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“Bruce?”
“Can I come in?”
Bruce knew he probably looked a mess, stood on Diana’s doorstep as the sun set in the sky, his hands tucked into his pockets to hide the way they trembled. Diana’s eyes scanned his face, her eyebrows pinched with concern, stepping back to let him inside. Gently, she steered him to the couch, her hand firm and grounding against his back.
Bruce blinked, and a hot mug was being held in front of his face, the steam tickling his nose. Muscle memory kicked in, and he took the mug in his shaking hands, focusing on the heat seeping into his palms as the couch shifted, Diana sitting down next to him with that same worried expression on her face.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Bruce murmured into his mug, taking a small sip of the tea.
“You have not disturbed me,” Diana denied, despite the fact her thick black curls were piled atop of her head and she was dressed in her pyjamas. “My door is always open to you.”
Bruce hummed, taking another sip of his drink. Diana leaned back into the couch, tugging down the blanket resting on the back on it and tucking it around the two of them. Bruce’s lips quirked upwards as he looked at the red and blue quilt and its patchwork of patterns. It was a gift from Martha Kent; Bruce had a matching one at home.
“I need to tell you something,” Bruce said quietly, placing his mug on the coffee table to turn and face Diana. “I haven’t told anyone else yet.”
“Of course.” Diana nodded encouragingly, setting her own mug down to give Bruce her full attention.
“I know,” Bruce began slowly, struggling to find the words. “I know I should probably tell my kids first. They deserve to know first. I just…it will be hard.”
“Many conversations are.” Diana said sagely, her tone passing no judgement either way.
“I need to tell Clark as well. Probably the whole Justice League, but I…I don’t want people to look at me with…pity, when I tell them.”
“You mistake care for pity. We all care about you very much, Bruce.” Diana replied, taking hold of one of his hands.
Bruce swallowed, nodding slightly.
“I don’t want to do that, yet. I need to tell someone without feeling like I’m losing control.” Bruce said, candidly.
“Alright.” Diana agreed easily.
“I have lung cancer.”
Bruce watched as Diana’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parting in a small gasp as she absorbed the information. Her hand tightened around his own, and Bruce squeezed back, offering her a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“What is your plan?” She asked, her voice soft but her face set into that determined look he knew so well, ready to stand as his side no matter the battle.
It was why Bruce had chosen to tell Diana first. She was stalwart, logical, and unfalteringly kind. Her compassion drove her actions, but it did not do so without a solid plan. It was something Bruce deeply admired about Diana, her ability to balance her emotions and the mission, a balance both he and Clark struggled greatly with. It was why Diana was their glue, and after all these years of working alongside her, Bruce couldn’t picture his life without Diana in it.
“We caught it early,” Bruce explained in an almost detached manner, as if he were describing a case and not himself. “I’m scheduled for a lobectomy in two weeks, where they will remove a section of my lung.”
“How do you feel about that?” Diana questioned, picking up Bruce’s mug and pressing it back into his hands, encouraging him to drink.
“I’m…not sure.” Bruce replied, sipping at his cooling tea.
“It sounds very intensive.” She commented, dancing around the big question.
Can you still be Batman?
Bruce knew the answer. Breathing in Scarecrow’s fear toxin, Poison Ivy’s pheromones, vile sewer water as he chased after Killer Croc? Batman was already taking more and more effort as he aged, his body struggling to heal as quickly from his injuries as it once had. Yet, perhaps morbidly, he’d always assumed he would die as Batman. A simple inevitability of the path he had begun to walk so long ago.
“It is.” Bruce agreed, and let the room lapse into silence.
Diana move closer to him, gently manoeuvring him until his head was resting on her shoulder, the quilt tucked securely around their bodies. There weren’t many people in Bruce’s life that could make him feel small but secure, in fact, the list was probably limited to Diana and Clark. It had taken a while for Bruce to get used to that sensation, to stop feeling weak and vulnerable in front of two people who were essentially gods, and start feeling like their equal. It had taken even longer for Bruce to allow them to care for him in such a way, but Bruce had never once regretted it.
“Our friendship does not rely on you being Batman.” Diana asserted.
Bruce hummed. Their friendship had not been contained to their superhero personas, it hadn’t been for years. It wasn’t unusual for photographers to catch him and Diana together at a restaurant or attending an event, inspiring a weeks worth of trashy articles about their supposed romance. Diana’s friendship was one he would forever cherish and treasure.
“I don’t…” Bruce began before losing courage.
Diana said nothing. She simply held him close and waited.
“I’m terrified to tell anyone else.” Bruce whispered, grimacing as he confessed such vulnerability.
“That’s alright,” Diana whispered back. “We can make a plan.”
Bruce huffed out a wet laugh, squeezing his eyes shut to force back any potential tears.
“Thank you.” He said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Always.” Diana replied, sincerely.
The room fell quiet again, and both occupants let it. Soon, they would sit up and devise how Bruce would deliver the news to his children, to Clark, and the Justice League. Soon, Bruce’s life would be changing forever, the effects rippling out into the lives of those he cared for, even if he did not want it to. Soon, it would be surgeries and hospitals and recoveries.
But for now, Bruce curled up on Diana’s couch breathing in her familiar floral perfume and let himself exist.