discomfort him too. And the longer he stayed… the worse it would hurt.
Bruce pulled off the sheet to reveal a large, metal ring, atop a platform. It was about twelve feet tall and had a small control interface on the side. It was turned off and had been since Batman captured it from the enemy. But it worked. He knew that. It would work to take Clark away from him home.
Bruce awkwardly kicked the sheet away from the device and walked upstairs.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark felt much better after the shower. Hell, he thought he could even fall asleep and not be woken up by nightmares about this place. Kara wandered off after showing him to his room— conveniently stocked with extra clothing for guests of any gender and size— and when Clark had dressed, she reappeared at his door, with a knock. Or, Clark thought it was Kara who would be there. But when he opened the door, it was Bruce.
“Hi,” Clark said, awkwardly. He’d expected to have to drag Batman out of his cave, so seeing him here was a bit of a shock. Bruce smiled faintly, but the expression slid from his face after a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
Clark sighed— but it was in contentment, this time. “A lot better,” he confessed, “being out of the suit and the food really help.” Bruce nodded, but his eyes darted away from Clark’s gaze. Clark nearly sighed again— but that’d just drive Bruce off; it seemed that the best strategy with any Batman was to wait.
Finally, Bruce looked up. “The portal’s ready,” he said stiffly. “So whenever you want to go, you can.”
Clark blinked, and his stomach actually lurched. He wanted to get home, very much, but it also didn’t feel right to leave Bruce all alone just yet. And he still hadn’t gotten to talk to Kara all that much either. “Uh,” Clark said, stalling. “I actually was thinking I could leave tomorrow sometime, maybe the morning after, if it’s alright with you. I’m still feeling pretty drained, so I’d like to recharge before I get sent back.” And I still want to talk to a certain Kryptonian asshole.
Bruce visibly deflated for a moment, before he caught himself, and threw up his ‘I’m Batman and I have no emotions’ wall. “Good— I mean, I don’t mind. It’ll be waiting for when you’re ready,” he said, stepping back. Clark smiled, and let him make his retreat. Then, yawning, he turned off the light and went to bed.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark woke early the next day with a pounding headache and a lingering soreness throughout his body. So when he saw that somebody— probably Bruce— had opened the curtains, he eagerly stumbled out of bed and stood in the patch of the early morning sun. Once most of the soreness had eased into nothing worse than a slight ache, and the headache no longer beat in his brain, Clark dressed and went to find the rest of the manor’s residents.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“You want me to sneak you into a state-of-the-art prison complex, with the best security money can buy. The prison was designed by Earth’s finest minds, myself included. With no time to plan it. Just so you can see your evil counterpart before I send you through a portal back to your dimension,” Bruce repeated bluntly.
He, Clark, and Kara were seated at the kitchen island and had just finished eating breakfast. Kara was watching the conversation silently, looking skeptical about his request. Clark blinked, feeling flustered. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds like a terrible idea! But it’s not. Don’t be so… so— so you about it,” he replied. Bruce huffed, before taking another long sip of his coffee.
“Fine,” he said shortly, after putting his empty mug down. He stood.
Clark blinked. “‘Fine?’” he questioned.
Bruce looked back at him. “We’ll do it,” he replied. Clark wasn’t sure who looked more surprised, him or Kara.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce had not really been surprised when Clark asked to see his counterpart. In fact, he had kind of expected it. But he had not planned on saying yes to his request. It was… frankly, it was an absolutely terrible idea, for multiple reasons, and Bruce could foresee many ways for things to go wrong (some more realistic than others). But he still said yes.
He still said yes because maybe, just maybe, Clark would learn something from it. Something that would keep him from breaking Bruce’s heart ruining things turning bad if ever he faced a situation similar to Kal’s. Bruce said yes because he himself was, in some way, a vindictive bastard and he wanted to spite Kal. Nothing would do that quite as well as him seeing Bruce interact with another, normal Superman. If Bruce disliked reminders of the past, well… Kal-El did even more. He said yes because it meant that Clark would be here for a while longer yet, and that meant Bruce got to see him longer and he didn’t have to say goodbye so soon.
“Why, Bruce?” Kara asked. Why are you taking the risk? Why are you indulging him when you know his presence here is only temporary? Why is he so important?
“To make sure it doesn’t happen to his world,” Bruce replied evenly. He focused on the beating of his heart until Kara had departed.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Sneaking Clark into the prison turned out to be extraordinarily easy.
After making Clark stand outside for a good hour while Bruce did some paperwork, he gave his friend a suit to wear and made him comb his hair. They decided on a minimal backstory, in case anyone asked, and then Bruce drove them— the three of them because Kara insisted on coming— in the Bentley to the Alexander Joseph Luthor Prison for Metahumans.
Once they’d parked and made their way through security to the prison’s ‘lobby,’ Bruce decided that he needed to create new security measures. Immediately after Clark’s departure. It shouldn’t be as simple a process— even (especially) for himself— to march up to the front office and say, “I need a visitor’s pass” and get one. Although, for now, it was convenient. There were some things— a very, very minuscule and limited amount of them— that Bruce appreciated about having a public identity.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
After they’d made the trip through the prison— accompanied by its usual cacophony of jeers— Bruce relaxed as much as he could, given his location. Given the fact that he was here with Clark. Without the suit. Clark, on the other hand, looked disturbed. He didn’t say anything, but Bruce could tell that the other man was thinking something along the lines of ‘is this normal?’ Kara also hovered near his left side, though Bruce granted that this might be subconscious on her part though Kryptonians tended to hover nearby when they were worried. He’d talk to her about it later.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Once they were outside that pair of familiar, glass double doors, Bruce halted his small entourage again. Kara was definitely hovering too close now. Bruce ignored this. “Are you sure?” he asked, meeting Clark’s deep gaze. ‘You don’t have to,’ he didn’t say. ‘This is not a penance you have to pay.’
Clark set his jaw in an achingly-familiar way, and Bruce abruptly felt as if something had cracked in his chest (he hoped neither Kryptonian noticed). “Yes. I’m sure,” Clark said firmly. Bruce nodded and pushed his security card against the door.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Kal didn’t notice when they entered the room.
He was reading Crime and Punishment while lying on the ground with his bare feet propped up against the bed; Kal rarely cared about propriety these days. The scene would almost have looked domestic if it weren’t for the blaring orange jumpsuit. Or the angry red lighting (Bruce did not think they would be there long enough for it to seriously affect his Kryptonians).
“Kal-El,” Bruce called. Kal turned a page of his book. Bruce frowned. It was hard to tell when the man was ignoring him or genuinely hadn’t heard Bruce. That didn’t used to be a problem. Kara and Clark stood back awkwardly, letting Bruce do the ‘handling’ for now. “Kal,” Bruce repeated, a bit more firmly. “You have visitors.”
Kal sighed (so he had been ignoring Bruce, then), and slowly set the book down. He placed his legs back on the floor, then stood. When he turned around, his eyes flitted past Bruce, straight to Clark. His eyes narrowed, and then his blazing gaze flickered back to Bruce. “Who the fuck is that?” he snarled.
Bruce smiled, and leaned forward, so he was almost touching the glass. “I told you: a visitor.” He turned around, gestured for Kara, and strode from the room. Bruce only managed to repress a self-satisfied smile through sheer willpower.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
The moment Bruce flounced out of the room, followed by Kara, Kal-El turned on Clark. It was rather disconcerting, to see the rapid and complete change his features underwent. Clark, who still had his powers, was able to watch the transformation muscle-by-muscle. “I take it you’re some sort of clone?” Clark’s evil-self said.
“No,” Clark replied. He paused. Bruce hadn’t actually told him what he could say.
Kal picked up on his hesitation, of course. He was still sharp— being evil hadn’t changed that. “What, did Batman not give you enough instructions?”
Clark frowned, beginning to feel irritated. “He didn’t give me any instructions. This was my idea.”
Kal paced forward and stared up at Clark. He frowned. Clark was certain, if the other man had still had powers, that his eyes would be glowing. “So if you’re not a clone, what are you doing here? Did B— Batman finally decide to replace me?”
Clark frowned. How did Bruce do this? “That’s not it either. I came to see how I could go so wrong,” he snapped. Then he sighed. It wouldn’t be good to let… well, him, see how easily he disturbed Clark.
Yet, instead of becoming angrier at Clark’s harsh statement, Kal-El laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said bitterly.
“I’m not replacing anyone,” Clark repeated firmly. “I’m just visiting here.”
That stopped Kal’s laughter. He froze for a brief second— an eternity, to Clark— and then frowned deeply. It was disturbing, seeing that particular brand of malice cross his own features. “Oh? So what, I’m just a diversion to you— a Superman who’s not-so-super must be entertaining, after all.”
Clark shook his head. Kal watched him unblinkingly. “No— I came to talk to you. To understand…” why you turned evil.
He’d hesitated over that word for a long time, at first. But after hearing Bruce’s (both of them) story, as the evidence piled up, that had been the only conclusion that Clark could draw. He, in this world, was bad. Evil. Wrong. It was just that simple… For the first time, Kal was silent. It was unnerving, to watch the other man— him, for all intents and purposes— pace restlessly, bound by gravity, and laws, and his own hate.
“I bet you still call yourself Clark too,” the other Superman replied quietly. “I bet you still think that Br— Batman will always have your back, that nothing can ever come between you two. Because you’re brothers, right? And brothers fight for each other. I bet…” he paused a moment. Before he swept a hand over his eyes, Clark saw sheer agony— indescribable and haunting— in them. “I bet,” Kal-El continued, “when you kiss your Lois, you don’t think, ‘this may be the last time.’”
Despite himself, Clark felt sympathetic. Yes, he’d heard the story. And he could only imagine the pain of… of killing Lois. But— “That doesn’t excuse your actions, Kal. Because you could have stopped there. If you had stopped there, then maybe you could have been forgiven. But you didn’t! The political killings? The fearmongering? The dictatorship? EVERYTHING YOU DID TO BRUCE! TO KARA! THAT— that is why you deserve to be here.”
Kal laughed. He laughed until he was wheezing— and, though Clark didn’t say it (for fear of setting off his alternate), he was reminded of a certain Gotham villain. Kal’s laughter was abruptly cut off by a caustic sneer. “You know, that’s almost verbatim what Batman once told me?”
Clark sighed and ran a hand over his face. This was going nowhere. “I don’t know why I’m here—” Clark cut himself off. He’d meant that literally, as in, he didn’t know what force had drawn him here. But... he found that the statement was true philosophically, as well. “I don’t know why I’m here, Kal. Except maybe to see what I looked like when there was nothing of me left.” He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Kal called. Clark stopped. He turned. Kal peered up at him with hard eyes. “When it happens to you— and it will— I hope you have people there to support you.”
This time, it was Clark who gave the cool look. “I hope so too, Kal. In fact— if I ever come close to doing what you did— I pray that Bruce will be there to stop me.”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Predictably, Bruce and Kara were waiting for him in the hallway. As Clark came through the double doors, Bruce stopped mid-pace. He looked up, brow furrowed and fists taut. Clark gave him a wan smile. Bruce relaxed, somewhat. “Let’s get out of here,” Clark suggested. Bruce nodded and walked quickly past him. Clark was unsure if the sound of his friend’s erratic heartbeat was real, or if it only seemed that way because of his exposure to red sunlight. He did, however, know that Kara’s stare was real.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce’s smooth stop jolted Clark from his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized when they’d entered Gotham, so it was a bit of a shock to suddenly be in front of the manor again. This time, Bruce left the car where it was. Kara, as if sensing that the two adults needed to talk, left. Clark stepped a few feet away from the car and looked up at the cool, gray, cloud-covered sky. “When do you think— when are you leaving?” Bruce asked quietly.
Clark sighed thoughtfully. After another brief moment, he looked at his friend. Bruce was the one looking at the sky this time. His posture looked… oddly stiff. As if he were braced to hear bad news. Clark frowned. “I think now if it’s not too much trouble.”
Bruce’s heart thumped violently, once. “No, it’s not. Let— let me get everything ready.”
Clark let him go, then he retraced Bruce’s path into the manor. He ended up in one of the many sitting rooms and plopped down in a comfortable-looking leather couch, by one of the room’s many large, extravagant windows. Even Gotham’s weak sunlight made him feel better. That was where Kara found him.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
“I… I may have misjudged you,” she said. Clark turned around and raised an eyebrow. Kara stepped forward and fell silent. Clark swallowed and contemplated what he wanted to say.
“I don’t blame you— I never did— for what you might feel about me, Kara. I, well, he, has been a terrible cousin. So it’s only natural you’d feel the way you do. My Bruce— the one from my world, I mean— did the same after getting back. Your Bruce did too.”
Kara nodded, after a moment. Then she smiled, though her eyes stayed sad. “Thank you, Clark.” I wish we had met each other earlier, in a different time. Clark smiled back.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
About an hour later, Bruce called them down to the cave.
When Clark saw the machine, he stopped and whistled. “Wow.”
Bruce sighed. “Come over here, Clark. I need to calibrate it to your DNA.” Clark obliged.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce took his time calibrating the portal. It was because he wanted to be certain that he got it right, and not for any other, more sentimental, reason like the fact that he was going to miss Clark. Kara hovered in the backdrop but didn’t make herself intrusive. So they’d talked, then. Bruce was glad. Even if it meant that Kara would want to talk to him later. Finally, there was nothing else to do. No valid reason for further delay. “It’s ready,” Bruce heard himself say. He swallowed. “Let’s get you home, Clark.”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
He had Clark stand on the platform, and started the powerup sequence. The portal mechanisms whirred, almost becoming uncomfortably loud. Bruce pulled on his goggles before the machine generated a bright white flash. Then an opaque non-liquid, non-gas substance filled the circular void. It was ready. Except for the final step. Which he hesitated over. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Just press the goddamn button already. He’s been here long enough. But… but he couldn’t. Not just yet.
Bruce swallowed, and hadn’t even realized how tight his throat had gotten until Clark’s concerned voice broke through his mental haze, “Bruce?”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce worked to control his heart rate, to no avail. Clark, sighing, stepped away from the portal. Bruce got a hold of himself and met him halfway. Distantly, he remembered that Kara was still there, watching. “What is it?” Clark asked, derailing his thoughts.
Bruce sighed. He ran a hand over his face, and half-mumbled into his palm, “Can I… can I kiss you, before you go?”
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Clark blinked. The cave was absolutely silent for a moment. Briefly, he recalled that Kara was still there. Then his brain finished processing Bruce’s request. Bruce wanted to kiss him. His mind, logically, had no small difficulty putting the words ‘Bruce,’ ‘kiss,’ and ‘him’ in the same sentence. So, then, Bruce— his Bruce— had been wrong… or maybe hiding something.
During his prolonged silence, Bruce had shrunken down and was now avoiding eye contact. But then he glanced up and saw Clark looking. “I— I’m sorry,” he said. “That was… inappropriate. Let me just— I can go ahead and get you—”
“No,” Clark said. He… he didn’t have feelings for Bruce, in that way, but. But, if he could be a balm for this man, this version of his friend who had suffered so greatly, then Clark would. “No, it’s alright. I’m just surprised, is all.” Bruce offered him a small smile, before blushing.
“I… thank you. I would normally never have imposed, but.” You’re leaving, and unless another freak accident happens, I’ll never see you again. Bruce sighed.
Clark’s heart twinged. God, this world… it was constantly and inexhaustively just so brutal. “Well, come on, Batman. Give me my goodbye kiss,” he said lightly. It worked. Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he stepped forward, and then suddenly, their mouths were crushed together.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Of all the unbelievable things, Clark had said yes. Bruce stepped forward, and, as he’d wanted to do for years, kissed Clark Kent. It was just as devastating an experience as he’d imagined it would be. Devastating and so perfect. So sweet. And it had come too late. Too fucking late to make a difference. Too fucking late to change anything, and it happened with the wrong Clark. Bruce took one moment longer to commit the feel of Clark’s lips to memory, then stepped away.
~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~ ||| ~-~-~
Bruce was the one to end the kiss, which surprised Clark a bit.
He was also surprised because, well— he hadn’t hated it. Mostly because Clark loved the man who’d been kissing him. There were not many people whom Clark considered himself to be closer to, or trusted more than Batman. But he did not love Bruce like that. “I— I’m sorry. It doesn’t change anything,” Clark said regretfully. He almost wished it did, looking at Bruce’s worn face.
But the other man merely smiled at Clark’s statement. The expression hurt his heart anyway. “Don’t be. I— I just had to know. I wanted to see what it would be like, even once. It’s obvious now that it wouldn’t have worked. Thank you for indulging me anyway,” Bruce said honestly.
Clark blinked, feeling as if he’d just been stabbed by kryptonite. But this problem was beyond even Superman’s abilities. He sighed. There was nothing more he could say, and now Bruce was looking at him expectantly. Clark stepped back towards the portal. “Goodbye, Bruce,” he said softly.
Bruce, from behind the portal’s controls, smiled back. He looked calm, save for the slight brightness in his eyes. “Goodbye, Clark.” He pressed the activation button, and Clark felt a sudden tug in his gut. As the portal prized apart Clark’s atoms, he felt more pain than he perhaps should have.