Ficlet: Ghost Echoes
Jun. 4th, 2010 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starsandseaTitle: Ghost Echoes
Rating: PG
Characters: Bruce, Clark
Word Count: 362
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Spoilers: Final Crisis - very very mild, and I'm sure everyone knows this by now! :p
Author's Note: For the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mithen, on her birthday! *glomps* I'm so happy to be here to share another birthday with you! :) Unbetaed, so point and I shall correct.
He thought he was going insane, sometimes. He would hear laughter, hear echos, long gone. He would turn, and look, but there would be nothing there. He would explain to himself that he had been imagining it, and then tell himself firmly not to do so again.
But each day he heard the voices, each day they twined about him, mocking him, comforting him, yelling at him, loving him. Why him, he wondered? Why couldn't they torment someone else?
He would talk to them, and they would vanish, leaving an ache in his chest that didn't seem to be physical.
He loved and hated them. Loved them, because ironically, he knew they were keeping him sane. Hated them because he didn't want to be.
He knew that nothing was right - if only he could remember his name, everything would be all right. But he couldn't. And the voices wouldn't tell him.
He tried to ignore them, but they just yelled louder and louder. At nights, under a sky blazing with stars - too many stars, and they were in the wrong places - he would dream of strange dark towers, gleaming with lights that weren't fires. He would dream of flying through them, then wake, the ache in his chest even heavier than normal.
And still the voices came, day after day after day after day. He didn't know how long he had been... wherever he was. It felt like a very, very, long time. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where home was. Day after day after day.
Then the man in blue and red appeared, looking stunned. He gazed at him, shock and wariness and a sudden joy drowning the voices for once.
The man was smiling at him, arm outstretched toward him, as if afraid to touch him, yet desperately wanting to, tears glimmering in his eyes. "Bruce."
He blinked. The name felt right, and yet...
"Batman."
Everything made sense. Everything. Finally. Made. Sense.
Batman stood. "Superman." He reached out a dirty hand, clasping his teammate's outstretched one. Superman beamed at him. And Batman felt just the tiniest little smile tug at his own lips.
Rating: PG
Characters: Bruce, Clark
Word Count: 362
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Spoilers: Final Crisis - very very mild, and I'm sure everyone knows this by now! :p
Author's Note: For the wonderful
mithen, on her birthday! *glomps* I'm so happy to be here to share another birthday with you! :) Unbetaed, so point and I shall correct.He thought he was going insane, sometimes. He would hear laughter, hear echos, long gone. He would turn, and look, but there would be nothing there. He would explain to himself that he had been imagining it, and then tell himself firmly not to do so again.
But each day he heard the voices, each day they twined about him, mocking him, comforting him, yelling at him, loving him. Why him, he wondered? Why couldn't they torment someone else?
He would talk to them, and they would vanish, leaving an ache in his chest that didn't seem to be physical.
He loved and hated them. Loved them, because ironically, he knew they were keeping him sane. Hated them because he didn't want to be.
He knew that nothing was right - if only he could remember his name, everything would be all right. But he couldn't. And the voices wouldn't tell him.
He tried to ignore them, but they just yelled louder and louder. At nights, under a sky blazing with stars - too many stars, and they were in the wrong places - he would dream of strange dark towers, gleaming with lights that weren't fires. He would dream of flying through them, then wake, the ache in his chest even heavier than normal.
And still the voices came, day after day after day after day. He didn't know how long he had been... wherever he was. It felt like a very, very, long time. He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where home was. Day after day after day.
Then the man in blue and red appeared, looking stunned. He gazed at him, shock and wariness and a sudden joy drowning the voices for once.
The man was smiling at him, arm outstretched toward him, as if afraid to touch him, yet desperately wanting to, tears glimmering in his eyes. "Bruce."
He blinked. The name felt right, and yet...
"Batman."
Everything made sense. Everything. Finally. Made. Sense.
Batman stood. "Superman." He reached out a dirty hand, clasping his teammate's outstretched one. Superman beamed at him. And Batman felt just the tiniest little smile tug at his own lips.
