seriousfic

Title: Duality
Fandom: Nolanverse Batman, Superman Returns
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,378
Characters/Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Talia Head
Previous Part: Chapter 26
Next Part: Chapter 28
Summary: Bruce’s alliance with Clark is shaken when Superman makes the ultimate act of trust.

The holographic screen shrunk to nothing, mercifully taking the Joker’s face with it. The absence of its projection cast the Fortress of Solitude into darkness.

Clark placed his most consoling pat on Bruce’s shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you like. There’s about a hundred guest rooms, so take your pick.”

“I’m going back to Gotham. I’m going to face him down and tell him I’m not afraid.”

“Bruce, don’t be stupid. This is your pride talking, not your intellect.”

“Pride? My city trembles in fear, Kal-El. I can’t abandon her. The people need someone to rally behind. If we all stand as one…” While not overtly shying away from Clark’s touch, Bruce’s temperature seemed to drop until Clark just had to take his hand away. “If I can’t do it as Batman, I’ll do it as Bruce Wayne.”

Clark didn’t scowl as he danced his fingers over a crystal. Through a satellite uplink, the Daily Planet database was accessed and headlines of Bruce the playboy covered the walls. “The problem with that is people think of you as a womanizing trust-fund baby who burnt down his own mansion.”

“I wouldn’t be the first delinquent who made good. My old persona was necessary to divert suspicion. Maybe it’s time to shed that skin for a more useful one.”

Clark cleared the walls with a swipe of his hand. “Listen to yourself! You’re talking about who you are.”

Who I am? What’s that mean? I’m the same man, doing the same thing, no matter what mask I may wear at the moment. “I can’t keep up the illusion that I’m a spineless geek while the people I care about are in pain. Maybe you can, but it’s inhuman to deny that part of yourself.”

Instantly, just from the kicked-puppy look on Clark’s face, Bruce knew ‘inhuman’ was the wrong word to us. And for the first time since Rachel had slapped him across the face, he felt a hot blush of shame creeping up his neck.

“I’m not spineless, I’m mild-mannered,” Clark said stiffly. “And it’s who I am. My whole life hasn’t been consumed by some… mask.”

“Just five years of it.”

Clark crossed his arms, stung. “That’s not fair. And the Joker must have you really riled up if you’re taking cheap shots like that.” He sat down across from Bruce, rounding his arms down to his lap. “He scares you, doesn’t he?”

Bruce didn’t answer. Just tapped a staccato pattern into the tabletop, three beats then stop, three beats then stop.

“Bruce?”

“He’s right,” Bruce said at last, thumping the tabletop with closed knuckles.

“About what?”

“People.” Clark shook his head, but before he could get started, Bruce snorted in derision. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I could be gone a hundred years and the Joker would be dead wrong.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, perversely becoming more impenetrable as he seemed to ‘relax’. “Someone once told me that if you create enough hunger, everyone becomes a criminal. He was right.”

“The human heart is subject to monstrous deceits, but we… You… can still be a great people.”

“How can you still believe that?”

“It’s easy. I look at you. You took the darkness that covered you and you turned it into something… miraculous. You’ve given Gotham hope.”

“Hope I can’t live up to,” Bruce confessed.

“You will. If you don’t give up.” Clark leaned partway across the table. “You’ve never asked why I left.”

“I’ve never needed to know. You must’ve had your reasons.”

“Part of why I left is… after Zod, people looked at me differently. I was used to unanimous approval. But people started… suspecting me.“

“Guilt by association. I’m familiar with it.”

“I was weak. The thought of being with people who were like me… who didn’t fear me, even a little bit…” He squeezed his fists in front of his chest, as if he could pull how much it meant out of the air and show it to Bruce.

“Fear’s a powerful force,” Bruce said, understanding. “But I’m not the one you have to tell this to.”

“Yes, you are. Because if I ever… go bad—”

“You won’t.”

”I could. You have no idea how much effort it is to hold back, to rein it in, to keep control. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. You know, just after Zod’s defeat, I told the President I would never leave again.” He laughed harshly. “Great job I did of keeping that promise, eh?” He didn’t look for sympathy. “There’s something I want you to have.” He took a ringbox from his belt and tossed it to Bruce.

Bruce turned it over in his hands. “First watches, now rings. I hope you won’t think me a prude if I don’t put out.”

“It’s lead-lined. Don’t open it.”

Bruce set it down like its radiation could harm him. “No.”

“I’d like to think I’m a force for good in the world. But if that ever changes, the man I am right now wants you to stop me. I would rather die than—“

“People don’t just… go bad like that. People don’t break that way. You’re the finest man I’ve ever met, you would never… Damnit, Clark!” He kicked the ringbox into the depths of the Fortress. “You have a destiny. It’s not to die at my hand. If you were evil, there’d be some sign of it, but it’s just not in you!

“It’s in everyone. But so is the potential to rise above it, like you have.”

“I’m no hero.”

Clark disappeared, reappeared with the ringbox. He held it out to Bruce. ”When the time comes, you will be. Promise me, Bruce. Please.”

Bruce took it. “If you ever go rogue, I swear I will do everything in my power to bring you back.”

“And if you can’t?”

He tucked the ringbox away like it was something poisonous. “Then it’ll be quick and painless. Don’t you ever go rogue.”

“Not planning on it. But hold on to that anyway. I’d rather be dead than a monster.”

***

Superman returned Bruce to his estate as quickly as he’d taken him from it. Bruce broke into a light jog to put the ringbox away, throwing it into a vault with his mother’s jewelry and changing the combination code. When his breath returned to his chest, he heard Alfred talking.

“Pardon me for asking, sir, but the Joker is planning to kill you by the end of the week, is he not?”

Bruce set off for the cave. “Aren’t you a little old to be afraid of clowns?”

Alfred trailed after him with the tea tray in hand. “As much as you see this millionaire playboy…”

“Billionaire playboy,” Bruce corrected.

“--blimey-rich person image as an extension of your nocturnal exploits, it’s become a liability. What’s the point of being in Gotham if someone’s after you as both Bruce Wayne and Batman?”

“To show the people of Gotham that we don’t have to be afraid. I’ve spent enough time slandering my family name as a smokescreen.” He stopped in front of a large mirror at the end of the hallway. “Maybe I can actually use it to do some good.”

“A noble sentiment, sir, but I’m not sure now’s quite the best time. It’s easy to mistake the brave for the foolhardy, at a distance.”

“You’re suggesting I cut and run?”

“I suggest you make use of that double identity of yours. Bruce Wayne can do the smart thing, while Batman does the right thing.”

“And what would Talia think of that?” Bruce asked, like that was the ultimate argument.

Alfred reared up. “Pleased as I am to know you’ve found someone worth more than distant admiration, perhaps now isn’t the proper time.”

“And when would be the proper time? Harvey doesn’t want me here, Barbara wants to take my place, the city’s not getting any better… so why can’t I stop?”

“Your parents raised a moral lad, who would never shirk his responsibilities. You won’t quit because you’re your father’s son.”

“Or maybe I’m just as addicted to hurting people as the Joker. At least Barbara wants to help people. I just want to punish them. I… did I really say I was doing this because of what Talia would think of me?”

“I believe you did, sir.”

Bruce abruptly headed off.

“Where are you going now, Master Wayne?”

“I think it’s time for Talia and I to discuss our feelings for each other.”

***

He slipped by Ubu and picked the lock to get in. He wanted to catch her unaware. He wanted to bend her to his power like the ocean in a hurricane. He wanted answers.

Talia’s living space was spartan in a way that Bruce himself would strive for if it weren’t for the clutter his civilian identity demanded of him. But like a desert, it had its own sort of beauty… and Talia’s lush sensuality fit right in, like an oasis.

“We need to talk.”

“About what, Bruce?”

“You.” He stalked her around the bed as she sat on it. “I keep thinking about you. In fact, I can’t stop thinking of you.”

“Nor I you.”

“I doubt that. I have an exceptionally regimented mind. For something to intrude on my thoughts while I’m focused, on something else… would be impossible.”

“But isn’t that what it means to be in love?”

“I considered that possibility,” Bruce admitted. “But I don’t know you that well. The far more likely conclusion is that you’re somehow influencing my will. How? A subliminal message, a drug, hypnosis? How are you doing this to me?”

“Are you afraid to be loved so much that you’ll concoct such outlandish stories?”

“I’m neither capable of or worth such love.”

“I beg to differ. Everyone deserves to be loved. That’s why my father failed you. You didn’t need a mission, you already had one. You needed a family. A father. A wife.”

“Your… father.” Bruce’s head felt full of sand.

“My apologies. When I saw you arrive here on the security camera, full of fire and passion, I put on more of my perfume than usual. On my wrists, my neck, my nipples. I trust the scent is not… overpowering.”

Bruce felt the sand in his skull pouring into his loins like through an hourglass. His lips moved, but all they could form were crude consonants.

“We’re perfect for each other, my beloved. Both of us lost our fathers to criminals. And we both shall have our revenge,” she said as she pulled him to the bed.

***

Bruce really had to find out who did the Penguin’s contracting. The Iceberg Lounge was as pristine as its namesake, while his ballroom was still awaiting estimates.

He helped Talia when she slipped on the icy floor.

“Sorry. High heels do not good traction make.”

“Tell me about it.” He again steadied her with a hand on the small of her back. “Want me to carry-“

“Would you?” She took off her pumps and handed them to him.

Cobblepot, entertaining guests with tales of his criminal past, perched on Talia’s arm. “My dear, we’ve just barely met, but you already have my undying gratitude for bringing such an august personage as Bruce Wayne into my humble establishment.” He kissed each of her fingers.

“She heard there was a gunfight here. I said the food couldn’t be that bad. We decided to see for ourselves.”

Cobblepot’s cigarette holder drooped. “Indeed.”

“As long as you’re here, could you help us find our table? Dent, party of four?”

Cobblepot stabbed his umbrella at a table. “That way.”

“Much obliged.”

They left him to his fuming.

“Sorry about that,” Bruce said to Talia. “I have this thing about criminals.”

“Then a strong commitment to justice is one more thing we have in common, beloved.”

Harvey and Gilda had been seated next to the kitchen. Gilda was poring through the menu, while Harvey was carving something obscene into the table with his silver dollar.

“What looks good?” Bruce asked, drawing a seat out for Talia.

“The ‘not giving business to a psycho restaurateur’, but that’s not on the menu,” Harvey grumbled.

“Friends close, enemies closer, Harv.”

Four martinis were set down in front of them by a slender female hand.

“Great service,” Bruce commented.

“On the house,” the blonde replied before pulling up a chair. “Chloe Sullivan, Gotham Gazette. Can I have a moment?”

“Take two, they’re small.”

“What brings you back to Gotham after the Joker’s threat against your life?”

“I was in the mood for shrimp.”

“Is that on the record?”

“On the record, I won’t let some two-bit thug with an unpaid therapy bill bully me into not living my life. If I do, he wins. I have the utmost faith in the GCPD.”

“And what about the Batman?”

“Send a freak to catch a freak,” Harvey growled.

“I think what my good friend means to say is that I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Odd behavior from a billionaire playboy who so far has seemed to relish being a self-absorbed, self-involved, self-satisfied trust fund baby… no offense.”

“None taken.”

Talia took Bruce’s hand. “My beloved has turned over a new leaf. I can only credit myself as a positive influence.”

“And you are?”

“Talia Head.”

“…care to elaborate?”

“No, I do not.”

“Bruce Wayne’s never been known for long-term relationships, even when he isn’t getting death-threats from homicidal clones. What makes you the exception?”

“Bruce,” Talia answered. “I’m afraid the poor wretch has gone and fallen hopelessly in love with me. Silly of him, really.”

“One thing I’ll say for mortal peril… it makes you think of who you’d miss. And as anyone who knows me will tell you, I won’t let a criminal take over my life. Which brings me to what I wanted Harvey and Gilda to be the first to know. Miss Sullivan, I don’t suppose you could cover your ears and hum really loud?”

“Not on your life.”

“Okay then. I’ve asked Talia to be my wife and she’s done me the honor of saying yes. As of tonight, Bruce Wayne is off the market.”