Work Text:
Portent
A bright flash and an echoing boom fill the cave. Clark’s chest constricts with fear. Anything could be concealed by the blinding light. So he immediately places himself between the unknown threat and the very vulnerable humans he cherishes.
Straightening up, a gray-haired Superman takes a perfunctory glance around the cave, lingering on Clark for a moment before stopping on Bruce. “I made it. There’s still time.”
Clark resists the urge to gawk at his double; he's Superman, after all, and Superman doesn't stare at people with his mouth hanging open. Even when those people are alternate, older versions of himself. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing at—”
“This is no game, Clark. I am you, years from now."
"Looking and sounding identical, even knowing my identity, doesn’t prove you aren’t lying, that this isn't some trick." He begins to doubt the wisdom of antagonizing the other Superman when his alternate's eyes turn red. Clark manages to get his hands up just before the twin beams strike him, and he’s forced to give ground under the onslaught.
“I have no reason to lie.” With a flick of his gaze towards the Batcomputer, he asks, “Bruce, have you finished yet?”
Bruce scowls when the results of the analysis he initiated after the Boom Tube closed flash on screen. “He’s telling the truth. Both voice and x-ray comparisons are a perfect match to yours, Clark.”
“I’ve come to stop you. I know you’ll think you’re doing the right thing, but you’ll be wrong. Lois, Alfred, the kids… Rao, even Ma and Bruce.” He gives what looks like an apologetic smile. "So, I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you."
Clark knows he should stand down, remain calm, and try to figure out what will go wrong. There will be time for questions later. What matters right now is preventing his alternate from getting to Bruce. He darts forward and punches, fist connecting soundly against a jaw that might as well be marble.
Taking the offensive, Superman drives his shoulder into Clark’s stomach before dropping down and sweeping Clark’s feet out from under him in a combination clearly taken from Bruce’s fighting tactics. “You’ll only wind up killing them all, and you will be left all alone.”
“I. Don’t. Kill.” Clark jabs with each word before he lifts into the air, intending to move the fight away from the cave.
“That ridiculous moral code,” Superman snarls, grabs Clark by the ankle, and flings him like a ragdoll into the glass display case that holds Jason's bloodstained Robin suit, shattering it.
Bruce moves for the vault, but only makes it a few steps before Superman grabs a hold and tosses him hurtling through the air, where he crashes into the side of the Batmobile with a resounding thud.
Stalking forward, Superman rages. "You can't stop me! I will save them. There's still time to end it before it begins."
Clark staggers back to his feet, certain his double will kill Bruce if he doesn’t stop him. Going toe-to-toe isn’t working. He needs another way, and quickly. Glancing around, the dossier on Metallo that’s still displayed on one of the monitors catches his eye. He snorts at the irony.
Superman lifts the Batmobile over his head as if it were a toy. Looking up at him, Bruce catches and holds his gaze, asking gently, "How bad it must have been for you, Clark, that you see murder as the only way?"
“Nobody’s called me that for years,” Superman says with a start.
Gritting his teeth, Clark picks up the bullet, so recently embedded in his chest, from the lead lined box. Seeing as the piece failed to kill him, he’s confident using it on his alternate won’t be fatal. Already feeling the weakness from the kryptonite in his hand, Clark’s not certain he can throw the piece with enough force to injure Superman. Unwilling to take the chance, he instead grabs Alfred’s shotgun, chambering the bullet.
Clark aims and then pulls the trigger.
Superman drops the Batmobile to the side, the resulting bang echoing around the cave, and falls to his knees. He reaches towards Bruce with a trembling hand, whispering, "I… out of time… Bruce, don’t make the same mistake…Beware…Lex… ” And then fades away.
.
"Pa always said 'get the right tool for the right job'." Clark grins. “I guess it’s a good thing Alfred protects the cave with a shotgun and not a spare Mister Freeze ray after all,” he muses, watching as Bruce picks up the bullet, before he gets up, and quickly moves away, presumably placing the kryptonite back in the box before it can further weaken him.
"Remind me to send Ma Kent some flowers to thank her for the shooting lessons." Returning to where his precious car sits, Bruce pinches his lips together and furrows his brows, surveying the damage.
“I can probably pop those dents back out.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” Clark replies and absently rubs the back of his neck. It’s really not his fault, but nonetheless he finds himself irrationally feeling like it is.
Catching the nervous tick out of the corner of his eye, he turns. “Clark.”
“I know. Really, I do.”
“It isn’t your fault.” Bruce is the picture of serenity when he adds, “This time.”
“Oh, come on!” Clark huffs. “Destroy the Batmobile once and you never live it down.”
“Indeed. Master Richard has yet to stop being reminded of the time he did. I recommend selective hearing.”
Clark about jumps out of his skin at Alfred’s appearance. There’s no doubt where Bruce gets it from. He should be used to it by now, but no. Damn ninja butler.
"What was that all about?"
Bruce sighs. "A warning from a possible future version of Superman."
"Regarding?"
"A decision yet to be made."
"And it seems, a wonderfully insightful one at that," Alfred quips.
"Right?" Clark gives a little laugh. "Why can't it ever be 'don't do X because Y will happen, you idiots’?"
Bruce snorts. "Where's the challenge in that?"