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Nothing and no one was unbreakable— Metropolis had been a painful reminder of that— but Batman had designed the Conference Room table to withstand meta-humans and aliens just the same.
The table was made to weather potentially passionate arguments between beings who could, with a simple gesture or thought, cause a great deal of destruction. He had both engineered its shape to withstand large forces and utilized durable materials for its construction— a customized blend of chromium, titanium, and steel. Privately, Batman was willing to admit that it was a thing of beauty. Especially with the Justice League’s embossed logo on top. However, as of now, he was just slightly worried about its continued durability.
It was one of their monthly pre-scheduled founder’s (plus a few others) meetings, but nothing about this particular meeting was normal. For one, Arthur was absent again— as he had been often, lately. For another, there were far too few leaguers aboard the Watchtower, and every extra silent moment was a reminder of those who would never return. Superman had also been talking for almost the entire time, growing increasingly passionate— almost rabid. Batman did not like the gleam in his eye, nor his plans, innocuous as they first sounded.
It was easy enough to call for a world-wide cease-fire, but then there was the problem of enforcing it. And nothing good could come from that slippery a slope. He knew that first-handedly. So when Superman stopped talking, Batman immediately spoke up: “You need to stop this now, while you still have a chance to, Superman. I think I speak for everyone when I say, given the... circumstances, what happened with the Joker can be overlo—”
“Jesus Christ, Bruce. I’d expect that kind of sugar-coating from Shazam, maybe. But you? Let’s call it what it was: an unsanctioned killing,” Flash interrupted bluntly. His posture spoke of a man who was deeply uncomfortable. Superman, gaze already lowered, scowled, but did not speak up. A heavy silence blanketed the heroes.
“Shit, dude,” Cyborg commented finally, breaking the tension. Hal frowned silently, in agreement.
Batman sighed, waiting a moment to see if there would be any further interruptions. When none occurred, he continued, looking intently around the table, “Listen to me carefully, all of you. This is not a path that we want— or the league can afford— to go down. I know something about seeking revenge,” here Batman looked to Superman, “and nothing good comes of it. Especially not for paragons of justice.” At this last bit, Batman’s lips quirked up in a cynical smile.
Superman finally glanced up. Batman was ready. He met the Kryptonian’s blue eyes, and said, softly, “You prevented me from— making a mistake when Jason... Consider this my returning that favor.” Everyone was surprised by the unrepressed earnestness of Batman’s tone, if not by the emotional intensity behind it. They all knew that Bruce had a heart; it was just not normally so readily on display. But still, no one spoke.
Superman’s brow furrowed momentarily, then his expression turned carefully neutral, reserved. Batman sighed softly. Wonder Woman, lips pursed, looked between the two men, her dear friends. Then the Kryptonian scoffed dismissively. When he spoke, his voice was filled with bitterness, “As if you would have ever killed—”
“Don’t.” The deadly silence was Batman’s this time. His right hand, previously resting flat on the tabletop, was now clenched in a fist, and his voice sounded raw. “Do not for one second imply that I felt anything but sheer, all-consuming hatred for that monster.” He took a breath. “We are— are supposed to be— better than that, Superman.”
The table creaked. All attention moved from Batman to Superman, whose head was bowed, and hands gripped the table, white-knuckled.
“Kal—” Diana began warningly.
Superman took a deep breath and slowly relaxed his grip. He blinked, looking down at the damage. If anything, the room grew quieter. “Sorry, I... I’ll deal with that later,” Clark murmured.
Hal whistled lowly, and Barry tugged nervously at the collar of his suit. J’ohn looked as emotionless as a statue— though he was perhaps busy minimizing the psychic blowback from the tense atmosphere. Cyborg’s face bore a small, uneasy frown. Green Arrow’s eyes darted between Superman and Batman. Wonder Woman had her arms crossed and was watching the Kryptonian with what appeared to be concern.
Batman looked unimpressed. “See that you do. What you’re planning is not something which can be fixed as easily, Kal-El. Remember that.” He stood. It looked like Batman would get the last word, as Superman silently watched his friend walk towards the door.
“No.”
Batman halted for a half-second, then spun around. His scowl deepened. “We’re not talking about this now; find me when you’ve got a clear head.” He turned around again, dismissively.
Superman’s expression darkened, and he leaned forward, fisted hands resting atop the table. His eyes glowed faintly red. Green Arrow and Flash both scooted several inches away from the table. “No, Br— Batman. You don’t get to give us a sanctimonious lecture on morals and walk away. Not this time. This discussion isn’t finished.”
Batman stopped walking and tensed. “You do not tell me when nor from whom I can or cannot walk away. And for now, it is. Goodbye, Kal.” He resumed movement.
With a great smash, and scrape of his chair against the floor, Superman stood. His hands rested in the dents he’d created earlier. “Damnit, Bruce! COME BACK HERE!” And then there was a flash of red, a great deal of shouting, coughing, noise, smoke, and commotion.
“Batman!”
“Bruce!”
“What the fuck, Clark?”
“SUPERMAN!”
“Kal!” the last voice, commanding and sharp, was Wonder Woman’s. Her strong arms wrapped restrainingly around the Kryptonian, as she placed her body between Superman and the rest of the league. Wisely, she kept her face out of heat vision range. “Please try not to incinerate Bruce,” Diana said more calmly.
Clark abruptly stopped struggling. “I… I—”
When it became clear that no one had actually been hurt, the heroes’ collective attention turned to Batman’s side of the table. He had thrown himself down a split-second before the laser beams reached him. If almost anyone else had been in his position, they would now be severely injured, or worse. It was only his familiarity with the Man of Steel that had allowed him to realize what was happening and get out of the way in time.
As everyone watched, Batman stood smoothly and straightened his cape. “That could have killed me.” He glanced dispassionately at the molten line of gouged metal, created by Superman’s heat vision. “You could have killed me, Clark.” He sucked in a breath, and looked past the Man of Steel, towards the door. “I’m leaving now. If anyone tries to stop me, they will get an electrified batarang in the face.”
Despite the tumult, Batman appeared calm as he left the room. However, everyone remaining knew that he was not. Kal-El was his best friend. And Kal-El had just nearly killed him. Superman understood Batman’s true emotional state most of all— his powers allowed him to hear the panicked beat of Bruce’s heart. And Clark looked stricken. “Let me— I need to…”
“I’ll find him,” Barry volunteered quietly, not quite meeting Superman’s eyes. “I’ll talk to Bruce.”
After that, everyone else filed out of the room quickly, either glancing uneasily back at the remaining two-thirds of the trinity or not looking at all.
When they were alone, Superman sighed shakily, and Wonder Woman finally released him. They stood next to each other silently, for several minutes more. Kal-El’s gaze did not leave the now-cool gash in the table. Diana’s gaze did not leave his face. “God, I fucked up.”
Wonder Woman, champion of honesty, if not a protector of egos, agreed plainly: “You did.”
Clark sighed, and his shoulders sagged. He sank back into his seat and buried his face in his hands. “Diana, what am I— shit. I need to find Bruce and apologize to him. Shit.”
Diana sat slowly and lay a consoling hand on Clark’s shoulder. He did not look up. “That you do, my friend.” She said nothing more, and they stayed in that position for several minutes.
Eventually, Clark’s shoulders relaxed, and he shifted back in his chair. Diana removed her hand. Clark turned to look at her, expression one of guilt, and… something else. Curiosity, perhaps. His brow was furrowed. “But you don’t think I’m wrong, do you? To try this?”
A beat of silence as Wonder Woman seemed to ponder the question. “No, I do not.” Clark stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. He turned away again. Diana pursed her lips and stared at the damaged table. “Do you think he’ll come around?” she asked quietly.
“I do,” Superman replied instantly. “We just need to give him time to adjust, think things over. Make it be his decision to join us… That was our mistake— springing it on him like this. He probably saw it as an attack.” The heat vision incident went unremarked upon.
Diana remained silent for an awfully long time after that. Superman looked back and saw that she was staring thoughtfully down at her crossed arms. “And if he does not, Kal? What then?” What do we do if Batman still opposes this? Opposes us?
“That won’t be a problem, Diana,” Superman reassured, perhaps with more confidence than he truly felt. Bruce’ll come around, he told himself firmly, he has to. Kal-El had no desire to consider just what would happen if he did not.