starsandsea (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
starsandsea) wrote2011-06-10 07:25 pm
starsandsea) wrote2011-06-10 07:25 pm
Fic: Stripes of Mortality
Title: Stripes of Mortality
Rating: PG
Characters: Bruce, Clark, Alfred
Word Count: 736
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
worlds_finest 5th Anniversary Celebrations! For the prompt 'Clark sees Bruce's scars for the first time.' Unbetaed, so point and I shall correct.
They had only been working together two weeks. Only known each other for a month. Two weeks of posturing, two weeks of... not being friends, exactly, but... Allies. That was the best word. He didn’t have any friends, anyway. He had learned that.
Still, Superman knew who he was. Who he really was. Bruce Wayne. And so of course the alien that was all politeness had told him who he was. Clark Kent. He still wasn’t quite sure that he believed that, given what he knew of the reporter, and was planning to make a trip to Metropolis in the next few weeks, just to visit the Daily Planet and see what this ‘Clark Kent’s reaction was.
But it seemed that Superman didn’t think like that.
Thus, he was in the Cave, when Batman returned after a long night, his costume torn and ripped, some acid burns upon his arm. Superman, of course, looked horrified. Alfred just guided him to the medical bay, and, as gently as possible, removed his cape and cowl, and his uniform top.
“What... what happened?” Superman’s eyes were wide, as he hovered in the air, staring at him.
Batman sighed, trying to hide his wince as Alfred started seeing to his wounds. “The Joker. He has this acid...” He trailed off as he saw the look upon Superman’s face. “What?” A sudden wave of weariness washed over him, and he blinked, wondering if Alfred had somehow drugged him. He eyed his butler suspiciously, but Alfred, of course, looked unperturbed.
“You...” Superman swallowed, hard, then lowered himself to the floor, so he was standing beside him, just out of Alfred’s way. He reached out a hand as if he were going to touch him, then drew it away when Bruce turned his head towards it. “You’ve got so many scars. How? You’ve only been doing this for... a few months.” Another hard swallow, as Alfred started to clean out the wounds.
Bruce gritted his teeth; took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing this in Gotham for a few months. Before, when I was training, I did a few things around the world. When I felt it was needed. As I seem to recall you said that you did, also.”
“Yes, but...” Superman was still staring at him, his sky blue eyes wide, face shocked. “I can’t be hurt. Not like this.”
“What difference does that make?” He tried not to wince as Alfred started to bandage his injuries.
“What difference does it make?” Superman voice had risen now, and Bruce looked at him again, slightly surprised. “You could be killed!”
There was a slight pause. Alfred returned to bandaging him, and Bruce wondered if he really had seen the look on is face for a brief moment, a look of desolation... “I could be, yes. But then, so can anyone, just by getting out of bed in the morning. It’s a risk we all take, every single day, we just we don’t think about it much.”
“You can’t compare it to-”
“This is my life, Kal-El. This is what I do. I can’t-” to his alarm his voice broke, either with his emotion, or the physical pain, he wasn’t sure. “I can’t do anything else.” His voice was quieter that he had hoped it would be. He swallowed and looked away.
Alfred was finishing the last bandage, before he announced that he was finished, and started to put the supplies away. Superman was still staring at him, a look of almost heartbreak on his face, almost awe. Bruce ignored him and made his way to the computer, to enter in his log for the night. Of course, Superman followed him.
“It is what you do. What we do. But Bruce...” he turned to chair so he had no choice but to look at him, look at the bright red and blue costume, the yellow ‘S’ upon his chest, his dark hair and the the curl that fell onto his face. His blue eyes, shining with... some emotion he couldn’t identify. “Don’t die.”
He smiled mirthlessly. “I’ll try not to.”
“Good. Good.” Superman nodded, then looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. “I’d better be going. Get some rest, Bruce.” And then he was gone, a breeze the only thing left.
Bruce stared after him a while, them shook his head and returned to the computer.
Rating: PG
Characters: Bruce, Clark, Alfred
Word Count: 736
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Author's Note: For
worlds_finest 5th Anniversary Celebrations! For the prompt 'Clark sees Bruce's scars for the first time.' Unbetaed, so point and I shall correct. They had only been working together two weeks. Only known each other for a month. Two weeks of posturing, two weeks of... not being friends, exactly, but... Allies. That was the best word. He didn’t have any friends, anyway. He had learned that.
Still, Superman knew who he was. Who he really was. Bruce Wayne. And so of course the alien that was all politeness had told him who he was. Clark Kent. He still wasn’t quite sure that he believed that, given what he knew of the reporter, and was planning to make a trip to Metropolis in the next few weeks, just to visit the Daily Planet and see what this ‘Clark Kent’s reaction was.
But it seemed that Superman didn’t think like that.
Thus, he was in the Cave, when Batman returned after a long night, his costume torn and ripped, some acid burns upon his arm. Superman, of course, looked horrified. Alfred just guided him to the medical bay, and, as gently as possible, removed his cape and cowl, and his uniform top.
“What... what happened?” Superman’s eyes were wide, as he hovered in the air, staring at him.
Batman sighed, trying to hide his wince as Alfred started seeing to his wounds. “The Joker. He has this acid...” He trailed off as he saw the look upon Superman’s face. “What?” A sudden wave of weariness washed over him, and he blinked, wondering if Alfred had somehow drugged him. He eyed his butler suspiciously, but Alfred, of course, looked unperturbed.
“You...” Superman swallowed, hard, then lowered himself to the floor, so he was standing beside him, just out of Alfred’s way. He reached out a hand as if he were going to touch him, then drew it away when Bruce turned his head towards it. “You’ve got so many scars. How? You’ve only been doing this for... a few months.” Another hard swallow, as Alfred started to clean out the wounds.
Bruce gritted his teeth; took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing this in Gotham for a few months. Before, when I was training, I did a few things around the world. When I felt it was needed. As I seem to recall you said that you did, also.”
“Yes, but...” Superman was still staring at him, his sky blue eyes wide, face shocked. “I can’t be hurt. Not like this.”
“What difference does that make?” He tried not to wince as Alfred started to bandage his injuries.
“What difference does it make?” Superman voice had risen now, and Bruce looked at him again, slightly surprised. “You could be killed!”
There was a slight pause. Alfred returned to bandaging him, and Bruce wondered if he really had seen the look on is face for a brief moment, a look of desolation... “I could be, yes. But then, so can anyone, just by getting out of bed in the morning. It’s a risk we all take, every single day, we just we don’t think about it much.”
“You can’t compare it to-”
“This is my life, Kal-El. This is what I do. I can’t-” to his alarm his voice broke, either with his emotion, or the physical pain, he wasn’t sure. “I can’t do anything else.” His voice was quieter that he had hoped it would be. He swallowed and looked away.
Alfred was finishing the last bandage, before he announced that he was finished, and started to put the supplies away. Superman was still staring at him, a look of almost heartbreak on his face, almost awe. Bruce ignored him and made his way to the computer, to enter in his log for the night. Of course, Superman followed him.
“It is what you do. What we do. But Bruce...” he turned to chair so he had no choice but to look at him, look at the bright red and blue costume, the yellow ‘S’ upon his chest, his dark hair and the the curl that fell onto his face. His blue eyes, shining with... some emotion he couldn’t identify. “Don’t die.”
He smiled mirthlessly. “I’ll try not to.”
“Good. Good.” Superman nodded, then looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. “I’d better be going. Get some rest, Bruce.” And then he was gone, a breeze the only thing left.
Bruce stared after him a while, them shook his head and returned to the computer.