Ficlet: Locked Away | DCU | Clark/Bruce | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Locked Away
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Bruce; Bruce POV
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 484
Prompt: For the dcu_freeforall - T05; P02: Red (kryptonite)
Summary: Bruce has a hard time dealing with the effects of a piece of red K on Clark.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Had this written for a while, but hadn't typed it up. :p It's about time I got it posted!
Locked Away
I know he's frustrated, I can see it in his eyes. His tired, watery, rarely blinking eyes. He hasn't spoken in three days, hasn't moved, hasn't been able to communicate in any way since--
There was no way Clark could have known, no way he could have predicted what that particular piece of red K would do to him, that this would be the one that the effects would last longer than the usual twenty-four hours. Not that he probably bothered to worry about the effects, when lives were on the line. Typical Clark, putting himself at risk in order to save civilians. Not that I can blame him, but he's been hurt more that way than was ever necessary.
Though, he wouldn't be Superman if he didn't put others first, to his usual startling degree. He knows that, even now, inexplicably immobilized, uncommunicative. I have to assume that that's what's keeping him from losing his mind right now, knowing that his suffering isn't in vain.
He's always been so strong, not just in the usual way, but powering through agonizing pain when he's met his physical match, his spirit always conquering. Now isn't any different.
Or is it? I don't know. I don't know what he's feeling, whether his body is numb or blazing with pain. He could be in a trance, experiencing some kind of vision, or he could be completely aware of everything around him. His pupilary response is normal, but he shows very little sign of visual tracking. His vitals are normal for a sleeping person, but brain wave activity is high, as if he's completely awake. The contradictory readings tell me nothing.
It's as if he's simply... locked away.
And it's frustrating.
Still, there's no reason to discount the possibilities. He might still be able to hear me.
"Master Bruce? Breakfast."
Alfred's entrance startles me from the page I've been reading aloud, and I turn in my chair to find him carrying in the tray. "Mmm, thanks," I nod as he sets it down on the side table, the rich aroma of coffee wafting over, enticing.
"Welcome, sir." He turns to leave, but pauses, nodding toward Clark's still form, laid out in the bed. "I'm sure he'll come around soon, sir. Take heart."
Always the optimist. Despite myself, I manage a smile. "Thank you, Alfred." I hope for all our sakes that he's right; we're in completely unknown territory, here.
He squeezes my shoulder briefly, granting me a hopeful look in return before he leaves.
Focusing back on Clark, I watch blue eyes flicker from beneath heavy lids and thick lashes. He has to come back to us. He has to.
* * * * *
Bruce? I'm still here. I can hear you. Please keep talking. It's so quiet in here. So dark and cold. Can't see you... I'm so tired.
Thank God, I can feel your hand on mine again. Please don't leave me alone. I don't know if I can keep going without you.
* * * * *
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Clark/Bruce; Bruce POV
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 484
Prompt: For the dcu_freeforall - T05; P02: Red (kryptonite)
Summary: Bruce has a hard time dealing with the effects of a piece of red K on Clark.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Had this written for a while, but hadn't typed it up. :p It's about time I got it posted!
Locked Away
I know he's frustrated, I can see it in his eyes. His tired, watery, rarely blinking eyes. He hasn't spoken in three days, hasn't moved, hasn't been able to communicate in any way since--
There was no way Clark could have known, no way he could have predicted what that particular piece of red K would do to him, that this would be the one that the effects would last longer than the usual twenty-four hours. Not that he probably bothered to worry about the effects, when lives were on the line. Typical Clark, putting himself at risk in order to save civilians. Not that I can blame him, but he's been hurt more that way than was ever necessary.
Though, he wouldn't be Superman if he didn't put others first, to his usual startling degree. He knows that, even now, inexplicably immobilized, uncommunicative. I have to assume that that's what's keeping him from losing his mind right now, knowing that his suffering isn't in vain.
He's always been so strong, not just in the usual way, but powering through agonizing pain when he's met his physical match, his spirit always conquering. Now isn't any different.
Or is it? I don't know. I don't know what he's feeling, whether his body is numb or blazing with pain. He could be in a trance, experiencing some kind of vision, or he could be completely aware of everything around him. His pupilary response is normal, but he shows very little sign of visual tracking. His vitals are normal for a sleeping person, but brain wave activity is high, as if he's completely awake. The contradictory readings tell me nothing.
It's as if he's simply... locked away.
And it's frustrating.
Still, there's no reason to discount the possibilities. He might still be able to hear me.
"Master Bruce? Breakfast."
Alfred's entrance startles me from the page I've been reading aloud, and I turn in my chair to find him carrying in the tray. "Mmm, thanks," I nod as he sets it down on the side table, the rich aroma of coffee wafting over, enticing.
"Welcome, sir." He turns to leave, but pauses, nodding toward Clark's still form, laid out in the bed. "I'm sure he'll come around soon, sir. Take heart."
Always the optimist. Despite myself, I manage a smile. "Thank you, Alfred." I hope for all our sakes that he's right; we're in completely unknown territory, here.
He squeezes my shoulder briefly, granting me a hopeful look in return before he leaves.
Focusing back on Clark, I watch blue eyes flicker from beneath heavy lids and thick lashes. He has to come back to us. He has to.
* * * * *
Bruce? I'm still here. I can hear you. Please keep talking. It's so quiet in here. So dark and cold. Can't see you... I'm so tired.
Thank God, I can feel your hand on mine again. Please don't leave me alone. I don't know if I can keep going without you.
* * * * *