As he entered the shattered domains, a woman was sitting in front of their leader. On her knees.
She turned around to face the intruder and Bruce reacted by quickly tucking himself away. He said something to the woman in Spanish. Kal didn't understand it all, but he definitely thanked the woman named Aina. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and offered her the other as a help to get on her feet. She accepted it, asking him something in Spanish as well. Something about disappointment?
"No, no", he reassured her, "de ninguna manera."
He then followed her to the door with a kind but firm push. Kal moved aside. She noticed his condescending look and the fury he had towards Bruce, which made her look away in shame. As soon as Bruce had closed the door behind her, Kal couldn't hold back his scornful remark any longer:
"Is this how you use your power?"
"Don't!" was the only reply Bruce offered accompanied by a raised hand. But he wasn't going to get off the hook that easily:
"This sort of thing was wrong even when you straddled around Gotham like some playboy, but to take advantage of your position like that now? What the heck are you thinking?"
He ignored the angry Kryptonian the best he could as he crossed the room in long, measured steps. In the room were a savored desk from one of the many office buildings in Gotham and a chair from a dining room set, both in excellent condition. They had no doubt been given to him as tribute from some of the scavengers.
"Did you come to ask me something" he continued as he took his seat, sending Kal the manager-look the alien knew from a previous life. A life where he had been a reporter employed by one of the richest men in the neighboring city.
"Bruce, would you at least acknowledge my-" but he didn't get to finish his sentence before Bruce smashed his fists into the table in front of him. The look of the manager had suddenly turned into the famous bat-glare.
"I will NOT take this from you, Clark! So let. it. go."
He insisted on calling Kal by his adopted Earth name. It only annoyed him slightly and only because Kal understood why. It was Bruce's way of reminding him what he once was – and what he still was in the eyes of one of his previous life's closest allies: Maybe not human, but a person nonetheless.
"Your reaction only proves that you know you were wrong to take advantage of that poor woman…"
"Advantage?" Bruce yelled, but he stayed in his chair. "You really think I invited her here? You really think that was all for me?"
"It sure looked that way" Kal insisted, his arms still crossed over the S on his chest. Bruce might not be in the suit, but he himself had often stated that the heroes' humanity were long gone. They were needed as more than men and women now. They were needed as more than heroes. They were needed as hope to inspire the few survivors to live on. And he had somehow managed to become the greatest symbol of all.
"Do you have any idea how many women offer their bodies to me every day?" He was still gnarling the words, but his heartbeat had slowed down, Kal noticed.
"That doesn't give you the right to-"
- but Bruce denied him to finish his sentence once again:
"They need to do something they think helps, Clark. Something that makes them think they contribute to the larger picture."
"That's your explanation?" the hero scuffed. Bruce might be right that he was once naïve, but he had never been gullible.
"What? You think they do it because I can give them something?"
He spread out his arms in a dramatic gesture. Except from the table and the chair, there was not much else but dust and leftover pieces of rubble made to build his 'domains'. In the corner was a stretcher, probably taken from Leslie's clinic in Crime Alley, if Kal knew his friend's sentimentality.
"And they sure don't do it because of my good looks…" he made sure the Kryptonian saw the scarred side of his face and his white, milky eye. The hair in his left side never did grow back either.
"Then let them volunteer to look after the children. Or to the troops of scavengers. Or one of your thousand other little operations."
"You know perfectly well that no one enters this society without doing their part." He leaned back in his chair and offered a creepy smile that he knew would blow his old friend's disgust through the roof:
"Besides… They do help."
He didn't even let the Kryptonian start his accusations this time before offering an explanation in a more friendly tone:
"Clark" he established eye contact and leaned in over the table. His sinister smile became a troubled frown before he continued. "I right now bear the weight of 2.16 million souls that look to me in order to not only feed and house them in this barren and desolate world. They look to me for hope. On top of that, I run the only rescue team we know of, consisting of the 14 known remaining metha humans that have the ability to fly, teleport or who can tap into the speedforce."
Kal wanted to acknowledge and thank Bruce for his efforts, but the new world's leader of course wouldn't let him:
"I am not super-anything, as I am sure you remember. And I'm not getting any younger either. So not having a bed to sleep in, a hot shower or even a goddamn cup of decent coffee for 126 days is taking its toll on me, believe it or not."
He paused to rub his closed eyes. 126 days. More than four months since…
"Bruce, you don't need to do all of that" Kal offered. He stepped up close and leaned in over the mahogany desk in order to place a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, but was of course shaken off.
"Don't act like I had a choice, Clark!"
The anger was back in his voice. He never had forgiven Kal for taking off that day. The day. For leaving the responsibility to him, when people needed their champion the most. For taking Diana with him and not showing his face for weeks.
"You still blame me for leaving the watchtower that day" Kal felt it necessary to say.
They had been in a meeting with the board members of the league. Nothing unusual on the agenda. They had been bickering about the location of some security cams in the shared areas of the HQ, when Wally had suddenly frozen up. His seat was the only one facing the window.
His constant tapping his feet and clicking his pen had stopped, but only for a second. Only enough for Batman to notice. Then J'onn had fallen to his knees, holding his head with both hands, screaming in agony. And then they had all seen:
The Earth, the entire planet, had been covered by what seemed a layer of soot. Aquaman got on his feet, his reaction time only beaten by Diana, who had placed protective hands and a comforting look on Martian Manhunter.
Arthur stepped over to the window and was the first to speak. He uttered only a small "no…" to describe the greatest defeat the league had ever faced and the greatest catastrophe the world had ever known.
"You should have stayed and planned our next move" Bruce offered as his only answer. It hurt. He heard that in Clark's response:
"Well, we can't all be above our own emotions like you, Bruce" he sneered. "For God's sake, I had to think of my wife!"
Bruce couldn't keep calm. It seemed like they had had this discussion a million times in the two months Superman had been back. He rose quickly to his feet, careful not to trip the chair behind him.
"YOU should have been thinking about THE GREATER GOOD instead of running off like some…"
"Like some what, Bruce?"
His eyes got red. But even without the kryptonite, Bruce didn't fear him. He wouldn't dare kill the world's greatest hope of survival.
"You don't think I and the others thought about our families?"
Bruce made sure to let that set in the air. He had managed to keep J'onn, Wally and O'Brian in the tower, but Arthur and Diana had taken off right after Superman – something they might not have done if their 'leader' had kept his own emotions in check and delegated his troops. Luckily, others were at the watchtower. And since Batman had shot down all teleporters after Aquaman and Diana left, he had managed to get them all to act accordingly.
"You think I didn't wonder about Tim or Jim or Cassandra or Lucius or Barbara or Dick or Alfred or…" he had to pause before he was able to add a teary "All of them."
His jaw began to tremble. His good eye glossed over. Kal had never actually seen Bruce cry. Not even after all of this.
"I lost them all, Clark… my sons, my granddaughter, Alfred, my whole city… Even Selina, Clark. This took them all. All of them… I am the only one left…"
Kal wanted to say something but didn't dare. He felt the only proper response was to hold Bruce. To let him get it all out. To let him mourn. He probably never gave himself the time for that.
"And if I and some surviving women find comfort in such rare moments as the one you just ruined, then who are you to judge us, Clark?"
He couldn't answer that.