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Superman was staring at Green Lantern and standing before him nervously. Cyborg and Flash, currently standing behind Clark were giggling like a pair of teenagers. Diana and Arthur, unfortunately, weren't present. Clark wished they were because he felt like the only real adult here and he had no idea what to do.
"What did you just say?" Clark asked because he needed more time to process things.
Hal nervously gulped and repeated: "We ran into a witch."
Clark was hopelessly looking at Hal. The Green Lantern was currently holding a small child in his arms. He had a green backpack on his back, in which Clark saw Batsuit when he used his x-ray vision.
Clark closed his eyes for a moment, half hoping it would all turn out to be a dream once he'd open them. When he did, though, Hal was still there with dark-haired child in arms. He started: "So this is-"
"This is Batman," Hal confirmed.
The, around 8 years old child, was sleeping with head pressed on Hal's shoulder, clinging onto him, and green teddy bear, Hal had made for him.
"And the witch did this," Clark more said than asked.
"Yeah," Hal shifted on his feet nervously.
"She turned Bruce into a kid."
"Yeah."
"Why?" Superman asked. It made no sense. Why would a witch want to turn a person into a kid? Why not change them into a frog or something, or just simply kill them?
Hal made a disgusted expression. "She said children flesh tastes better."
And Clark couldn’t really blame him. He wished Diana would be here because she was far better at dealing with all magical stuff than the rest of her teammates, but she was at her home, dealing with some crisis there.
Clark had sent Bruce with Hal because they had a fight yesterday about Bruce being too stubborn when he was Batman and not calling out for help and then coming to Justice League meeting even though he still had bruised ribs. Clark was willing to admit to himself that sending him on a mission with Hal had been petty of him, but it wasn’t supposed to go wrong... and there definitely wasn’t supposed to be a witch.
"Can we call Doctor Fate or Zatanna?" Victor asked.
Clark shook his head. "They're both working on something with Constantine. They already said they wouldn't be in any contact with us for the next few days."
"So what do we do?" Barry asked, surprising Clark slightly with how seriously he sounded and then not surprising Clark, when he continued: "Can I hold him? Please, he's so sweet like this."
Clark frowned at him, feeling the familiar, but in this moment very irrational, possessiveness settling in his gut. “No,” he denied him. “This is a serious problem. We need to take Bruce to the infirmary and make sure he is okay. We must hope that Zatanna or Doctor Fate have a solution for this… or that the spell wears off.”
“But he is cute,” Hal mentioned and grinned when Bruce moved his head slightly and murmured something incoherent in his sleep. “Plus, he’s not telling me what incompetent idiot I am, so…”
“That’s just another reason to be worried,” Clark held his ground and floated slowly to the Green Lantern. “Let me hold him.”
Hal raised his eyebrows not as much fear of Clark, even though the Kryptonian sounded annoyed, as he was curious to see why such an overreaction. He eventually, gently handed over the sleeping child and watched how Clark’s expression softened.
Clark, with others in the tow, headed to the infirmary. Clark, however, stopped in his tracks after few steps when Victor mentioned: “But when the real doctors are away… how will we know he’s okay?”
“He’s okay,” Clark told him. “I’m just going to put him there until he wakes up. Maybe, we’ll think of something.”
Clark honestly hoped Diana would come back really soon.
They left little Bruce in one of the beds and covered him with a blanket before Clark and the rest went outside and the debate started.
Clark called it debate, but it was really just yelling at each other, Victor was yelling at Hal for being irresponsible, Hal yelled at Clark, Clark was grumbling at everybody and Barry was just trying to calm everyone down. Even though he was indirectly blaming Hal, he knew that there was nothing much they could do for now. The best would be, wait for Zatanna or Doctor Fate to come back and let them deal with this.
Just when Clark was thinking he would have to step between Victor and Hal, he heard a noise in the infirmary. He frowned, left his team mates to fighting and returned to the other room.
He almost had a heart attack when he found out that the bed where they had put Bruce, was empty, the blanket on the floor under it, and the little kid was nowhere to be seen.
After the first short moment of panic, he scanned the room and saw Bruce hiding behind one of the closets.
He made few quick steps there, the instinct to make sure Bruce was okay, stronger, for the few seconds than the reason. His brain finally kicked in, and he stopped in his tracks. When he listened closely, he could hear Bruce’s fast heartbeat and hitched breath.
“Bruce,” he said, making his voice go soft. He didn’t want to frighten the little boy more than he already was. “It’s just me, Clark. Do you remember me? I’m not going to hurt you; you can come out. I’m your friend.”
Bruce peeped over the edge of the closet door he was hiding behind. When he noticed Clark, he quickly disappeared behind it again, shouting: “Go away!”
“Bruce-“
“I don’t know you! Go away!”
Clark made few steps closer to Bruce, but when he was just in front of him, Bruce shouted and screamed in a high pitched voice and threw at the Kryptonian, several medical items including medical swabs and scissors.
“Bruce, calm down!” Clark tried while he was avoiding the flying subjects.
“Go away, you freak!” There were still tears in his eyes.
“Hey,” Clark tried to sound friendly and calm. “It’s okay, Bruce, I’m your friend I won’t hu-“
Clark barely stopped the growl that was about to leave his throat after the little boy threw a scalpel – freaking scalpel?! – at his mouth.
“Liar!”
This time, Clark really did growl, and moved closer to Bruce. The boy hit him in the face. Clark moved slightly so his de-aged friend wouldn’t hurt himself too much, but Bruce still cried out, looked at him accusingly and then ran around him.
“Bruce!” Clark called and caught the little boy in his arms.
Bruce screamed again and fought against the alien’s grip on him fiercely. He even tried to bite Clark’s hand one time only to scream louder because his teeth and jaws hurt from how he couldn’t penetrate the skin.
“Bruce, please, calm down, it’s okay!”
“Get off me!” Bruce was now crying in his rage. “I want Alfred!”
“Just stop fighting, Bruce,” Clark shouted, desperation reaching into his voice. He didn’t know how to handle a normal kid, let alone one that was yelling, fighting and biting him.
“What is going on here?” Hal burst into the room.
Bruce only screamed with more intensity. Barry ran to Clark and Bruce, slower than usual, and smiled brightly at the little boy: “Hello, kid-“
The little boy kicked the speedster in his teeth and surprised Clark by screaming even more. It was honestly so shocking to see that the little lungs vocal cords of his could produce such intense, annoying sound.
“I want Alfred!” Bruce yelled.
“I will get Alfred, okay!”
It seemed that the eight year old version of Bruce was furious about absolutely everything. He kicked, screamed, fought and only calmed down when they agreed to meet Alfred. To say that the present members of Justice League were surprised by the behavior of little Bruce would be understatement.
Fortunately, there was Barry. Barry was always great with kids and even though he didn’t manage to make Bruce laugh, he was the one who managed to calm Bruce the most. To the point that Bruce even looked at Clark at some point, pretty calm, and said: “I think I know you.”
Clark smiled. But the little boy’s small moment of recognition of his boyfriend, didn’t exactly change things. Bruce seemed to be afraid of the space, the ships, the superheroes, the empty halls, and as they were making their way out of the Watchtower, he was clinging to Clark tightly, as if he was the only thing that kept him from loudly sobbing. He even forgot to be a brat.
When they finally got to the manor, Bruce was impatient and kicked Clark in the calf several times.
Clark had told Alfred that they were coming, but he had only told the butler to expect a certain… surprise. It was hard enough for him, himself, to accept that his lover was now an eight year old. To tell it out loud would be much harder.
The Kryptonian changed his clothes moments before they arrived on Earth. It seemed that the little Bruce was as clever as his adult version because he didn’t have trouble recognizing that Clark Kent was Superman (truth be told, Clark told him that he would change his clothes, but it was impressive nonetheless).
When they were just in front of the manor, Bruce’s hand slipped free from Clark’s soft grip and he ran to the door. He tried the knob, but as always, the door was locked.
He cried out and looked at Clark, but before he could say something, the door opened and Alfred stood in Bruce way.
“Alfred!” the little boy called the butler’s name and wrapped his short arms around Alfred’s knees, taking the old man by surprise.
The butler raised only one of his eyebrows and then slowly looked at Clark with clear question in his eyes.
Clark gulped and then turned to the little kid: “See, Bruce, I told you that I was gonna take you to Alfred.” He thought it would be better, for now, to say this rather than upset little Bruce even more with announcing that he was de-aged.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his voice only slightly hesitating. “Are you alright?”
Clark was feeling unbelievably relieved that Alfred caught on. His relief, however, was short-lived as Bruce pulled away slightly and looked at Alfred.
He wasn’t crying anymore, but the tears were replaced by confusion. “You look different, Alfred.”
“That’s nothing, Master Bruce,” Alfred smiled gently. “Would you like some cocoa, Master Bruce?”
“No,” Bruce said and before Alfred could stop him, he ran past Alfred into the manor.
Clark was about to go after him, but Alfred stopped him with one look. “Master Clark, do you care to explain what has happened to Master Bruce?”
“He came across a witch, apparently, and this is the result,” Clark said and ran his hand through his hair in gesture of frustration. “Zatanna and Doctor Fate are not available, neither is Diana, and I had no idea what to do. He was crying and asking for you, so I took him here.”
Alfred opened his mouth, but before a sound could leave him, Bruce yelled from somewhere inside: “Alfred!!”
Both men at the door looked at each other worriedly and then went after the voice. Bruce ran down the stairs and then into the kitchen. Shortly after him, Dick and Tim appeared on the stairs too, looking genuinely confused.
“Did Bruce adopt another one?” Dick asked, his eyebrows raised.
Both, Alfred and Clark, ignored Dick’s remark and followed Bruce into the kitchen. There was a back door there. A door through which Bruce very clearly had run through. It was open and they could see Bruce running into the Wayne estates. Clark could hear him hiccupping from loud crying and he was about to fly after him, when Alfred put his hand on the reporter’s chest and looked at him with serious eyes.
“Did you ask him what day it is?” he asked.
“I…” Clark was a bit confused by the question. “No, I didn’t. Why?”
Alfred’s lips shifted into a very thin line. “I could be wrong, but it seems to me like Master Bruce looks a lot like he is the age when his parents died.”
Clark’s stomach sunk and he couldn’t breathe for a second. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Wait, that’s Bruce?” Tim asked confusedly. “That little, scared kid?”
Both, Clark and Alfred ignored him.
“What should we do?” Clark asked.
Alfred didn’t answer right away. “I think we should go get him. If I remember correctly, Bruce was often running into the family tomb a lot after Mrs. and Mr. Wayne passed away.”
Clark sighed. He thought about it for a second before he said: “I’ll go try to talk to him.”
The reporter walked out of the manor, leaving Alfred and the boys behind. He wasn’t in a rush because he already knew where Bruce went and he didn’t want to scare him with his super speed.
The Wayne tomb was situated pretty far away from the manor itself, in the forest. Clark knew that Bruce visited the place regularly, on the anniversary of his parents’ death, on the Christmas Eve, on the birthdays of the parents… He visited it a lot and during the last visit, he let Clark go with him. Now, that Clark remembered it, this was probably the most intimate and the most romantic gesture Bruce would ever make for him, and Clark felt honored and loved. It was how he knew that Bruce trusted him more than to anyone else.
Clark flew slowly through the trees and finally saw the tomb. It was well-kept, the flowers and shrubs were in good shape, and the tomb looked like new. Clark felt uncomfortable. Clark always felt like he was violating this place somehow because this place felt like it was Bruce’s. Not like the manor, the Wayne Enterprises or everything else Bruce owned. But this little place, however small and sad, belonged to Bruce. This place was his.
“Bruce!” Clark called before he slowly opened the heavy door of the tomb.
He heard a sob and only then Clark peeked inside. Bruce on the ground in front of one of the graves with his mother’s name on it. He was hugging his knees, hiding his face there.
“Bruce,” Clark said in kind, sympathetic voice.
Bruce didn’t move for several minutes and Clark didn’t force his presence on him. He simply waited at the door for the boy to talk.
Then, Bruce moved and, to Clark’s utter shock, he started to claw at the tomb and his sobs got more violent. His whole little body was shaking with the intensity of his weeping.
“Bruce, Bruce,” Clark said and finally came closer to the boy.
Bruce only shook more violently, but Clark gently put his hand on Bruce’s small shoulder. The reaction his comforting touch caused was unexpected, just as about everything when it came to the de-age Batman – he threw himself on Clark and hugged his legs.
“Hey, hey,” Clark whispered and kneeled so he could hug Bruce properly. The little boy immediately wrapped his arms around Clark’s shoulders and hid his face into the crook of the reporter’s neck.
Clark immediately felt the wetness of Bruce’s tears and hold him closer. “Shh, shh,” he told to Bruce, rubbing his back. “It’s gonna be alright, Bruce.”
“No, it’s not!” Bruce yelled. And Clark knew that Bruce was right. This was never going to be alright. Even though the pain would somehow fade over the years, this little boy didn’t know were yet to come, he was never going to fully recover from this.
“I want mommy and daddy back,” Bruce whimpered and without Clark’s super hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it.
“I know, Bruce, I know,” Clark was doing his best to soothe him, but he knew it wouldn’t do much work.
He was just there with the boy, letting him cry on his shoulders for several minutes, slowly rubbing his back.
“Let’s go back,” he suggested gently when the crying eased. Clark had a feeling though, that it only did because of the exhaustion Bruce must have felt, not because of the lack of emotion.
Bruce let him to pick him up and then walk back to the manor.
The weather, as if in a mock of Bruce’s pain, was amazing – the sun was high in the sky, there weren’t any clouds and Clark could hear the birds singing.
Dick and Tim were with Alfred in the kitchen when they arrived, but Bruce didn’t pay them any attention other than clinging more tightly to Clark and refused to look at either one of them. Clark was grateful that Jason wasn’t present. He actually liked Red Hood, but he was also aware that Jason often hit where it hurt in his fits of rage, when he wasn’t fully aware of how he was talking… or shouting.
Clark took Bruce upstairs, into his bedroom. There, he let him on the bed, took off his little shoes and covered him with blanket.
“Do you want some cocoa?” he asked him kindly.
Bruce looked at him with red, puffy eyes and shook his head.
“Please, stay here, Clark,” Bruce said and Clark gave him a small smile, but didn’t correct him on saying his name wrong.
It took the reporter a second to come up with something people probably do for an eight year old when they’re sad. “Do you want me to read something for you?”
Bruce shook his head again. Then his eyes filled with tears once more, making it clear that he was thinking about his parents again, but he didn’t say anything about them. Instead, he asked Clark: “Could you tell me about the people in weird costumes?”
It took the Kryptonian a second to realize he was talking about Barry, Hal and Victor.
He smiled at little Bruce and began the story about how the Justice League saved New York few weeks ago. Bruce seemed to like him telling the story and he wanted to know more and more about each of the superheroes, especially about Diana.
After so much crying and the fighting before, Bruce must have been exhausted, but he listened. He listened carefully to everything Clark had to say about his colleagues. Of course, he didn’t tell the kid the colleagues were his as well, but after an hour or so, Clark even made Bruce smile just a little.
After the second hour, Bruce asked him for the cocoa.
Clark went downstairs. It was already late and Dick and Tim were out with Cass on patrol and Alfred in the Batcave or in bed already. The Kryptonian was familiar of the manor kitchen, so he managed to make the cocoa in short time.
It wasn’t even five minutes later when he appeared in Bruce’s bedroom again only to find that Bruce was already sleeping.
A soft smile grew on Clark’s lips as he watched the kid. He put the mug with hot liquid on the bedside table and walked to the chair near the fireplace. Bruce was the one usually sitting there, reading a book when he had few moments of peace… which wasn’t that often.
Clark sat down and stared at the fire. He didn’t know when, but he dozed off. It felt, to him, that it was only for a few moments, but when he opened his eyes again, the sun was rising up already. Clark immediately looked at the sleeping figure in the bed.
The person in bed wasn’t a little kid anymore, but a rather masculine man with a lot of scars on his body under the blanket.
Clark listened in and realized that Bruce was already fully awake. His heartbeat was even, but not in the way it was when he was sleeping. When the alien looked closer, he also found out that the man’s beautiful eyes were open and staring into nothing.
“Bruce?” Clark said softly.
The billionaire didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge him in any way.
Clark stood up, walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Bruce still didn’t move. When Clark looked closer, he noticed that Bruce’s eyes were still red.
He frowned and slowly moved to touch Bruce’s beautiful, pained face. He finally got a reaction – Bruce closed his eyes and slightly leaned into the touch like a hurt cat.
“Do you remember everything?” Clark asked.
Bruce nodded only once.
“Are you alright?”
The billionaire didn’t nod, didn’t shake his head. Just kept staring in front of himself. Clark ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair, gently stroking him before he leaned down and kissed him on the lips. It was a quick, gentle kiss, but Clark tried to put all his emotions into it.
He didn’t know if it worked, but Bruce did raise his arms and wrap them around Clark’s neck to pull him down for another kiss. The billionaire tried not to show any emotions, but Clark could tell how much his desperation and pain from the kiss.
Even when Bruce deepened the kiss, when he tried to make it aggressive and rough like they both sometimes enjoyed, Clark didn’t give him. He kept it nice and tender and soft, until Bruce gave in.
Clark let him to drag him into the bed though. He let Bruce cling on him even tighter than he did when he was just a kid. He let him hug him and kiss him and hold him. With every one of their kisses Clark let him know how much he loved him and that he was there for him no matter what.
He was Bruce’s anchor, but in that very moment, it was enough.