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The stars unite in the perfect night sky. For once, Gotham city isn't smothered in its usual smog. It seems like the Wayne Enterprises green acts are actually having an effect.
There Batman lies, on the roof of some random building. Where he's not sure if anyone will find or look for him. He's bleeding. He had been shot through a vital organ that wasn't properly healed from a previous injury. He can feel himself fading. Bruce isn't sure if he's ready to say goodbye yet. To accept that he will never see his kids or Alfred again, because he feels like now is his last moment whether he calls the cave or not. No one will make it in time.
A slow and brooding hum rings through his ears. Gotham seems a lot calmer tonight. The sirens and screams have all died down, the sounds of villains festering and civilians panic have all died out. It's as if Gotham is sensing him fade out. Their hero is dying and the city is mourning.
I should have been better. Bruce thinks to himself. He can think clearer than ever before, same as Gotham his mind is missing its deluding smoke. He knows he should have been a better father, his children didn't deserve these acts that he had inflicted. He wishes he could talk to Jason one more time. To tell him that he didn't try to replace him, to let him know that he did grieve. He did- does…miss his son.
His eyes close as his breaths become shallow. He wheezes with every rise and fall of his chest. He's coming home to his mom and dad… he is…at peace.
★
Bruce flutters his eyes open, expecting to be met by the sight of his parents, or some form of afterlife. But in reality, he's at home. In his bed. Hooked up to many machines. Who came to his rescue? He didn't call for help?
His blurry vision pans around the room for a few moments before his eyes catch something like an eyesore compared to his home. A bright blue suit, a red cape and that irritating capital 'S' in the middle.
Superman had saved him.
Batman notices he has an intubation tube in his throat and painfully pulls it out just as his vision clears. The annoying blue suit approaches him in a concerned manner. His eyes are blurry again once he gets it out from the tears settled in the corners.
"Sir, you really shouldn't have done that." Alfred says with a worried expression.
Bruce hadn't realized he was there until he spoke. But he couldn't focus on that now.
"Are any of-" Bruce cuts himself off remembering that his coworker was standing a few feet away from him.
Bruce clears his throat. "Are any of the 'Robins' informed of my condition Alfred?" Bruce asks with great difficulty for lack of a better label.
"No sir, would you like-"
"No. Don't inform them that I'm wounded, keep them on their rounds and tell them I'm busy with the Justice League." Bruce shoots Superman a glare. His doe eyes stare right back.
Both Bruce and Clark know each other's identities due to scraps in their early comradery. Both have sworn to do nothing with the information and other than names both have sworn to keep out of the others personal lives and not look into it. Hence the treading carefully around that the 'robins' were in fact his children and also that most of them were not actually still 'robins'.
The only way that they treat each other differently is when in private neither feel like keeping up their super or civilian facade, both are genuinely themselves to the best they can be. There is no Batman, there is no 'Brucie Wayne'. At Least that's what he says, but he can't help but keep the 'Batman' facade.
Bruce sat up keeping his face straight despite the amount of pain he should be in. Clark gives him this helpless look akin to 'please stop you know that hurts'. Bruce just wants this eye sore out of his face and out of his house before one of his kids thinks he's sleeping with Superman.
"Clark. I think you can go now." Bruce says with this loathing tone and expression.
Clark looks extremely hurt by this reaction. "But Bats.. you're still wounded, and by the sounds of it you don't want your sidekicks knowing." Clark seems earnest with his words.
Bruce groans. He definitely won't be able to convince him to go home, he will just secretly (very obviously because he cannot blend in with Gotham) spy on the Wayne household. Which will start rumors…which will involve tons of press…and Bruce would no longer like to let that train of thought continue.
"Fine." He coughs out. Clark has this shine in his eyes. "But…" Clark's expression doesn't even falter.
"You cannot be seen doing anything super in my household, also you break it you buy it (Bruce says this as if he wouldn't be paid with his own money), and finally you must be your civilian persona and try to stay far away from my children." Bruce glares at Clark with this parental protection.
"Leave my kids alone. No pressing them for articles." Bruce states firmly.
Clark eagerly accepts affirming Bruce that he would stay out of sight and that he wouldn't use his powers. Bruce stopped listening after a while.
★
Bruce can't sleep. Not a wink. It isn't the first time he has almost died. It's just the first time he's openly accepted it as an ending to him. It's keeping him up and his whole mental resolve is askew because he can't seem to just get over this one. Because Bruce can't sleep, neither can Clark. Hearing Bruce's heart rampage as it sounds like he's having a nightmare or a panic attack every few minutes, is a hard thing to fall asleep to. Especially compared to his usually steady heartbeat.
Finally Clark can't handle it anymore and approaches Bruce's bedroom after traveling around the manor for a while from its unfamiliarity in Clark's mind. Clark knows Bruce is going to be mad, but he can't just be a bystander anymore. Clark softly knocks and mumbles Bruce through the door. He can hear his heartbeat jump when Clark knocks.
"Enter." Bruce tries to say in a monotone voice but some shakiness leaks through.
Clark wasn't sure how to phrase what he was thinking without getting thrown out of Wayne manor so he chose the hardest to argue strategy. Clark enters the room softly and turns Bruce's lamp off. Forcing them into pitch black. Clark then sits in a chair in the far end of Bruce's bedroom and begins reading, due to his night vision he can see and hear exactly how Bruce settles when Clark is in the room.
"Now you can sleep." Clark says in a soft and soothing voice.
Bruce can't even think of how to argue this without losing. So he grunts and rolls over in his bed. Bruce can't stand how he can feel safer now. How he is actually falling asleep now. He is a grown ass man for shits sake.
But he falls asleep anyway.
★
Bruce wakes up in the early morning to the sound of snoring. Clark apparently snores like a sawmill. Bruce groans without opening his eyes. He pats around him for a projectile and picks up a pillow. He launches the pillow full force at Clark and hits him square in the face. Clark stops snoring and makes a confused and disgruntled noise as he rubs his eyes and looks up at Bruce Wayne.
Clark is met with the most stunning view of a man he has ever seen. It's clear why Bruce Wayne is the jewel of Gotham. The way the light from the window is hitting his face and topless body just right makes him look like this is a professionally orchestrated photoshoot, this is what most people would need anyways to reach this same level of beauty. His midnight black hair falls over his face perfectly, the irritated expression accentuating his jawline. And don't even get Clark started on his beautiful eyes that are just perfect in this light. Clark cannot help but stare longingly at Bruce.
Bruce is completely unamused by his doe eyes, this is a look he commonly gets from his co-worker and has learned to just graze by it. Alfred enters with two servings of breakfast. One on a bed tray for Bruce, and another on a normal tray for Clark. Alfred places them silently and both give their thanks and watch him leave. There was tension between them. Bruce wanted nothing more than to get up and walk away, but being put on bed rest prohibits such a movement. And Clark…well let's not dwell on what Clark was thinking.
Clark couldn't shake the thought of how strange it was that none of his children had visited their wounded father, but Clark thought better than to ask the very exhausted and easily irritated Bruce. They both sat in the room, silently eating their food. With tension so thick superman probably couldn't tear it apart in one try.