#and zor. well. it was a good effort buddy :(

[majjiktricks]

i am SOOO interested in the storylines left by the cyberpunk 2077 book

if they do another game, i hope we get to meet ArS-0X, even if its just hinted at...

[cyclone-rachel]

Pay the Asking Price

a Supergirl fic

chapter 22

Read on AO3 here

Previous chapters

All things considered, it was a fairly ordinary night for James.

There were two guys trying to assault a woman and probably rob her, they may or may not have been armed (James intervened and took them out too quickly for him to be able to tell, and even if they had been, his armor would’ve been able to withstand almost anything they’d have), and he was able to save her.

But even though he was there to help, the woman he’d saved looked at him just as fearfully as she’d looked at the guys he was protecting her from, and ran away without giving him a chance to defend himself.

He’d told her he was there to help… but it didn’t seem like she believed him.

No, forget that. She definitely didn’t believe him, and though it wasn’t always a problem, depending on who he saved, it had pretty much been one since he became the Guardian.

“James? Police are on their way, buddy.” Winn said, through his comms.

“Are you alright?” Brainy asked. “James?”

“Let’s call it a night.” James answered, staring at the police cars that were arriving.

Then, he headed back for the van, admitting temporary defeat.

~

“Okay. I mean, I love him. I do. I... I love him. But come on. JT has got to be the only one holding up the reunion right now.” Kara said, sitting across from Lena as they had lunch just outside of Catco. She didn’t know how long it had taken for her and Lena to discover they’d shared a favorite boy band (Kara had found them while trying to catch up on Earth pop culture right after she moved in with the Danvers, and Lena had listened to them as a little rebellion since Lillian didn’t think they were sophisticated enough for her to listen to, but she found her ways nonetheless) but now it had opened discussion topics a little more, and Kara was glad for it.

(Especially since there was a whole part of her life that she couldn’t talk about with her at all)

“Oh, obviously. Here, but let me ask you this, right? Would you rather have an NSync reunion, or JT and Britney back together?” Lena asked.

“Ugh! They were my favorites! That's an impossible question to answer, and you are cruel for asking.”

“Yeah. Well, you know, sometimes my Luthor genes just shine through.”

Kara and Lena both laughed.

“Thanks for catching lunch with me.”

“Well, since I canceled on you the last three times and you said you couldn't get away, I figured you were worth the extra effort.”

“Yeah, what's keeping you so busy?”

Things I couldn’t possibly explain.

“It's top secret.”

“Intriguing.”

“As soon as I can tell anyone anything, you will get an exclusive.”

Kara didn’t want to press her for details, but one look that she thought was charming later, and she got Lena to admit something.

“…I'm working with a new partner.”

“Mmm.”

“Yeah, she's... She's fantastic. It's... It's like having a mentor; you know? You'll... You'll love her. Promise.”

That’s one way of describing her.

“You got to give me something. I have to have something to look forward to.”

“Okay. Something to look forward to. What do you know about quantum entanglement?” Lena asked, leaning forward on the table.

Kara Zor-El knows all about it. But… Kara Danvers probably shouldn’t.

“"Quantum" wh...” Kara asked, purposefully.

“Polyatomic anions? Well, when you see what we're doing with them- it will blow you away.”

“I can't wait.”

“Oh. Actually, this is... This is her.” Lena said, as her phone vibrated on the table, and she read the name Fabala on the caller ID.

“I'm gonna have to go, 'cause we're doing our first test today.”

“Oh, it was so good to see you.” Kara said, as she and Lena hugged, and Lena ignored the phone as it continued ringing. “Next time, lunch is on me.”

“Okay. Cool.” Lena said, picking up the phone as she left. “Bye!”

Kara watched her go, still wondering who exactly she was working with- and what she had planned.

But Lena was her friend, secrets or no, and whatever it was, she had promised Kara would be the first to know about it.

Certainly, it was going to be good, because Lena was.

Right?

~

“Hey, hey! Look who it is.” Winn announced cheerfully as soon as he saw James in the park in the middle of National City, holding an umbrella in one hand and a falafel in the other. “You know what? I love these falafels. Do you? Because they are, like, the best in the city. I gotta say.”

“I concur.” Brainy answered, from beside Winn. “And I have tried every one available here, but the Biyalyan falafels are indeed superior.”

“Yeah, they are the best in the city. You know that because I told you about this falafel stand.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, you did. And I'm totally stalking you because, dude, what happened? Last night you were just... You were just, like, one and done. That's not like you.”

“In all honestly, that woman was more afraid of Guardian than she was of her attackers.”

“That can't be true.”

“No, dude, you didn't see her.”

“We did. And I'm sure she was in shock.” Querl said.

“Yeah, but it's... It's bigger than that. It's... It's happening a lot. So, people see this big guy in this scary mask and they freak out, they run away. Just like Clark's friend.”

Just like me, Querl thought.

“Oh, you mean...” Winn said, miming the appearance of bat ears with one hand, the other still holding his umbrella. But Querl understood who he was referring to, and he got the feeling that James knew too. “I feel like they're more frenemies.”

“You know what I mean. It's just that Guardian is not... He's not this beacon of hope that I thought he would be. I mean, basically, all I'm doing is beating people up.”

“Whoa, dude, we are... We are doing a lot of good here. We... We're making a difference.” Winn said, attempting to lighten the situation.

“I mean, Supergirl, Superman, they're making a difference. They're changing hearts and minds. They inspire people. Guardian inspires fear.”

“Just like Winn’s father?” Querl said. “He did, as well- but Winn has done a lot of good with the skills he has. And… I admit, I had the same problem as you. Well, a slightly different one- nobody would trust the Brainiac heir with saving their lives. They always believed I had an ulterior motive, that I wanted something from them. They couldn’t let themselves think otherwise. As you would say, Winn, no good deed went unpunished.”

Winn smiled, just a little bit, and gave him an underhanded high-five, before James looked over at them both, undeterred.

“Winn hides behind a computer screen and in a van.” He said. “Nobody sees his face anyway. And you, Brainy? At least you have technology to change yours. I’m… I���m just me.”

I didn’t always.

But then came what seemed to be an earthquake, and a woman psychically throwing a man into a fruit and vegetable stand, which collapsed immediately.

“Everybody get out of here!” James yelled, as people seemed to listen to him- or they went on their own volition, out of panic. “Go, go, go, go, go! Get out of here, get out of here, go!”

Winn braced himself against a table, and Brainy joined him.

“This is Agent Schott and Agent Dox, we have a possibly hostile telekinetic in Simmons Square.” Winn said into his communicator, hoping that if Alex or J’onn weren’t listening, at least Kara was.

“Let’s go, get out of here!” Querl shouted, making sure that the remaining civilians heard him as well. There were more civilians in the paths of dangerous objects, and James did his best to make sure they didn’t get hurt, pushing one couple out of the way of a hot dog stand. The telekinetic launched a pick-up truck into the air as well, after toppling another car, but right on time, Supergirl caught the truck, to the applause of all who were watching her there.

“Hey. Where’d the alien go?” Winn asked, as James and Querl stood watching Supergirl. “She’s gone.”

“I don’t know.” James said.

~

Alien Terrorist Attack, was the headline as footage of it aired on one of the DEO’s monitors.

“Authorities are investigating a targeted alien terrorist attack that occurred earlier today. Law enforcement has no leads on the identity of the alien or motive, but tensions are on the rise as fear of another attack...” the reporter on TV read, and Alex and J’onn watched for a moment before turning away from it.

“If the news keeps stirring up fear, there's gonna be a witch hunt for whoever this alien is. Things could get out of hand very fast.”

“Okay.” Winn started, from the other side of the table. “So, we figured out what kind of alien she is- She's a Phorian.”

“A what?” Alex asked.

“I never realized any had taken refuge here on Earth. Historically, they're a peaceful race of aliens.” J’onn added.

“Today, not so peaceful.” James said.

“Thank God Supergirl was there. Hundreds could've been hurt.”

We were there too, James thought. I helped, even if I didn’t catch any flying trucks or hit anyone with heat vision.

“Normally, their telekinetic powers are benign.” J’onn continued. “I've never heard of a Phorian doing so much damage.”

“And they're also telepathic like Martians. They are connected through their thoughts.” Winn added.

“Do you think more of them will attack?”

“For now, let's just treat this as a lone-wolf situation.” J’onn answered Alex.

“So, how do we find her?”

“Supergirl and Brainiac-5 are out surveying the city to see if they can come up with anything.”

“I'd be happy to help. I can get out there and see if there's any leads.”

“Mr. Olsen, you've been very helpful. But this is a DEO matter. We'll let you know if we need Guardian's skill set, but for now...”

“I got it.” James answered, resigned, as he left.

But DEO or not, he wasn’t giving up, and he knew there was at least one person who always had his back.

~

“Today was just our first test. You can't expect it to be perfect on the first attempt.” Fabala explained to a dejected-looking Lena, as they sat down for another expensive dinner at the restaurant where they’d made their partnership official.

“I quadruple checked my calculations on this, okay? The reaction of the polyatomic anions was supposed to be strong enough to spark the core of the generator.” Lena shot back, placing the tablet she’d used to work on the project beside her on the table.

“Neither of us has gotten to where we are without persistence.” Fabala said, voice even.

“If I can't make this work, we won't be able to power the portal that we're building. This was supposed to revolutionize the way everything was transported, eliminate famine, the need for fossil fuels. I wanted to help my planet, and get you home to your time.”

“And you will.” Fabala reassured, attempting to make her voice gentle as Lena’s face displayed an unusual expression- both skeptical and sad. (Talking to her in such a manner was as if, albeit years ago in such a scenario, she was talking to her own son, before her husband got it in his head that she was the one not to be trusted in their family.

Even though she was the one true Brainiac 4, and he was the outsider, who’d only gotten the title after he married her.)

“You're making advancements in science that most people on Earth could not even dream of. No one said it would be easy.”

“What if I can't make it work? What if I can't get you home?”

“I have confidence in you, Lena.”

Now that, she knew from Lena’s face that she had never heard before. Fabala stood up from the table, then. “I am going to the test facility to check the progress of the portal.” She said, stepping around the table to lift Lena’s chin up, cradle it in her hand as Lena looked at her with a soft, unknowing smile.

“I know you don't believe it yet, but you're going to make this work.”

She left, smiling back at Lena, before any trace of warmth left her face and she focused once more on her true plan.

~

Querl knew he wasn’t supposed to be wandering the streets of National City alone.

Especially not at night- but he’d just purchased an ice cream cone, upon Kara’s recommendation, and of course he was going to make sure to eat it as soon as possible, which meant doing so without the distraction of going into another restaurant, or a shop, or a bar.

So he continued walking, making sure he didn’t get what Kara referred to as “brain freeze”- he already had to deal with one, or more accurately three, things interfering with his brain, and though this may not have been literal he did not want it inflicted upon him either- and as he passed by one restaurant in particular, he saw someone who was unmistakable to him.

Even with the image inducer she was wearing, he still noticed her features- almost regal posture, formal clothing, the way she looked at passersby with disdain. Her dark hair, and cold eyes…

And in the distraction, someone had knocked over his ice cream cone, and it currently lay on the ground.

(But that, at least, was able to be replaced, and seeing her even after she said she was going to leave… this was far more important.)

She was gone just as soon as she had appeared, though. But he wouldn’t forget her face, and so with such an image fresh in his mind, he set off for the DEO.

~

James knew he should be staying out of things.

He should give the Phorian woman’s address to the DEO, and Alex or J’onn, or a team they would send in, would find her and bring her in to make sure she was safe, that nobody else got hurt.

But as much respect as he had for them, they also didn’t handle things well all the time, especially with cases like this. So after finding her location thanks to an interrupted drug deal, he was taking matters into his own hands.

And when the door opened behind him to reveal not the woman, but someone who appeared to be her young son, he was glad there weren’t a bunch of DEO agents in the apartment with him.

The child was clearly panicking, trying to open the door as soon as he saw James.

“It’s okay.” James said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He got down to the child’s level, before taking off his helmet, and he seemed to relax.

“It’s alright, see?” he asked. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reached out and touched James’s face, and James could only keep eye contact with him, and hold his hand.

~

It took some convincing, but James had gotten him to the DEO- where he found out the child’s name was Marcus- and now Marcus was alone with Alex, who was attempting to ask him where his mother was.

But he stayed silent, through all of her attempts, and though Alex hoped to be a mother someday, with her own kids… she sure wasn’t getting through to this one.

Or maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe he was just shy, or more used to communicating only through thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

Whatever the case, it was getting nowhere, and she needed a different approach.

~

“Maybe she should give him some action figures, right?” Winn said, as he, Brainy, James, and J’onn observed the interrogation from the outside. “Like… if somebody had given me action figures when they interrogated me about my dad when I was 11, I would… I would’ve sung like a canary, I’m just saying.”

“I was interrogated once.” Querl murmured. “Bribery or no, it is terrifying at any age- no matter which planet it is taking place on.”

Although Alex is certainly no Emerald Bloodeater.

“Brainy has the right idea.” James said. “This kid is completely shut down. And pulling him into an interrogation room like some criminal off the street, I don't think is the best way to get him to open up.” “So, you're not only a masked vigilante and a photographer, you're also a child psychologist now.”

“I'm just saying this kid's life has been upended badly. Okay, first, he's a refugee. Then his mom ends up missing. And if he's turned on the TV at all since yesterday, all he's seen are adults yelling about her, calling for blood. I wouldn't trust anybody either, if I was this kid.”

“James is right.” Alex said, as she exited the interrogation room. “I’ve been in there for hours, and all he does is just stare at the camera.”

Alex looked back, at the screen projecting the footage from that room, and sure enough, Marcus was staring at the camera. Almost through the camera, really- and not even at Alex herself.

“He’s looking at you.” She said, looking over at James.

James laughed, almost unable to believe it.

Even though, of course, he was very familiar with the impossible, and this was just one more thing to add to that list.

“At me? Through a wall, Alex?” he asked.

James stepped forward, with Alex behind him, and looked at the screen again.

“He’s an alien with telekinetic and telepathic powers.” She said. “You said that he connected with you.” “He thought the Guardian was a monster, and then I took my helmet off, and I guess he saw someone who looked like him.” James explained.

“He identified with you, James.”

And you remind me of my sister right now. James thought, as Alex addressed him directly.

“Are you saying you want Mr. Olsen to question the boy?” Querl asked.

“Well, Marcus doesn't trust me. Okay? But he could trust James. I mean, out of here. In a more conducive environment. We have to find his mother before she attacks again.” Alex insisted.

“If I can help this kid, I'd like to.”

“All right. Take the day, see if you can find out where the boy's mother is. We'll check in with you later.” J’onn said, and soon it was just Alex and James there, with Marcus still sitting in the interrogation room, all alone.

Or not alone, judging by the way Marcus was still looking at him, like he could read his thoughts through a wall, through the computer screen.

“Hey... You'll be good with him.” Alex said.

Yeah. Or at least I’ll try.

~

Winn was whistling, when Brainy caught up with him.

“Hello, Winslow.” He said, walking towards him as Winn sat down in his chair.

“Dude, it’s still just Winn. We’re friends now, you’re allowed to use my nickname.”

“Right. Given the argument Kara and I got into once she found out the truth regarding my purpose here… but you are not a part of that, and have nothing against me for it.” Querl realized.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Besides, your mom’s gone, isn’t she?”

“That is what I wanted to know. Can you scan the Earth’s orbit for her cruiser? Or is that technology too advanced for the twenty-first century?”

Winn sighed.

“No, no, here at the DEO we scan for many things.” He said. “And as for your parents’ ship, I certainly could, but I already did that when they led us back to Earth. I tracked their progress as they went out of Earth's atmosphere and flew away to Colu, and the future. Bye-bye.”

Winn mock-waved, when he said that, and Querl grew more concerned.

“Could you… do it again, just to be sure?”

“Alright, if you insist.” Winn said, pulling up the current image on the screen. “See? Look. It’s a bunch of satellites. The skies are clear.”

“Yes, that is… what I thought.” Querl answered, even if he wasn’t reassured at all. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Winn said, smiling at his friend. “So, hey, why did you ask?”

But Brainy was already gone.

Maybe I should work on our scanning tech. If the possibility of her being here makes him afraid…

But she’s not here.

Isn’t she?

~

Lena touched a button on her tablet, as the construction above her whirred to life.

And, just as quickly, there were a series of small explosions, sending showers of sparks into the air and shutting it down just as quickly.

Lena threw her tablet on her desk in frustration, as Fabala came up to her.

“Still isn't working?” she asked, almost like she never expected it to.

“Was it me throwing it down in disgust or the sparks that gave it away?” Lena asked, unable to take her eyes off it, imagining how she could fix it, and make it work better.

“Can you give us a minute?” Fabala asked to the humans working on the project, and they did, allowing her more concentration on the matter at hand as she turned back to her new work partner.

“Failure is a part of the process, Lena. I told you this was going to take time.” She said when she did, again trying to keep her voice gentle, placing a hand on Lena’s shoulder.

“It's not about time. I'm just not getting it.” Lena answered, clearly unreceptive to any encouragement. “You know, maybe we should pay a visit to Stryker Island. Get Lex Luthor to come in and save the day.” “You think he could get this working?” Fabala asked.

“Lex was the genius who was supposed to save the world. You know, I... I just thought if I could make this work, I would prove to the world and to my mother that I was as good as the golden boy. I think most of all, I just wanted to prove it to myself.”

“You don't have to prove anything.” Fabala insisted- though part of her only wanted Lex to stay away from the project because he knew her family, knew who she really was, just as Lena did. That would certainly lead to a failure. “You're smarter than Lex.”

But nothing compared to me.

Lena only laughed, as Fabala gazed up at the project, before looking back at Lena.

“No. I'm not saying that to make you feel better. I'm saying it as a scientist. As someone who knows. But you need to stop trying to think like your brother. From what you've told me about Lex, he's a man who's concerned with power. And that's how you've been trying to fix this. Give it more power, you think it will work.”

“Yeah, but it just keeps blowing.” Lena said.

Fabala placed a hand on her shoulder again.

“But you're not a person who's consumed with power. Are you?”

Lena didn’t answer, only giving her a tight smile.

“So, if you weren't trying to do what Lex would do, what would you do?”

Lena felt herself being tested- knew those kinds of questions, was very used to answering them- but from someone who was even smarter than Lex, the pressure was even more intense. Still, she found an answer.

“I'd try to find a way to increase the anion input without overloading the energy output. All while maintaining the element synthesis rate at a constant.”

Fabala’s expression lit up, and Lena knew she’d gotten it right.

“Not power. Balance.”

Lena smiled back, and got to work, as Fabala was left looking up at the project again.

Soon.

~

Bringing Marcus to Catco, James reflected after remembering just how many monitors displaying the news there were in his office, might not have been the best idea.

It had started out well, with him introducing Marcus to Kara (Marcus was still quiet, though now he expected it) and Eve Tessmacher even believed Marcus was his nephew, bringing both of them some food from Noonan’s.

James especially liked getting to show Marcus the game he had on his desk, and the old camera he had. Marcus seemed to like the camera as well, taking a picture of James with it.

And just when Marcus finally spoke, telling James that his own father was a soldier, and had died when he and his mother were escaping their planet… James thought Marcus was going to be okay, and that nothing could go wrong.

~

Meanwhile, Querl arrived back at Catco, dropping a large bag of Chinese food off for Kara.

It was plenty sweet, and there was no way Kara was turning this down. But he seemed worried, and unsure of himself, and Kara was definitely concerned.

“I, ah… I thought I saw my mother last night.” He admitted.

Oh. That’s it.

“I didn't. Don't worry. Winn and I checked, and my parents' ship definitely had left for Colu and the thirty-first century a few weeks ago. But thinking I saw her, it... I thought it would make me feel anger. But I felt… conflicted. I just... I hate... I hate that I still care about her, even if she wants me dead.”

“Hey, we can't will ourselves to not feel anything. Life doesn't work like that.” Kara answered gently.

Certainly didn’t work on Krypton.

“On Colu, that's exactly what we would do. We…” A hand automatically went up to his forehead, the personality inhibitors located there. Still affecting him, reminding him every day that he wasn’t the man he was meant to be, and had almost never been. But she didn’t know about that yet, and perhaps he would never tell her. “We trained ourselves to suppress our emotions- illogical ones, especially- so we literally didn't feel anything.”

Kara placed her hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it when she saw the distress on his face, even if she didn’t quite know the source.

“You're allowed to miss her. She is your mother.”

“Well, she's gone forever. So...”

She may not be. But, for now, I choose to hope- however much said hope may be unfounded.

~

Fabala watched Lena once more as she worked.

“If my mother had given me pep talks like you, imagine the things I could've done.” Lena said once she paused, noticing her there.

“I'm happy to have mused you. But trust me, it isn't always easy being the parent we aspire to be.” Fabala answered.

Especially if you had a husband like mine.

“Shall we test it again?”

“Let me just plug in the algorithm and fire it up.” Lena said, excited. She went off to do just that, and Fabala waited, pressing the button that let her see outside- to the portal structure Lena and her team had built.

~

James was teaching Marcus how to use another one of his old cameras, when it happened.

Marcus was going to take a picture of James… but in his peripheral vision, he saw the news reports of his mother. The ones that referred to her as a terrorist, and said that the hunt for her was continuing.

He put the camera down, and James turned the TV off, hoping that that would be the end of it- at least, until another news station, on another Catco monitor, displayed her story again.

But he was still able to turn all of the TVs off, and if it made Marcus more comfortable, he would.

Until then, though, Eve had arrived with the food he’d asked for, and maybe now both of them could enjoy it in peace.

~

“Here goes nothing.” Lena said, as she started the next- and hopefully explosion-free- test, increasing the power as the machine whirred to life again and the portal started up outside.

~

The milkshakes exploded onto Eve’s clothes, and she shrieked as she dropped the bag. James didn’t know why at first, and then as pieces of paper began hovering in the air, flying around the room. The curtains had begun to move too, and all the TVs were showing static, as when James looked over at him, Marcus’s eyes were glowing purple.

“What is your nephew doing?” Eve asked, clearly panicked.

He began to walk towards them, as James tried to calm him down.

But it wasn’t working, and behind Marcus, a light fixture fell from Cat’s office ceiling and landed on her coffee table.

Eve dove under a desk, and though James tried to get to Marcus, he was thrown back.

~

“Power’s running smoothly to the core.” Lena said, elated. “And the anions are reacting at a steady rate!”

~

Marcus had begun to hover in the air, as Kara and Querl ran in.

“You know anything about Phorians?” Kara asked him.

“I do- but there are civilians here, and I must remain in my Quentin Richards persona. I will try to help here- you should go.”

Kara nodded, and was off, while he attempted to get people out, and keep the damage to a minimum.

Even as that floor of the building looked like it could collapse.

Querl got James out of the range of falling debris, and Kara came in as Supergirl, carrying Marcus out of Catco.

~

“It’s working.” Fabala said, awed by it in spite of herself.

Lena powered the portal down.

“We did it.” She said, confidence restored.

“You did it.” Fabala corrected, as they smiled at one another.

~

Marcus had seemed to calm down, and once his eyes weren’t glowing, Kara knew things were going to be better.

“Hey. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Kara said to him, holding onto him tightly. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

He seemed to believe her, and she flew him to the DEO.

~

It was clear, watching Marcus sit dejected in one of the DEO’s cells, that something was wrong- and Kara knew it.

Both Marcus and his mother seemed to be victims- but of what, they didn’t know yet. And even though Marcus was safe, his mother was still out in the city, and whatever was happening to both of them could very well happen again, and put them and everyone else at risk.

Until then though, they could only wait, and Marcus had to remain in the cell as the others looked for his mother.

And though James had believed he could help… Marcus still wasn’t speaking to him much, and he felt purposeless, unable to do anything at all.

J’onn caught him by surprise though, when James was trying to leave- telling him the story of how he too had felt directionless, until he had his first daughter and decided to make a difference as the Martian Manhunter.

Going by that timeline, it certainly wasn’t too late for James to figure his hero self out- and it seemed that whatever his own purpose was, helping Marcus had something to do with it.

He only hoped that he could realize it, before Marcus’s mother ran out of time.

~

“We've been searching the city for signs of another attack, nothing yet.” Kara said, as she and Querl arrived in the DEO’s command center.

“Have you two found anything?” J’onn asked.

“We looked into the Phorian's physiology. Turns out that a major shift in atmospheric energy can cause a change in their mental state.” Alex said.

“Yes. But on Earth, what causes a shift like that?” Querl asked her.

“Okay.” Winn said, pulling up charts on the screen. “So, this measures electromagnetic activity around the city.”

“There was a large spike around the time of the first fight on the street yesterday.” Alex added.

“And let me guess, another spike during the attack on CatCo today?”

“Hey, good guess.” Winn said to Kara, as she leaned over the table in the middle of the room. “But that spike was about five times the size.”

“Have we determined what caused the spike?”

“Yes. High levels of polyatomic anions released in the atmosphere.” Winn said- and as soon as he mentioned it, Kara froze up, staring at the rest of the group.

“Wait. I... I saw Lena. She said she's working on a new project. She mentioned those anions.”

“That can't be a coincidence, can it?” Querl asked her.

“Definitely not. I'm gonna call Lena.” She said, and started to type in Lena’s number.

But it wasn’t Lena who answered the phone.

“Hello, Supergirl.”

“Fabala?”

Kara sounded alarmed as she said her name, making Alex and Querl wary too.

“You sound surprised.” Fabala answered. And she was- even if Querl was worried about her return, she’d told him everything was fine. He’d assured himself everything was fine… but it wasn’t.

“Trace the call.” Alex said, and Winn and Querl were on it.

“If you've done anything to Lena...” she started, focusing on the conversation at hand again.

“You'll what, lecture me?”

“We will find you.” Kara corrected, voice tight with emotions ready to burst from her.

“You have no idea where I am or what I'm doing. How does it feel… to be powerless?”

The gloating is definitely worse.

“If this is about Querl, you have to come to terms with the fact that he chose to stay here.”

“No, he made a choice to come home, to be a hero to his people. And we would have been happy to go, but you were too selfish to allow that.”

“What's she saying?” Querl asked, and Kara turned the speakerphone on, so he could hear his mother’s voice.

“Everything I do, I do for my people. Everything you do for yours is to bolster your broken ego. You need this planet to worship you, the last daughter of a failed world, because otherwise, your survival means nothing. Just like the Kryptonians who came before you, who forced my people to bend the knee to yours.”

“You're delusional.” Kara said, trying to ignore what she’d said about her people.

(Even if, as she’d discovered this year, there were some things that Fabala might have been right about)

Fabala laughed softly.

“No. On the contrary, I see everything clearly. I came here in peace, which you refused. And all of the ugliness that's transpired is because of your righteousness, Kara Zor-El. Everything that happens from now on is your doing. Every city that burns, every nation that falls, for every child of Earth that cries out, "Why is this happening?" The answer is Supergirl.”

“Kara has done nothing. This is… this is your doing.” Querl said, as Kara handed him the phone.

“Oh, of course you're there with her.” Fabala said, sounding exasperated when she heard her son. “The Kryptonian girl who bewitched you.”

“Mother, you're... Your quarrel is with me, is it not? Don't... Don't take it out on this planet. You are better than this. Or at least you were.”

“Anger has nothing to do with what I'm doing.”

“Then why? Why are you still here?”

Fabala’s answer was concise, and afterwards, she hung up.

“I'm here to wake you up, Brainiac 5.”

“Did you manage to trace the call?” J’onn asked, once it was done.

“No. There was too much electromagnetic interference.” Winn admitted, sighing.

~

“Was that my phone?” Lena asked, as Fabala deleted Kara Danvers’s number from her contact information, clearly having missed the conversation she’d had.

“Yes… it was just a telemarketer.” Fabala answered before handing the phone back. “No one to worry about.”

Lena looked relieved, and she continued to work, none the wiser.

~

“Okay, we're now monitoring all electromagnetic activity within the region.” Alex said, from her desk. “If anyone powers up this device, we're gonna know exactly where they are.”

“Good. Then we can strike.” J’onn answered.

“Marcus knows where his mom is, but he's gotta take us to her.”  James explained, after having left Marcus’s cell.

“I'm afraid I can't let him out of here. Brainiac 5's mother created some sort of device with Lena Luthor, and she could set it off at any moment. It's just not safe for Marcus outside of containment.”

“But his mom is still out there.” James argued.

Winn, thankfully, volunteered to go with him, even contributing a mobile version of the telekinetic dampener.

J’onn thought it was too risky- but this was James’s mission, and J’onn knew that he had to let him and Winn go.

“Be safe, James.”

“Thank you.”

~

It was worth it to see Marcus and his mother reuniting, and although there were a lot more Phorians than expected, James hoped that he and Winn could keep them all safe from what was happening outside.

~

“Tomorrow we could begin the material trials.” Lena said, but Fabala didn’t seem terribly excited about it, only looking at the machine again with a calm, cold expression.

“I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that success means that you're leaving. Working with you has meant so much to me.”

“…Me too. Whatever happens next, I want you to remember never to doubt yourself again. You are a marvel, Lena. Any mother should be proud to call you daughter.”

Certainly more than I can say about my son.

“Wait, wait… what are you doing?” Lena asked, as Fabala began to activate the portal again.

~

“We got something! A huge release of anions.”

“Where?”

“San Isidro Valley.” Alex said.

“You got a satellite image for that?”

She did, and Querl pulled it up on the screen.

“What is that?”

But it was clear that none of them knew- whatever it was, though, they were going to find out soon.

“Let's go.” Kara said, turning to J’onn.

“Right on.” He answered.

“My mother...” Querl said, watching the screen.

“I know this is going to be hard. You don't have to do this.” Kara told him.

“No, I have to. I just... I need to grab something first.” Querl answered, and Kara let him go.

~

Meanwhile, Winn tried to activate the dampener- but it wasn’t meant for twelve people, so they were going to have to find another way.

And, it seemed, James was going to try something. How well it would work, he wasn’t sure, but… Alex and J’onn both said he and Marcus had a connection.

He might as well try and use it, and hope everything worked out.

~

Fabala stood before the machine, Lena’s tablet in her hands, while Lena looked at the computers before her, exasperated.

“Why won’t it shut down?” She stared over the screens, at Fabala, while Fabala barely turned to acknowledge her presence. “What did you do?”

“What I had to do.” She said. “For my people. I want you to know, the affection I had for you… could never have been real.”

J’onn, Querl, and Kara landed then, crashing down inside the building.

“Turn it off.” Kara demanded.

“I can’t.” Lena said, looking at her helplessly. She knew how bad this looked- just months ago she’d been framed for helping a criminal, and imprisoned because everyone thought she was just like her family. But she’d never wanted things to go this far, and she hoped Kara would see that.

Querl looked first at the energy generator, then at the portal outside, realizing what his mother may have been planning- and then at Kara, who tried taking the generator down by force.

“Why won’t it turn off?” J’onn asked.

“I don’t know; she must’ve made it self-sustaining somehow.” Lena said.

“What did you do, Mother?”

“You’re a twelfth-level intellect, just like me.” Fabala answered. “You figure it out.”

~

James wasn’t going to break his promise. No matter the circumstances- the building threatening to come down, the telepathic energy overwhelming the dampener- he was going to keep Marcus and his mother safe.

And he made sure Marcus knew that.

~

“You’re bringing something here.” Querl said.

“What?”

“You’ll see.” Fabala answered.

Kara flew towards Fabala, trying to pin her to a wall- but she managed to kick Querl out of the way, and turn herself and Kara around, sending Kara into a column and knocking a shelf onto Lena.

It didn’t look like it had hit her directly, but she was out cold- Kara didn’t have time to worry about her, though, as she dodged the fist that Fabala had sent into that same column.

Kara managed to get a good hit in on Fabala, and she was out for the moment- giving Kara time to get outside, and meet whoever or whatever was coming out of the portal.

~

It didn’t seem like it was working. Marcus was still unresponsive, and wasn’t letting him in.

James knew he should give up- that was the logical response. But he wasn’t going to, not this time.

He wasn’t giving up on Marcus.

~

Kara flew in front of the portal, its purple glow illuminating her as she attempted to shoot heat vision at it.

She knew, probably, that it wouldn’t do anything- the portal was so big, it would take multiple versions of herself, all firing at the same time, to take it down. But she wanted to try, to slow it down somehow, and it was the only option she could see at the time.

The energy backfired on her, and sent her crashing to the ground, with no other backup plan.

~

“You don’t mess with my family.” J’onn said, seeing what Fabala’s portal had done to Kara. He tried to run at Fabala, but she had some kind of device in her hand- and when she pressed it, J’onn stopped moving, his eyes glowing a dull red.

“What is that?”

“A White Martian gave me this.” Fabala answered her son.

“What are you doing?”

J’onn shapeshifted back into his true form, and though he fell to his knees, it was clear he wasn’t in control of any kind of action at the moment.

“The White Martians developed this technology in order to keep the Greens under their control. It traps a Martian in his own mind. A never-ending nightmare. Pretty savvy if you ask me.” She continued.

J’onn fell over completely, and Querl rushed to his side.

“J’onn…” he said, looking over him- hoping that he could help him, in some way.

“You’ve learned a lot of things about this world, Mother.” He continued, getting up to face her.

“I’ve had to.”

“And did you learn humans have a weapon we’re vulnerable to?” he said, aiming his taser at her.

Fabala only laughed.

“My darling boy. You would not kill me with that pathetic thing.”

“I am considering it.” Querl answered, hand steady on the taser.

~

“You just have to look inside of yourself and see the strength and the courage that I see in you. You're not alone. You are not alone!”

Marcus’s eyes stopped glowing, and he collapsed into James’s arms- and James hugged him back, so relieved he thought he might start crying.

Around him, the other Phorians also regained control, and Marcus hugged his mother.

“That is a hero… without a suit.” Winn said. “And I love him.”

James only smiled at him, relieved- knowing that he’d done his job, and things would be okay.

~

“Put the taser down, Querl.” Fabala said. “You do not want to hurt me.”

“You really believe that?”

“The Kryptonian girl was right.” She continued. “I know all about your little Legion, and your precious moral code. You’re all gooey hero on the inside, a hero of Earth- or at least, that’s who you pretend to be. Would a hero kill his own mother?”

Querl didn’t answer, and she went on.

“When you were a boy and I would put you to sleep at night, you used to say to me that you would always love me. And even though you've turned your back on me, I know you love me.”

That was before I found out that you bottled worlds.

“Where's Father?” Querl asked, quietly. He repeated the question, when Fabala stayed silent.

“Where is my father?”

Fabala sounded emotional, when she spoke- and he almost thought she wasn’t lying.

“Your father was so hurt when you abandoned us that he took his own life.”

“No…”

“Querl, you are not going to kill me.” Fabala continued, putting her hands on the taser. “Whatever you think of me, I'm still your mother.”

He knew he shouldn’t listen to her. He knew, if she died at his hand, people would likely praise him for doing so- calling him a hero, for extinguishing her life.

But others could still call him just as much of a Brainiac, whether he killed her or not, and though he had said before that killing her was a solution he could choose… he still put the taser down, and she reached for him, nearly embracing him.

(though there was no love in that gesture)

Fabala turned away from him, and towards the portal.

“Since you were dishonest in revealing your motive for coming here, I figured that I could, too- but now I suppose I can tell you that Brainiac is still dead. The AI plague does not exist. But even so, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to realize that, and reveal that you wouldn’t truly help your own family or your world, if we were at risk of extinction.”

“I suspected all along.” Querl said.

“I see. Perhaps the inhibitors have not affected you as much as I thought.” She answered. “The fact remains that, as the smartest beings on our world, we ought to be ruling it- and, if I could not amass an army by their own choice, I might as well take it from them, and take control anyway. Thousands of Coluans, linked through our collective consciousness… with some help, of course. Astra In-Ze may have been Kryptonian, and may have been a part of the reason why one of our relatives was sent to Fort Rozz, but I admit she had the right idea, in one case.”

“You are using Myriad.”

“I am.” She admitted, as the Coluan cruisers began to fly through the portal. “We have hundreds of ships- they just needed a way to get here.”

~

Kara got up, looking at the ships overhead.

There were so many of them, it was hard to keep track of exact numbers- and most of them seemed to be relatively small.

But there was no mistaking the last one for being small. In fact, it was almost the size of the portal itself, and resembled a skull, with a huge, gaping mouth.

~

“Agent Danvers...” Demos said, as his computer began beeping, the radar scan map he’d pulled up suddenly showing activity.

“Yeah.”

“We have multiple bogies heading into National City.”

“How many?” Alex asked, standing closer to the computer so she could get a better look.

“Twenty-five, No... fifty, a hundred… Maybe more. What’s happening?”

But Alex had no answer for him.

~

“Welcome…” Fabala said, watching the ships arrive, as Querl felt even more helpless than he had before in this century. “To the future Bottled National City.”

[jewishclarkkent]

Bruce/Clark; PG-13; grief and loss

Summary: Despite the fractured bones he’d scanned countless times, the contusions and scars carefully hidden by armour, part of Clark believed the Bat would outlive them all. For fifteen years, night after night, Bruce survived the streets of Gotham. Until he didn’t.

Note: This fic references Bruce’s canonical death in Final Crisis and relies heavily on the Superman: New Krypton storyline. To those unfamiliar, here is a brief synopsis of the events and timeline relevant for the purpose of this fic: Clark liberates the bottled city of Kandor from Brainiac, freeing thousands of Kryptonians, including his aunt and uncle, to live on earth; Jonathan Kent dies from a heart attack while Clark is off-world dealing with Brainiac; shortly after that, Bruce seemingly dies after being hit by Darkseid’s omega beams; humans and Kryptonians don’t get along, Clark’s uncle gets assassinated, and Clark’s aunt eventually relocates their people to another planet to serve as New Krypton.

Thank you to @superhero-justice and @superbatfleck for cleaning this up for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Constructive criticism welcome.

Reporters rush in and out of the Daily Planet offices in pursuit of the latest scoop, shoes squeaking and clicking on the floor. Others are hunched over their computers, racing to meet the print deadline, each keystroke as loud as a bullet. One floor down, the refrigerator in the break room emits a low hum. Ten blocks away, a car alarm is blaring on the street and a dog starts barking. There are other indistinct sounds he can’t isolate, nor can he manage to block them out. He hears all of it, and he hears none of it.

He startles when he feels a hand on his shoulder, swivelling his chair to find Jimmy leaning against his cubicle. Judging by the worried expression contorting his face, he must’ve been trying to gain Clark’s attention for some time. Clark watches his mouth move, the thunderous tick tick tick of his wristwatch making it impossible to concentrate on the individual sounds that make up the words. Bruce had not been wrong to insist lip-reading would be a useful skill to pick up.

“—ark? You okay, buddy?”

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee wafts into the room from the shop across the street, so overpowering that Clark can taste it in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says in a rush, fighting the urge to gag. He reaches under his glasses to rub at his aching eyes, squinting against the too-bright fluorescent lighting and the glare from his computer screen. It takes a full five seconds to realize what a colossal mistake like that could cost him, and he lets the frames slide back onto his nose, hoping the slip-up went unnoticed.

Stupid, the voice in his head berates. It sounds remarkably like Bruce. Stupid and reckless.

Jimmy frowns and bites his lip. “You’ve been staring at that article for, like, forty minutes.”

Clark turns back to glance at his computer. He’d been searching the Gotham Gazette archive when he stumbled upon an article about the charitable work of the Wayne Foundation. A picture of Bruce accompanies the headline, looking handsome and respectable in a tailored suit. It was taken at a recent fundraiser, where he had given a speech about building a brighter future for Gotham, about believing in the city and its people. The small, private smile on his face is what makes the photo remarkable—not the patented smirk Bruce Wayne would wear in public, but a warm, genuine twitch of his lips. Cassandra had been in attendance that evening, and Bruce kept his focus on her as he spoke, his smile that of a proud father.

Clark’s heart lurches at the memory. Will details like that eventually begin to fade? Given time, will he forget the rhythm of Bruce’s heartbeat, like an old song whose tune can be recognized but never recalled? Will he forget the sound of his voice? Not the low growl of the Bat or the charming lilt of his public persona, but the deep, rich cadence that belonged to Bruce, with its notes of grief and sorrow. Batman and Bruce Wayne each leave behind a legacy, but they were a mask and a performance. The man underneath was known to so few, and the realization he’s the one who doesn’t get to live on leaves Clark hollow.

As far as the public is concerned, both Bruce Wayne and Batman are alive and well. It required impeccable planning and execution, of course, but that was Bruce down to his core: always ten steps ahead of everyone else, always a contingency plan for even the most inconceivable scenario. His own death was hardly that, of course, but Clark never imagined it would go completely unacknowledged.

“I just…. have a lot on my mind,” he says, fighting to keep his voice from breaking.

I lost my dad and best friend within weeks of each other, is what he doesn’t get to say, what he aches to cry out. They’re dead. The words crawl up his throat like bile, leaving an acrid taste on his tongue as he bites his lip to trap them, nothing but a thought for him to choke on.

“You know, Chief’s in a good mood today,” says Jimmy, gesturing toward Perry’s office with his thumb. Clark tries and fails to hide a flinch as Perry’s assistant begins stapling stacks of documents. “I bet he’d let you take off early, if you ask.”

There is truth to that. Despite his gruff exterior, Perry is a kind man; he has been taking it easy on Clark since his return from bereavement leave, assigning fluff pieces that required little time and effort. Just as Superman was powerless where it mattered most, Clark Kent could offer nothing of substance.

“No,” Clark says, even as a splitting headache assaults his temples and his X-ray vision flickers on and off. He hadn’t lost control over his senses like this since his abilities first started developing. The buzzing in his ears gets worse and he barely resists the instinct to cover them. Maybe, he thinks, his eardrums will finally give out and rupture.  “I need the distraction.”

“Well, all right, if you say so,” Jimmy concedes, though he doesn’t seem convinced. “If there’s anything you need, pal… just say the word.”

Though he means the gesture to be genuine, the smile that stretches Clark’s mouth is strained, pulling on muscles he thought had atrophied over the last few weeks. “Thanks, Jimmy,” he says. “You’re a good friend.”

After Jimmy disappears down the hall, Clark turns towards Lois’ empty cubicle with a sigh, craving the comfort of her company. Her investigation in Washington pertains specifically to New Krypton, and he’s beyond grateful for the work she’s putting in.

He pulls out his phone, intending to return Diana’s message from a couple days ago. Scrolling through his recent calls, he tenses when he reaches Pa’s number. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to delete it, and he stares at it for a long time.

He doesn’t make a single call.

***

They always believe they can outrun him, Clark notes with exasperation, wondering if Flash often encounters the same issue. He wraps a metal pole around the three robbers he captured before turning to deal with the two who’d taken off by foot. As they run, the robbers turn to shoot at him, the bullets ricocheting off of Clark’s chest. Really, will they ever learn?

Busy as they are emptying their ammo on Clark’s chest, they don’t notice the dark figure that descends from above. Clark hardly needs the assist, but he stops and watches as the first robber is knocked down with a swift kick to his back. Wide-eyed, the second robber turns his attention to the figure, aiming the gun in his direction. Batman avoids it with ease, performing a flip right over the robber, kicking his legs as soon as he lands behind him. There’s fluidity to the way he moves, like poetry in motion. If Clark didn’t know better, he’d swear the man was flying.

The man aims his gun at Batman’s head a second time, but his reflexes are no match to the vigilante’s. Batman grabs his arm and twists, the sound of bone breaking almost as loud as the man’s scream. The gun scatters out of his grip, sliding on the ground until it lands at Clark’s feet.

“Was that really necessary?” Clark says, folding his arms over his chest. He steps on the barrel of the gun, assuring it cannot be fired but still admissible as evidence.

Batman makes quick work of tying up the two robbers, police sirens wailing in the distance. “It’s a clean break,” he responds. Clark’s X-Ray vision confirms as much. “We need to talk.”

They land on a secluded, dark rooftop of a skyscraper, city lights twinkling below them. A quick scan confirms there are no cameras that could compromise them and no aircrafts with a vantage point to capture the exchange.

Back turned to Clark, Batman observes Metropolis from the landing. He’s as still and silent as a statue, cape billowing in the wind.

You wanted to talk, so talk, Clark wants to snap, but bites his tongue. He knows better than to press the issue, but even after all these years, he’s irked at the way Batman monopolizes his time with so little regard. Instead, he puts his hands on his hips, tapping his foot as he waits.

Finally, Batman turns his head to address him. “We’ve got a situation.”

“If this is about New Krypton,” Clark begins, heart hammering in his ribcage, “I’m handling the situation.”

“I’m sorry about Zor-El,” says Batman, the modulator masking any emotion in his voice. He turns fully until they’re facing one another. “I understand your aunt seeks retribution for the attack that took his life.”

Clark clenches his fists. “As I said,” he speaks through gritted teeth, “I’m dealing with it.”

“Given how personal this situation is for you,” continues Batman, “some in the League are concerned about where your loyalties may lie. If you bothered turning up for a meeting, perhaps you could put those fears to rest.”

Clark feels a muscle in his jaw jump, heat rushing to the surface of his skin. “And what do you think, World’s Greatest Detective?”

“Given your aunt’s actions up to this point, I’m concerned about escalating conflict between Earth and New Krypton,” Batman says. “You, of course, will be caught in the crossfire. Your loyalty to the people of Earth, however, has never been in question. I only worry about the psychological effect having to make that kind of decision would have on you.”

The sentiment would mean more, Clark thinks, if he weren't staring at the impassive white lenses of a mask.

“I also think,” continues Batman, reaching for his cowl, “it’s a necessary discussion we will table for a later time. I’m here on a personal matter, not League business.”

Clark’s heartbeat speeds up and pulsates in his ears, chest growing tight as he holds his breath. Of course, he knows exactly who he’s been talking to, who inherited the mantle. The distinct way he moves alone would have given it away. Still, in that split second before the mask is removed, there’s the possibility of seeing his friend again.

A familiar pair of blue eyes meet his gaze, framed by a shock of black hair. The similarity is remarkable.

“Dick,” says Clark, trying to hide his disappointment. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s about Tim.” Dick takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He thinks Bruce is alive.”

A chill goes down Clark’s spine, body going rigid. “What?”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. There are heavy bags under his eyes. “He… doesn’t believe Bruce is really gone. He’s insisting we have to find him.”

Furrowing his brow, Clark opens and closes his mouth before settling on a response. “But… I don’t understand. He knows what happened. You both saw the body, read the report—”

“I’m aware,” Dick cuts in, an edge of impatience creeping into his tone. After a moment, he relaxes his jaw. “I’m worried about him. I think… maybe he’s reaching his limit. He’s lost so much this year alone and now that Bruce is gone… I’m scared of what it might do to him.”

Tim lost a father for the second time, Clark realizes with an aching heart. That on top of the other tragedies that have mired his life.

“Maybe I don’t have any business asking this of you,” Dick continues, “But I don’t know what else to do. He won’t listen to anything Alfred and I have to say on the matter. He refuses to let go. I was hoping that… maybe you could talk to him.”

“Dick,” Clark starts as gently as he can. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for your family. You know that. But if Tim won’t listen to you, what makes you think he’ll want to hear anything I have to say?”

“You were there,” is the curt explanation Dick provides. “You found his body. You… you were there.” Guilt flickers across his face. “Besides, I’m not exactly his favourite person these days. I took away the one thing he had left that meant something to him.” He’s trying so desperately to fill the void Bruce left in everyone’s life, to keep his family from crumbling under the grief.

Clark thinks of the ten-year-old who’s lost a father he’d hardly gotten to know, hiding his grief behind a Robin costume. “How is Damian?”

“Angry,” Dick says with a sigh, his eyes glazed over and far away. “Lost. Confused. Impulsive.”

Throughout the years, Clark had seen that same expression on Bruce’s face whenever he thought of Jason, all that he couldn’t do for him. Clark imagines Dick is thinking much the same.

“He’s a good kid,” says Clark. “If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.” He places a hand on Dick’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Tim will come around, too. He loved being Robin, but he loves you more.”

“Please,” Dick says, bowing his head. For a moment, he looks exactly like the little kid Clark first met fifteen years ago. “He’s my brother, and I can’t help him. I don’t know what else to do.”

“All right,” Clark agrees. “I can’t promise it’ll accomplish much, but I’ll talk to him.”

Dick abandons his military stance, rounding his back as some of the tension leaves his body. “Thank you.”

They stand shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the traffic below them, the blinding glow of headlights giving Clark a headache.

“I was thinking,” Clark starts, “About the day you came to see me at the Planet, after Bruce fired you.”

Dick snorts, lips quirking at the memory. “Not his finest moment.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Clark smiles. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at anyone like that. We didn’t speak for three weeks.”

A flash of surprise crosses Dick’s face. “He never told me that.”

“Of course he didn’t. He knew I was right.” Bruce never liked hearing truths he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “You were cultivating an identity of your own, building an independent life, and he feared there might not be any room in it for him.  He was terrified of losing you, so he pushed you away.”

“For all his brilliance, he was a goddamn idiot sometimes.”

The laugh that rolls off of Clark catches him by surprise, the sound of it foreign to his own ears. For the first time in their conversation, Dick sounds like himself, rather than an imitation of his father.

It had been so important to Dick to carve a path for himself, to create an identity that was his alone. When he had taken up the mantle of Nightwing, inspired by the Kryptonian myth Clark shared with him, Clark’s chest swelled with pride. Now, the same age Bruce had been when he first donned the cowl, Dick is giving all of that up, relinquishing the life he’s built to preserve a legacy. It’s not the kind of sacrifice someone so young should feel compelled to make.

“Dick,” Clark tries, biting his lip.  The pressure in his chest intensifies, grief squeezing his heart. “You don’t have to do this. There are other ways to honour him.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Dick steels his jaw. “You’ve made your feelings on the matter perfectly clear,” he says, “And I’ve done the same.”

Clark bows his head, shame flushing his cheeks. The first time he had seen him as Batman, Clark lost it. The words he hurled at Dick were cruel and fuelled by anger, accusing him of parading around in Bruce’s skin. Rao, he had nearly lost control of his heat vision, ready to strip Dick of the costume by any means.

When he finds his voice again, his mouth tastes like cotton. “It’s not what he would’ve wanted.”

That much, Clark knows unequivocally.

Dick puts on the cowl, turning away and walking towards the edge of the roof. “It’s what Gotham needs.”

“What about what you need?”

Dick turns his head. “Don’t worry about me, Superman,” is his curt reply before firing his grapple gun. “I’m Batman.”

***

It takes two tries to enter the right security code into the hidden panel, his shaking hands causing him to hit the wrong buttons. Another attempt would have triggered extensive and unpleasant safety measures. Once the fingerprint and retinal scans confirm his identity, the gate swings open with a small creak.

Clark stands frozen in front of the picturesque property, inspecting its perfectly manicured lawns and impressive architecture. The grounds of the Manor are completely unchanged from the last time he’d visited; nothing to reflect the devastating loss it sustained, the absence of its very soul. It seems impossible, when Clark feels it with every beat of his own heart, every breath drawn from his lungs.

Leaves crunch under his boots as he begins walking, his legs feeling heavier with every step. The lone figure sitting in front of the unmarked grave doesn’t react to his arrival. Tim has his arms wrapped around his legs, knees drawn to his chest with his chin resting on top of them. The thin t-shirt he’s wearing hangs loosely on his wiry frame, offering little protection from the cold October breeze. His hair is a little longer, falling messily across his forehead.

Clark settles next to him in silence. He’d done the same for Bruce, a few times, as he knelt by his parents’ graves, and later Jason’s, placing fresh flowers on the polished stones. Clark had kept a hand on his shoulder and said nothing as Bruce wept. The only comfort he could offer was his presence; all he could do was bear witness to his friend’s pain, so Bruce wouldn’t have to confront it alone.

He hasn’t been able to offer the same to Bruce’s family, these past few weeks.

“Wondered if you were going to come by,” Tim says after a time, voice rough with disuse. How long has he been sitting here, cold and immobilized with grief?

The words aren’t accusatory, but guilt still slices Clark like a shard of kryptonite. He shrugs out of his jacket, wrapping it around Tim’s shoulders. Tim doesn’t slide his arms through the sleeves, but doesn’t take it off, allowing it to engulf his smaller frame.

“Sometimes,” Clark starts, throat going dry as he pushes the words out, “most times, even—” he pauses to wet his lips, staring at his shaking hands. He can feel Tim’s eyes on him as he struggles to speak. “It was so easy to think of him as invincible.”

Bruce may have been one of few non-powered individuals on a team of metahumans, but there never seemed to be anything he couldn’t do. So much strength, brilliance, and competence that defied all odds. Despite the fractured bones he’d scanned countless times, the contusions and scars carefully hidden by armour, part of Clark believed the Bat would outlive them all. For fifteen years, night after night, Bruce survived the streets of Gotham. Until he didn’t.

“He’s out there, Clark,” says Tim. “He’s alive.”

Nothing could have prepared Clark for how excruciatingly painful those words were. He squeezes his eyes shut, a violent lurch unfolding in his chest. Is this how Dick felt, listening to his brother insist Bruce is alive while grappling with his own grief?

“Tim,” he starts, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I know you want that to be true. I know you miss him. We all do, but—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” Tim snaps, startling Clark into opening his eyes. “I know how it sounds. This isn’t denial, this isn’t grief. Why won’t any of you listen? He’s alive.” He takes a deep breath to regain composure, nostrils flaring. Gradually, he schools his features into calm apathy that betrays nothing.

It reminds Clark so much of Bruce that he has to look away. Outbursts were a rare thing to witness; anger always crackled underneath the surface, but it was always so carefully-controlled, channelled to where it could be used as an advantage.

I don’t want him to end up like me, Bruce had confessed to Clark only months ago, as Tim grieved his family, forever branded with the loss. On that dark Gotham rooftop, for the very first time, Clark heard fear in his friend’s voice. I can see too much of myself in him.

“I carried his body in my arms.” Even now, Clark bares its weight; like Atlas, eternally condemned to hold up the sky. “You saw it, too. You heard Dr. Mid-Nite’s analysis. It’s Bruce.”

“You were dead once, too,” says Tim, digging his fingers into the dirt. “It’s practically part of the job description.”

“You know that’s different.” Clark bows his head in shame, staring at his hands. Bruce was only human. Yet, even with all his abilities, Clark had been completely powerless to save him. Just as he’d been too late to save his father. What use were they if he could do nothing to save those he loved?

“Is it?”

There’s a moment of silence. “I can’t hear his heartbeat,” Clark finally says. “If he were—I’d be able to…” he pauses to wet his lips. “I thought that maybe, maybe it was just out of my reach. But I… I looked everywhere. Even went back to Apokolips. I can’t… I couldn’t hear it anywhere, Tim. It’s gone.”

Tim whimpers. When Clark turns to look at him, he has a hand over his eyes. Clark is suddenly reminded of just how painfully young he is. Too young to have lost so much, to shoulder so much of the world.

He reaches to place a comforting hand on Tim’s shoulder, only to have it knocked away. “There’s an explanation for it. There has to be. We don’t know much about the Omega sanction,” Tim lifts his chin, the knot of muscle at the side of his jaw pulsating.

Clark hangs his head. “I told myself that, too,” he admits. He had used every piece of technology at his disposal to assess different possibilities. Had made Hal replay the scene of Bruce’s death with his ring over and over again, a dozen times, until Hal placed a gentle hand on his back and said, Enough.

“He wouldn’t have given up on us,” Tim says, voice breaking. “Any of us. You all may have given up on him, but I won’t. I can’t. Bruce needs me.”

“There’s a difference between giving up and letting go, Tim.” Even as he says them, the words feel out of place on his tongue. The truth of the matter is, Clark has no idea how to let go.

“Not in this case,” Tim says. “I owe him too much.”

Something heavy settles in Clark’s stomach at that. “That’s not… he would never want you to think that,” he urges, furrowing his brow. “After Jason…” Clark tries, unable to complete the thought. “You were the one that saved him, Tim. Bruce thought of you as a son long before he signed the dotted line that made it official.”

Tim says nothing to that. “Did you ever tell him?” he asks instead, staring ahead at the unmarked grave. Clark’s expression must reflect his confusion, because Tim elaborates before he can ask. “How you feel about him.”

Loving Bruce had come as naturally as breathing, the feeling festering in his chest for years before he recognized it. Tim’s use of the present tense is accurate, too. Nothing, not even something as finite as death, holds the ability to eradicate all that he feels for Bruce.

He was fairly certain Bruce felt the same about him. Though they never spoke of it, the tension between them had always been too thick, the air too charged, for it not to be the case. The truth was, Bruce not reciprocating his feelings was not the worst case scenario. Clark knew exactly what would come to pass if he confessed his feelings, and it’s what he dreaded most. Bruce would admit to sharing those feelings, but refuse to allow himself to act on them. Because the mission came first. Because there was no room for something so frivolous and self-indulgent in their lives. Because it was too dangerous. Because of a million reasons Clark couldn’t bear to hear Bruce list.

“I didn’t think he’d wanna hear it,” is what he settles on saying, his voice so small he hardly recognizes it. He’ll never get the chance to now.

“I’m going to find him,” says Tim, hugging his knees closer to his chest and curling into them. Tears streak down his cheeks, but his voice is determined. “Whatever it takes, I’m gonna find him.”

Clark shuts his eyes, a tremor passing through his body. “There’s something you should know,” he starts. Speaking the words feels like swallowing stones. “I’m going away for a bit. Maybe… maybe more than a bit. There’s something I have to take care of.”

Tim nods. “New Krypton,” he concludes. Always the detective. “Your family needs you. And mine needs me.” He gets up and dusts the dirt off his clothes before beginning the walk back to the Mansion.

“Tim,” Clark calls after him. Tim stops but keeps his back turned. “You’re family to me, too. All of you.”

Tim’s entire body droops, as if finally collapsing from the weight chained to it. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I think he would’ve wanted to hear it.”

The words hit like a jolt of electricity, crackling down Clark’s spine as he watches Tim walk away. He sits in silence for a long time, pulling at the wet blades of grass beneath his hands, the gravity of his failure slamming square into his chest.

Even when he finds the strength to stand, his legs are wobbly, making for a painful trek back to the Mansion. He stands at the front door for ten minutes, staring at the expanse of wood before gathering the courage to ring the doorbell.

When Alfred opens the door, Clark’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of him. “Master Clark,” he greets, tone polite. His attire is immaculate as ever, suit crisp and freshly-pressed. It’s his haggard face, however, that belies the change in him, as if he’d aged years in the span of weeks. There are dark circles rimming his eyes, deep lines etched on his skin like battle scars. My son has died, he said when Clark and Diana had come to deliver the news, holding Bruce’s ruined uniform like an offering.

“Alfred,” Clark says, his own voice strained. He takes a step forward into the house, only making it through the threshold before he collapses onto his knees. Alfred catches him, his arms infinitely strong, accustomed to handling more weight than he should be able to carry. They don’t waver even when Clark’s entire body convulses with the force of his sobs.

“I’m sorry.” Clark presses the words into Alfred’s jacket, barely more than a whisper. Sorry for not having been around in the last few weeks, leaving Alfred to pick up the pieces of grieving children. Sorry for not being there to save Bruce in time. Sorry for having all these abilities, yet being so powerless, so utterly useless when it mattered most. “I’m so sorry.”

Alfred’s arms tighten around his shaking back, voice wet when he speaks. “It’s all right, son. It’s all right.”