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Clark was in the study. Before that, he'd been on the patio, then in the foyer, then the sitting room, then the formal dining room. He'd never come into the cave, which Bruce assumed meant both that it wasn't mask-relevant and that it wasn't something Clark wanted Bruce to rush up to. Security cameras which could detect the sudden appearance of a being or object meant that Bruce could keep track of the other man's nervous wandering. Not quite afraid, but clearly anxious and looking as if he wanted to find an appropriate place to talk to Bruce about whatever it was that had him so on edge.
Bruce watched as Clark tilted his head in the solarium before disappearing. The cameras in the kitchen caught him just as Alfred turned around to hand him a covered plate and gesture to the breakfast table. By the time Alfred had paged down to the cave to let him know that breakfast was served and that he had a guest waiting, he was already on the stairs.
People who knew both of them usually assumed that Clark was much more open than Bruce himself was, but that was only true on the surface. Clark was more personable and more likely to welcome and draw a person into conversation, but he was no more likely to divulge personal information than Bruce was. There was, in fact, even an argument for the opposite. Over the few years they'd known and worked with each other, they had grown close enough to confide in one another. Usually it was related to Superman and Batman rather than Clark and Bruce, but there were enough instances of the latter that Bruce wasn't sure how intimate this conversation was going to be.
Clark was standing by the breakfast table when he walked in and watched him as they both sat down. To anyone else, Clark may have looked like he was simply waiting for him to arrive, but Bruce could see the apprehension in his face just as clearly as he could find it in his earlier pacing. There was something else, too, though. Something lighter and more fragile, but tucked further away. Bruce briefly, awkwardly, hoped that Clark wasn't here for advice about Lois before he squashed the thought. If Clark saw even the impression of reluctance in him, he'd make his excuses and take his leave. And for all that Bruce didn't feel qualified to talk on personal or emotional matters, he didn't want his friend to feel guilty or ashamed for having come to him.
They ate quietly, speaking occasionally about the League or about the Planet or Wayne Enterprises. Clark asked after Dick and Bruce offered some compliments for Clark to pass on to Lois and Jimmy, anonymous though they would have to be. Bruce felt Clark alternate between watching him and eyeing the room and he tried to give the other man the time that he apparently needed, but when Alfred came to clear the dishes away and they were still making small talk, Bruce's growing concern outpaced his thinning patience.
"Clark. Have you come here because you think I've done something wrong?"
Clark startled and froze with his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. "What? No -"
"Have you come here because you think you've done something wrong?"
Clark set down his mug but averted his eyes slightly. "No. That's not -"
"Then have you come here because you think someone else has done something wrong?"
Clark hesitated. Then, "What makes you so sure that someone's done something wrong?"
Bruce considered him for a moment and let a little of his concern show, "Clark. What is it that you need?"
Clark's eyes widened, "That's not - it's not about that. Exactly. It's not about what I need."
Interesting. "Alright."
"Maybe I should start at the beginning."
"If you like."
"If I like?"
"I just meant that I may already know that part." Bruce felt something ease in his chest when that got a surprised huff of laughter out of Clark. The humor seemed to help him settle; this possibility of their shared knowing making it easier to talk than it would if Clark was alone in it. Than if Clark was alien in it.
"I went to see Captain Marvel a few days ago."
"Sivana Industries. Fawcett City Police Station."
"Yes." Clark hesitated again.
They'd been considering Captain Marvel for the Justice League. His abilities alone merited at least cursory consideration, but it was the way that he and Superman had seemed to instantly click that had put membership on the table in any real sense. Superman had always been in favour of expanding the League and had been open and accepting to almost all new members, but he had never nominated someone himself. That he had put forth Captain Marvel's name so soon after he had appeared on the scene was noteworthy. Bruce remembered how excited Clark had been after running into the magical hero at the Fawcett City Museum. How Clark had apparently gotten so caught up in talking to him that he'd almost revealed details about his personal life. Clark, who was possibly even more stringent about keeping Clark Kent from bleeding into Superman and vice versa than Bruce was about his own alter-egos. Bruce ached at the thought that he might have trusted someone only to be betrayed.
"Did it happen the way Lois wrote it?" Bruce already knew it did, but he didn't want to put Clark on the defensive if he didn't have to.
"In a way."
Oh? "How so?"
"The suspect in custody. The police officers. The office building."
"That seems to be the story as she told it."
"Yeah. But the story doesn't cover all of the facts."
"What's missing?"
Clark shifted in his chair and wrapped both hands around his mug, though the warmth must have been long gone. "I heard about it shortly after it happened. Lois showed me the article the night before it published and I went to confront him about it. He was...I found him crying."
Bruce tilted his head and chose his words carefully. "Remorse is good. But those are serious violations of our ethics, not to mention crimes in and of themselves."
Clark shook his head. "That's not fair. He understands that he overreacted, but it wasn't entirely his fault."
Bruce opened his mouth but Clark shook his head again, eyes darting back and forth briefly as he searched for the words he needed. "Captain Marvel is some sort of avatar. Or something. A very powerful being named Shazam gave him his powers and his appearance. To fulfill his destiny apparently." Clark's darkened expression showed what he thought of that. "But there was no training. No support. When Scott died, it was too much. He lost control."
"Scott Okum. The child?"
Clark's eyes were heavy when they met his. "His best friend."
There was a second of confusion before Bruce's understanding grew something cold and vehement in his chest and he knew his eyes were as hard as Clark's. "I see."
"He's just a boy." Clark sounded as if he were repeating himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's just a little boy and they knew that. They hunted him down. They sent a team of high level hitmen in, and when they found two children sitting there they opened fire."
A delicate cracking sound brought their attention to the coffee mug crushed in Clark's hand.
Bruce used Clark's lapse as if it were his own release and took a breath to regain his composure. "Sivana?"
"He ran. But not far enough."
"Where?"
Clark shook his head.
"I'll find him."
Clark nodded and stood up, walking to the windows and looking out at the rising sun. Bruce studied the silhouette of his friend. The broad shoulders that seemed as if they could bear the weight of the world and all its sorrows. The bowed head and clenched fists which proved that to be a sometimes desperate lie. "But that's not why you came here, is it?"
Clark was quiet for a moment. "You've worked with children. As Batman. You've rescued them and you’ve lost them. You’ve talked them down and helped them get help when they needed it."
"Yes." Bruce stood and walked over to the window as well and side by side they watched the world slowly brighten.
"You've taken them out of dangerous and unfit living situations and placed them in better ones."
"Not alone. But yes."
"And you never made a home for them with you. Not until Dick."
Bruce turned his head and studied the Kryptonian's profile. "That's right."
"Why was...how did you know? What was different? Between those other children you helped and then let go of and the one who became your son?"
The silence that grew was weighted, but not strained. Why this child? Bruce considered all the ways he could answer. How it might be different if the question had come from a reporter, or a social worker, or even another child in need. How it had been different when Alfred had asked, when Dick had asked, and even when Clark had asked that first time. How the answer itself had changed and grown as their relationship had and as time passed. As it stopped being so much a snap decision that he had made one night and became a deliberate choice and a life that he continued to choose over and over.
"I don't know exactly. I suppose the easiest answer was that he reminded me of myself. His loss mirrored mine. I knew the ways that the justice system could fail a child. Any justice system, but Gotham's in particular."
Clark looked over and met his gaze as he continued, "I think...that I thought I'd have a better idea than most of what pieces of himself his loss had taken from him. That I might be able to guide him better than most. And that I didn't trust anyone else to do it right. But most of that reasoning happened later. After he'd been tucked into bed. After I'd been working the case. When it happened, though, I just saw him and recognized in him what I saw in myself sometimes. What I saw in my memories of myself. And what I saw when I wondered where I'd be if I didn't still have Alfred."
That was more than a little more than he'd meant to share, but he didn't quite regret it. Clark studied him for a moment before turning back to the window. "When I first worked with him, I thought it was incredible. Our powers were so compatible. I'd never...he was the closest thing to another Kryptonian that I'd ever met. Probably ever will. The possibility of relating to someone else so closely in regards to both the cape and the secret identity has been rare enough, but of relating to someone else in regards to power sets at all...it never even occurred to me that there might be a chance. But then it happened. Things are... it's not the same now. It wouldn't be fair of me to put that onto a child. But I can still be that for him."
Clark looked at him again, so earnestly. "I can be the person he comes to. This isn't just some kid I came across who wants to be a hero. I can't just turn him away until he's older; he has powers right now that he needs to be able to control. I know what that was like and I know what it's like to have to try to figure it out blind. Ma and Pa never left me on my own for it, obviously, but none of us knew what we were doing. He doesn't need to go through that."
"You want to be his mentor?"
Clark looked to the side. Almost right. "When they tracked him down, he was living in an abandoned subway station. After I'd gone to see Shazam, I'd found him in a foreclosed apartment building. He's all alone. I...I'm falling in love with this kid, Bruce."
Bruce's eyebrows rose before he could school his expression. "You want to take him in? You think you can trust him with your identity?" It wasn't a criticism, though someone else might have taken it that way. Bruce didn't think that Clark hadn't thought it through, he was just genuinely that surprised that Clark considered it at all. But then Clark’s expression shifted to almost the same cautiously defiant expression that he was seeing on Dick's face more and more often. "You already have."
Of all the things to have come up today, that was not something he was expecting. "Alright. So what now?"
Clark ran a hand over his face. "Well, he's in Fawcett City and I'm in Metropolis. I don't know how to get him placed with me, legally."
"Before anything else, you'll need to get qualified as a foster parent. If that is the role you're looking at?"
Clark nodded, "But actually, before anything, I think I should run it by him. I haven’t brought it up to him yet. I wasn’t sure if… But I should ask him before I do anything else. See if he's even interested."
"Why do you think he wouldn't be? He seems to think highly of you."
"When he showed me his identity, he said he thought it was too dangerous to be himself rather than solely being Captain Marvel. I'm not sure that he would feel safe being so close to someone related to his crime fighting."
Not an unreasonable assumption but, "Honestly, Clark, I think it would make him feel safer. He's worried about the danger to the people he cares about but you're damn near indestructible. He could let his guard down around you because it would take so much to get through you. You might be the only one who could give him the sense of safety he's going to need to let himself just be a child."
Clark considered that while Bruce pushed on. "As for the legalities, we'll look into what presence he has in the Fawcett City system at the moment. If it's small enough it might not be too big a hurdle, especially if you're already interested. We might actually be able to get the paperwork to make you already a godparent or something rather than become a foster parent if you think that might be more fitting. It would mean that jurisdiction likely wouldn't matter."
Clark hesitated, "What should we do about the League, do you think? If someone asks if we're still considering him for membership after what happened?"
Bruce shrugged, "Tell the truth."
Clark's brow furrowed.
"The truth being that after recent events, you spoke with Captain Marvel and decided to take him under your wing. To help him with his powers and with control. There are enough superheroes who came into their powers suddenly that it shouldn't be an unreasonable explanation. Not to mention those who are foreign to this country or this planet and who may be unfamiliar with our customs. I don't think it would be enough to blow his cover. Or yours."
Clark nodded, "That with the fact that we've already been known to work with each other should work. If I move him from Fawcett to Metropolis with me it shouldn't infringe on either of our abilities to help either city. Or anywhere else for that matter."
Bruce felt a small sense of familiarity with the pattern of this conversation before he placed it. Clark did this sometimes, usually with articles he was writing. When he'd already considered all the angles and had mostly figured it out but wanted someone he trusted to check his bias.
"Why did you come to me with this? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did, but why me?"
Clark's gaze flickered around again before settling on the window again. Both of their caped identities were masks which carried truths about themselves. Batman was a creature of the night; one that lurks in shadows. When things got too hard for Bruce, he had a tendency to harden and hide, even while maintaining the same physical space. Superman was a creature of light and warmth capable of going damn near anywhere. When things got too difficult for Clark, he had a tendency to become unapproachable and take flight. What did Clark think he was going to say that had him constantly on the cusp of running?
"I just thought you might have some insight into taking in a child who would be involved in both aspects of your life."
That was certainly true, though it wasn't the truth of why he was here. The other man's jaw clenched against whatever might have shown on his face. "You're talking about taking in a child with incredible and difficult to control powers. And also about trying to fit that child into your mundane life. Clark. Why wouldn't you go to your parents with this?"
The Kryptonian turned to look at him, face wiped almost clean as he did. But Bruce caught the tail end of something between embarrassment and shame haunting his eyes. Oh. Here, too, they were similar. Prone to this delicate, vulnerable, twistable feeling. Bruce found himself speaking softly, "Because it's not just that you think it's a good idea. It's that you really want it. And you don't want them to have to be the ones to tell you that you can't have it."
Clark's eyes shut and his shoulders tensed. "I don't want to be selfish in this. If it's not actually good for him…"
Bruce remembered the power of the feeling he got when he brought Dick home for the first time. A magnitude he's not yet had matched. And he remembered the wretched fear that Alfred, who knew him better than absolutely anyone, would see him and find him wanting. That he had stumbled upon this sudden but powerful yearning only to be told he had to cut it out of himself.
"It is not selfish of you to want to do this. You and he have built a relationship. You have established trust. You can and want to provide what he needs as himself and you can and want to provide the tutelage and boundaries he's going to need as Captain Marvel. It's not a selfish want."
"But if I -"
"Clark. If you didn't want him, if you didn't care about him, then it would be a bad idea. You're not unfit because this matters to you."
Clark's shoulders slumped. Bruce stepped forward and squeezed his arm. "So. Tell me about him."
Clark grinned. "He's such a sweet boy. Funny, and eager. When I went to talk to him the other day, I showed him my identity. Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. Wanna guess what the first thing he asked me was?"
"What?"
"He wanted to know if I could help get a position with WHIZ Radio. Apparently he's been trying to volunteer there for a while. Wants to be a newscaster."
Bruce groaned lightheartedly.
Clark chuckled, "What?"
"At this rate the League and it's relations are going to be fifty percent reporter. What's his name?"
"Billy. Billy Batson."
"Bat son?" Bruce narrowed his eyes and Clark had to use his hand to physically smooth out his grin.
"I swear that is his legal name."
Bruce snorted. "Dick is going to be incorrigible." But he smiled as Clark's laughter filled the room.