AUTHOR'S NOTE: At this point I would like to warn my readers. From this point on, this story is an MPREG. If you don't like that sort of thing, you can stop now and you're left with a lovely story of Bruce and Clark falling in love. That said, I hope you will continue reading and give this story a shot.

HOPE

Stretching slowly, Bruce let consciousness come to him slowly. Comfortably splayed out in the middle of the bed, he knew Clark was up already. Eyes still closed, he listened for any nearby sounds and frowned when he didn't hear any. Then, he heard rapid footsteps climb up the stairs. Smiling again, he figured Clark just realized he was awake.

But, he was wrong.

Sharp and loud, a thunderous knocking rang out. Hysterical, Martha's voice screamed, "Bruce! Bruce, come quick. Clark's collapsed."

Up and dressed in an instant, he pulled the door open. Martha didn't hesitate. She turned on her heel at the sight of him and proceeded to run down the stairs. Out the front door, she ran past the barn, across a small pasture and disappeared into a cornfield. All the while, Bruce followed closely behind her, stopping only when they came to the back of the cornfield. There, beside a halfway patched fence, laid Clark.

Advancing slowly, he knelt down. Clark looked pale, but his skin didn't have the sick greenish pallor that accompanied kryptonite poisoning. Touching his face, he noted that the normally above average warmth was considerably cooled. Looking up at the Kents, he asked, "What happened?"

"We were repairing the fence when suddenly he just staggered off to the side and fell. I called for Ma and she ran for you," answered Jonathan as he pulled the crying woman closer to him.

Pulling a small black box from his pocket, Bruce stood up and pushed the transit button. He nodded when he heard J'onn's voice.

"Watchtower here. How can I assist you, Batman?"

"J'onn, I need you to clear the medical wing of anyone who isn't a founding member."

"That will be difficult. Blue Beetle was brought in a couple hours ago with extensive injuries."

"Do it anyway. I'm with Superman. He needs to be transported directly to the medical bay and neither of us is in uniform."

"Understood," came the only response after a significant pause.

Kneeling beside Clark again, Bruce looked at the Kents and said, "As soon as I know anything, I'll contact you."

"We're ready for you, Batman."

"I'm beside Superman. Activate transport."

A circle of light surrounded them and a second later they were gone.

At the Watchtower, Bruce grabbed Clark and dragged him up his feet. He recognized the room as one of the operating rooms in the medical bay. Once he had Clark on his feet, J'onn entered the room, locking the door behind him. Taking a hold of Clark, he easily lifted him onto the surgical bed.

After a quick recount of the morning's events, they worked. Running test after test, they could find no cause for Clark's unconscious state. They found no residual radiation. They found no evidence of any poisoning at all. Clark's dense molecular structure rendered x-rays and internal scanners worthless. Through it all, Clark laid there, breathing softly. Beyond his paleness, he showed no signs of distress. He appeared to be sleeping comfortably.

"You say he just passed out. I can find no good reason for it. Perhaps JLA technology is simply inadequate to diagnose his condition."

"You're right. I have to take him to his fortress."

Placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder, J'onn assured, "Get him on one of the gurneys. I'll clear the corridors from here to the hanger. Wait until I contact you."

With a single nod, Bruce agreed. After J'onn left, Bruce returned to Clark's side. Placing his hand on his forehead, he let his hand slide up into silky curls. Leaning forward, he whispered, "I know you're in there somewhere. Just hold on. I'll find a way to help you. I'm not losing you yet."

At the Fortress of Solitude, Bruce landed the Batwing just outside the large door. Pulling Clark from the jet, he managed to cross over to the door and place Clark's hand against it. Immediately, the door opened and Kelex hovered out. The Kryptonian service robot quietly assessed the situation before turning his back on them and motioning for Bruce to follow.

Once inside, several other service robots filed in and surrounded them. Each took a hold of Kal-El as they kept calling him. They lifted him up and carried him over to the science lab. They placed him in a bio pod and closed the hatch. The computer systems in the room roared to life. Kelex took his place at the main computer station. A few other robots remained to work various controls, but the rest left without a word.

Once the robots had taken Clark, Bruce remained in the background. Listening to them converse in Kryptonian, he followed quietly. The only word he recognized was "Kal-El" and only because Clark had told him once that Kal-El was his Kryptonian birth name.

In the science lab, he stood by the door. He watched the robots work. If the moment wasn't so dire, he would have laughed as the diminutive machines floated by, their long, two fingered hands clacking as they performed their duties. The bobble effect of their cone shaped heads and large, round crystal faces had Bruce nodding absently as they passed by him.

Finally, the bio pod opened and Clark stumbled out of it completely naked. A service robot appeared at his side and handed him one of his spare Superman suits. Pulling it on, he started to stumble as he pulled the tights up.

Instantly, Bruce was at his side.

Without words, Bruce helped him finish dressing. With a firm arm wrapped around Clark's waist, Bruce steered him over to a nearby command chair. Once seated, Clark laid his head back and closed his eyes. He moaned for a second before looking up at Bruce. It took a moment for his blurred vision to clear. With a smile, he nodded and asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember doing morning chores with my Pa. We...We were patching the back fence. I was driving the poles into the ground. I turned to grab another one and the whole world spun. After that everything went dark until I woke up in the bio pod."

"It seems you fainted."

"That's impossible," he replied with a sneer. Sitting up straighter, he countered, "I don't get sick and I certainly don't faint."

"Don't kill the messenger," replied Bruce as he placed his hand palm down across Clark's forehead, feeling that his body temperature had mostly returned to its normal warmth. Although the man seated before him was clearly exhausted, he was no longer pale. Glancing over at the service robots, he saw they were still working at the computer controls. Looking back at Clark, he stated, "I don't know what happened to you, but I think they do."

Narrowing his eyes, Clark sat forward. Placing his hands on the armrests, he called out in a commanding voice, "Kelex. Zgham."

The small robot stopped what he was doing and flew over to Clark. Stopping right in front of him, the robot bowed his head and said, "Zhi, Kal-El cheh."

"Fehl," commanded Clark. The robot looked up at him while lights on its head blinked on and off. Turning with its body first, Kelex flew over to the station he just left and started pushing buttons.

Before them, a view screen appeared. First, a picture of the planet Krypton appeared. Kelex began his report. Then, a series of pictures appeared showing sad and forlorn Kryptonians holding small bundles in their arms or standing beside small pods. Next, a picture of a Kryptonian man appeared. It was a formal portrait and showed the man standing with his right hand raised up, the image of an atom resting in his open hand.

The next picture made a distinct chill of doom run up Bruce's spine. As the entire thing was in Kryptonian, Bruce could only watch and try to glean what information he could from the pictures that accompanied the presentation. However, there could be little doubt about the meaning behind the picture currently displayed. There on the screen was a man who in every way resembled Clark. If not for the green track suit and the matching headband, he might have believed it was Clark. Instead, he figured it must be Jor-El, Clark's father. That, of course, was not what bothered him. No, rather, it was the man's prominent stomach. Glancing down at Clark, he started to feel a little light-headed as he watched Clark place a hand over his lower abdomen.

Quickly, the screen disappeared only to be replaced by a hologram. A beautiful brunette appeared. She was dressed in a simple white and silver gown. The hologram walked up to them and started speaking. Her face was kind and her voice gentle. By the end of her speech, she seemed excited.

Staring up at his birth-mother, Clark felt sick. He kept glancing up at Bruce and was amazed the man was still standing there. He knew Bruce was smart enough to have figured out the subject of Kelex's presentation. Finally, Lara stopped speaking and stood there looking at him expectantly. It was at this lull that Bruce found his voice.

"Do you want to explain all that?"

"I'm not sure I can."

"Try," demanded Bruce as Clark stood up and started to pace. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed that the hologram was following Clark's movements. Clark seemed to mutter to himself, his hand still placed over his abdomen. Bruce allowed this for a minute before he asked, "Clark, what did Kelex say?"

Stopping in mid-step, Clark looked back at Bruce. He swallowed twice before he answered, "Long ago, on Krypton, there was a medical crisis. The Kryptonian population suffered from an inability to procreate. At first, the women lost the ability to conceive naturally. They used a form of in vitro fertilization to overcome the problem. Then, the women lost the ability to carry a child to term.

"The population decreased by half before a prominent scientist by the name of Kru-Zan came up with a solution. He genetically altered Kryptonian males to be able to carry a fetus to term. His testing had revealed the problem was environmental. There was a chemical that attacked hormones women only produced when they were pregnant. Kru-Zan traced the chemical to an engineered source, but by then, also discovered that it so permeated the planet that removing it was impossible.

"Initially, he tried altering female bio-chemistry but found his attempts were unsuccessful. Either the female test subjects died as a result of the procedure or both the female test subject and her mate died because the procedure changed the female's biological signature, making her unable to maintain her bond with her bondmate.

"So, he turned to the male portion of the population. He found he was able to endow them with the ability to procreate without changing their bio-signature and also without employing the hormones the chemical disrupted. Every man on Krypton was ordered to undergo the procedure.

"As a result, the population surged back. Several generations passed and eventually the male population didn't have to be medically altered. Slowly, boys were born with the ability at birth. By the time of my planet's demise, this was the rule more so than the exception."

Walking up to Bruce, Clark placed his hands on his shoulders. Looking him square in the eye, he said, "I don't know any other way to say this, but to say it. I'm pregnant."

Bruce just stood there. Just. Stood. There. Nothing. He said nothing. His face was blank. His body was rigid.

"Bruce?"

No response.

"Bruce?"

Nothing.

"Bruce!"

Blinking rapidly, Bruce took in a deep breath after Clark yelled his name. Taking a couple steps back, he broke away from Clark's hold. Glancing at the hologram that was still following them around the room with her eyes, his scientific mind kicked in. Squaring his shoulders, he looked back at Clark and asked, "Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, the test results are clear."

"Is the fetus viable? Does the computer even know if Kryptonian and Human genes are compatible?"

Quickly, Clark's face scrunched up. Walking away, he approached the hologram. Motioning first to himself and then to Bruce, he said, "Ieiu? Tanahnoo zhehiodia khuhp tiv aos fis? Tiv Nahn zhaolum Rth."

Smiling serenely, she answered. Clark thanked her and turned back to Bruce. "She says the computers have already examined the child. Human and Kryptonian genetics are generally compatible. This child specifically is healthy. She foresees no problems."

"How long have you known about this? How long have you known that you have this ability?"

"The first I heard about it was Kelex's report."

"All this time, all these years, that robot never told you this before."

"Never. My parents never took me to a doctor. They feared that I'd be taken away from them. My birth mother, Lara, just told me that they always hoped I would have children but didn't think it possible because I was bonded to Lois. They didn't know she was dead. They didn't think it was something that would ever happen."

"So they decided you didn't need this information."

"Yeah."

"Just like that."

"I'm afraid so. I've told you before. The fortress does this sort of thing a lot."

"That's great. That's just great. I want to take a sledgehammer to this place."

"I know. Me, too."

"I see," replied Bruce. Wrapping both hands around the base of his skull, he shut his eyes tightly. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing deeply, before he looked Clark directly in the eyes and asked, "So what do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you keeping it?"

"Do you not want me to?"

"This doesn't really involve me."

"What? This is your child, too."

"Excuse me, Clark, but I'm an American man raised post-Roe v. Wade. All my life I've been taught that it's not my choice. I don't get a say. I just have to live with whatever you choose."

"Oh, I see. Well, what do you want to do?"

"I want to go back in time and tell my past self to wear a condom before we have sex. Of course, I didn't think my male lover could get pregnant and, since you're Kryptonian, I knew you wouldn't be carrying any diseases so I just left the packets in the drawer. Now, I wish I hadn't."

"I'm sorry, Bruce. I swear I didn't know."

"I know, Clark. I know you didn't know. It's not your fault and I'm not blaming you. It's just that I've always been very careful to avoid this very thing."

"Oh."

"Yes. So, what are you going to do?"

"I still want to know what you want."

"I never wanted biological children. A small child, a baby, is not compatible with my mission. There's a reason both of my sons were older when I adopted them. They didn't require extreme care. They didn't take from my ability to guard Gotham. Later, Dick proved to be trainable, gifted, as if he was born to be a crime fighter. Jason never showed the same prowess but he learned quickly and was very determined. They aided in my mission, but a baby could never do that."

"There's more to life than a mission, Bruce."

"Not for me. Look, Clark, when this started, when I agreed to bond with you, it was under the premise that being with you didn't get in the way of my mission. As we got closer, as our feelings got involved, I reasoned that I could always pull away if those feelings hindered my mission in any way. But, this... This isn't something one can return. If this child gets in the way of my mission, I can't send it back. I can't undo it as if it never happened. So, if you ask me what I want then I say I don't want this. I think you should have an abortion and we should be more careful in the future."

Looking down, Clark quickly shut his eyes. Placing a hand over his stomach, he stepped back. Turning back to the hologram, he softly ordered, "Ewuhsh."

Quickly, the hologram faded away. Opening his eyes, he just stared at the empty space where his mother once stood. Slowly, he backed away until he came to his chair and sank down in it. Looking down at his clasped hands, he spoke softly, "I didn't expect you to jump for joy, but I certainly didn't expect that."

Cautiously, Bruce approached him. Crouching down, he covered Clark's hands with his right hand and tried to assure him. "Clark, I told you. I'll go along with whatever you choose to do."

"I think you should go now."

"Not without you, Clark."

"I'll get home by myself."

"You passed out from doing farm work. What do you think is going to happen if you try to fly? Come on, I'll fly you back to your parent's farm in the Batwing."

Clark shook his head before, after a heavy sigh, he nodded. Standing up, he made his way to the door. As he passed Bruce, he shrugged off the offered hand.

In the end, Clark opted to be returned to his apartment in Metropolis. Cloaked in darkness, Bruce hovered over the roof of Clark's apartment building. Wearing clothes Bruce loaned him, Clark jumped from the Batwing. He heard Bruce remind him to call his Mother and tell her he was alright. Clark laughed at that as he walked away from the plane. Crossing the rooftop, he didn't look back as he opened the roof entry door.

The trip back to Gotham seemed to take longer than usual, but the clock on his control panel said otherwise. Landing the jet inside the bat cave hanger, Bruce sat in the pilot seat for several minutes until a gentle rapping on the hull brought him back to reality. Looking down, he saw Alfred. Opening the hatch, he jumped out and took the cup of coffee Alfred offered to him.

As Bruce sipped the coffee, Alfred stared at him. He was not used to seeing Bruce in one of his machines while out of costume. Stranger still, he was wearing the same clothes he wore when he left the day before. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were tired. Placing a hand on Bruce's back, Alfred steered him back into the manor.

Inside the library, Alfred prepared the side table by clearing a few items and placing a coaster down for Bruce's mug. Turning to the armchair, he fluffed the cushions as he looked over at Bruce. Standing up straight, he watched as Bruce gravitated toward the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

"Sir, your chair is ready."

Clearly, Bruce was distracted as he didn't respond to Alfred's question. He didn't answer the soft calling of his name, but he jumped when Alfred placed his hand on his shoulder. Meeting Alfred's concerned eyes, he smiled sadly. Crossing the room, he collapsed into the chair, dropping the mug in his hand onto the coaster.

"Is there something bothering you, Master Bruce?"

"Yes, Alfred. There is."

"Do you wish to speak of it, sir?"

Conflicted, Bruce sat there in silence. After a couple minutes, Alfred shook his head and turned away. He almost reached the doorway before he heard, "Alfred."

Without hesitation, Alfred walked over to the armchair on the other side of the side table and sat down. Once he sat down, Bruce leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. For the next hour, Bruce told Alfred everything. He explained to him the concept of bondmates. He gave a basic breakdown of his and Clark's relationship. Finally, he told him about Clark fainting at the Kent farm and the revelation of his pregnancy at the fortress.

Through it all, Alfred was silent. Except for the occasional nod, he sat motionless until Bruce stopped speaking. Then, with his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. Leaning back, he rested his hands on the armrests and asked, "What now?"

"I left him at his apartment. I told him a baby wouldn't fit into my life. My mission asks too much of me. He didn't say he's keeping the baby, but I suspect that is what he will do."

Sitting forward, Alfred stared at Bruce for a while before he said, "Beg my pardon, but when are you going to wake up?"

"What?"

"Let me speak as you have apparently said quite enough already. Over the years, I've watched your obsession with this mission grow. I've watched you push people away because of it. I've stood idly by as you isolated yourself, but I'm done with that now.

"Sadly, I am partly to blame for your dependence on this mission of yours. When the mission first emerged, I welcomed it because shortly thereafter I stopped finding you huddled on the floor beneath that portrait. Then, as you grew older, the mission gave you structure. I was relieved that it kept you from becoming the self-centered playboy you so often pretend to be now.

"I know the mission was born of your parent's traumatic death. It was a way for you to make sense of it all and to assuage the guilt you feel over the circumstances of that night. You've investigated their murders. The ones responsible have all faced judgment in their own way, yet you still wallow in your guilt. Frankly, it seems you have spent far too much time dwelling on the circumstances of their deaths, on the idea that your parents died because of you. Sadly, not nearly enough attention has been paid to the reality that your parents died for you.

"When the police called that night, I was shocked, but not surprised. I knew your parents well. I have never seen two people who loved their child more than they did. Like all parents, they had hopes and dreams for you. They wanted all the good things for you that their wealth could provide. But more, they wanted greater things for you. They wanted you to have the things they had. They wanted love, family and purpose for you. Most importantly, they wanted life for you. That's why they got in the way of those four bullets, but they would have taken a thousand bullets if it meant you would be safe."

Reaching across the short distance separating them, Alfred placed his hand on Bruce's arm and continued, "Bruce, they did it because you meant everything to them. You are their ultimate legacy, their final gift to the world. It is something all parents feel and it is a feeling with which I suspect you will soon be very familiar."

Nodding, Bruce placed a hand over Alfred's hand. Patting the weathered, wrinkled skin, he pulled back. He saw the sadness in Alfred's eyes but said nothing until the man stood to leave.

"Alfred, could you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Could you retrieve my father's wedding ring from the safe?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, a smile spreading his lips thin. A renewed bounce in his step, he left only to return a few minutes later with a jeweler's box in one hand and Bruce's overcoat in the other. Stepping up to Bruce, he handed over the box and then opened up the coat. "I took the liberty of fetching your coat, sir."

"Thank you, Alfred. As always, you know what I need before I do," said Bruce as he turned and ran his arms down the sleeves.

Smoothly, Alfred's hands pulled the coat up his arms, resting it on his shoulders. As he smoothed out the back, he stilled as Bruce reached up and grabbed a hold of his hand. As their eyes met, Bruce whispered, "Thank you, old friend. For everything."

"No thanks required, sir."

"Still," countered Bruce. Holding up the box, he smiled warily as he said, "Wish me luck."

"Of course, sir."

With that, Bruce raced from the room. Alfred followed slowly, watching him descend the grand staircase and disappear into the foyer. As he heard the door open and quickly shut, he squeezed his right hand into a fist and cheered, "Go get him, sir."

Even in his fastest car, it took nearly half an hour to drive to Metropolis. He felt every single minute of the trip. Parking in front of the apartment building at 1938 Sullivan Place, Bruce wasted no time. He slammed the car door shut and ran into the building. Outside Clark's door, he took a moment to compose himself before he knocked on the door.

After a few seconds, he knocked again. Again, he received no response. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Clark, open the door. I know you're in there. I left you on the roof one hour and forty-eight minutes ago. It was already late and it is highly unlikely you left your apartment. For one, the frequency of public transportation has reduced significantly. Two, the mat in front of your door shows signs of recent use, but only in one direction. There is a footprint in it that matches your shoe make and size. The toe of the shoe is pointed toward the door. Three-"

Quickly, the door opened.

"Stop. Please stop. Before you start talking about how the temperature in the hallway is a degree higher than it should be because of my heightened body temperature."

"Well," sighed Bruce as he leaned against the door jamb. "You are really hot."

Tilting his head to the side, Clark arched an eyebrow and asked, "Why are you here, Bruce?"

In lieu of a spoken response, Bruce went down on one knee. At that same moment, one of the doors down the hall opened with an audible gasp. They both looked down the hall to see Mrs. Bannion standing in her doorway wearing an old robe and a worn out nightgown. The three of them exchanged shocked stares until Mrs. Bannion's expression soured.

Cocking his head to the side, Bruce glared at the woman before turning his head and looking up at Clark. Taking Clark's hand, he drew Clark's attention as they heard a door slam.

"Clark, will-"

"Bruce, wait," ordered Clark. Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away. "I know you have a great sense of responsibility, but I don't want you to do this as some virtuous sacrifice. You don't need to do that. We'll be fine."

"I'm not trying to be a martyr," he replied as he placed his hands on his knee. "I'm just trying to ask you a question."

"What brought this on? Really. What's changed in the past two hours?"

"Everything and nothing, really. Just. . . I realized that I've been wrong about a lot of things. About one thing, in particular. I've spent most of my life preventing this very thing. I thought of emotional entanglements as traps that were to be dismissed as an ache best avoided . I took many steps to remove myself from the possibility of them, but I don't want to do that anymore."

"What about your mission? Is there any place in it for us?"

"I think," answered Bruce. Reaching up, he gently took a hold of Clark's hand again. "I think it's time for me to find a new mission, one that includes the both of you. For years, my life suffered from a large void due to my parents' deaths. I've used my mission as a way to fill that void, as a way to ignore the pain of that loss, but I don't need to do that anymore. I don't need to live in the past. I have a future to look forward to now and all I'm ever going to need is already here."

Holding Clark's doubt-filled gaze, Bruce reached into his left coat pocket and pulled out a bijoux box. Opening the lid with an audible snap, Bruce paused as he looked down at the gold band accented with onyx inlay and a center set, square cut diamond. Pulling his eyes back to Clark, he softly said, "This is my Father's wedding ring. It is a cherished heirloom and I want you to have it. I want to see it on your hand and know that it means we're a family. Please Clark, will you marry me?"

The shock on Clark's face said it all. Quietly, Bruce waited for a response. What he got was a hand wrapping around his own a second before he has pulled up to his feet and soundly kissed. He let the kiss continue for a moment before he broke away and asked, "I hate to be a stickler for tradition, but was that a yes?"

"Of course," replied Clark as he placed his hands on Bruce's face and kissed him again. Pulling him inside the apartment, he closed the door behind them before he whispered against soft lips, "Of course, I'll marry you."