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To sit in silence would be to bare my soul.
But for you I’d do it.
Clark felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over his head. He woke up just as cold and as suddenly as if it had. His heart was racing. Looking around the room, he scanned past the shadows and darkness. There were no intruders, no lurking figures watching him.
Clark slumped back onto his pillow again and closed his eyes. Had he been dreaming? An unexplainable urgency filled him. He rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand.
Four.
It was only four in the morning. He closed his eyes but found he no longer felt the pull of sleep.
Clark groaned as he got up. His feet barely brushed the floor, as he allowed himself to hover slightly. The hard wood was cold. Delaware was colder than Clark had expected. He loved the city, but being this far north and near the ocean meant that it was always cold and damp. Clark wondered if it had seeped into his bones yet. Many thought that Superman didn’t feel the cold, but it was the farthest from the truth. He felt it all the time, but the sun’s warmth was usually enough to block it out. Or at least it had been in Kansas. Clark hated to admit just how many times he had blown clouds past or back out to sea, just to help make the winter months in Metropolis more bearable. Ma had scolded him for doing it too often, so he now tended to spend more and more time flying above the clouds. Anything to get the sun's warmth.
Clark made it all the way to his coffee pot, before the feeling of cold hit him again. But this time the cold was accompanied by a whisper.
Superman stilled, his hand hovering next to the handle of his coffee pot.
Superman .
Clark hated his hearing. He hated that it was impossible to completely escape the sound of people calling for him. Unless he banished himself to the far reaches of space he would always hear something . He sighed and grabbed the pot.
Superman .
Clark closed his eyes and trusted his smell and memory of his kitchen to guide him in filling the machine with coffee grounds and water. The first year Clark had been active he had nearly worked himself to death. He answered every call. He had been fired from his job at the Metropolis Press. He hardly slept or ate. It wasn’t until his dad pulled him aside that Clark had slowed down.
The forming of the League had helped. It was relieving to see it wasn’t just him.
But no matter what missions or scheduling that the League, the Planet or he gave himself, he refused to break his promise to his father. He would rest. He was supposed to be resting. He might not be human but he was just a man.
Superman .
Clark, broke the coffee cup in his hand. The porcelain ricocheted off the counter and cupboards. Clark bit back a strangled scream. He was tired. He was--
Superman ?
Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no.
Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.
Clark flew blindly. Small sniffles had replaced the small cries of his name, but it was enough. He knew not where Batman lived or even who he was, but that was Robin. He knew that voice. He knew that sniff. Not because he had ever seen the boy upset, or hurt, but because he had once hid under Batman’s cape when he had a cold for the duration of an entire League meeting. The air was cold and filled with sharp crystals of ice, he didn’t notice them tear at his clothes. He landed in Gotham without any pomp. No Bat deterrent popped out of the ground and swallowed him as he half expected.
Clark had only set foot in the city a total of three times. Two had been on Planet business and the third Batman had threatened to bury him in a Kryptonite tomb if he dared return. Robin had laughed and told Batman that he needed to learn how to say punchlines of jokes better.
Clark hadn’t returned.
Until now.
The Hospital was buzzing. Clark still found it surprising that cities were so lively at night. Even after having lived in Metropolis for several years. Gotham, though, was definitely worse, he decided. Clark slipped past the nurses station and continued towards the sound of Robin crying. What Robin was doing at the hospital at four in the morning was beyond him. Where Batman was was another question that Clark didn’t have time to think about. No. What was important was that he find Robin.
He had never called his name before. Clark knew the Dynamic Duo-- as the papers called them-- had gotten into more than their fair share of scrapes but-- despite Clark’s insistence that he would come if they needed him-- they never called.
The waiting room was filled with people holding arms at funny angles or stemming the flow of blood from wounds. A couple sat huddled with vomit bags and another still sat holding their arms to their chest like their ribs ached. But none were Robin. Clark closed his eyes and let the sounds of people crying and screaming, singing drunkenly and shouting wash away. He let the beep of machines, the zap of paddles and the rattle of ventilators melt, until all that was left was a small, sad sniffle.
Clark turned following the sound. He found his way to a small chapel tucked in the winding halls of Gotham General. A small boy sat on a wooden pew at the far end of the room. His hair was black, but he had no cape. He was in pajamas. Clark felt something odd in that moment.
He had always known that Robin was young. He had questioned and pried trying to understand how Batman allowed him to fight alongside him. But somehow it never really hit him just how small the Boy Wonder was. Robin despite his age and Clark’s reservations had always looked larger than life. Perhaps it was the costume he donned’s colors or the way he leapt into every situation as if he had seen how it would end before he left the ground. But now? Now Clark wondered just how he could have never noticed.
“Robin?”
The boy moved so quickly Clark wondered if a human eye would have seen him stiffen.
“Superman?” The boy didn’t turn but the disbelief in his voice was enough to tell Clark he hadn’t really thought he would come.
“Yeah.” Clark walked further into the room, suddenly aware he had no cape. He was here as Clark Kent, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. “What’s going on, buddy?”
He stopped one row of pews back from the boy. He didn’t move. Robin kept his face forward but his shoulders relaxed and he seemed to lose so much of the tension that he had been holding in his body.
Clark sat behind him, sliding into the wooden pew so that he could only see the back of the boy’s head. He slowly reached forward. His hand hovered over Robin’s shoulder for a long time, before he reached down and gave it the smallest of squeezes. He seemed to melt into the touch.
“He-- He’s hurt. And I… I messed up.”
Clark fought the urge to look around for Batman in some hospital bed. He knew the man would resent him for taking advantage of an injury to learn his identity.
“Are you okay?”
Robin gave a small jerky nod.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Clark wasn’t sure why the boy had called him here. Did he want help tracking down whoever had hurt his partner? Did he need someone to take him home?
“I was--” Robin hiccupped. “I was supposed to be watching the door. But then…”
Clark sat silently, his thumb rubbing small circles on the boy’s shoulder blade.
“I saw someone outside and they looked like they were-- I thought they were stealing so I-- I only left for a minute, Superman, I swear.”
“It’s okay.”
“No!” Robin’s head dropped forward and he pulled his knees up to his face.
Clark had never heard a sound worse than Robin’s sobs. He reached forward tucking an arm underneath Robin’s folded legs and the other around his back. Clark moved carefully so as not to uncover the boy’s face from where it was hidden by hands and knees, and pulled him over the back of the pew so that he was in Clark’s lap. Clark closed his eyes. Though he hated to not be able to see the boy, he wouldn’t break his trust, not until he was allowed Batman’s greatest secret. Robin latched onto him, and Clark just let him.
“He’s going to die, and it’s my fault.”
Clark felt his blood run cold. “Robin, it’s-- It’s going to be okay.”
Clark of course knew no such thing. He didn’t know the extent of Batman’s injuries, though they must have been great if they were at the hospital. Clark wondered what he should do. Was he supposed to call someone to get Robin? Did Robin have a mother to come and pick him up? Was she already here and waiting somewhere else? Though Clark couldn’t imagine his mother leaving him alone, but then his mom wouldn’t have let him out to fight crime at 9 either.
“Robin?” Clark kept his eyes closed and rubbed his hand up and down in soothing patterns on the boy’s back. “Is your mom here? Do you want to go see if we can find her?”
Robin stiffened in his arms. “No.”
Clark waited, not sure what the boy meant.
“I-- I don’t have a mom.” His voice was so low, had Clark not had supper hearing he wouldn’t have caught it.
“Oh. Well, is there anyone you want me to find?” Clark’s head was spinning. Was that why Batman was so dark and-- well if Clark was honest-- a bit scary? Had he lost his wife? That would certainly explain the desire to fight crime in Gotham.
“Agent A, is here. But--” Robin burrowed closer into Clark’s chest.
Clark had heard mention of Agent A only once. But he knew if whoever this agent was knew Batman’s identity then they must have been a most trusted ally.
“You don’t want to see Agent A?” Clark asked gently.
“No. He’s-- He was really mad.” Robin said softly.
Clark stiffened. He had seen Batman be angry and in the foulest of moods, and it never upset or deterred Robin. It was never directed at the boy either. Clark doubted that this Agent A was truly upset with the boy. But if Batman was really hurt or on his deathbed... Clark knew that grief and pain often looked like anger and came out rather venomous to those nearest.
“Well we can stay here as long as you want.” Clark said after a moment. He would have to call into work sick, but he didn’t mind. He still had a few hours before he needed to worry about that.
“Okay.” Robin gave a great sniff, Clark wondered if he had snout on his jacket.
The two sat curled together for nearly two hours. Clark with his eyes firmly closed and Robin with his face tucked into his shoulder. After a while the boy’s breathing evened out and he fell asleep against him.
Clark let his ears roam the hospital. He traveled through the halls into room after room listening for Batman. If he only spoke Clark was sure he would recognize the growl. He didn’t linger listening to any one room, as soon as he heard a voice and dismissed it as the Bat, he moved on. He wasn’t here to suss out their identities. He just wanted to know if the man was alright.
After awhile the door of the small chapel opened and a pair of light feet moved down the aisle.
Clark could feel the exact moment Robin woke.
The figure stopped just short of them. Clark stiffened but kept his eyes closed. He held his breath wondering if this was the famous Agent A.
“Are you ready to go, sir?”
The British accent caused Clark to start slightly.
Clark fought to keep his face a blank mask. He wished so badly to look, to open his eyes. Robin hummed and Clark could feel his arms untangle from him. The man must have reached down, for the boy was pulled from his lap smoothly.
Clark felt rather cold when he was gone.
The man carried the boy back towards the doors. When they were several feet away Clark opened his eyes, but didn’t turn. He could see their silhouettes cast as shadows on the wall in front of him.
“Superman?” Robin asked, forcing the man-- Agent A-- to stop at the door.
“Yeah?” Clark called, still not turning around.
“Thank you. I-- I know you’re busy.”
Clark smiled. “Awe. For you, bud? I would drop everything.”
Clark was surprised to find he really, truly meant it. He knew nothing about the boy under the mask. He had only spent a very limited time with him in the six months he and Batman had been working together. But he would.
It was a week later that it happened. Clark was at his desk trying and failing to concentrate on an article he was meant to be proofing, when his phone rang. Clark glanced at it ready to ignore the call and phone whoever it was back later, but then he saw the number. Batman never called him from the same number twice, but it always had a New Jersey area code. Clark fought to keep his arm moving at human speeds as he grabbed it.
“Hello?” He felt hot and breathless. He had heard nothing of the Dark Knight since that night and no one in the League had seen or spoken to him either.
“Superman.” Batman’s voice was not quite his normal gritty tone, in fact Clark could hear a hint of pain underneath it. Whatever had injured the man must have done a good job of it. “I--”
Clark waited.
Batman sighed. “Gotham pier, dock 47 at 1 am.”
The line went dead.
Clark blinked slowly, putting the phone down on his desk once more. That was… He didn’t really know what to make of the call. The Dark Knight was at least not dead. But... Clark shook his head trying to dispel the disappointment.
Batman didn’t do friends, he had made that clear when he joined the League. It was a business arrangement to protect the world. And Clark could understand that. He would probably feel the same way if he had lost his wife. (not that Clark had a wife).
Clark slumped back into his rolling chair and pinched his nose. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on the article now.
The day dragged on and seemed to move even slower as the clock ticked closer to one.
Clark finally got up from his kitchen table at 12:45 and slipped out his window. The flight to Gotham was short, but he knew if he was late, Batman would never ask him to come again. When he landed on the pier it was silent and deserted. Or at least that was how it appeared. He could hear very faintly the sound of two hearts beating.
He smiled.
A ball of blazing colors hurled towards him at high speeds. Clark flew forward to meet it and spun twice to disperse their velocity as they collided.
“Hey,” Robin said breathlessly. “Superman!”
Clark pulled the small boy tight against his chest and slowly sank back down to the dock boards below.
“Superman.”
Clark nearly jumped in surprise. He had forgotten about Batman.
“Hello… How are you?” He asked tentatively.
“On the mend. I--” Batman’s jaw looked tight as he spoke.
Robin snorted. “What B’s trying to say is, he feels like sh--”
“Robin!” Batman growled over the boy.
Robin’s jaw snapped shut.
Clark pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Yeah, Robin said you had a bad night.”
“We did. I-- That’s what I--” Batman pressed his lips together, and glanced at Robin.
Clark frowned. Was he mad that Robin had called him the other night?
“I wanted to thank you for coming when you didn’t have to. Robin-- I appreciate you sitting with him.” The words came out in a rush of one breath.
Clark stood still holding Robin to him, with his mouth slightly agape. Batman was… thanking him?
“I--” Batman glanced out at the water.
Robin squirmed in his arms and Clark set him down. The boy practically gilded back to his father. It was strange watching the boy stop just short of the Dark Knight. Normally he would throw himself headlong at the man, but tonight he meanly slipped his hand into his. Clark wondered just how injured the Dark Knight was.
“We have something to show you.” Robin smiled up at Clark brightly.
Clark nodded not sure what to expect. He followed the two back towards the warehouses that lined the pier. In the deepest shadows sat parked a sleek black car. Clark wondered if this was what Robin referred to as the Batmobile. Batman moved slowly and stiffly as he slid into the driver's seat. Robin bounded forward and pulled open the passenger door. But he didn’t get in. Clark stopped just short of the car, expecting Batman to reemerge with something for Clark to look at. Perhaps some meteor that had fallen in Gotham or some odd device to scan.
Robin smirked up at him and nodded to the car. “You getting in?”
Clark blinked.
Robin snorted. And scurried forward, latching onto his hand. Clark allowed himself to be pulled towards the car and pushed into the passenger seat. Robin clicked the door closed after Clark had pulled his cape inside. Batman had his hands on the wheel in a death grip.
Robin jumped into the back seat. Batman waited for Robin to put on his seatbelt before starting the engine. Robin coughed twice and Batman sighed clicking his own seatbelt into place. He shot Clark a quick glance.
“You too, or I won’t hear the end of it later.”
Clark smiled and pulled the belt into place. He smirked at the strap pad that was decorated in stickers of everything from the Batsymbol to what looked suspiciously like Disney stickers. He glanced back in the back seat and saw that the seatbelts there had them as well, but they weren’t covered in as many stickers.
“So where are we going?” Clark asked after Batman pulled onto the roads of the city. He wove in and out of traffic so quickly Clark wondered if he had precognition.
Batman said nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.
Clark looked back at Robin. He was practically vibrating in his seat with excitement. Clark wondered if perhaps an alien ship had crashed into Gotham. He couldn’t think of anything else that would be big enough for the boy to be so excited.
Robin just smirked at him and mimed zipping his lips closed. Clark sighed and turned back to the windshield. Soon the city was suddenly gone and Clark for a moment wondered if they meant to kidnap him. They drove through rolling hills and made turn after turn. Clark had no idea were they were.
Batman slowed down and turned so suddenly Clark thought they would drive into the hill they were passing. But the car melted into it.
Clark blinked. They were in a long and pitch black cave. Batman picked up speed again and they rocketed through the darkness. The cave had what felt like hundreds of twists and turns, as well as other caves shooting off from this one. Clark wondered just how far this network went. It seemed an endless maze, though Batman didn't seem the least bit lost.
Finally it opened up into a large cavern and Batman hit the brakes making the tires squeal as they came to an abrupt halt.
Clark felt his jaw drop. This was-- No. It couldn’t be. It must have been though. He was in the Batcave .
Before Clark could take in the scene that lay before him Robin was pulling him from the car. Superman looked around at the cavern. It was impressive to say the least. Several ladders and construction tools lay on the far side of it, Clark wondered what Batman was working on that required I-beams and bags of concrete. A massive computer with at least five monitors sat just to the left of a small line of vehicles. The cavern twisted and curved out of sight, but there were lights and smooth flooring that way as well. Clark pulled his focus back to Robin and Batman. He shouldn’t pry. They wouldn’t like it.
This was an honor he never thought he would get, so he didn’t want to spoil it by breaking their trust, being too noisy. He turned back to watch Batman slowly making his way out of the Batmobile. Clark felt his heart stutter. His cowl was down. Clark’s eyes went wide and then immediately snapped shut. He shouldn’t have seen. He -- Oh no . He had seen Batman’s face.
Robin’s hand dropped from his and laughter filled the cavern. It bounced off the rocks and stalagmites.
“You can open your eyes, silly.” He said between gasps for air.
Clark tentatively opened his right eye and glanced at Robin. He was sitting on a metal bench near him clutching his stomach. What on earth was--
Suddenly Batman was in front of him.
“Hi-- I.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bruce.”
Clark glanced at Robin who was slowly peeling off his own mask. He was-- They were trusting him he realized. His face felt hot and he hoped he didn’t look too red in the face. Batm-- Bruce was looking rather flushed himself. He wondered just how hard this decision must have been. Slowly he took in the man in front of him. He looked familiar and Clark was racking his brain to think why. Then it hit him.
Bruce . Bruce Wayne.
He reached out and took the hand slowly. Robin finally managed to peel off his mask. So if this was Bruce Wayne then that meant… oh . Clark could remember the news now. Bruce Wayne was fostering a boy after his whole family had been killed. Clark looked back at Bruce. The man was looking at him oddly, as if waiting for Clark to betray him somehow. He wasn’t sure how he knew in that moment that he was looking at someone destined to be his friend, but he felt it deep in his bones. He would rather eat Kryptonite then betray this man or boy. Clark could only do one thing to allay him off that fear.
“Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.”