Shattered But Not Broken

A/N: Unlike my other stories, where I have several rough drafts in my folders, I have none for this one. So I have to come up with the newest chapters from the top of my head. Not that I don't enjoy it, it just takes longer. Just thought you guys deserved to know why I take a little bit longer on this story, than the others.

ALSO! I spent a few minutes trying to get bat's hardships listed right. -.- and that's when I noticed that apparently Stephanie is like back from the dead or something? FUCK that. She's dead. She died. At least in my story.

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The ride back to his apartment was quick, traffic at an all time low. He didn't know whether to be relieved or anxious about that fact, so he settled for both.

Slowly walked up the stairs and to his front door and stood there for what seemed like forever, trying to put together some sort of speech. Something to say...but he didn't even know where to begin.

Which, Clark supposed, didn't really matter anyway, because as soon as he opened the door and laid eyes on Dick, all coherent thought left. So much for planning it out.

Dick didn't give him a chance to start any polite chit-chat. "What happened?" His voice was dripping with acid and accusing undertones that sounded so much like...like Bruce.

Bruce...

"Why didn't you go to Alfred?" Clark asked in place of an answer, his voice barely above a whisper.

A sharp look. "Do I really have to answer that?"

No, he didn't, not really. Because Clark already knew. Knew that Alfred saw Bruce as his surrogate son. To ask him about what happened, to force hi to relive that...would be too cruel. Alfred was a strong man, no doubt, but Clark wasn't sure if even Alfred would be able to handle that without breaking down.

So Dick had come to him.

And why wouldn't he? After all, he was Superman.

He was invulnerable; faster than a speeding bullet. The Last Son of Krypton.

But did any of that matter?

Did any of it SAVE Bruce?!

No. It didn't.

Bruce was damaged beyond repair. And he hadn't been able to stop it. Hadn't been able to save him.

They called him a hero, but what good was it, being able to move mountains or match Flash in a race if he couldn't protect those that mattered the most to him?

Clark wanted to scream.

But he couldn't. Because Dick was looking at him expectingly, wanting answers that he so desperately wished that he didn't have to give.

Superman wasn't allowed to break down. Had to hold it together, for the team, for Dick.

For Bruce.

Had to be the hero.

But as he opened his mouth and started explaining the situation to Dick, he couldn't help but think...

That he wasn't a hero. Not at all.

Heroes don't fail.

So what did that make him?

()

Dick was driving back to Gotham, his mind clouded over as he took in everything that Clark had told him not ten minutes ago.

Stabbed. Beaten. Drugged. Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Blinded.

Raped.

His foot slammed on the break petal as that word entered his mind, the sudden jerk forward cutting it off. He continued on, ignoring the angry looks being thrown his way.

He couldn't go down that path of thinking. Not now. Not ever.

Anger flooded his veins as he sped along the highway, taking a sharp turn at the nearest exit. A few people blared their horns at him; but he didn't care. He was doing them a favor by getting off the damn road as quickly as possible. He was obviously in no shape to drive at the moment.

Pulled into a gas station and got out of his car, his ind racing and throat tightening.

Raped.

Bruce...he'd been...

The anger increased and he lashed out, delivering a hard kick to the side of his car.

Raped?!

More kicks, this time in tune with his thoughts.

How.

Kick.

Could.

Kick.

He?!

How could Bruce let this happen?!

Bruce...was Batman.

Of all the people in their screwed up makeshift family, Bruce was the person who mattered the most. And who he worried about the least. Even when the situation was looking grim, he never worried about Batman. He was determined and strong and impossible to break.

Babara's paralysis, Jason's death. Leslie's betrayal and as a result, Stephanie's death. Bane breaking his back. He'd come back from it all.

It was like Dick was being nestled in this security blanket of sorts, constantly saying to himself, 'Every thing's going to be okay. Batman's okay. So long as he's okay, every thing's fine.'

And he'd lived like that for a long time, until he'd suddenly had his security blanket being ripped out from under him.

Everything wasn't okay.

Batman wasn't okay.

And Dick didn't know if he'd ever be.

He felt cheated.

He felt like everything he'd known was a lie.

He felt like he was going to cry.

But he couldn't cry. Because right now, he had about thirty minutes to get home. Back to Tim, who'd be waking up right about then. Tim, who'd be expecting Dick to tell him what to do.

Dick slid down to the ground, closing his eyes tightly; he knew that people were starting to stare but right now he just didn't care about all that.

In a few minutes, he was going to get up, get back in his car and continue on his drive.

In a few minutes he'd be back in his apartment, and he'd have to be the big brother, the one in control.

And he had every intention of fulfilling that role.

Eventually.

But for now, he'd close his eyes and think about the past. Suiting up, going out into the night and fighting bad guys. Coming home to Alfred's cocoa. Getting angry at Batman for ordering around him about like he was still a child...

How he wished for those simpler times again...

()

Babara's paralysis, Jason's death. Leslie's betrayal and as a result, Stephanie's death. Bane breaking his back. I THINK I listed them in the correct order that they happened. And if not? Meh. / someone msg me and I'll straighten it out I guess.