Fic: A Year Without Batman (3/4)
Title: A Year Without Batman
Note: The entire series can be found here.
Claim No.: 103 for
samibee
Prompt: Brucie gets kidnapped, Batman is not amused, Bruce has to balance the act. Meanwhile Clark Kent investigates the high profile kidnapping and Superman saves the day. Even though Batman could have totally handled it himself...
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: DC owns them, I just play with them.
Rating: R
Warning: slash
Word Count: 2,009
Von Rothbart wailed in German as he stalked about his bedroom.
D-Odile-pleaded. She paced in his wake, wringing her hands.
Von Rothbart sneered. With that, he thrust a finger towards Bruce, who was a bat locked in a cage again.
Clark? My lover? Bruce would have raised an eyebrow, if he‘d had eyebrows. He tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t actually mind if the crazy wizard thought he and Clark were lovers.
Odile blocked her father’s path, and took both of his hands in her own.
True love? You’ve got to be kidding me, Bruce snarked to himself, mostly to distract from this new knowledge that, if he wasn’t able to escape in the next few months, he would apparently be trapped here for the rest of his life.
Von Rothbart fretted. Von Rothbart grabbed a vase from a nearby side-table and threw it against the wall. It shattered. His shoulders slumped.
Odile took a deep breath, and lifted her chin. she said.
Odile assured her father. Her voice was steely with resolution, but when she turned to look at Bruce again, her gaze wavered.
:-:
“Apparently, it’s somewhat like trying to pin down an electron as it orbits a nucleus,” Clark explained. “The Fortress can calculate the probability of finding Von Rothbart’s cavern in a certain spot, but it can’t say where it is specifically at any one moment.”
“Well, that’s certainly better than nothing,” Alfred remarked. He and Clark were in the manor kitchen-Alfred waiting by the oven for his cupcakes to finish baking, and Clark standing next to the island, fiddling with the fake fruit that made up the centerpiece.
“Don’t worry, sir. Master Bruce did escape once-I‘m sure he can do it again,” Alfred went on when Clark didn‘t say anything further. The timer dinged and he slipped on two oven mitts. “And at least we know he’s alive. That’s the most important thing, yes?”
“I thought I was supposed to be telling you not to worry,” Clark raised his eyes from the plastic lemon he was holding to look at Alfred.
“Yes, but you were doing a bloody terrible job of it, so I thought I’d take over,” Alfred commented as he removed the tray of cupcakes from the oven. Clark laughed in spite of himself.
“But what if Bruce can’t escape this time?“ Clark sighed. “The Fortress said it could take months to finish the calculations necessary to find where Von Rothbart’s lair might be. Or even years.”
“There you go with the gloom and doom again,” Alfred shook his head, placing the cupcakes on the island. Their sweet smell flooded Clark‘s nostrils. “If you continue to insist on moping like this, I’m going to start charging you a therapist’s fee.”
Clark set the fake lemon back down. He didn’t want to say it. Not in front of Alfred. But he couldn’t help himself anymore. “I failed him. I failed him again.”
“You could never fail him,” Alfred insisted. He braced himself against the island, and looked Clark square in the eye. “Not as long as you remain yourself. Now cheer up and help me ice these cupcakes. You can’t ice cupcakes when you’re sad, you know.”
:-:
As Lois approached Clark’s desk, Clark tried to close the browser window he had been looking at. Technology always failed him when he needed it most, though. In spite of all his frantic clicking-or perhaps because of it-his computer froze.
“’Traditional Witchcraft,’” Lois read off the computer screen, leaning on the back of his chair. “Wow. They’d burn you at the stake for this back home, yeah?”
“Um …” Clark continued to click on the “X” of the browser window, but to no avail.
“Never took you for the alternative lifestyle type,” Lois continued, swiveling his chair around so that he was facing her.
“Well, it’s not …” Clark fumbled for an explanation. “I’m doing research on, uh …”
“A hot story, huh?” Lois quirked an eyebrow at him and plopped down on the corner of his desk. She was always sitting on his desk.
“Maybe,” Clark shrugged.
“Let me guess. Your newest theory is that Bruce Wayne was taken by a New Age cult,” Lois mused.
“Lois,” Clark laughed uncomfortably. “You-you don’t really think that I’m still working on-”
“Clark, if nothing else, let me remind you that I am your partner,“ Lois caught his eyes with her own. “You can always ask me for help.” A beat. “You can trust me.” Her gaze intensified. “To keep a secret.”
Clark wondered if she was saying what he thought she was saying.
“Anyway, what I meant to tell you in the first place is that Jason‘s spring piano recital is next week,” Lois hopped back off of his desk, heels clicking as she landed. “He’s playing ’Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ It-he likes you. It would make him happy to see you there.”
“Oh. Okay, Lois,” Clark grinned. “I won’t disappoint him.”
:-:
“Sir, I highly doubt that Master Bruce is going to appreciate it if he returns to find the cave decorated with stars,” Alfred clucked as he came down the steps into the Batcave, holding a spice rack in both hands.
“It’s not a star, it’s a pentagram,” Superman announced. He finished chalking the figure on the floor of the Batcave, right at the edge of the pool that the waterfall plunged into. He then stood up, dusting his hands off on his blue tights. “Did you get the herbs?”
“Right here, sir,” Alfred held the spice rack out to Clark, who checked a list he had written on the palm of his hand before picking out a few bottles from the rack.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Alfred asked as he watched Clark sprinkle the herbs into the waterfall pool. “This seems like a waste of perfectly good seasoning if you ask me.”
“You might be right,” Clark admitted. “But if this works, it should allow us to see exactly where Bruce is.” Clark handed the herbs back to Alfred, before dashing over to a bundle wrapped in his cape, which he had dropped in a corner of the cave. From the bundle, he pulled out a number of candles, and set them up around the circumference of the pentagram.
“We really are desperate, aren’t we,” Alfred remarked. Clark looked up from lighting the candles with his heat vision.
“The Fortress gave me a new estimate for how long it would take to come up with the probability function for the location of Von Rothbart’s hideout,” Superman informed the butler. “It said it would take a hundred years.”
“My word,” Alfred breathed.
“I really think this’ll work, though,” Clark tried to smile. “This is a legitimate spell. I can‘t work magic, but a lot of magical bloodlines come from the British Isles, which means there’s a good chance that you have some kind of latent magical talents. The Batcave is a place of power. The Fortress crystals should help you to channel the energy.” Clark paused to catch his breath. “I really think this should work.”
“If you say so, sir,” Alfred said. “Now, what is it that you would like me to do?”
:-:
“I tell you, I’m not seeing anything,” Alfred said. He was kneeling in the middle of the pentagram, staring into the well-seasoned pool of water, a Kryptonian crystal in each hand. One of the candles sputtered out. Superman rekindled it with a glare.
“Just keep … staring,” Clark said, pacing back and forth outside of the circle, his cape swishing behind him. “It’s supposed to take a while.”
“Define ’a while.’”
“Just … keep visualizing the flow of energy, and keep concentrating,” Clark told the butler.
“And just how am I supposed to concentrate with you dancing around like that?” Alfred snipped.
Clark stopped mid-pace. “Oh. Sorry. Maybe I should leave?”
“Maybe we should take a rest,” Alfred suggested. “Give it another go in the morning?”
Clark shook his head. “We can’t. It has to be tonight. If we don’t succeed now, then we can’t repeat the spell for another three months-something about the alignment of the planet or … We just have to do it now.” Superman insisted. “We have to.”
“Well, when you put it that way …”
“Alfred, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Not to worry, sir. I think I’ve just gotten a second wind,“ Alfred remarked, smiling a little as he turned to gaze into the pool with renewed vigor.
From that point onward, Clark tried to keep as still as possible. It was no easy task, considering he felt as unsettled as a pile of dust that had been whipped up by a strong wind. Every once in a while, he dashed out of the cave to deal with some emergency, and to try to work off some of his nervous energy. He could never stay away for long, though. He always returned quickly enough-to watch, to wait. To hope.
:-:
For a long time, the only sound in the cave was that of the waterfall. Clark tried to focus on that sound-it was certainly easier than focusing on Alfred, and what was turning out to be another futile attempt to save Bruce. He tried to lose himself in the splashing of waves, the churning of water, the bubbling of-
Clark frowned when he noticed that the waterfall pool appeared to be boiling. He opened his mouth to ask if Alfred was seeing anything, but restrained himself after remembering that he shouldn’t disturb the butler. The crystals in Alfred’s hands were pulsing with a soft blue light now. As Clark crept closer to the pentagram to get a better look, the light jumped from the crystals and into the pool of water, like a bolt of electricity vaulting between clouds.
“Alfred?” Clark whispered, unable to hold back any longer. “Alfred, is it working?”
No response. Clark tip-toed closer, trying to peer over the older man’s shoulder. He thought he could see the flickering of an image in the water. Even with his enhanced vision, though, he couldn’t quite make it out. He edged even closer.
“Alfred, can you see Bruce?” he asked. He had to know. “Alfred.”
Clark rose up off the ground and floated forward a bit more. When he set down, he realized that he had crossed into the chalk circle, smudging it with one of his boots. An instant after that, the eerie pastel light shot out of the pool and surged up through the waterfall. A loud hum filled the Batcave, and the waterfall began to twist like a tornado. Lashing out, it coiled around Alfred’s torso. Pulled him underwater.
“Alfred!”
Superman lunged for the other man, grabbing him by the ankle just before he disappeared entirely. Whatever had seized Alfred was too strong for Clark, though. He couldn’t get Alfred away from it. He could only hold on as the two men were dragged ever downwards.
Note: The entire series can be found here.
Claim No.: 103 for
samibee
Prompt: Brucie gets kidnapped, Batman is not amused, Bruce has to balance the act. Meanwhile Clark Kent investigates the high profile kidnapping and Superman saves the day. Even though Batman could have totally handled it himself...
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: DC owns them, I just play with them.
Rating: R
Warning: slash
Word Count: 2,009
Von Rothbart wailed in German as he stalked about his bedroom.
D-Odile-pleaded. She paced in his wake, wringing her hands.
Von Rothbart sneered. With that, he thrust a finger towards Bruce, who was a bat locked in a cage again.
Clark? My lover? Bruce would have raised an eyebrow, if he‘d had eyebrows. He tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t actually mind if the crazy wizard thought he and Clark were lovers.
Odile blocked her father’s path, and took both of his hands in her own.
True love? You’ve got to be kidding me, Bruce snarked to himself, mostly to distract from this new knowledge that, if he wasn’t able to escape in the next few months, he would apparently be trapped here for the rest of his life.
Von Rothbart fretted. Von Rothbart grabbed a vase from a nearby side-table and threw it against the wall. It shattered. His shoulders slumped.
Odile took a deep breath, and lifted her chin. she said.
Odile assured her father. Her voice was steely with resolution, but when she turned to look at Bruce again, her gaze wavered.
:-:
“Apparently, it’s somewhat like trying to pin down an electron as it orbits a nucleus,” Clark explained. “The Fortress can calculate the probability of finding Von Rothbart’s cavern in a certain spot, but it can’t say where it is specifically at any one moment.”
“Well, that’s certainly better than nothing,” Alfred remarked. He and Clark were in the manor kitchen-Alfred waiting by the oven for his cupcakes to finish baking, and Clark standing next to the island, fiddling with the fake fruit that made up the centerpiece.
“Don’t worry, sir. Master Bruce did escape once-I‘m sure he can do it again,” Alfred went on when Clark didn‘t say anything further. The timer dinged and he slipped on two oven mitts. “And at least we know he’s alive. That’s the most important thing, yes?”
“I thought I was supposed to be telling you not to worry,” Clark raised his eyes from the plastic lemon he was holding to look at Alfred.
“Yes, but you were doing a bloody terrible job of it, so I thought I’d take over,” Alfred commented as he removed the tray of cupcakes from the oven. Clark laughed in spite of himself.
“But what if Bruce can’t escape this time?“ Clark sighed. “The Fortress said it could take months to finish the calculations necessary to find where Von Rothbart’s lair might be. Or even years.”
“There you go with the gloom and doom again,” Alfred shook his head, placing the cupcakes on the island. Their sweet smell flooded Clark‘s nostrils. “If you continue to insist on moping like this, I’m going to start charging you a therapist’s fee.”
Clark set the fake lemon back down. He didn’t want to say it. Not in front of Alfred. But he couldn’t help himself anymore. “I failed him. I failed him again.”
“You could never fail him,” Alfred insisted. He braced himself against the island, and looked Clark square in the eye. “Not as long as you remain yourself. Now cheer up and help me ice these cupcakes. You can’t ice cupcakes when you’re sad, you know.”
:-:
As Lois approached Clark’s desk, Clark tried to close the browser window he had been looking at. Technology always failed him when he needed it most, though. In spite of all his frantic clicking-or perhaps because of it-his computer froze.
“’Traditional Witchcraft,’” Lois read off the computer screen, leaning on the back of his chair. “Wow. They’d burn you at the stake for this back home, yeah?”
“Um …” Clark continued to click on the “X” of the browser window, but to no avail.
“Never took you for the alternative lifestyle type,” Lois continued, swiveling his chair around so that he was facing her.
“Well, it’s not …” Clark fumbled for an explanation. “I’m doing research on, uh …”
“A hot story, huh?” Lois quirked an eyebrow at him and plopped down on the corner of his desk. She was always sitting on his desk.
“Maybe,” Clark shrugged.
“Let me guess. Your newest theory is that Bruce Wayne was taken by a New Age cult,” Lois mused.
“Lois,” Clark laughed uncomfortably. “You-you don’t really think that I’m still working on-”
“Clark, if nothing else, let me remind you that I am your partner,“ Lois caught his eyes with her own. “You can always ask me for help.” A beat. “You can trust me.” Her gaze intensified. “To keep a secret.”
Clark wondered if she was saying what he thought she was saying.
“Anyway, what I meant to tell you in the first place is that Jason‘s spring piano recital is next week,” Lois hopped back off of his desk, heels clicking as she landed. “He’s playing ’Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’ It-he likes you. It would make him happy to see you there.”
“Oh. Okay, Lois,” Clark grinned. “I won’t disappoint him.”
:-:
“Sir, I highly doubt that Master Bruce is going to appreciate it if he returns to find the cave decorated with stars,” Alfred clucked as he came down the steps into the Batcave, holding a spice rack in both hands.
“It’s not a star, it’s a pentagram,” Superman announced. He finished chalking the figure on the floor of the Batcave, right at the edge of the pool that the waterfall plunged into. He then stood up, dusting his hands off on his blue tights. “Did you get the herbs?”
“Right here, sir,” Alfred held the spice rack out to Clark, who checked a list he had written on the palm of his hand before picking out a few bottles from the rack.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Alfred asked as he watched Clark sprinkle the herbs into the waterfall pool. “This seems like a waste of perfectly good seasoning if you ask me.”
“You might be right,” Clark admitted. “But if this works, it should allow us to see exactly where Bruce is.” Clark handed the herbs back to Alfred, before dashing over to a bundle wrapped in his cape, which he had dropped in a corner of the cave. From the bundle, he pulled out a number of candles, and set them up around the circumference of the pentagram.
“We really are desperate, aren’t we,” Alfred remarked. Clark looked up from lighting the candles with his heat vision.
“The Fortress gave me a new estimate for how long it would take to come up with the probability function for the location of Von Rothbart’s hideout,” Superman informed the butler. “It said it would take a hundred years.”
“My word,” Alfred breathed.
“I really think this’ll work, though,” Clark tried to smile. “This is a legitimate spell. I can‘t work magic, but a lot of magical bloodlines come from the British Isles, which means there’s a good chance that you have some kind of latent magical talents. The Batcave is a place of power. The Fortress crystals should help you to channel the energy.” Clark paused to catch his breath. “I really think this should work.”
“If you say so, sir,” Alfred said. “Now, what is it that you would like me to do?”
:-:
“I tell you, I’m not seeing anything,” Alfred said. He was kneeling in the middle of the pentagram, staring into the well-seasoned pool of water, a Kryptonian crystal in each hand. One of the candles sputtered out. Superman rekindled it with a glare.
“Just keep … staring,” Clark said, pacing back and forth outside of the circle, his cape swishing behind him. “It’s supposed to take a while.”
“Define ’a while.’”
“Just … keep visualizing the flow of energy, and keep concentrating,” Clark told the butler.
“And just how am I supposed to concentrate with you dancing around like that?” Alfred snipped.
Clark stopped mid-pace. “Oh. Sorry. Maybe I should leave?”
“Maybe we should take a rest,” Alfred suggested. “Give it another go in the morning?”
Clark shook his head. “We can’t. It has to be tonight. If we don’t succeed now, then we can’t repeat the spell for another three months-something about the alignment of the planet or … We just have to do it now.” Superman insisted. “We have to.”
“Well, when you put it that way …”
“Alfred, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Not to worry, sir. I think I’ve just gotten a second wind,“ Alfred remarked, smiling a little as he turned to gaze into the pool with renewed vigor.
From that point onward, Clark tried to keep as still as possible. It was no easy task, considering he felt as unsettled as a pile of dust that had been whipped up by a strong wind. Every once in a while, he dashed out of the cave to deal with some emergency, and to try to work off some of his nervous energy. He could never stay away for long, though. He always returned quickly enough-to watch, to wait. To hope.
:-:
For a long time, the only sound in the cave was that of the waterfall. Clark tried to focus on that sound-it was certainly easier than focusing on Alfred, and what was turning out to be another futile attempt to save Bruce. He tried to lose himself in the splashing of waves, the churning of water, the bubbling of-
Clark frowned when he noticed that the waterfall pool appeared to be boiling. He opened his mouth to ask if Alfred was seeing anything, but restrained himself after remembering that he shouldn’t disturb the butler. The crystals in Alfred’s hands were pulsing with a soft blue light now. As Clark crept closer to the pentagram to get a better look, the light jumped from the crystals and into the pool of water, like a bolt of electricity vaulting between clouds.
“Alfred?” Clark whispered, unable to hold back any longer. “Alfred, is it working?”
No response. Clark tip-toed closer, trying to peer over the older man’s shoulder. He thought he could see the flickering of an image in the water. Even with his enhanced vision, though, he couldn’t quite make it out. He edged even closer.
“Alfred, can you see Bruce?” he asked. He had to know. “Alfred.”
Clark rose up off the ground and floated forward a bit more. When he set down, he realized that he had crossed into the chalk circle, smudging it with one of his boots. An instant after that, the eerie pastel light shot out of the pool and surged up through the waterfall. A loud hum filled the Batcave, and the waterfall began to twist like a tornado. Lashing out, it coiled around Alfred’s torso. Pulled him underwater.
“Alfred!”
Superman lunged for the other man, grabbing him by the ankle just before he disappeared entirely. Whatever had seized Alfred was too strong for Clark, though. He couldn’t get Alfred away from it. He could only hold on as the two men were dragged ever downwards.