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Chapter Text

Clark blinked at the exposed face of the man before him, seeing it for the first time. He took in the deep cobalt blue eyes, an almost defiant gleam in its depths as he looked up at him, the already familiar chin lifted. The short dark hair disheveled and damp with sweat, the chiseled, aristocratic features on his pale young face -too young, Clark's mind whispered troubled- cheeks glowing with a faint rosy tint. 
 
All that without even mentioning the severe look on his face that surely made him look older than he really was.
 
"You are-"
 
"Yes. I'm Bruce Wayne."
  
That was not the question Clark had been about to ask. Somehow, learning that the man he had convinced to join the League after one single joined battle, and who had effortlessly ascended to a position of power within the League in only a few months ever since; commanding the attention and respect -and fear too- of super powered beings bigger and physically stronger than him, was not only just a human, but a boy was more important than the fact Batman was apparently the Wayne billionaire heir.
 
"You- How old are you?"
 
"18."
 
"Batman has been active for over 2 years."
 
"Almost 3 years, yes."
 
"How can you..." Clark tailed off, not sure what he was asking exactly. His mind still reeling from the fact the man- kid behind the Bat's mask wasn't even old enough to drink legally, and yet, he spent his nights in rooftops acting as Gotham's protector, beating bad guys and saving people. It made no sense.
 
Clark himself had already started saving people at that age in Smallville, but it was different when he was invulnerable and had powers to help him, rather than the training of a few years and nothing but a Kevlar armor and makeshift weapons to protect him. Who was this kid, who could do all that while also fooling every person he ever came in contact with as Batman? Maybe it was the air of easy competence he effortlessly carried around all the time. Or the power and resolve radiating from him in the middle of a battle. The sharp intelligence and unflappable exterior when faced with any kind of world shattering incidents.
  
How could someone that looked so young appear and act so old at the same time?
 
"I've taken self defense classes for years." The younger man answered, and it wasn't until then that Clark realized he had dropped the Batman growl, and was speaking in a deep and resonant voice. He shrugged, the movement graceful under the heavy armor. "Age doesn't matter when you have an adequate training. It's all about strategy and discipline."
 
They stayed in the middle of the desolate planet, looking at each other.
 
What were the odds of Batman sending a kid to pose as him for this particular mission? Somehow foreseeing they would crash on a desert planet with a searing red sun above their heads, making it impossible for Batman to keep his cowl and cape (taking out the cape and cowl was as far a concession as Batman was going to make) if he didn't want to pass out from the high temperatures? No very high, he had to admit. Though he wouldn't put it past Batman's apparently non-existent dry sense of humor.
 
Any lingering doubt Clark could have had -not that he truly did- about this kid being really Batman were dissipated when he caught the familiar sound of an almost inaudible exasperated huffed sigh coming from his mouth. Clark could recognize Batman anywhere for that small noise alone. He had already lost count of how many times he had heard it.
 
"Can we stop wasting time on this when we are stranded on an inhabited planet, with no way to communicate the League our exact location, and without having found a single source of clean drinking water after almost 4 hours of looking."
 
"I- You're right. I was just... surprised, that's all."
 
Bruce gave him an unreadable look, but out of the corner of his eye Clark caught the smallest twitch in the fingers grabbing the discarded cowl and cape, as if he were considering putting them on again. He didn't. Bruce simply turned his face away from him for a second before looking back.
 
"We need to keep moving."
 
"Right."
 
Clark watched Bruce turn to keep walking, heading in the direction they had been walking before stopping. It didn't feel right, leaving things like that. That Bat- Bruce, the most reserved and private person he had ever met, had been forced to reveal his secret identity, and yet he still didn't know Clark’s. It wasn't fair.
 
"I'm Clark Kent." Bruce stopped in his tracks as Clark called, but did not turn around. "I'm a reporter from the Daily Planet in Metropolis."
 
Two, three beats passed before Bruce turned slightly to look over his shoulder, letting Clark see a dark arched eyebrow as well as the smallest twitch of his lips. He heaved a sigh. "You already knew that."
 
"Yes."
 
Clark watched Bruce's retreating back for a moment as the younger man started walking away without another word. He shook his head with a small smile before hurrying to catch up with him.

Chapter Text

And that, surprisingly, was that. Or maybe not so surprisingly, because 18 year old Bruce Wayne or not, he was still Batman. And Batman had never been particularly talkative to begin with.

That of course did not mean they hadn't exchanged a single word after the big reveal- because they had. Just... not about that particular issue. Well, they had talked about it briefly, but it hadn't gone very well.
  
After two more hours of searching they had found a small pond with water that one of Batman's many gadgets had declared safe to drink. After that they had taken shelter from the searing sun in a small rock structure they had to crawl to get into; it wasn't tall enough for them to stand, but they could sit inside and still had a few inches above their heads. And it was large enough for them to lie inside without having to lie on top of each other, so they could spend the night there if needed.

It was also less than a mile away from the pod, which was why they had chosen it in the first place.
  
Bat- Bruce (he just couldn't think of him as Batman right now) was sitting cross-legged across from him, head leaning back against the wall of their improvised shelter. He hadn't put the cowl back on since he took it out when they had been outside, and didn't seem to have the intention of doing so anytime soon, giving Clark a clear view of his face.
  
Clark sighed softly, letting his eyes travel back to his face. Bruce's eyes were closed, thick eyelashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. His heart rate was low and breath slow, but not enough to indicate he was asleep. So he was most likely meditating or practicing some other relaxation technique. Like he had been for almost an hour now. Clark had opened his mouth to talk several times in that time, only to close it again.
  
They had been silent for almost two hours straight now after they had settled the food issue; agreeing to rely on Batman's protein bars for as long as possible before risking ingesting any strange food. Even without his powers he didn't need to eat much, and Batman was Batman, so he could survive on only those bars for a while. Clark held back a remark about growing boys needing proper nutrition. Just because he had found Batman was a lot younger than he had though didn't mean he had suddenly grown a sense of humor.
  
And while he could appreciate the quiet time to try and get his thoughts in some semblance of order, as well as reconcile the image of the young boy before him with the imposing, grim presence of the Batman-which was going to take him a while-he was starting to feel uncomfortable, sitting here in silence for so long.
  
"How-" He cleared his throat. "How long have you known who I am?"

That was a pretty safe conversation starter, right?
  
He watched as Bruce's eyelids lift slowly, his piercing cobalt eyes shining softly in the dimly lit shelter. He said nothing for a long time, gaze never wandering away from Clark's face. Just as Clark had been about to open his mouth to apologize for disturbing him, he spoke.
  
"Before our meeting in New York."
  
Clark felt his eyes widen. New York. That was the first time the League saw Batman in person. "You- How?"
  
"I make it my business to know." Bruce stated. "Besides, a constant slouch, baggy clothes and a pair of glasses are not the most reliable way to conceal your identity. Anyone with a bit of common sense could see right through it."
  
"No one has so far."
  
Bruce snorted, turning his head slightly to the side. He said nothing else.
  
"You know the secret identity of everyone in the League." It wasn't a question. "And yet you haven't seen fit to share yours. Let alone be honest about your age."
  
"I didn't lie." His chin was lifted in defiance.
  
"No, you didn't, but you still fooled us. You presented yourself as someone older and mature, making us believe what you wanted us to."
  
"I did not make you believe anything. Either I'm good at what I do or I'm not. Age has nothing to do with it." Bruce bit out through clenched teeth, glaring at him.
  
"You could have trusted us." Clark said, keeping his voice neutral. "How can we work together when you didn't even trusted us with this."
  
"I don't trust people. I don't trust anyone, period." Bruce tilted his head to the side, looking at him with a glimpse of sardonic curiosity. "Besides, I wasn't aware there was an age restriction to join the League."
  
"There isn't." Clark answered plainly. After the boy's easy admission he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake with his insistence of welcoming Batman into the League. Sure, everyone else had been satisfied or impressed by the vigilant's efficiency, quick thinking and endurance after New York, but it had been Clark who kept insisting after the Batman's initial refusal. Or the implied refusal in the vigilante's silence and scowl.

Maybe he hadn't wanted to join because of his age and Clark had pushed and pushed until he finally give up. Though he didn't think it would go over well to even imply he thought he had made the big bad Bat do something he hadn't wanted to do.

Looking at the blank expression on the boy's face and unreadable eyes, he couldn't help but remember the times he has spoken to Batman when the world wasn't at stake and they weren't fighting for their lives. The many times he had tried to imagine the other man's expression under the dark cowl by the slight changes in his voice or posture; notable only to someone with super vision and super hearing.
  
He always thought the cowl not only concealed Batman's identity, but also served to hide any and all facial expression of the vigilante; helping to fuel the rumors and myths surrounding Gotham's protector. That without the cowl, he would be able to read the man's face, just like that of anyone else. He was wrong.
  
Bruce Wayne's only response was a low grunt, but the almost cynical gleam in his eyes and nearly unnoticeable twitch at the corner of his mouth made it clear he thought he had won the argument, whatever that meant. He closed his eyes again without a word, and just like that, that single action signaled the end of the conversation, like only Batman could do it. Only instead of frustration or anger like he always felt, Clark felt relief, because he didn't have to keep doing this.
  
It took the rest of the League 42 hours to find and rescue them. They did not touch the subjective of Bruce Wayne or Batman's age again in that time.
  
The rest of the League had been there when Batman and he had been shot with a beam of light that had left them stranded here, so they didn't have to look for the perpetrators. And Wonder Woman's lasso made the gathering of information easy, and so most of that 42 hours had been used for research and work to recalibrate the gun-like artifact to work like the League needed it to.
  
Batman's cowl and cape were back in place long before Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter stood before them; only a few minutes after J'onn had reached them via the telepathic link they used during battles.
  
Once they had been transported to the mountain outside Happy Harbor (the place they were using as headquarters) Batman had slipped away from the group before Clark, or anyone else, could say anything to the boy, without so much as a thank you to the rest of the League for finding them. Clark decided to give him space. They both needed some room to breath after spending 42 hours straight without seeing or speaking to anyone but each other, after all. He used that time to take a shower and call home, as well as to check in on the Daily Planet.
 
By the time he finally looked for Batman, he was stunned to learn the boy had already left; had left within minutes of their arrival, eventhough it was still daytime, and without a growled threat to Superman to keep what he had learned in the past hours to himself, or even a dramatic resignation to his part time member status in the League. Nothing.
 
Now what?

Chapter Text

Bruce stormed toward the zeta tubes localized in the main room with a dramatic swirl of his cape, hands balled into fists at his sides and jaw clenched shut as he ignored Lantern's idiotic complains about ungrateful jerks.

He didn't miss the few eyes that turned his way as he walked, though no one spoke or tried to stop him as he moved stealthily through the corridor. He wasn't sure what made some of those who usually bother him refrain from doing so now, but he was relieved. He needed to get out of here now.

The teleportation system did not transport him directly to the cave, but rather one of the many secure locations he had scattered around the city. Each location had been carefully selected and set up. Socked-among other things-with emergency rations, disposable cell phones and two laptops modified to support access to the main system in the cave, non distinctive clothes, and battery-powered communication equipment. All of which was well hidden in each location.

The place he had selected to be used to transport him back to Gotham from the League's headquarter-whose existence and location could be exposed to the rest of the League-was an old and abandoned storage room near the docks.

Once there, he walked toward a hidden sliding panel in the back of the dark place, closing the distance in a few long strides, and pulled it open. He slipped inside, taking and switching on the battery lamp that had been on the floor to his right without even looking at it, and sliding the panel shut. He started to take out the suit as soon as he fetched a bundle of clothes to wear from a worn out cabinet.

Dressed in a battered dark gray hoodie, loose jeans and sneakers, Bruce shoved the discarded Batman armor into a dark bag, pulling it shut before hiding it in a hole in the wall behind the cabinet. He would be coming back for it after patrol tonight, but you could never be too cautious. From a drawer to his right, he took a handful of keys and some bills which he shoved into his pockets.

His critical gaze sweep the small hidden room to ensure nothing was out place before turning the battery lamp off and placing it by the door again. Once the sliding panel was back in place Bruce slipped out, walking out of the storage room unnoticed. He made his way through the narrow alley behind the building, turning down a slightly more populated street.

Bruce walked twelve blocks, bumping against a couple of people walking in the opposite direction. He kept his head down as he walked; hood pulled up to hide his face partially, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he headed to the nearest bus stop.

A motorcycle was stored in a small shipping yard by the docks, property of a shell company Alfred had helped him create and maintain a few years ago. He couldn't take the risk of being seen around the yard too often, though, so the motorcycle was there just as a precaution; in case he ever needed it.

He didn't have to travel to Happy Harbor every time a meeting was held. He was only a part-time member after all. So when he had to assist-which was still more often than he would like-he normally used Gotham's public transport system to get to the storage room where he would be transported to the mountain, as well as to get back to the Manor. Or at least as far as the transport system went, considering not a lot of people living in The Palisades had use for it.

Bruce changed buses once, heading then toward a storage facility that had been rented under an assumed alias and pre-paid. He used the keys he had taken from the storage room and took out an old but well maintained motorcycle kept there. Putting on the helmet that rested on the seat, Bruce climbed onto the motorcycle and finally made his way to Wayne Manor.

A special chip that would allow him access into the Manor's grounds had been installed under the fuel tank of the motorcycle. It had to be activated manually, and one of the sensors installed on the perimeter would alert Alfred of his presence as soon as he trespassed the Manor's grounds. The camera system also installed around the propriety would verify his identity well before he reached the cave's entrance.

He arrived to the cave only fourteen minutes later, coming to a stop on the platform where the Batmovil and other vehicles were parked and turned off the engine. He took off the dark helmet and held it in one hand, reaching with his free hand to brush sweat matted hair off of his forehead.

It wasn't surprising to find Alfred standing besides the small bank of monitors as he turned his head. With a wry twitch of his lips he placed the helmet on the seat of the motorcycle, before making his way to the main area of the cave.

Bruce tensed under the familiar weight of Alfred's gaze, relaxing only a moment later as the butler examined him from head to toe; searching for injuries. It was a look he had gotten used to a while ago. Long before he put on the cowl and cape for the first time. Even so, he kept his gaze carefully away from the older man's face as he finished his examination.

"Alfred."

"It is a pleasure to see you return in one piece, Master Bruce."

"It's good to be back." The corner of Bruce's lips twitched slightly. "Anything of note happened while I was away?"

"Certainly, sir. Just this morning I read in the newspaper about the merger between the Bingham Corporation and Triplett Chemicals."

"What?"

"Neither company has represented a major competition for Wayne Enterprises in the past, of course, but a merger could help both enterprises to grow rapidly. The alliance will be consolidated with the marriage between the daughter of the CEO of Triplett Industries and Bingham Corporation's own CEO. It is quite a success in the media, sir."

That was not what he was asking about, but nevertheless, Bruce filled the information away. "You know what I meant, Alfred."

"Of course, sir. Nothing of notice happened with Gotham's underworld. The fine men of the Gotham Police Department seemed to handle things just fine in your absence."

"Good."

Alfred gave him yet another appraising look. "Would you require anything, sir? Supper is not yet ready, I'm afraid, but I could prepare a light lunch if you wish."

"That's fine, Alfred."

"Would you like me to draw a bath too, sir?"

Bruce considered the offer for a long moment. After spending over 42 hours straight under an unbearable heat in the suit, unable to wash anything but his face and the uncomfortable brief sleep in the hard floor, he would love nothing more that to take a long, warm bath and relax for a moment.

"No, it's fine. I will take a quick shower down here and get to work."

"Very well, sir. I shall be back immediately."

Bruce was walking back to the bank of monitors, drying his hair with a towel and wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants by the time Alfred returned to the cave holding a silver tray and setting it down in the desk.

A tall glass filled with the frankly disgusting protein shake he took every morning, another one with orange juice, and a plate with sandwiches cut into diagonal halves and the crust trimmed were in it.

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce muttered, sitting down in the swivel chair with a sigh.

Alfred stood politely to the side as Bruce downed the wheatgrass shake in a single gulp, barely holding back a grimace at the taste. He didn't drink it because it tasted good, after all.

"Well, sir. Would you care to share what happened."

Bruce furrowed his brow. "Didn't you access to the headquarters' surveillance system?"

"I did, sir."

"Then I think you know more than I do at this point." Bruce said dryly before reaching for one of the sandwiches in the plate and taking a bite.

Alfred merely lifted an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied with that answer.

"You may as well sit down then," Bruce said after a moment, nodding to the empty chair to the side. He finished the sandwich and took a sip of the juice while Alfred reluctantly did as he was told.

"We were sent to a seemingly uninhabited unknown location, as far as I can tell." Bruce admitted grudgingly, annoyed at his lack of knowledge. "I don't even know if it was a planet or some kind of illusion. There was purple vegetation of some sort, and even sources of potable water, but we found no apparent signs of life."

"It was a planet, sir. And an uninhabited one, you're correct."

It was Bruce's turn to lift an eyebrow in inquiry.

"That is at least what your colleagues concluded. The man who shot you and Superman was not the creator of the weapon, nor does he know who created it, but the information they obtained from him was sufficient seeing you're here, sir. According to that man it was not meant to kill, but disappear permanently."

"It makes sense. I counted over forty hours, and yet the sun never went down. It just reduced its brightness somehow for a few hours. It was a red sun." Bruce paused to eat another bite. "Without Superman's powers we had no other option but to wait. At least initially."

Alfred remained in polite silence, clearly sensing there was more. Bruce turned his chair to face him, leaning back in his seat. His elbows were resting on the arms of the chair and his fingers laced together.

"Kent knows who I am." He stated plainly. He didn't have to explain further. Alfred knew as much as he did about the Justice League, otherwise he wouldn't have been quite so encouraging about him joining. Even if he was sure the older man was starting to regret his easy agreement after this.

He was perfectly aware of the reason that had prompted Alfred to support the idea of him forming part of the League, and it wasn't just the prospect of fast and powerful backup available if he ever needed it, (not that Bruce was very happy about that) but the impact that could generate in Gotham's underworld by associating Batman's name with the most powerful beings in the world.

It may not stop most criminals from keeping up their illegal activities, but it could make them hesitate before attacking point black if they thought he was "friends" with the Justice League. Especially small-time criminals. Did they really want to get on the bad side of almighty Demigods by hurting "one of their own"?

"Sir?"

"I took off my cowl." Bruce said in answer to the carefully restrained touch of apprehension in Alfred's voice.

A flicker of surprised crossed the older man's eyes briefly, but to Bruce's relief he made no inquiries about that statement. But then again, Alfred knew him better than anyone else. He needed no explanation regarding at least ninety percent of the things he did.

"Did Mr. Kent recognize you, Master Bruce?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know, sir?"

"He was clearly surprised, but I can't be sure if his reaction was due to recognition of who I am or to learn how old Batman is. He was quite fixated on that."

"Well, sir. I believe one can hardly fault Mr. Kent for such reaction. After all, no young man in his right mind would carouse around the city in the middle of the night dressed up as a bat and beating criminals with his bare hands."

Bruce lifted a dark eyebrow at the older man, lips curling up into a small, wry smile. "What did I tell you about calling your employer crazy, Alfred?"

"I believe you threatened to fire me, Master Bruce. However, given the secrecy of your activities, you desisted from such notion when I pointed out you would have to clean this place by yourself if you chose to reside from my services."

"I did, didn't I." Bruce muttered without any real heat. He swallowed down the rest of his sandwich before speaking again. "Kent is supposed to be an investigative reporter. Even if he didn't know who I was then he should by now. It's not that hard to figure out, really."

"Of course." Alfred said. "Did Mr. Kent share this with the rest of the League?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't exactly stick around to find out." Bruce paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "But even if he does, I don't believe they would be a problem. It was implied that I know the identities of the others, so I think they wouldn't go farther than kick me out of the League."

They fell into an easy silence then, drawing comfort from each other's company.

Alfred wouldn't say it-because that was the way things had always worked between them-but he didn't need to heard the words to know how worried the older man had been after losing signal of the tracker installed on the suit, and even more so after he learned what had happened. The relief had shined in the butler's eyes as soon as he had seen him.

Though to be perfectly honest, Alfred wasn't the only one drawing comfort from this quiet moment. He would never admit it, but he had been scared. Scared of being in a situation he had no control over. A situation that had brought back to light every one of his qualms about joining the a group of all powerful beings.

"Would you like more, sir?" Alfred finally asked with a nod to the now empty plate.

"No. it's okay. Thank you Alfred."

"Very well, sir. If you don't need anything else I shall return upstairs to finish preparing supper, then."

"That's fine, Alfred."

With a small bow the butler walked silently away, taking the tray with him and leaving him to his own devices.

Bruce's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he started typing, as he considered the idea of accessing the surveillance in the League's headquarters to see what had happened after his departure.

He brushed the idea aside almost as fast as it had crossed his mind, focusing instead on looking up what had happened in Gotham during his absence.

That was the only important thing.

Chapter Text

Before Clark could follow Batman's example and leave the mountain for some much needed rest, Flash appeared at his side in a blink, a bag of cookies in his hand and a smile on his face.

"Hey, Supes. Nice to have you back."

Clark gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Flash."

The speeder grinned widely before popping a handful of cookies into his mouth, chewing happily before remembering his manners- at least partially since he spoke before swallowing fully.

"Sorry. Want some?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Everyone is waiting for you in the meeting room."

"Why?"

Flash swallowed the cookies in his mouth before answering this time, a quizzical expression evident even with the mask covering part of his face. "Uh, the briefing? Like the ones we have every time something big happens? And even when it doesn't? You know, so you and Bats tell us all about your adventures and we tell you guys what happened here."

"Right." He had been so concerned with Batman and what happened that he had forgotten about the meeting. They probably had delayed it to give him and Batman a moment to refresh.

"Yeah. Uh, see you there?"

Flash was gone before Clark could answer, and it wasn't until he tried to fly after him that he remembered his powers hadn't returned.

The installation of a modified solar bed or lamps calibrated to emit solar light in the mountain was one of the additions still pending to the League's headquarter. With so many other things needed around the base, he had been the first to wave away the issue-considering it would be added only for his personal use- and lead the attention of the rest of the League to other more pressing needs instead.

He didn't regret it even now, but he still grimaced, knowing he was going to need several hours outdoors to get his powers back.

By the time Clark stepped into the room Flash was already in his seat, bag of cookies nowhere to be seen and chatting animatedly with Green Lantern. Clark nodded to everyone in the room, closing the door before walking to his seat next to Wonder Woman.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. We can start."

"Hey," Flash started, lowering his hand as everyone turned to look at him. "Shouldn't we wait for Bats?"

"Yeah, where's Mr. Control Freak?" Green Arrow asked, for some reason looking at Clark for an answer. "There's no way in hell he would allow us to leave him out the loop about this. And he so wouldn't miss the chance to act like the self-righteous bastard he is while telling us everything we did wrong and how he could have done it better and faster."

Only founding members of the League were supposed to attend meetings such as this one, but as he was starting to think was a rule with Gotham's Dark Knight, an exception had been made for him. Batman had made his attendance to meetings a major condition to join the League, after all. They discussed it, and since there had been no consensus, had submitted the matter to a vote, which had ultimately been won.

Of course Batman was only interested in meetings where information was presented, or to discuss and review recent events and their performances sometimes, which did nothing to help change the more negative views and opinions of the man. Not that Batman cared, of course. He wasn't here to make friends, as he had made clear from the start.

"Batman is not on the premises anymore." Wonder Woman answered with a small frown on her face. "He left shortly after we arrived."

"Well, it is daytime. So he probably had to go back to his coffin."

Green Arrow laughed outright at Green Lantern's joke, and Clark even saw the twitch of a smile in Flash's face. Diana and J'onn's faces were solemn, even if he detected a seemingly confused expression on the Martian’s face.

"I'm sure Batman had things to take care of back in Gotham," He said with a pointed look at both green heroes. "Besides, he would be able to review the reports later if he wishes to."

The meeting went on without a hitch after that.

J'onn took the lead of the briefing, with interventions from the other League members around the table on several occasions. The Martian was an excellent expositor; always clear, concise and to the point. Unlike Batman, who liked to go over every single detail thoroughly, or Green Lantern, who could get sidetracked from the topic on hand too easily, or even Flash, who sometimes talked as fast as he could run.

This time, however, Clark found his mind wandering on several occasions during the meeting. He knew that as soon as they finished it would be his turn to speak, and he didn't know how much of what had happened he was going to tell them. He would not reveal Batman's identity, that much he was certain of. He was of the idea that the League could work better together if they were to leave secret identities behind-at least among the founders-but he also shared some of the reluctance and wariness of the rest of the members about the issue, and so he would never violate Batman's privacy like that- or anyone else's for that matter.

Even so, having a minor operating within the League was still an issue, and one that concerned the whole League. By that principle alone, he should tell them; this could potentially affect the League and they had a right to know. But he just wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of humans facing the same threats and dangers that he and other metahumans-as they called them-faced, but he respected and even admired them for it. But now, knowing that a minor was standing alongside them in the middle of the chaos and destruction was alarming. Frightening, even. And yet, Bruce's words still echoed in his mind, making him hesitate.

"Kal?" Diana called, a touch of concern coloring her tone.

They were all looking at him, with several degrees of impatience, confusion, and concern in their expressions. It was obvious they had been trying to get his attention for some time.

Clark cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

He paused again, taking a deep breath before speaking, the decision made even before he knew it.

He wouldn't tell them. At least not yet. He needed to think about this some more.

Once the meeting was adjourned, Clark was left to ponder the problem of just how exactly he was going to go home.

He could simply use the zeta-beam to Metropolis, of course. It would leave him a few blocks away from the Daily Planet, so he would just need to put on his civilian clothes, walk to the nearest bus stop, and then be on his way home, just like that. But with so many cell phones and cameras everywhere, he couldn't be sure he would be able to change fast enough to prevent someone getting a lucky photo or video. He couldn't take the risk of that happening.

So he needed to get his powers back before leaving. Great.

Go to the top of the mountain and lay there until his powers came back as he had done in the past when he was exposed to Kryptonite was the easiest way, even if not the faster to do it. It normally took him a few hours under direct sunlight-and with any traces of Kryptonite far away-to get his powers back. And while he hadn't been exposed to red sun radiation before, from what he know about it and the whole experience, he had the feeling it was going to take longer to get past its effects.

It would be easier to just ask Diana or J'onn to fly him as close as they could to the sun and be back to normal faster, but at the same time, it was harder; he wasn't sure how long it would take and he didn't want to put them off in any way. Didn't want to ask them to fly him to the sun and then wait who knew how long, all the while carrying him in their arms.

Green Lantern would have been the best option; he could simply create a construction with his ring and get him even just a few inches away from the sun and most importantly, he wouldn't have to carry him. But he had just returned back to Earth after months on a space mission with the Corps, and had left the mountain as soon as the meeting was over.

But he really wanted to go home. With a heavy sigh, he set out to look for Diana.

He found her in the small cafeteria they had set up in the mountain, talking with J'ohn. Sitting down at her request, Clark had fidgeted with a corner of his cape under the table before getting past his awkwardness and sheepishness, at least enough to ask her. With a soft smile that lightened her features and made her look even more beautiful she agreed willingly, and they were out of the mountain and flying to the sun only moments later.

Getting his powers back fully took longer than he would have liked, but the wait was far from being uncomfortable as he had feared. Instead, their interaction was laid back and filled with camaraderie; their talk like any other they had ever shared in the past-though perhaps it was the longer they had been able to talk without being interrupted by an emergency of any kind-regardless of the fact he was in her arms or that they were hovering so close to the sun.

They flew back to the mountain together. After bidding her goodbye, Clark had chosen to use the zeta-beam to go back to Metropolis.

He was greeted by a car accident only a couple of miles away from where he was teleported. Clark rushed to the crash site, and immediately started to work on getting the victims out of the wrecked cars, being careful not to cause any more damage. There were no fatalities, and some of the injuries, though serious, weren't life threatening if treated with opportunely. The paramedics arrived only minutes after he managed to pull them all out, and after making sure everything was under control, Clark flew away.

Superman landed at the end of an empty alley, behind a dumpster. He put on his civilian clothes in a flash, and less than a second later, Clark Kent came out of it, adjusting his glasses before walking the couple of blocks that still separated him from his apartment building on 344 Clinton Street.

As Clark stepped into the building, he found Mrs. Creager at the bottom of the staircase, shifting the grocery bags in her arms for a better grip before climbing the stairs. Julia Creager's apartment was on the third floor, a couple of doors away from Clark's own apartment. She had moved in just a few months ago, and lived alone with her young daughter Amy, who Clark had looked after on one occasion.

Not a very practical or smart choice on his part, considering he had to go out at any emergency, but once he had pointed out his lack of experience with children, and she still had asked him, he had been unable to say no. It had been a very interesting experience to say the least.

"I believe I can help you with that, Mrs. Creager."

She spun around, surprise flashing across her face. "Clark!" A smiled curled her lips. "I thought I told you to call me Julia."

"You did," Clark took one of the bags from her, and motioned for her to climb the stairs first.

"Thank you. You're a sweetheart." They took the first couple of steps in silence, before she turned to him. "I didn't see you around the last couple of days. Mrs. Goldstein also commented on it."

"Yeah. I was busy chasing the lead for a story. It didn't pan out." It didn't seem to matter how many times he did it, or that he only did it to protect his identity, he still hated lying.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay. It was a long shot," Clark said with a shrug. "Besides, I have plenty of other stories to keep me busy."

"Well, that's good."

They continued their talk for a few minutes even after they reached her apartment. Clark stepped inside for a moment to carry the bag to the counter of her kitchen, before excusing himself and following his way.

As soon as he stepped into his apartment and closed the door behind him, Clark learned against the door with a sigh, closing his eyes. It was good to be home. Or at least in his home away from home. Clark forced himself to move after a moment, turning on the TV on the news channel, the monotonous voice of the presenter following him as he went to the kitchen.

As a Kryptonian, he could spend days without food with no problem, but years of eating like a human made it natural for him to eat like anyone else, and even give him the sense of hunger. That and he really liked to eat. He downed a glass of water and set the empty glass on the counter before looking around the kitchen for something to eat.

He knew how to cook, of course. Thanks to Martha Kent's intensive cooking lessons before he left Smallville. She hadn't been about to let her only son out into the world without making sure said son wasn't going to starve to death or live out of fast food, or any other food that wouldn’t live up to Martha Kent's high standards of nutritional value for an extended period of time.

Clark settled for making a quick sandwich, at least for now. He could always make something more elaborate later. He brought the plate out of the kitchen and placed it on the coffee table after taking a bite, and sat on the couch with his laptop before him to check his e-mail.

The barking of a dog coming from a commercial of dog food on the TV snapped Clark out of his retrieve, making him realized he been staring at the screen of his laptop without reading or typing anything for a while now. He shook his head, ready to open an e-mail from Jimmy when he paused. He debated internally with himself for a moment, before finally opening another tab on his laptop and typing two words into the search engine.

Bruce Wayne.

He bit his lip, watching as the results came up on the screen.