Chapter Text
The quaint, white church in Smallville is claustrophobically crowded. Bruce feels prickles of sweat under his suit as he looks at Clark and Lois where they stand before the altar. The minister finally reaches the crucial part, speaks the words, “If anyone here knows why these two cannot be married, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” Dick and Alfred seize hold of him, Diana tries to clamp a hand over his mouth, but he still shouts his protests. Shouts that Clark can’t marry Lois. Not now, not before Bruce has had a chance to win him.
Clark looks sad but tells him, “You waited too long, Bruce. It’s too late.” He slips a huge diamond ring on Lois’ finger and they’re both laughing at him now. Everyone’s laughing at him and pointing as Lois waggles her fingers right in his face to make sure he sees the ring.
He wakes up every time as Clark sweeps Lois into his arms and flies away with her, forever out of reach.
-1-
Bruce raised a hand to block the light as Alfred opened the curtains. “Is that necessary?” he grumbled as he turned and burrowed his face into the pillow.
“It is past noon, sir.”
Well, there was that. “Just as well,” he said and sat up. Legs drawn up, he rested his head against his knees as the last humiliating echoes of the dream faded away.
Alfred poured out a cup of coffee and passed it to him. “Bad dreams again, sir?” he asked. A stranger to the household might have thought Alfred’s voice was colored with only mild curiosity and nothing more personal. Bruce heard quite a bit more than that and, after a sip of the fortifying brew, he pulled up a small smile of reassurance.
“Not too bad this time. There was a wedding, actually.” And surely a wedding, even this one, was an improvement on the nightmares where he endlessly relived his parent’s murder or didn’t save Harvey, or all the others lined up and waiting in his subconscious.
“Indeed? May one inquire after the identity of the happy couple?”
Bruce eyed him warily and leaned back against the headboard. He seldom kept secrets from Alfred; that tended to be an exercise in futility, after all. On the other hand, he wasn’t ready to share this particular bit of knowledge, even with Alfred. Maybe he never would be. He drank some more coffee and felt the warmth of the brew, combined with the late summer sunlight ease some of the ache from his muscles. As casually as possible, he said, “It was Clark and Lois Lane.”
“I see. Quite a happy occasion, then?”
Bruce glanced away, shrugged. “I suppose. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Just so. Curious such a seemingly happy occasion should be a cause of distress.”
On his way to the shower, Bruce paused to turn back and fix Alfred with a suspicious look. Intent upon straightening the bed, Alfred appeared to take no notice. “Distress? Alfred?”
“Oh, I’m certain it was of no significance, Master Bruce.” Alfred fluffed the pillows and propped them against the headboard. “It’s only that you were talking in your sleep, sir.”
“Was I?”
“It was scarcely decipherable, although I did just make out something about you knowing a reason, and that you wished Master Clark to abjure from something.”
“Abjure?” Bruce’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “I muttered ‘abjure’ in my sleep?”
“Well, it was something like that. As I say, Master Bruce, it was rather indistinct.”
“Was that all?”
“Essentially.”
Well…that was vague enough. “I wonder what I meant.”
“One can but speculate, sir.”
Bruce gave him another wary look, dissatisfied with that reply but unwilling to pursue it any further right now. He went on into the bathroom and braced his arms against the counter to consider his reflection and concluded he looked like a man who had put in a lot of late hours recently. Nothing new about that, of course, although his sleep had been more troubled than usual of late—and not only by visions of Clark marrying Lois. Ever since the Justice League tangled with John Dee, in fact. He had fought off Dee’s attempt to get into his mind but witnessing the effects of the nightmares Dee had inflicted on his friends and colleagues, the way Dee had tapped into their greatest fears, had profoundly shaken him…
*~*
“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” Batman said into the communicator. “Whatever you do, don’t go to sleep.” Why hadn’t Clark answered? He could be out, of course, but some ineffable apprehension spurred Batman to get even more speed out of the Batmobile as he headed for 344 Clinton.
That still wasn’t fast enough. Even as Batman climbed through the bedroom window he could felt his heart sink. Clark was curled on his side in bed, sound asleep—and already caught in the depths of whatever nightmare Dee had sent his way. As Batman approached, Clark began to thrash and cry out. He flung out one arm and struck the nightstand, shattering his glasses and the lamp.
“Clark!” Batman caught him by the shoulders and shook him, hard. “Clark! Wake up!”
The only response was a frantic, garbled cry as Clark struggled against his hold. He effortlessly shook off Batman’s hold and struck him with enough force to lift him off his feet and fling him across the room. Batman crashed into the wall and slid down.
Clark cried out in terror again and covered his face. For one horrified moment, Batman thought Clark was trying to claw out his eyes. That decided him. He couldn’t take the risk that Clark might harm himself while in this state. There would be time to feel guilty about this later, he decided, and reached for the lead-lined pouch on his belt.
With the chunk of Kryptonite in his hand, Batman approached the bed. Logically, he knew the piece of meteorite didn’t really glow with a deeper and more malevolent green the nearer he got to Clark--it just felt that way. Clark moaned and curled in on himself, away from the deadly radiation.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Batman murmured and stroked Clark’s hair. He shouldn’t indulge in these secret, stolen moments; they only made him crave so much more. He let himself marginally off the hook this time, when Clark seemed to calm at his touch, his assurances that everything would be all right.
He took a chance and slipped the shard of Kryptonite back in its pouch. Instantly, Clark relaxed against him. Tremors still coursed through the powerful body from the nightmare, though. What could so badly frighten the man who was well-night invulnerable to everything? “Where are you, Clark? What’s happening to you there?” There was no answer, beyond a frantic moan and another violent shudder. Batman longed to sooth the fear away but even if that could be allowed this was hardly the time.
“Come on.” Batman wrestled Clark around so that he was in an upright position now. It took every ounce of strength he had and then just the sheer will to do so, but Batman finally got Clark on his feet and over to the window. He shot off a grapple, got a firm grip on Clark, and swung out, landing heavily by the Batmobile. He staggered for a moment under Clark’s weight but then found his footing and maneuvered Clark over and into the car. He snapped the reinforced seatbelt into place and then leaned on the roof for a moment, breathing hard.
Headlights cut towards them and Batman hastily sprang behind the car’s wheel and peeled out of the alley before any of Clark’s neighbors noticed anything. Even if someone did see something, it was likely they would only wonder why Batman had just kidnapped that nice Mr. Kent.
Heedless of any speed limits, he headed straight for the Javelin and soon found it was only moderately easier to wrestle Clark out of the car and up the Javelin’s boarding ramp. Once inside, he settled Clark as comfortably and securely as possible, and took some small comfort as he noted Clark did seem calmer now. He was still trapped deep in John Dee’s twisted nightmare world, though. Crouched beside him, Batman watched the rapid eye movement that told of Clark’s dream state. The restless, anxious way his head rolled against the headrest made Batman think Clark was desperate to escape from whatever horror had unfolded.
He patted Clark’s knee and stood up again. He tore open a packet of dissolvable stimulants and carefully pried Clark’s mouth open enough to pop in the pills. He didn’t have a lot of hope they would work but he was about out of ideas.
When J’onn got there with an unconscious Green Lantern in tow, Batman was glad to step aside and let the Martian Manhunter take charge of Clark as well. His own talents could be put to much more productive use right now in tracking down John Dee.
It wouldn’t be enough just to stay awake, Batman realized as he drove through the streets of Metropolis. All it would take was one split second of vulnerability and Dee would find his way into Batman’s mind. No, he needed a more direct shield, something John Dee would bump up against and be unable to get around or through. He needed something planted at the back of his mind, on constant loop, like a song you can’t get out of your mind.
A song… As inspiration struck, he cycled through song after song, the perfect choice suddenly blasting from the radio. It was a tune he remembered from childhood, so simple and innocent. So ironically perfect.
Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.
“Are you sleeping, are you sleeping,
Brother John? Brother John…”
Batman started to smile as he drove along.
*~*
When it was over, Clark had characteristically downplayed the extent of his nightmare, only saying that it had been a of his teenage years. Bruce had caught the look J’onn shot Clark’s way, though, a look that made him suspect there was at least a little something more to the story. He hadn’t pressed Clark for details. Batman trusted that Clark would let him know if he ever wanted to talk about it. One night, when they were both on monitor duty, he did…
*~*
“Thank you, by the way,” Clark said as he settled into the chair beside Batman, scarlet cape brushing the floor.
Attention firmly fixed on the multitude of screens, Batman asked, “For what?”
“Bringing out the Kryptonite the other night, when you came to my apartment.”
Not sure how to respond, Batman grunted and adjusted a control an infinitesimal fraction. Voice gruff, he said, “Strange thing to thank me for.”
“Not really. It helped save my sanity.” Clark told him then about the hidden fear that John Dee had tapped into, that his powers might one day rage out of control and leave him in a world of ruins, everyone he loved dead at his own hands. His words were quiet and measured and conveyed all of the horrifying images all the more vividly for that sparseness. Batman experienced the terror right along with him as Clark described how in the nightmare he had incinerated Lois with his heat vision.
“Clark…” Batman found his own words failed him. That this nightmare scenario had taken place against the backdrop of Clark out on a date with Lois struck him as particularly tragic. For lack of any words, he touched Clark’s arm.
Clark glanced at his hand, the black gauntlet in stark contrast to the bright blue of Clark’s sleeve. “Most of my powers, as they came in, were pretty awesome,” he said and sent a shy smile Batman’s way that was difficult not to return. “The speed, the able to leap tall buildings stuff, and then to find out that on top of all that I could fly—it was just…wow.” He smiled as if in fond memory of that first, exuberant flight. His smile turned somber then. “The heat vision scared me to death,” he confessed in a soft voice. “I was afraid to open my eyes, to look at Ma and Pa; terrified something would happen just like in the nightmare.”
“You learned to control it, though,” Batman said. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for a teenaged Clark as he fully came into his powers, some of them exhilarating, others frightening, maybe all of them confusing.
Clark nodded. “Once I was able to calm down it sort of…just came to me, like an instinct; as easy as walking, or flying, once I got the hang of everything.” His expression turned rueful. “Pa helped by telling me that if it came to it, he would find a real life Professor X to make me a pair of ruby quartz glasses, just like Cyclops wore to control his optic blasts.”
Batman canted a look of disbelief his way. “You made that up.”
“Did not.”
Pa Kent—secret X-Men geek. Who would have thought it? Although upon further consideration, that did help explain why nothing about his son had ever freaked Jonathan Kent out.
“Anyway,” Clark went on, “that’s what you did when you came to me with the Kryptonite. As deep as I was caught in the nightmare, there was a part of me that knew it would be all right, that someone was there who could help.”
Batman had conflicted feelings about just how much Clark had been aware of. “I didn’t think you were even aware of me.”
Clark’s reply was unexpectedly cryptic. “I was aware.”
Batman refocused his attention on the monitors and controls. Gruff once more, he said, “Anyone would have done the same.”
“I don’t think so, Bruce. Not anyone.”
They were quiet for a time after that, the silence charged with…something. Not uncomfortable, though; nothing awkward, despite the thoughts that raced through Batman’s head.
Just before Flash and Green Lantern were due to relieve them, Superman said, “If you don’t have any plans for breakfast, I know this place that makes the best waffles…”
*~*
That’s when it had started, this current phase of things anyway, Bruce realized as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He reached for a towel and thought about how, since then, he and Clark had shared a lot of breakfasts in Metropolis or Gotham, whichever was closest. Breakfast had expanded to include lunch and dinner whenever one of them was in the other’s city. Of late, there had been quite a number of dinners as Bruce increasingly found that business took him to Metropolis.
As he briskly dried off and slipped into his robe, he seemed to recall that Lucius Fox had recently mentioned something about a potential labor dispute at The Daily Planet. He might head over there today and check into that.
“Alfred?” He belted his robe and headed back to his bedroom.
“Sir?” Alfred had set out his clothes for the day and was currently occupied in choosing the correct tie and cufflinks to go with it.
“You know, I can actually pick out my own clothes now.”
Alfred dignified that comment with one eloquent eyebrow.
Bruce examined the tie Alfred had selected. It was one of his favorites, with a rather bold blue paisley design on black silk. Dick had given it to him for Father’s Day three years ago. “Would you clear my schedule for today, please?”
“Very good, sir.” Alfred presented him with today’s cufflinks. A gift from Tim last Christmas, they were stainless steel with a band of black onyx just slight off-center; clean and classic, and another favorite. “Shall I arrange for your private jet to standby for immediate departure to Metropolis, or may I persuade you to have lunch with Master Dick and Master Tim first?”
Bruce stared at him. “What makes you think I want to go to Metropolis?”
There went that damned eyebrow again. “It’s Thursday?”
Well, so much for keeping secrets.
~*~
It would never happen, of course, but if Batman ever wrote a memoir the only possible title would be Everything I Know About Interrogation I Learned from My Butler.
“Ah, I see,” Alfred observed after he had skillfully extracted every pertinent detail. “I was not aware that you had added clairvoyance to your vast array of skills.”
Bruce had never unearthed conclusive evidence that the British had invented snark, only that they had perfected a certain subtle strain of it. Arms folded over his chest, he asserted, “I never said I thought the dream was some kind of premonition.”
“Yet you regard the events it depicts as somehow inevitable.”
“Only some of them. I don’t think I’d actually make a spectacle of myself like that.”
“I should hope not. Contrary to popular belief you were not raised by wolves. Master Bruce,” Alfred continued briskly, “you know quite well what this dream means. You also know what must be done in the face of fear of that sort.” He gave Bruce a firm, no nonsense look that was in no way devoid of sympathy.
“This is a little different, Alfred. He loves Lois.”
“Has he said so?”
“Not in so many words. It’s one of those things you just know. The Earth revolves around the Sun. E = mc squared. Superman and Lois Lane are the greatest romance of the 21st century.”
“And yet those other things had to be investigated and proved before they could become common knowledge. Do what you’re best at, Master Bruce.”
He made a face at that. “I don’t really think he’ll respond well if I dangle him off The Daily Planet building.”
Alfred’s only reply was a trenchantly unamused look.
Bruce sighed. “I’m not putting him under surveillance, either.” Clark would discover it no time flat, for one thing and then there would be exactly the kind of scene Bruce wanted to avoid.
“I should hope not. Observe and deduce, sir,” Alfred said on his way to the door. “Failing that, ask his mother.”
“Oh, yes, very helpful,” Bruce grumbled at the closed door. Still, Alfred could be onto something there. What did the evidence support? As he dressed, something else occurred to him, quite possibly the most important question of all. Yes, Superman and Lois Lane were supposed to the great romance—but had anyone ever asked Clark Kent his thoughts on the matter.
A trip to Metropolis was definitely in order, he decided as he fastened his cuffs and picked up his tie. Knotting it on his way downstairs, however, he thought that could be postponed until after lunch, and went in to join the boys.