Let me. [ He says the word flatly as he turns around. The ankle works fine now - there's a healer here, whose singing voice can heal, apparently - and he storms up to Clark. Looms against him even though Clark has two inches on him - it's about the posture, the effect. Glaring at him through the lenses of the cowl. ]
You didn't let me do anything. You don't have the authority or the right to stop me.
Whatever injuries I get is because of my own choice. My own responsibility. I can safely say that for everyone you know.
[ He snorts, and turns away- pausing to look back at Clark, still scowling. ]
Oh god, Carrie, so cute.isitablurredMay 17 2011, 20:10:31 UTC
[This time the faceful of Bat has him taking a half step back, though it's an aftereffect of having been punched in the face. His expression softens, notably. You're bad at hiding your concern, Bruce. When he turns away and looks back, Clark steps forward again.]
That's why I didn't try to stop you. I know you're not the kind of man to be dissuaded when he's set his mind to something, and more than that, your choice? It isn't mine to take away.
[He pauses, and his eyes drop to the gravel beneath his feet.]
I didn't thank you properly, that night. I don't know what would have happened if either of us had tried to go in there alone, but I do know it wouldn't have ended well.
carrie is the cutest bbgirlkingofrooksMay 18 2011, 00:19:40 UTC
[ The flinch is expected, and it's a good thing. Clark shouldn't trust him so implicitly - just because he knows Clark's future self doesn't make him a trustworthy person. There's always the chance that the Superman he knows is corrupt, after all. There's Ultraman, for one, of Earth-3. Bruce grimaces a little at those words.
No, he hasn't tried to stop him, but that isn't the point. The point is that Clark is still trying to take the responsibility of Bruce's injuries onto himself when it's an absolutely stupid move. It's not just that Bruce is healed by now; it's simply that those are his own responsibility. His own mistakes, his own choices.
Not even Clark can claim credit for those. ]
Don't. [ He looks at him for a moment. ] Don't even try to blame yourself for what happened to me.
[ Then his voice softens, a little. Sighs. ]
You don't have to thank me either. There's no way I wouldn't have gone to get it.
So, so cute. HER GLEE!isitablurredMay 18 2011, 01:29:49 UTC
Don't try and pretend that your concern for the city would have sent you in there regardless. It's a reason, but it's not the reason.
[Whether Batman wanted to admit it or not, and though Clark would never say so out loud, he cared about him. Going in there to get that Kryptonite had inevitably been about protecting him, no matter which way he painted it. He knew he was only a memory of a friend - an imperfect copy - but he feared Batman replacing that memory with him, trying to shape him into it somehow, trying to ignore the differences.
Mostly because he wasn't sure he could live up to the image the man had of him. It was important that he not let Batman lose sight of that.
But he did care. That was why he'd brought him here and punched him in the jaw.]
I can't promise not to blame myself if it means I can improve on it next time. Jor-El's lessons? My dad's? There was always pain involved, but it made me a better person. It helps me consider all the angles. To ignore that is to not be good enough.
her utter utter gleeeeekingofrooksMay 18 2011, 04:32:46 UTC
[ Of course he cares. Clark- his own Clark- is his best friend, and though Bruce knows enough of alternate universes to not immediately associate one version with another, it's difficult to do so when this Clark sees through him as well as the other one. He feels as familiar, as trustworthy, and Bruce is angry at himself for even mistaking one for another- not because the Clark in front of him cannot measure up. But simply because it's not fair to compare.
Sometimes when he looks at this man, he sees the shadow of the person he can be. That he should- no, don't think like that. They are different people, with different paths. He's been proven that over and over again. ]
Improving on it the next time and self-blame are different things. I'm not saying to ignore it, but to move on and stop doing it continuously.
Self-flagellation simply makes a hero ineffective. While you're in your corner, angsting that it's your fault, someone else might die.
[ And he's moving again, ignoring that Clark has seen through him again. That yes- it's
( ... )
Ahem. /steps upisitablurredMay 18 2011, 06:37:51 UTC
[He knows he's guilty of that; it's getting less now, but he knows he is. He's sat for years in regret over Lana, let it blind him to the fact that Lois had been right there the whole time, there to comfort him when he was hurting, without even questioning why. Always.
And now... Now he has to do it without her, without Chloe, without anyone. Anyone but Batman, Robin, Raven and a few others; people he doesn't know. He can't pretend it isn't hard. But he can do it.
[ ... There's a long, poignant silence after those words, as if they have fallen into the air and everything goes still in their wake. Bruce closes his eyes beneath his lenses and- he has to remind ihmself again that this isn't the Clark he knows. That he's familiar with. Who knows him and his story.
This is a Clark he doesn't trust enough to tell him that he's Bruce Wayne.
There's a pause, and he shrugs- falsely casual. His back is still turned towards Clark, but there are tells- the thundering of his heart, the grinding of his teeth, the screech of leather on his gauntlet.
He breathes. ]
You would have to be able to visit the dead to be able to.
I don't know, I love me~isitablurredMay 18 2011, 07:50:56 UTC
[He can hear the silence, the sounds in it, louder than he hears the voice; that he isn't listening to, after all if he listened to people's voices, really listened, they would deafen him. The sound of a gun being cocked, of leather gloves beind creased into tight fists? Things like that he hears as loudly as gunshots.
He knows the answer before Bruce gives it, and it explains some things about him.
He doesn't need to be told, either, to know Bruce trusts him with his parents in their own world; with their names, with their graves. After all, he brings the bat home to his family; to Martha Kent's luxury pancakes and her slowcooked Thanksgiving dinners. He's sure of it. Underneath that mask is a man, the kind of man only a Kent can have at a table without mentioning their bulk, or giving away their secrets, without caring just how much pumpkin pie they can put away and still be hungry. She probably treats him like a son.
[ Clark is right, and it's partly why he finds it difficult to think of Ma and Pa Kent as- anything else. It's partly why he doesn't like going to Smallville - he doesn't fit in, not as Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, or as Batman, vigilante of the night. On the Kents' table he is just Bruce, Clark's best friend, a hero whose favourite foods they all know. A man whom Pa Kent treats as a son; whom Ma Kent laughs at when he stares blankly at plows and tractors and shrugs his shoulders in helplessness; when Clark drags him up to the massive water tank a distance away at their farm and showed him the golden cornfields that he grew up amongst and the people who work on them
( ... )
[Clark keeps his distance, and in turn lets Bruce find his. He sits down on the edge of the building, at ease, and just thinks, quietly remembers. His father's pride, his mother's smile, a sunny kitchen on a warm summer's day, the scent of maple syrup, tractor oil, fresh spring rain on blossoming seedlings.]
They're mom and dad.
[Not were, or are. Neither words mattered right now.Mom came from the city; she always talks about how dad brought her home to his farm, how she felt lost in a sea of corn, like there was no way back. How he made her happy, so it didn't matter. She's an excellent cook, protective of me, and she always makes a guest feels welcome. She ran Kansas state senator, and it took her away from the farm--the place still feels empty without her there, but she's doing something she loves, being the woman she always wanted to be, and it makes me happy to see her moving on. Last time she was home she brought back Perry White--not quite sure what to make of that, he's always fishing for a story, though he's a step up on
( ... )
[ Martha Kent and Perry White? Martha Kent and Lionel Luthor? Any Kent with any Luthor? Bruce wonders faintly if his Clark (there's no easier or shorter way to put it) is having a heart attack somewhere at the very idea of it happening. Knowing Lex Luthor in his youth should traumatize him enough.
(It's not that Bruce hates Luthor, or that he thinks him a monster. He's fought worse. But Luthor tried to harm Gotham; he placed the world in such danger all the time for his little vendettas that Bruce can't help but think he's a pathetic, small little person, no matter his stature or his intelligence.
And, of course, he hurts Clark. He has hurt Clark far more than anyone else Bruce knows, and there is no way that Bruce won't despise him at least a little for that.) ]
It's so strange. [ He breathes out. ] To think that you're so- similar. To him. But your world is so different from mine.
[ Pause. He wants to ask if he exists, in Clark's world. If Bruce Wayne died with his parents like he should have- or if his parents are alive and
( ... )
[He'd think it strange if Clark talked on the first few years of their friendship, on Lex's desire to change, and his warmth away from their secrets, on the way he'd been able to reach through to him, and how it had all been for nothing in the end; how his own lack of trust had created Lex Luthor the monster, how he hadn't been able to save him. The one person who needed his help more than anyone.
It still hurt. More than any physical pain Lex could bring him, more than what he did to Lana. He had let him down.]
He must trust you a lot to let you share his family. I'd...like to know them as you do, if that's not too much to ask. As a stranger - a guest - might know them.
[ He won't be surprised, because he already knows- at least a little. He knows that Lex was in Smallville before; that Clark had been his friend when they were much younger; that Clark blames himself for Luthor's degeneration.
(He just wanted someone to talk to- Clark had told him that once, seated on the cliff where the Luthor mansion had been. And Bruce had looked at him and couldn't think of anything to say.)
He tips his head back, visibly thinking before he spoke. ]
I've never known them as Jonathan and Martha- just Pa Kent and Ma Kent. The first time I met them- they told me to call them that. [ He ducks his head- suddenly human, suddenly sheepish, his voice softening slightly and the usual menace he wears around him like a shield gone. ] They are- good people. They didn't even know who I- really was, but they took me in, sat me on the table, and fed me pie
( ... )
[Two times he said that. Good people. That was exactly what he thought of his parents at home, too. It was what Jor-El and Lara had said about them, when they'd spoken. Jonathan and Martha Kent were good people; they'd chosen them because they were good people, who would bring him up the way that they wished they could, teach him to be human.
And no matter what world, no matter the differences, this single fact was true.
Clark's smile became softer, warm and distant. He felt close to them through Batman, and close to Batman through them. And while it was weird to quantify, it didn't really make much sense, it didn't really matter either. It was what it was.]
[ They mean a lot to him? He guesses so- the man he calls a best friend wouldn't have existed, wouldn't be the way he is- if not for Pa and Ma Kent. He wouldn't have been the great inspiring heroes if he doesn't have great people to look up to and follow; he wouldn't have inspired so many people to follow him and to be heroes themselves if not for how he's taught
( ... )
What do you know about the Brain Interactive Construct?
Reply
You didn't let me do anything. You don't have the authority or the right to stop me.
Whatever injuries I get is because of my own choice. My own responsibility. I can safely say that for everyone you know.
[ He snorts, and turns away- pausing to look back at Clark, still scowling. ]
Don't think so much of yourself.
Reply
That's why I didn't try to stop you. I know you're not the kind of man to be dissuaded when he's set his mind to something, and more than that, your choice? It isn't mine to take away.
[He pauses, and his eyes drop to the gravel beneath his feet.]
I didn't thank you properly, that night. I don't know what would have happened if either of us had tried to go in there alone, but I do know it wouldn't have ended well.
Reply
No, he hasn't tried to stop him, but that isn't the point. The point is that Clark is still trying to take the responsibility of Bruce's injuries onto himself when it's an absolutely stupid move. It's not just that Bruce is healed by now; it's simply that those are his own responsibility. His own mistakes, his own choices.
Not even Clark can claim credit for those. ]
Don't. [ He looks at him for a moment. ] Don't even try to blame yourself for what happened to me.
[ Then his voice softens, a little. Sighs. ]
You don't have to thank me either. There's no way I wouldn't have gone to get it.
Reply
[Whether Batman wanted to admit it or not, and though Clark would never say so out loud, he cared about him. Going in there to get that Kryptonite had inevitably been about protecting him, no matter which way he painted it. He knew he was only a memory of a friend - an imperfect copy - but he feared Batman replacing that memory with him, trying to shape him into it somehow, trying to ignore the differences.
Mostly because he wasn't sure he could live up to the image the man had of him. It was important that he not let Batman lose sight of that.
But he did care. That was why he'd brought him here and punched him in the jaw.]
I can't promise not to blame myself if it means I can improve on it next time. Jor-El's lessons? My dad's? There was always pain involved, but it made me a better person. It helps me consider all the angles. To ignore that is to not be good enough.
Reply
Sometimes when he looks at this man, he sees the shadow of the person he can be. That he should- no, don't think like that. They are different people, with different paths. He's been proven that over and over again. ]
Improving on it the next time and self-blame are different things. I'm not saying to ignore it, but to move on and stop doing it continuously.
Self-flagellation simply makes a hero ineffective. While you're in your corner, angsting that it's your fault, someone else might die.
[ And he's moving again, ignoring that Clark has seen through him again. That yes- it's ( ... )
Reply
And now... Now he has to do it without her, without Chloe, without anyone. Anyone but Batman, Robin, Raven and a few others; people he doesn't know. He can't pretend it isn't hard. But he can do it.
With Bruce's back to him:]
You've met my parents--do I get to meet yours?
Reply
This is a Clark he doesn't trust enough to tell him that he's Bruce Wayne.
There's a pause, and he shrugs- falsely casual. His back is still turned towards Clark, but there are tells- the thundering of his heart, the grinding of his teeth, the screech of leather on his gauntlet.
He breathes. ]
You would have to be able to visit the dead to be able to.
Reply
He knows the answer before Bruce gives it, and it explains some things about him.
He doesn't need to be told, either, to know Bruce trusts him with his parents in their own world; with their names, with their graves. After all, he brings the bat home to his family; to Martha Kent's luxury pancakes and her slowcooked Thanksgiving dinners. He's sure of it. Underneath that mask is a man, the kind of man only a Kent can have at a table without mentioning their bulk, or giving away their secrets, without caring just how much pumpkin pie they can put away and still be hungry. She probably treats him like a son.
Clark smiles, sadly, and his voice is very soft.]
I'm sorry I brought it up. I didn't realise.
Reply
Reply
They're mom and dad.
[Not were, or are. Neither words mattered right now.Mom came from the city; she always talks about how dad brought her home to his farm, how she felt lost in a sea of corn, like there was no way back. How he made her happy, so it didn't matter. She's an excellent cook, protective of me, and she always makes a guest feels welcome. She ran Kansas state senator, and it took her away from the farm--the place still feels empty without her there, but she's doing something she loves, being the woman she always wanted to be, and it makes me happy to see her moving on. Last time she was home she brought back Perry White--not quite sure what to make of that, he's always fishing for a story, though he's a step up on ( ... )
Reply
(It's not that Bruce hates Luthor, or that he thinks him a monster. He's fought worse. But Luthor tried to harm Gotham; he placed the world in such danger all the time for his little vendettas that Bruce can't help but think he's a pathetic, small little person, no matter his stature or his intelligence.
And, of course, he hurts Clark. He has hurt Clark far more than anyone else Bruce knows, and there is no way that Bruce won't despise him at least a little for that.) ]
It's so strange. [ He breathes out. ] To think that you're so- similar. To him. But your world is so different from mine.
[ Pause. He wants to ask if he exists, in Clark's world. If Bruce Wayne died with his parents like he should have- or if his parents are alive and ( ... )
Reply
It still hurt. More than any physical pain Lex could bring him, more than what he did to Lana. He had let him down.]
He must trust you a lot to let you share his family. I'd...like to know them as you do, if that's not too much to ask. As a stranger - a guest - might know them.
Reply
(He just wanted someone to talk to- Clark had told him that once, seated on the cliff where the Luthor mansion had been. And Bruce had looked at him and couldn't think of anything to say.)
He tips his head back, visibly thinking before he spoke. ]
I've never known them as Jonathan and Martha- just Pa Kent and Ma Kent. The first time I met them- they told me to call them that. [ He ducks his head- suddenly human, suddenly sheepish, his voice softening slightly and the usual menace he wears around him like a shield gone. ] They are- good people. They didn't even know who I- really was, but they took me in, sat me on the table, and fed me pie ( ... )
Reply
And no matter what world, no matter the differences, this single fact was true.
Clark's smile became softer, warm and distant. He felt close to them through Batman, and close to Batman through them. And while it was weird to quantify, it didn't really make much sense, it didn't really matter either. It was what it was.]
They mean a lot to you.
Reply
Reply
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