~1~

Bruce stumbles away from the room, away from Clark's too-still body. Can't be dead; his mouth moves but the words won't come out. The scene around him shifts without warning to a small, windowless room where he can hear the fragile bones of Harley Quinn's hands snapping under the strength of his own. The room melts away once more and is replaced by walls lined with weapons and swirling, multi-coloured lights. The Joker towers above him ready to deliver a killing blow just as Clark leans over his shoulder.

"It's your fault," he says and his voice echoes when should be no echo. "You should have saved me."

The Joker brings down the length of 2x4 in his grasp and Bruce can hear the whistling sound it makes as it cuts through the air towards his head –

Bruce snapped into consciousness with a sharp exhalation of breath. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly before sitting up with one hand rising to brush sweaty hair from his forehead. He looked down to see Clark sleeping beside him, the sheets twisted around his legs and one arm tucked beneath the pillow. Bruce shook his head as if that could dislodge the dream, the same one he'd been having since Clark had died and come back to life. He brushed a hand across Clark's cheek, feeling warmth radiating off flushed skin and the steady in-out of breath ghosting over his fingertips.

Unbidden memories flooded him in vivid detail: entering the room in which Clark and Lois had been held captive, the single bulb swaying in the push of air created by the opening door, casting eerie shadows on cement walls and illuminating Lois's hunched form. He remembered the blood on her shirt and the hopeless expression in her eyes. Then his gaze had fallen on Clark; pant leg stained the colour of rust with dried, flaking blood and skin too pale to contain a hint of life.

"Nightmare?" Clark mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Sorry I woke you."

"S'okay, go to sleep, Bruce. Everything's okay." Clark's hand found his and tugged until Bruce lay back down. He settled their joined hands over his heart and slipped easily back into sleep.

In the dark Bruce listened to Clark draw in one breath after another.

o o o o o

Clark tossed a dishtowel to Chloe to wipe up the flour she'd tipped onto the counter, laughing when it caught in her hair and she mock-glared at him. Bruce was seated at the island with his sleeves rolled up and his fingers busy pressing pastry into a pie pan while he watched. Clark glanced over his shoulder at him and smiled before ducking out of the way as Chloe launched a handful of flour at his head. A hand brushed against Bruce's shoulder and he turned to see Martha leaning over his shoulder. She smiled kindly and moved towards her son a second later.

"Are you actually making something or just seeing how much flour you can get on the floor?" There was laughter in her eyes as she spoke. Clark leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek, leaving a smudge of the white powder in his wake. Martha moved back to the island to take the pan Bruce had just finished with and got started with the filling.

Clark appeared to his right a moment later and dropped an arm across his shoulder. "How are you and those pie crusts making out?"

"Great. I'm thinking of giving up my day job and going into the baking business."

Clark caught the faint hint of wistfulness in his voice. "You know," he said softly as he leaned closer, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "I think my mom is looking to do something a little less exciting after being a Senator. Maybe you two can start up your own mom-and-pop type bakery." Bruce elbowed him lightly in the stomach and Clark shifted out of the way, chuckling.

"As soon as you're done with that last one, I can start on dinner," Martha said to Clark and Chloe as deft hands laid a crisscross of pastry over the cherry filling.

Clark eyes the bowl of half-mixed ingredients sitting on the counter then glanced at the fridge where he knew the ham was waiting to go into the oven. Bumping Chloe gently out of the way with his hip, he had the pastry neatly rolled out and fitted into the pan a second later.

Martha shooed the three into the living room with coffee in hand a few minutes later. Clark settled on the floor in front of the couch, his legs stretched towards the crackling fire with Chloe next to him and Bruce at his back, splayed legs framing his broad shoulders. Bruce let the fingers of his free hand card through Clark's hair and Clark tilted his head back to smile as a knock at the door preceded Lois's greeting as she and Oliver entered with Jimmy in tow.

"Hey, Chlo. I found your boyfriend wandering aimlessly around the mean streets of Smallville. Figured I'd better bring him along before he hurt himself."
"I wasn't wandering. I missed the turn because I couldn't see the street signs. The wind is blowing all the snow around like crazy out there."

"Don't blame your faulty sense of direction on the weather, Jimmy."

"Do you guys want coffee? We just made a fresh pot." Chloe stood, effectively cutting Jimmy off as he tried to defend his honour.

"I'll help," he offered, following her through to the kitchen.

Lois dropped down onto the couch next to Bruce. "Wayne," she nodded at him.

"Ms. Lane."

Clark's shoulders hitched with silent laughter against Bruce's thighs as Chloe and Jimmy reappeared with Martha and a tray of steaming coffee mugs. Bruce let himself fall into the rhythm of the people around him as they relaxed, laughed, and helped get the Christmas Eve meal on the table. He found himself pulled from the moment when his phone rang shortly before they sat down to eat. Excusing himself, Bruce made his way up to Clark's room to answer.

"Alfred?"

"Master Bruce, you've received an urgent message from Commissioner Gordon. Your presence has been requested in Gotham. He's asked that you meet him as soon as possible."

Bruce sighed as his eyes moved around Clark's childhood bedroom, listening to the muffled sounds of conversation from below. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Moving back downstairs, he caught Clark's eye and lifted his chin in the direction of the front hall. Clark set down the dish he'd been carrying and followed him to the door. "I'm sorry, Clark, I have to leave for a few hours. Gordon's asked for my help."

"Do you want us to come with you?"

"There's no need to pull you and Oliver away from everyone."

"I don't mind."

Bruce offered him a quick smile. "But I do." He didn't mention that Gordon had asked only for him. Clark would have followed him anyway if he told him that.

Clark nodded in acceptance. "Get your coat. I'll let my mother know I'll be right back."

"Give her my apologies."

Clark left Bruce alone in the hall, reappearing soon after with his coat already on. "Are you sure you don't want us to come with you?"

Bruce's eyes flicked back in the direction of the kitchen as the sound of clinking cutlery was followed by a burst of laughter. The knowledge that Clark almost hadn't been around to see this Christmas played at the forefront of his thoughts. "I'll call if I need help. Stay with your family, Clark." He fixed a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. Clark either didn't notice or let him get away with it – the latter, knowing Clark.

"Alright." Clark opened the front door and stepping out into the cold winter afternoon. "Let's go."