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Chapter Text

Clark was unfocused and anxious. Half his mind was always in Gotham, listening for any potential call for help from a certain caped crusader.

It didn’t come.

Not that Clark really expected it to, but even on the slight chance of Batman actually asking him for help he didn’t want to leave it up to chance.

On top of that, he expected everyone at the Daily Planet to point and stare every morning he came in since then. Batman understood the necessity of a secret identity, no doubt, but he wasn’t technically obligated to keep Clark’s, but so wasn’t he and Clark didn’t plan on revealing that bombshell any time soon:

Bruce Wayne was Batman. Hadn’t it been for the chance encounter at the gala, he probably never would have guessed. On the outside, the two personas just didn’t seem to fit, but digging deeper (and oh had he dug deeper the last few days) it all came into a rather well-fitting picture. But even though they knew of each other’s identities, Clark wasn’t sure what to do with him; Before, only his parents had known of his alien heritage. That meaning, in all his life there had only ever been two humans who actually knew him as him. But now there was another one. One who hadn’t even tried to contact him after their last meeting (and Clark was positive, that Bruce Wayne absolutely had the means to contact him if he so wished) and was so wrapped up in his own heroic acts (even though they were looking much different than Clark’s he could still acknowledge them as such) that Clark wasn’t really hoping anymore he’d contact him some day.

Which was a shame. Clark felt like Bruce Wayne might possibly be the only human on the entire planet, who would be able to understand him in some way. In some way that could possibly spout a friendship or such – One where neither of them had to lie about their whereabouts, intentions or anything the like.

It was that reason, why Clark couldn’t let this acquaintance fade like it was at the moment. Never let it be said that Clark Kent wasn’t a man of action. If Bruce Wayne wouldn’t contact him, then he would seek out Bruce Wayne and be his friend, come what may.

<<>>

Batman was crouching on the roof of the CCPD . This night had been particular stressful with a new lunatic, calling himself the Riddler, leaving clues all over Gotham about one (possibly) corrupt cop, who he planned on eliminating. It had taken some serious thoughts to deduce who the Riddler was even threatening, but in the end they had managed to save the cop. – Which was a success, even though he had indeed turned out to be corrupt.

In other words, Batman was exhausted and fed up with this night. So of course it was the night Superman decided to swoop down from the skies and greet him with a wide smile. “Hello, Batman. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Now, Batman wasn’t a very polite person, nor a very nice one. The words Gordon had once used were ‘bat-shit terrifying’ when he had thought Batman couldn’t hear. But neither Batman’s blank expression nor his glare seemed to deter Superman at all.

“Fly back to Metropolis, Superman. Gotham is no turf for you.”

Superman raised his eyebrows amusedly. “Again with claiming a city, Batman? I just wanted a word.” “And you got more than one. Now leave. I don’t have time for this.”

Superman glanced at the door behind him, as if he half expected a cop to stand there, listening into their conversation. Batman used the opportunity and jumped off the roof, grappled to the nearest building and hid behind a large neon sign. Usually this stick tipped off anyone, that he was done talking.

“Look, I know you’re busy -”, it took all in him to not jump at the voice right behind him. Instead he systematically calmed his racing heart and turned to look directly into Superman’s face again. “- But after our last meeting I really think we should talk. About… stuff.” “Stuff”, Batman repeated incredulously. Superman was pestering him in the middle of the night to talk about stuff? Apparently so, because Superman looked downright sheepish. Batman didn’t care. He just wanted back to the cave, finish his report and fall into bed. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he could pretend to do so at least.

“ Okay, that sounded stupid. But just bear with me, yes?”, Batman climbed up the building, Superman followed him. “I just thought, with both of us knowing what we know now…”, Batman grappled away, “… I think we should consider…”, Batman jumped, “… working as a team.” Batman stopped. Apparently that had been too unpredictable for Superman, who had followed him over half the city skyline, because he bumped into him and apologized sheepishly. “I work alone, Superman. Fly home.”

“Sure. I mean, I’ve worked alone as well, but now that you… well, know , why not help each other?”

“I don’t need help.”

“I-I didn’t mean to imply you do, but -” “Let me make this clear for you: I don’t have a partner and I don’t need a partner. I work alone and I like it that way. You wouldn’t know how to handle Gotham and there are already enough lunatics running around here. S o I’m telling you one last time: Leave . Or I’ll make you leave.”

Superman stared at him as if dumbstruck by lightning. Privately, Batman wondered if it had been the right thing to threaten Superman, but apparently there was no other way to get rid of him. He was like a very talkative, very bright shadow. – A very dejected shadow. “I understand. Well, have a good night then. But…”, Batman braced himself for whatever he would be throwing at him now, “… if you ever need help, I’ll come. No matter what happened between us.”

This time it was Superman, who fled the scene. In a matter of seconds he was nothing more than a speck of color in the distance. Batman should have been relived to finally be rid of him, but to his own frustration, he wasn’t. So he let the adrenaline swallow the guilt, as he grappled to the alley where he had parked his car and drove back home.

It was right. Superman had no business in Metropolis and they were all better off without him. The last thing Batman needed was Superman challenging the lunatics with his sheer presence. The city would become a battlefield in a matter of days. Besides, what kind of city would Gotham pose itself to be if even Superman proved unable to rescue it?

<<>>

On his way back, Clark’s mind was reeling. He didn’t know Batman well, if not to say not at all, so he didn’t really know how to judge what he had said: He worked alone, yes. So much was obvious. And he didn’t want to be friends. Fine. But Clark wasn’t going to give up this easily. He couldn’t imagine, that Batman didn’t crave someone to share the hardships of this kind of life with sometimes.

But he could be patient and so he hung back, held an ear or two out for Gotham in case a certain Bat called for help, but was regularly disappointed. He did, however, hear Batman talk to someone named ‘Alfred’ during his patrols and quickly traced that to his butler; the one who had also covered for him during his seven-year ‘vacation’. He thought it was rather sweet Alfred was supporting him like this, but would never dare to say so. If he then had the opportunity. Because at the moment it didn’t seem like Bruce was considering talking to him any time soon.

Which was, why Clark took the opportunity when Perry was looking for someone to cover another gala – this time together with Cat. Everyone was staring at him as if he had grown a second head, which – hopefully he wouldn’t at some point, but who was to say? “Come again?”, Lois asked incredulously and Clark felt his cheeks heat with all the gazes of disbelief on him. “I said I could accompany her. I was a little out of my element the last time, but I think it went well.”

Clark couldn’t read Perry’s expression, which was a little worrying. “Fine then. Grant, Kent, you’re covering the Annual Martha Wayne Foundation Gala. Try to get a quote from Wayne before he’s dead drunk, yes?” Clark chuckled for himself. He couldn’t imagine Bruce actually drinking anything on one of those events, let alone enough to do half the things he’s been ‘caught’ doing. “Sure thing, Perry”, Cat said with a strange glance towards Clark.

“ What’s your problem?”, she hissed after the meeting, when she pulled Clark into a corner. “You got a taste of high-society and try to bully me out of my job now? Is the investigative stuff not good enough for you anymore?” “No, not at all!”, Clark was horrified that Cat would think that of him. “I didn’t even like it all that much to be honest, I just want to talk to someone I met there, you know? He -” Cat gasped. “You met someone? Someone rich? No, don’t tell me! But – wait, did you say ‘he’? Aw, that’s too bad, ‘cause I think Lois’s got a crush on you. – But you didn’t hear that from me!”

Clark’s heart was racing. “Wait, Lois’s got a crush on me?” Cat’s gaze snapped at him. “That’s what you got from that? I need information! Is he handsome?”, she was clinging to his shirt by now and Clark gently peeled her hands off him. “Look, I’m not in love with him, Cat. I just need to talk to him again and the gala could be a good opportunity. And before you ask: I can’t tell you who it is.”

She squinted her eyes at him, but then just shrugged with a grin. “I’ll find out either way, when you’re chatting with some hot dude at the gala. See that you get a fitting suit until then. The thing you wore last time was an insult.”

<<>>

Bruce was navigating the hordes of disgustingly rich people, all the while chatting a few chosen ones up to donate less disgusting sums to the Martha Wayne Foundation. If they wouldn’t be donating this much, he would be insulted how little they actually knew of where the money was going to be spent on.

“ Don’t you agree, Bruce?” Bruce laughed haughtily and took another pretend-sip of his champagne. “Quite, Andrea. But this is no night for bus’ness. Tonight we cel’brate!”, Bruce clinked their glasses and she giggled, grabbing onto his arm in a very not-accidental way. Bruce smiled and leaned into her, gazing just past her ear to see who was watching and met piercing blue eyes right across the room. There was Clark Kent in an even worse fitting suit in an ugly shade of green and with his pair of glasses. His posture was as horrendous as the first time they had met like this, but his gaze was sharp and awake. Bruce knew he was watching – perhaps even listening in - and the flirty remark died on his tongue.

Instead he did an extra step and leaned on her shoulder, stumbling over nothing but air in his pretend-drunken state. “Oh, I’m s’sorry, ‘mdear. I mus’ fire whoever design’d these floors, ex’use me.” He waddled off to the bar and got himself another glass of champagne, all the while muttering low enough that no ordinary human would be able to hear, what Kent was doing here and to leave him alone.

Kent chuckled almost unnoticably, which only aggravated Bruce more. Didn’t he understand, that this here wasn’t fun? This was necessary to keep his secret identity; To give the public something to cling onto and not dig deeper than he would like. – Which hadn’t worked on Kent all that well and he would definitely have to revise a few follow-up plans on that, but then Bruce was sure that Kent wouldn’t have figured out his identity if he wasn’t dressing up in secret as well.

He was purposely walking to the other end of the room, to get his point further across, and was promptly besieged by Cat Grant, who had her notepad already at the ready. “Bruce! What a wonderful party!”, she exclaimed and Bruce smiled brightly. “Isn’ it jus’? Say, I didn’ see you for a while, I though’ you’d forgott’n abou’ me.” Cat giggled. “Oh, who could ever forget you, Bruce? I was indisposed, but I’m back now and I’ll get you on the front page no problem! So, what do you want there to be?” Her smile was sharp, which was a dangerous sign . She was a smart as she was distractible, so there was always a difficult line to steer with her . “Mmh, how about ‘Bruce Wayne takes home two of Goth’ms fines’ models?’ It wasn’ very nice to write abou’ my acci’nt last time”, he playfully wiggled her finger at her and she laughed. “Oh, but it was a very fine picture, don’t you think?” Bruce bellowed out a laugh. “ At leas ’ the water acc’ntu’ted my beaut’ful hair.” “ Indeed it did. Not that you plan a repeat of the show, I presume – Oh Clark, there you are. You’ve met, haven’t you?”

Clark Kent smiled brightly and innocent at Bruce and he flashed him a dopey grin. He felt silly doing so with a man who knew that nothing of this act was real. “Of cou’se, Miss’re Kent. How could I forget?”, he eyed him up and Kent looked a little flustered indeed . Good. Cat giggled. “Mister Wayne. It’s good to see you again.” Kent was incredibly polite, which was very hard to act against. “ As’s you, Miss’re Kent. Say, d’you daance?”

Kent was speechless for a moment and Cat snickered, so Bruce took the opportunity and dragged Kent towards the dance floor. “ What are you doing here?”, he hissed silently as soon as they were out of earshot. Kent’s hand twitched as he tried to coordinate his feet. At least his clumsiness seemed to be an act as well. He was shuffling and dragging his feet kind of weird, but Bruce was pretty sure that was due to his awkwardness.

“ What do you mean?”, Kent asked and Bruce gripped his hand a little tighter. It’s not like he would actually feel a difference. “You know exactly what I mean. You’re endangering my secret identity by your mere existence here, so what could possibly be this important that you needed to see me this urgently?”

“ I… well, to be honest -” “ Spit it out! People are looking already!” “Aren’t they always looking?” “Yes, that’s the point exactly. Now?” “Well, there is nothing wrong per se, but you weren’t answering my calls and I thought I’d be quite rude to come by your house uninvited, so -” “So you thought you’d just turn up here, where I couldn’t run or hide and corner me to talk about what?”

Kent missed a step and tumbled. “Well, when you put it like that… I actually wanted to see how you were doing.”

This time Bruce almost stumbled and had to remind himself of the order of the steps. They were slightly behind on the beat, but they were catching up again. “What do you mean, ‘how I was doing’?” Kent grinned sheepishly. He looked like a puppy caught doing something it shouldn’t. “ Yes, well. I left rather abruptly the last time we met and I thought I’d check in. You know, you’re the only one besides my parents who actually knows and I thought if anyone understood the kind of burden this life brings, it’d be you.”

Bruce tried to decipher his words, but he was feeling stupid at this point. “So you’re having problems with your double life?”

“ What? No, but if you had, I wanted you to to know that you can always talk to me.” Suddenly it dawned on Bruce, what Kent was trying to say here and it made him angry. “We’re not friends, Kent. If it hadn’t been for that last gala, I wouldn’t have even known you existed, nor that Superman was living a human life. And I didn’t answe r your calls, because we don’t know each other and we never will. You’ve got your city, I’ve got mine. And there is no reason for our lives to mingle any more than they a lready have. So I hate to cut this lovely evening short, but it’s time for us to go our separate ways. And do both ourselves a favor and stay out of Gotham. ”

The song ended and Bruce placed Kent back by the side, smiling charmingly. “You’rea lovely dancer, Miss’re Kent, now ‘scuse me to the bar”, he winked and walked off, still feeling Kent’s piercing gaze on his back. He felt like he actually needed a drink after this dance. Perhaps later at home after he did his patrol.

Chapter Text

Clark was angry with Bruce Wayne. For a few days – or weeks at this point – this seemed a perfectly normal thing, because it seemed that Bruce Wayne was simply an aggravating character. – In private more so than in public even. But the fact that – Sure, he wasn’t wrong. They didn’t know each other. And t hey weren’t friends yet. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Perhaps they could become friends, but not if they never talked!

The pencil in Clark’s hand broke in two and he quickly hid it in his desk’s drawer, absentmindedly cleaning the ink on his hand with a handkerchief. He looked outside and saw that the sun had already set. There were two minutes left until the end of work and he gathered his stuff. With a few goodbye’s thrown around the room he left the office and reached out with his hearing to check for any emergencies. There was a mugging a few streets further and dozens of loud fights between couples, friends and strangers. A quiet evening really, which was nice for once.

Clark looked around, but found no one watching and rushed to the roof, already dressed in his suit. Only a few moments later Superman prevented a mugging and calmed the victim until the police arrived. All the while he listened further to anything going on and found a series of grunts and shouts, muffled by fists meeting faces. He wasn’t hesitating a second and flew off towards Gotham, where he barged right into an old building and interrupted Batman punching a guy into oblivion. – A guy in police uniform.

Superman caught Batman’s fist right before it would lam into the officer’s face again and was met with the man’s dark, stoic gaze. “ Batman! What is going on here?” “I could ask you the same thing”, Batman growled. “What are you doing here?” “Well… preventing you from committing felony, for one”, Superman said dumbly. “Didn’t I tell you to stay out of Gotham?”, Batman didn’t sound amused at all and Superman shared a glance with the officer on the ground, who was whimpering.

Slowly Superman let go of Batman’s hand and the officer seemed to relax slightly, but not for long; As soon as Batman’s hand was free, he punched the officer right in the face and Superman, trusting for the situation to be resolved for now, didn’t react in time to stop him.

“What was that for!”, Superman shouted with the cracking sound of bone meeting bone still ringing in his ears. “ I don’t like to get shot”, Batman quipped and kicked a gun out of the officer’s hand. It was loaded and he had been close to pull the trigger apparently. Superman hadn’t noticed it. “I didn’t even see -”

“And that’s why you’re operating in Metropolis and I’m operating in Gotham.” Superman felt the now all too familiar feeling of irritation pooling in his gut. “That’s not you r call to make.” “Well, it’s not yours either, Superman! So I’m asking again: What are you. Doing. Here.”

Batman was starting to really piss him off. Here he was, trying to help – “Fine. I heard shouts and I thought you might be in danger. Of course now I know I should have been worried for your punching bag”, he motioned loosely at the officer. Batman glared. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t need help. I’m working alone.” “Yes, I can see that! So, is there a reason you beat that poor man to a pulp or did you just feel like it?”

“I don’t need to justify my actions to you. You’re just a man yourself, not some kind of higher authority. So scram, Superman, before I feel like doing something else entirely.”

Superman blinked. That was a threat, wasn’t it? Perhaps he had gone too far. “Look, Batman, I -”, he had meant to calm him and lay a hand on his shoulder, but in no time at all Batman moved out of his grip and flipped him. The next thing Superman saw was the ceiling. It had happened so fast he hadn’t even thought about reacting, which was impressive in and of itself. But then there was the thing, that he was Superman and should have been able to react to a move like that. Perhaps he had just been inattentive. Or Batman could move much faster than a regular human. B ut it was impressive. Very impressive.

“ Do not give me a moral lecture now. Gotham isn’t Metropolis. Sometimes you have to play dirty to get the information you need. But in this case, he’s a dirty cop, who enabled the Maroni family in their business . Do with that as you like. I’ ve got all the information I need”, he pocketed the officer’s phone and jumped out of the window.

In a heartbeat Superman was on his feet and at the window, just in time to see Batman swing through the night on his grapple hook. He sighed and then flew off right before the police arrived at the scene.

<<>>

The next morning Clark was sitting at his desk, writing a mind-numbingly boring article about the Wayne gala he had attended with Cat. He had tried to make it more about the event itself, but once Cat told Perry that he had danced with and talked to Bruce Wayne, he was damned to write about anything he had said – which meant he tried to come up with the most unimportant things one could think of, so as to not infer anyone’s curiosity on either him or BruceWayne. And so he was still in thoughts, when he suddenly heard screams around the city.

They were scattered at first, but quickly doubled, then tripled, until they became overbearing and he knew something bad was going on. He jumped up, almost sweeping the computer off his desk in a hurry, and looked out of the window. At first there was nothing but people running through the streets, but then the sound of blasters loading sounded awfully close and a metallic robot came hovering from above, aiming at the crowd. His coworkers were distracted by the events going on outside and so he rushed out of the room, ripped his clothes and dove off the building.

He was just in time to jump in front of an elderly man, who had been too slow to escape and caught the blast on his chest. “Are you all right?”, Superman asked, but the man was in too much shock to answer. He quickly relocated him to a save place and then punched another robot threatening a group of college students.

There were dozens – hundreds – of robots flying around the city, tearing through buildings and shooting at civilians. Superman saw red. With the wind rushing past his ears, barely louder than the sound of his own blood pulsing in his veins, he wrecked robot after robot. But even thought he cut down their numbers massively, there didn’t seem to be an end to it. No matter how many he destroyed, there were always two more.

Superman groaned in frustration and then looked at the piece of metal in his hand, ripped off of a robot’s back, and examined it. It was sturdy – sturdier than most metals, but other than that there was nothing unusual about it. Except a very small serial number at the top of the plate, only visible when he looked closer. And even then Superman couldn’t be sure an ordinary human would be able to pick it up. It was a six-digit number with two L’s at the start and of course Superman’s mind immediately went to Lex Luthor. Who had just conveniently patented a new titanium alloy about two months ago.

Superman’s mind was reeling. Surely Luthor wouldn’t – Well, actually, perhaps he would. It wouldn’t be the first time Luthor endangered civilians just to get a rise out of him.

He dropped the metal and flew off in the direction of Luthor’s nearest facility. On his way there, he fought through a bunch of robots, that seemed to come from this very direction, and only felt validated in his assumptions.

He didn’t bother to knock. Instead he crashed through the ceiling of the factory and looked around to see another hundreds, if not thousand of robots that were standing by the side unmovingly. Anger pooled in his stomach at the sheer. At the sheer imagination, what those robots could do to Metropolis.

<<>>

Bruce was sitting half-awake at the computer, running sequence identifications, pattern recognitions, anything. And yet, nothing. The Riddler had been keeping him up the past days with yet another riddle, that should lead Batman to his next target, but he was honestly at his wit’s end. Time was running and he was falling behind.

“Sir, you may want to see that”, Alfred’s voice sounded through the cave, and Bruce let him put on a TV channel – and really, any TV channel, because as he skipped through, there was showing the same thing and every single station: Superman, standing in a facility of somekind with hundreds of robots surrounding him.

He was looking around as if he didn’t know where to start, when suddenly a rough, distorted voice sounded from somewhere: “Hello, Superman. I see you’ve received my invitation.”

“Alfred, what is this?” Alfred looked unimpressed. “It would do you good to watch the news from time to time, Master Bruce”, he put up a report about Metropolis being attacked by robots on his tablet. Superman was punching his way through them, then suddenly stopped and flew off in the opposite direction. Bruce narrowed his eyes.

“But why -”, he stopped. “This is a trap.” “I believe so”, Alfred said, mild concern in his voice, “What I’m not quite certain of is how this can be a trap to Superman.”

“Show yourself, Luthor!”, Superman bellowed on screen. “I know you’re behind this!” Luthor , Bruce made a mental note. The guy who publicly advocated against Superman and used every opportunity to ruin his reputation. “Oh, you seem to be very sure of that, Superman”, the voice said mockingly. “We’re in your facility, Luthor, this is your alloy the robots are made of! The people of Metropolis have done nothing to you! Cease the attack!” Alloy , Bruce thought. Yes, there had been a new kind of alloy Luthor had patented not too long ago.

The voice laughed gruffly. “I don’t care for the people of Metropolis. What I care for is you.” Superman glowered at the air, looking around. Could he not see Luthor? If so, how did Luthor manage to hide from him? “You see, you go parading around the world like a golden god made of flesh, making us humans feel small. So I thought I’d return the favor for once. To show them, that you are not their savior. You are not invulnerable”, a gate opened and another, bigger, robot stepped into the room., “You are no god!”

Suddenly the screen was encased in blinding green light and Superman groaned, falling to his knees awfully quickly. The voice laughed, this time coming directly from the robot. Someone inside then , Bruce thought immediately. Probably Luthor.

The robot stepped closer, the green light emitting from his chest and knuckles engulfing Superman completely.”It’s funny, isn’t it?”, the voice mocked Superman, “That the only thing able to hurt you is stemming from your true home!”, he threw a punch Superman should have been prepared for. Yes, Bruce had gotten the better of him once, but he had been distracted and in his naivety hadn’t assumed an attack of the like. But Lex Luthor was just a man. A man in a robot suit, yes, but just a man. So there was no reason for Superman to go flying through the room by one single punch and groaning with pain. He did, however, which made Bruce feel queasy.

“Sir -” “Ready the jet, Alfred. I’ll change on the flight”, Bruce grabbed a few essentials: smoke grenades, Batarangs and - after a short pause – a few small bottles of hydrofluoric acid he had left from another case.

Superman screamed on the screen and tried to get back on his feet, but was immediately knocked down again.

“Alfred!”, Bruce bellowed. The door to the jet opened in that moment and Bruce hurried on board, accompanied by the grunts of pain in the background. Bruce didn’t make a habit of being worried, but he was… unsettled, because there was the glaring questions if they would arrive at the scene in time.

<<>>

Superman was feeling pain. Under any other circumstance he may have been tempted to be fascinated or even relieved by that. But right now it was just pain. His muscles were aching, struggling to hold up even his own weight. His ears were ringing, but not in the way they did when he forgot to focus. They were ringing in a painful way and his head was hurting and everything was spinning and he probably had a concussion? Could he get a concussion? Under these circumstances he was pretty sure he could.

His breath was coming ragged, Luthor had punched him in the chest and – could he break bones like this? Probably. Maybe he had a broken rib or something. Maybe he would loose a tooth if Luthor kept punching him. That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Would it grow back? Or would it just stay like that?

“How does it feel?”, Luthor graveled on. Superman looked up to see his robot stand above him, its shielded eyes glowing faintly green with the reflection of the crystals on his chest and hands. “To know that I can kill you just like that? That I have achieved what no one ever has! That I am the most powerful man on earth!”

Superman spat blood, trying to get up, but his limbs were too heavy to lift. He couldn’t remember the last time he thought something was too heavy. Had there even been a time? He wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t sure about anything at the moment. All he was able to manage was a tilt of his head and an exhausted breath. He wasn’t even sure how long they had been here.

“ I feel right to fight against people like you”, he gasped, “You are nothing but a bully -”, Luthor punched him again and his head crashed into the ground. His vision went black for a moment and he found it difficult to even open his eyes again, but when he did there was a shadow behind Luthor, creeping up to him soundlessly in the dark. When it stepped closer, the shadow illuminated enough by the green light, that a pair of pointy ears and the bat insignia on his chest were just barely visible and Superman almost breathed a sigh of relief in knowing, that there wasn’t any more pain coming.

In the span of a second Batman threw three Batarangs at the camera on the wall and spilled a bottle of something over the welding seams on the robot’s neck. Luthor spun around and threw another punch, but hindered by the bulky suit he was no match for Batman, who evaded him easily.

“Isn’t this a surprise”, Luthor growled. “The elusive bat shows his face to save the alien. Save your breath, Batman. I designed this suit to defeat Superman . You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see about that”, Batman snarled and threw another Batarang, which hit him right in the neck and buzzed with electricity. Luthor barked a laugh and shook it off like it was nothing. “And they’re calling you the Greatest Detective! This is a special titanium alloy, Batman. It doesn’t conduct electricity.” Batman hummed. “It does enough to rattle the seams”, he growls and punches Luthor right in the metallic, robotic face. The welding seams break and Luthor gets knocked on the ground, groaning. With one last punch Batman knocks him out and then hurries over to Superman, who is grinning at him.

“How bad is it?”, Batman asked. Superman concentrated on not vomiting on his shoes.”Haven’ really felt pain b’fore, haveI?”, he said through clenched teeth. His head spun as Batman pulled him upright. “Come on. This place will be swarming soon, we have to get out of here.”

Superman couldn’t argue with that and let himself be dragged through the room by Batman, who casually threw another bottle of liquid on the blood tainted floor. “Wha’s tha for?” “Hydrofluoric acid”, Batman said disgruntled. “It’s highly erosive. We should cleanse the whole building, but we need to get you away from that stone. Hopefully it will dissolve your blood enough so they can’tt use it for anything.” Superman hummed. His legs almost gave out. “Hold on tight.”

He thought he was holding on pretty tightly already, but then he remembered that he didn’t nee to worry about crushing Batman with a single touch at the moment and allowed his grip to tighten. Nonetheless he almost slipped when Batman grappled himself upward through the hole in the ceiling. Without Batman holding him hw would have uselessly plummeted to the ground, he was sure of it.

But like this they made their way to a jet, which was parked right on top of the building. Superman could already feel the weakening effects lessen with that small distance between him and the stone, but he was exceptionally tired and didn’t even manage to complain when Batman bullied him onto a stretcher.

<<>>

Bruce was… tense. Bothered almost, if not to say worried. Superman had been sleeping for several hours. His wounds and bruises were healing slowly, but he was still clearly battered; His left cheek swollen, his black hair crusty with dried blood and his suit and cape torn. It was… unsettling to see him like this.

He didn’t agree with Luthor, that Superman was a god. He could be, very easily, but he was more like an overeager boy scout, trying to do right by anyone, who just happened to be immensely powerful. But what he could agree on was, that the world saw Superman as a god. And for everyone to have seen this – this beating he had taken, was disconcerting. So far Superman hadn’t been hurt. Hadn’t even felt pain. But now everyone had seen, that under the surface, Superman was only too human.

“I can’t stress it enough, Sir, but you did the right thing”, Alfred said while he was cleaning Superman’s hair with a wet cloth of all the blood. I hope so , Bruce thought and went back to his analysis. He had taken one of the crystals embedded in the robot’s knuckles – small enough to carry the box of lead he always carried with him in case he had to transport very sensible piece of evidence. The data spoke what he ahd already suspected: There was nothing on this planet like it. He wasn’t sure yet, how Luthor had acquired it, but it was complex in structure. If Luthor had manufactured it, Bruce found himself impressed. But it would have been far easier to simply collect it. Only then there was the question remaining, where one could find a material like this.

Superman coughed and breathed in sharply. Bruce found himself by his side immediately, standing next to Alfred. It took a moment, but when Superman opened his eyes, he groaned, blinked and closed them again. “Where am I?”

“You are in the Cave, Mister Superman. Master Bruce brought you here after the fight. You do have a head injury, so I’d recommend you stayed still for now.” Superman groaned again. “Can’ get inju’ed.” That’s where our opinions seem to differ”, Bruce said gravely.

Superman’s eyes sprang open and immediately started to tear. “Urgh, stupid Lex Luthor”, he muttered and braced his hands, as if he was about to – “Didn’t you hear what Alfred just said? Stay down, you have a concussion”, Bruce scolded him. Alfred threw him a poignant glance, which Bruce ignored masterfully. Superman flopped down on the stretcher again, loosing the meek inches he had managed to lift his head. Instead he reached up his hand for Alfred to shake. “’m Clark, nice to meet you.”

Alfred couldn’t quite hide the smile on his lips, as he shook it and Bruce felt a surprising wave of affection for both of them. “It’s my pleasure, Master Clark. I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Now that you’re awake, I’ll go get some clothes for you to get out of that awful suit.”

He walked away, pristinely professional as always. “Why doesn’t he like my suit?”, Clark slurred trying to look down at himself, but Bruce stopped him by carefully pressing his chest back down. “He likes your suit just fine, but it was damaged in the fight. Your cape is in shreds as well.” A part of Bruce couldn’t help being amused, that Superman biggest concern at the moment was that Alfred could potentially dislike his costume. Which was ridiculous. It was a nice suit. Objectively speaking.

“Than’s for helping me”, Superman muttered with his eyes closed. It was a strange display of trust Bruce hadn’t expected – especially after their last meeting. Superman hadn’t even seemed bothered he had woken up in a strange, unfamiliar cave after what had just happened to him. Bruce grunted in acknowledgment of the gratitude. “ How did you know where I was? An’ that I need’d help?”

Bruce bit his lip. So he didn’t know. This would be fun to explain. “Luthor set up a broadcast. It was on every channel in the country”, Supermna groaned again, but then suddenly propped himself up, his head swinging lightly from side to side. “My Ma!”, he called. Bruce supported his back so he wouldn’t fall back and hit his head even more. “She must’ve seen, I need to call her! I need to tell her I’m all right!” It made something uncomfortable pool in Bruce’s guts to hear these words.

He knew Superman didn’t have a phone with him. How could he in that skintight suit? It barely had room for the body squeezed into it, much less any pockets to carry phones. And so Bruce found himself reaching into his utility belt and handing his emergency phone to Superman, who took it gladly. He dialed, then stopped, dialed again and then started to cry. “I can’t rememb’r the number”, he said, clearly distressed by it. “I know I knew it, but I can’t -” Right, the concussion. Bruce should have figured. He was glard Superman even remembered his own name afterr that beating. A forgotten phone number was the leats of his worries.

“Tell me the address”, he said. It didn’t even take him half a minute to find the phone number with his computer. He typed it in and suppressed his call number, then handed it to Superman. It barely rang the second time, when a clearly distressed woman answered with: “Martha Kent?” Bruce felt his heart plummet. What were the odds of both their mothers having the same name? “Ma, it’s me. It’s Clark.”

“Clark!”, it wailed through the phone, “I saw the broadcast! What happened to you? I was so worried!” Superman smiled. “I’m okay, Ma. Batman got me out of there. He brought me to his… Batcave”, Bruce nearly choked, “My head hurts and I’ll probably need a new suit, but I’m okay. You don’t need to worry.” “I’ll always worry, baby. But maybe less for now. Thank you for calling me.” “Is’ no problem, Ma. I’ll call you again when I’m back at my place.”

They said their goodbyes. Bruce felt like he was intruding and so he occupied himself with the very important analytic results of the crystal. His thougts were swimming and his mind was a mess. He couldn’t concentrate on the results, but he could pretend to do so.

“ Thank you”, Superman said again, his voice far better pronounced by now. He swung his legs over the edge of the stretcher and does a few tentative steps to hand Bruce the phone back. “What’s that?”, he asked, pointing at the data displayed. Normally he wouldn’t share his research with anyone, but Clark probably had a right to know, Bruce thought. “I took one of the crystals and analyzed it. It’s not of earth origin, so far I know.” Superman paled slightly and bit his lip. “It’s probably Kryptonian”, he said quietly. “The planet I’m from. I found a few records on the ship I arrived in and from what I’ve gathered, I have these… powers because of the sun and the different atmosphere. If that crystal is Kryptonian…” “It could render your powers useless”, Bruce finished. “So… you didn’t have your powers back there. What about now? How long do the effects last?”

Superman frowned and stretched, then jumped on the spot. “No flight”, he said morosely. “Perhaps if I took in a little sunlight? It always revitalizes me.” Bruce stared at him. “Are you an alien or a plant?”

Superman laughed. Bruce thought it sounded rather nice. “ I didn’t think you did jokes”, he said. Bruce decided not to answer, but as he was actively avoiding Clark’s eyes, he caught Alfred’s expression, who looked at both of them with an unidentifiabl e expression. Bruce didn’t like it, because he didn’t know how to read it. But he felt it was somehow important.