The Powers that Be
Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any of the DC Characters. No profit is gained by this fiction.
AN: I have to admit, I don't have all the details of all the characters committed to memory, and I don't have a beta. If I get something wrong, forgive me. Also, this is basically my take on the whole Justice League storyline, so I guess that makes it AU, doesn't it?
AN: It's been a while since I last posted. I'm sorry about that. Been pretty busy. I'll try to get stuff out more regularly. I thank you for your patience.
Chapter 12: Turning points
"Lois, what are you doing?!"
"I'm finding out why the Justice League is duping the whole world," she responded adamantly, her face locked in a satisfied smile as she stared at the phone she just hung up.
"What are you talking about?" Clark demanded in a forceful whisper, checking around the office out of the corners of his glasses for anybody that may be taking interest in their activities.
She had left a scathing, accusatory message for the Justice League, demanding that they reveal what has really happened to Superman. With that message now being electronically checked by the Watchtower's sorting software, Lois simply had to sit back and wait.
She finally swiveled her chair around to face Clark. She didn't even try to hide the smug expression adorning her face.
"I'll be happy to tell you…" she sang, then began her litany of 'clues'.
As she continued on, growing louder, bolder, Clark grew more weary and nervous of people around them. He did his best to not look concerned, but he couldn't help it. Her heated monologue was verging on a full-fledged rant. He tried more than once to calm her down – trying to make it look like he didn't want her to appear crazy to any passers by. In reality, she was scaring the snot out of him with her accuracy and conclusions. It would be one tough task to get her off this trail.
"… they even had you fooled when you were up there…"
Oh, no.
That one statement drew a line in the sand, and Clark knew it. There was no way to remain neutral on the subject now that she had pulled him into it, citing his little visit to the Watchtower, and basically involving him. If he continued to insist that the League wasn't up to something, then he was declaring that Lois was wrong, effectively siding with them and against her. Otherwise, he would have to come to her side of the argument, which would in turn call for him to help her in her cause, of course.
Clark Kent was now forced to decide between The Justice League and Lois Lane.
He tuned her out as she continued on her tirade, venting her thoughts. He slowly grabbed a chair and sat quietly contemplating his next move. Letting out a sigh and rubbing his eyes under his glasses, he sat still for a few moments. His gaze drifted to an imaginary point a thousand miles away, one arm cocked across his chest and his other hand, clenched tightly as a fist, covered his mouth as he concentrated.
What would Bruce do?
No, not Bruce. Dad…
What would Dad say was the right thing to do?
She didn't notice his absent expression, or if she did, she simply believed he was absorbing all of her verbal run-on. Before too long, without active feedback from Clark, she began to actually notice the expressions of the odd person passing by. Not that their opinions would sway her from believing she was on to something big, but it did bring her back to the reality that she was still in the Daily Planet building and making an awful lot of noise.
"Now," she announced, finally wrapping up her performance, "tell me I'm wrong."
When Clark didn't flinch, she considered that he actually might not have been listening.
"HEY! Smallville!" she called, kicking his shoe.
Clark slowly turned his head to look at her. She couldn't read his expression. There was something in his blue eyes that she didn't understand. It was foreign to see such distance in Clark's expression.
"You are listening," she asked, raising her eyebrows, "aren't you?"
"Yes," Clark stammered, his attention suddenly snapping back to her. "Yes, I was… And I was thinking about how you could be on to something here…"
"On to something?" she asked as if somebody had just told her she had a third arm growing out her forehead, "I'm on to everything! They've had The Martian Manhunter impersonating Superman ever since the ACCORD incident and I just gave you all the proof!"
"What you gave me was a list of specific facts," Clark tried to say reasonably. "What we should do is build a theory from the facts… not simply cite enough facts to make your gut instincts look like the truth."
"Hey," she retorted with a little defensiveness on her face and in her voice, "I've been doing this for a while, y'know… I know how to investigate a story!"
"I know," he surrendered holding up his hands, "I know… But I think we should make sure all our T's are crossed and I's are dotted before we call out the Justice League on a scam, that's all."
Lois folded her arms and looked away. She huffed out a sigh and jutted out her smooth jaw. It seemed to Clark that she was considering what he had proposed. It was too late to stop the ill-mannered phone call, but at least he had succeeded in calming her down. If he played his cards right, he may be able to get her to doubt her own convictions. Maybe.
And he hated that.
He hated the fact that he was continually deceiving this woman. He had always hated saying things and taking actions that effectively amounted to lying in order to cover up his own dual identity as well as the security of his 'other' colleagues. Oh, the safety of those around him was always the big reason, but at times (like these) it was little consolation when he was forced to deliberately defraud a woman like Lois. A woman who, he believed more and more each day, could not only handle the truth, but also handle herself and her own safety.
Not long ago, while convalescing at the Kent farm, he had resolved to tell Lois everything about himself and his life, if necessary. What he was wondering as she sat defiantly with her lips pursed, was if the time to tell all had now come.
Finally, her face lightened and she turned to him with enthusiasm evident in her eyes.
"So when you say 'we should make sure'…" she smiled, " you mean that you'll help me on this?"
Before she even finished her question, Clark knew what she was going to ask. He had also realized that, for the sake of appearances at least, he had chosen Lois Lane over the Justice League. If only for a moment.
"Of course!"
Clark waited for Lois by the elevator at the end of the day. He wasn't able to keep her from dropping the proverbial bomb on the Justice League hotline, but he felt a small sense of satisfaction in that he believed he was instrumental in calming her down to a more rational state. He knew darn well that there would be no way to stop her. All he could do was guide her into safer waters, for the League's sake, for hers, and for his own. He didn't like doing it, but he had to.
She finally came around the corner, slinging her purse over her shoulder - walking briskly, but not so much in a 'I'm Lois Lane on a mission and you're in may way' manner.
This could be a good sign.
"So, how's your day?" he asked innocently enough.
"You mean…" she started irratably, not looking up at him, "besides confirming that the Justice League is staging a conspiracy on a global scale, the fact that Superman's well-being is unknown and he may even be dead (as far as anybody not in orbit knows) and getting 4 stitches in may arm?"
"Uh… yeah," he tried, "besides all that."
"Oh, fine!" she chirped like June Cleaver, then rolled her eyes in frustration.
Mercifully, the elevator arrived at that moment and the two boarded with 5 other people. In such a close space with so many others, Clark was sure that Lois wouldn't start again with the 'conspiracy' notion.
He was wrong.
"They haven't returned my call yet," she said like a spoiled child, again not looking at him.
For a moment, he almost asked "who?" in a light-hearted joking fashion. He thankfully caught himself in time. He was considering how to respond when she turned to him expectantly.
"I mean, hello-oh!" she sang holding up her hands. "What are they waiting for? Are they afraid of something? They're afraid I'm uncovering their scam! That's what it is. I'm on to them and they're probably up there – right now- thinking of ways to…"
"Lois," Clark said soothingly, putting his massive hand on her delicate shoulder, "calm down."
He managed to deflect the icy glare she shot him. Three months ago, it would have shut him up on the spot.
"It took more than a day for them to get back to me when I requested an interview," he continued logically. "You called them just a couple hours ago. I'll bet you hear from them tomorrow."
Crossing her arms in defiance, she unfortunately had to admit he had a point. She was simply going to have to wait. She didn't have to like it, but she was going to have to none-the-less.
The elevator doors eventually opened and the occupants filed out and marched off in random directions. Clark and Lois headed for the front door together.
"So that gives me just enough time," Clark said leaning closer to her ear, "to take you out for a couple drinks and then back to my place…"
She looked up at him in amused bewilderment.
"… so we can talk about how we're going to go about this story."
Lois smiled as she turned her head forward again. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to think. Clark Kent just flirted with her… in public. That little fact warmed her up inside.
She walked across the marble floor and out the rotating door of the lobby, her mind miraculously (albeit temporarily) shifted from unscrupulous Justice League plots to how much has changed between Clark and her. And how much Clark, himself, had changed – for the better, in her opinion. She felt a streak of accomplishment in that - believing that she had been the one to affect the improvements.
Right behind her, wearing just as warm of a smile was her… boyfriend? His smile was for very similar reasons; the warm fuzzy inside at the realization that he was becoming an accomplished flirt and that Lois had actually allowed it to happen without any form of objection. Where his sincerity ended, however, was with the knowledge that he had resorted to flirting in order to try and take her mind off the whole Superman thing.
Backwards. But it worked.
On the busy sidewalks outside the Daily Planet building, they exchanged some affectionate pleasantries and a soft embrace and parted ways. They'd meet again later at a local pub, then adjourn to Clark's apartment a short walk away. He should have just enough time before then to contact the League.
Lex Luthor's appointments for the day had been canceled. In fact, he had Mercy reschedule or scrub all appointments for the next day as well. He had some work to do. More importantly, he had a lot of thinking to do.
After the morning's events, he had finally come around to believing that Superman's wellbeing was questionable at least. What's more, he also believed that the Justice League was taking steps to cover it up. This only confirmed what he had been advocating for years; The Justice League was not an organization to be trusted. Nobody with that much power can be trusted – especially if they hadn't earned it or been endowed by the people.
That was why he had even begun designing his weapon all those months ago… the Achilles device as he called it, for it preyed on Superman's Achilles heel; Kryptonite. He believed that Superman was the keystone to the organization. He calculated that, without their most powerful and arguably most noble member, the League would falter, maybe even fall. Once that happened it would only be a matter of time before complete dismantling. And after that, anything would be possible… for Lex Luthor, at least.
Lex was not prepared to make his plans a joint effort. He had considered and even attempted to partner up with other like-minded individuals in the past, but only because they had a common goal; eliminate the Justice League. He never enjoyed the associations. Mostly, he was forced to team up with common criminals and/or psychopaths… necessary evils he had to endure in order to accomplish his own lofty goals. He had no illusions or delusions of glory in the act of eradicating the League itself. He was already as wealthy as they come and his fame (or infamy, as it were) was already established. He didn't steal for riches. He wasn't trying to destroy The League for his reputation's sake. The Justice League's demise wasn't his ultimate goal, just one step along the way.
No, his goals are much, much loftier. And he had justified in his own magnificent mind decades ago, that the sad truth was that a few perfect eggs must be broken in order to make the perfect omelet. His problem with the Justice League (or any other group or individual, for that matter) was that they refused to let him break those precious eggs, no matter how promising an omelet he was preparing. The greater good, was being subverted for the sake of those few eggs, in his mind. His plans for the world were so grand, so righteous, that the people would forgive him the sin of breaking a few measly eggs, he knew without a doubt. There was nobody on the planet (native or alien) that could reserve the right to keep him from making the world a more perfect place.
Destroy the Justice League? Yes, Lex Luthor had considered that. Did he actually want to kill the members? Perhaps… if necessary. Besides, what had any of them done to deserve the power they wielded? Where were the buckets of blood, sweat and tears as testimony to their devotion? Their power was unfairly gained, in his mind. Their will was dispensed too discriminately for his tastes. They were held accountable to nobody for their actions, where as every other person in the world had a higher power; be it a person, a contract, a deity or a constitution to answer to. These clowns in funny costumes claimed to uphold what they referred to as "justice", but who's definition of "justice" were they using? Who had the authority to make them accountable? Who held them in check?
He did. Because nobody else could, or even dared. So eliminating their little club was a priority for those two reasons; they were in his way and they didn't deserve to continue on without accountability.
Such was his justification. His goal of undermining their power was for the greater good of the people. In short, he was protecting the world from super-powered self-appointed outcasts as well as eliminating the obstacles that kept him from fulfilling his dream, his destiny. The people of the world deserved Lex Luthor and all his visions and the Justice League has no right to deny them that.
The Achilles device was supposed to eliminate Superman's power, by stripping him of it, or killing him if necessary. The rest of the League would eventually find themselves neutralized with similar prejudice. However, his timetable and his methods had been interrupted… usurped, really. As wary as Lex was of his new "ally", he had to admit that these alterations had been bearing fruit that was eerily similar to what he craved. For that, he was content to maintain the alliance.
However, just like all forms of business, Lex insists on having many irons in the fire. He didn't know how tight this alliance was, nor was he comfortable placing any reliance on the good intentions of his new 'partner'. Just because their goals seem to parallel to this point, doesn't mean they won't go askew in the future. Lex was going to keep his relationship tense and give "Mr. X" enough rope to either accomplish goals that pleased him, or hang himself with.
Now that he was able to consider plans with Superman not in the way, he had a chance to test Mr. X and his intentions. Ever the master manipulator, Lex had been dropping hints, mentioning names and technologies, asking simple but significant questions of his guest to gauge his mindset. The answers, the body language, the mannerisms… it all pointed towards something that was still somewhat elusive; Lex did not know what Mr. X was really up to. He was growing certain that their long-term goals didn't match. How much so was still the question.
"…I beg your pardon," Lex said offhandedly, "did you say earlier that you wanted Superman's body?"
"Yes, I did."
Why? No doubt you have something up your sleeve…
"Well," Lex said obediently, as if contemplating a away to actually accomplish this task, "I guess it would be a good idea… that way we could make sure that his friends don't find a way to restore his powers…"
"Precisely."
Damn.
Those short answers were grating on Lex's thin nerves. He knew that the request had nothing to do with the Justice League re-powering Superman. But his verbal thrust had been parried. He wasn't getting anywhere in the roundabout way. This adversary/ally was as clever as they come…
Maybe the direct approach…
"What if he's not dead?" he asked.
Thrust.
"We will still acquire his body, alive or dead."
Parry.
"And what do you plan on doing with it… or him if he's still alive?" Lex turned in his chair and leaned his arms on his desk.
"In either case, I will get what I need."
Now we're getting somewhere!
Lex's expression showed none of his contemplation, but his mind was churning out inhuman calculations.
He needs the body itself, not the man. It must have something to do with Kryptonian physiology… maybe Kryptonian DNA. Knowledge? No, then he would want the alien alive. It could be chemistry… But most likely it has to do with physical power… something he can derive from Superman's body…
Lex continued his train of analysis as he swiveled his chair back towards the panoramic view of Metropolis outside his office window. His expression was as light and unassuming as ever. He even made a disarming comment about the weather for good measure. Anything to keep the extreme intellect of his guest from knowing that he was being investigated.
But Lex had discovered the truth… at least one possible, likely truth: Power. Specifically, physical power.
He fancies himself an intellectual god… he wants the body of a god to go with it! Oh, that's all I need; another megalomaniac… and with Superman's body… no, Superman's powers no less!
Flash zipped down the corridor and retrieved two chairs back to the Monitor Womb for his colleagues. Five of them had gathered there informally to continue their discussions about the morning's events and the implications of Batman's latest actions. A few seconds later and he had a bowl full of corn chips for himself and a few other snacks for everybody else. He brushed off J'onn's admonishment about having food in the Womb.
"I still don't know how I feel about it," Hawkgirl admitted. "He deliberately kept information from the rest of us about his abilities… that's pretty serious."
"When you look at it like that," Lantern replied, "you have a point. But technically, he didn't lie about anything."
"Wouldn't you consider withholding evidence lying?"
"Only if it was…" John stopped and sighed in frustration. He and Shayera had been holding their own personal argument for the entertainment of the others for too long. "Look, he never had powers before. He never volunteered to function within the League as a meta. He isn't even a full-time member. His capacity has always been basically research and planning and he's still doing that. If you ask me, his role hasn't changed, he's still willing and capable of providing the same services as he always has."
"No, you're wrong," Shayera called out rudely. "He now has an obligation to help out in any way he can. And if that means that he uses his powers, then he does! He's no longer has the luxury of working as a supporting member… as a… a bystander… he should be made full-time like the rest of us!"
The debate raged on, mostly between Hawkgirl and Green Lantern, but the others offered their opinions as well. There was one point they all agreed upon; for this one time at least, Batman had stepped up when needed and saved the day. All of them were impressed by his performance and even more so by the clever way he was able to perpetuate Superman's presence within the League. They even expressed to each other that they were somewhat comfortable with him possessing such powers as they all felt that he could be trusted to handle them. J'onn and Diana went so far as to say that he may never use them again except for the most dire emergencies – like with the train.
That's where the common angles ended. Should Batman be strongly encouraged (or forced as Shayera believed) to take on a full-time position within the League now? If so, would they be able to call upon his powers on a regular basis? Would he be comfortable using them regularly? Everybody had their own answers and opinions on these issues, and while some were hotly debated, all were perfectly valid.
It wasn't long before J'onn dropped the big question that nobody had even been considering; What will happen when a device is developed to reverse the affects of the original weapon and return Batman and Superman to normal? All agreed that both men did, indeed want such a resolution, but did the League have the right to, or even an obligation to serve a greater form of justice by trying to convince Batman to actually keep his powers?
Flash had mentioned half-jokingly that he should adopt a new super-hero identity, that way 'Batman' can stay 'Batman', and the League could benefit from the firepower of an all-new member.
"He can even make a new costume," he argued. "One that's just as black and creepy as his batsy-suit…"
All his idea earned him was 4 sets of rolling eyes. Fortunately for him, an alert sounded from across the room.
"It's a high-priority message," Diana announced after reading the monitor. She hit a few commands and the message played on the overhead speakers.
"Hello Justice League…"
Five collective jaws dropped as Lois Lane's challenge rang throughout the room. Scowls formed, sighs were heaved, heads were slowly wagged, but not a word was said. For a few, long, stressed seconds, the negative atmosphere was infectious.
"We better call Clark," Diana tried.
John had a more dire suggestion.
"We better call Batman."
"When you see him," Alfred said as Bruce emerged from his shower, "please relay to Superman my admiration for a job well done."
Bruce turned with a cocked eyebrow to meet Alfred's haughty, but discrete grin.
"I owe Clark a new set of boots," Bruce replied, toweling off his hair.
Alfred suppressed a chuckle and presented his employer with a glass of orange juice.
"Thanks."
Bruce finished drying off and donned a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He started brushing his teeth while Alfred revisited the planned events for the rest of the evening. There were society obligations to meet and photographers to tolerate, but steps had been taken to eliminate them from the equation. Tonight, the Bruce Wayne persona would take the night off and Bruce could simply enjoy a rare night of personal pleasure. Instead of rest, he had offered long ago to spend the evening with an indestructible piece of iron wrapped sensually with the form of his luscious Amazon soul mate. His offer had been properly and warmly accepted.
His mind was set on an old-fashioned night out. He had hired a classic movie house for an exclusive showing of 'Casablanca'. He had paid handsomely for security and privacy, similar to what he always arranged when he had to date other women that, for respectability's sake, shouldn't be seen with Bruce Wayne. He had secret entrances and exits secured to the penthouse suite atop the Gotham Excelsior hotel, where they would enjoy all the luxurious fare of a seven-course, five-star gourmet meal on the balcony overlooking his city. He didn't know what kind of wine or champagne she would prefer, or if she would even partake, so he had countless choices and vintages prepared, as well as alternatives. Finally, he had personally selected 40 minutes worth of fireworks to launch over Gotham Harbor, which could be seen from either their penthouse perch or the tranquil grounds of Wayne Manor, where he asked Alfred to prepare a cozy spot for them to just sit and enjoy each other's company.
Bruce Wayne has the process of courting women documented to a cookbook-like procedure. Sure, there were subtle distinctions that he incorporated in order to make each of his dates feel 'special', and he was an expert in thinking on the fly in order to make each date a night to remember. After all, he can schmooze like the best of them. That and the fact that he instantly has the advantage, simply because most of the starlets and models he favors are somewhat in awe with the fact that they're actually on a date with THE Bruce Wayne. Entertainment has become a third job for him in so many, many ways.
But this time it was different. This time, the woman he was preparing for wasn't some flash in the Hollywood pan, or some flavor of the week. This time, she was worthy of every bit of attention he could spare. It wasn't just her unsurpassed poise, grace and beauty that inspired him. It wasn't her gentle nature in quiet moments, or her ferocity when in battle. It wasn't even her regal status, or the fact that she came from a mythical island and personally knew beings that he'd only read about in ancient texts. Those things were important, to be sure, but they weren't the reason that Bruce was spending every minute he could spare to plan for tonight. It was because she was his equal, in every way he could think of. And no other woman, no other person could claim that title.
It was going to be virgin territory for both participants, when all things were considered. For Diana, it was the first date ever. For Bruce, it was a challenge to make sure that he provided the perfect accompaniment to a strong and independent spirit that still had reservations about chivalry and flattery and the subtle joys of modern luxuries. He had forced himself to consider the proprieties of such a courtship. How proper would it be to open the door for her? Her sense of equality called into question all he had perfected in dating, yet she was also willing to learn the ways of the world outside her home. In any event, he believed that her understanding of the honorable nature of his intentions would at least prevent any misconceptions. And he believed he had mentally prepared himself to show her such an evening, the memory of which she would always cherish.
Yes, tonight was designed to be the ultimate first date for a woman that had waited for centuries for such attention. The only problem was that the morning's events had laid Bruce into hibernation of untold duration and Batman had other plans.
Bruce was leaning over the sink with toothpaste dripping unflatteringly out of his mouth as Alfred confirmed that Excelsior security would have the top two floors roped off. The butler stopped mid-sentence when Bruce stood up and he caught his expression in the mirror. It was clear to the old gentleman that his charge was not paying attention… at least not the degree of attention that was due.
"Sir," he said with despair evident in his voice, "I take it by your demeanor that you're considering canceling this evening's events."
The lack if a response more or less confirmed Alfred's suspicions. The two men knew each other so well in so many ways; the facial clues, the body language, the sighs and huffs and each subtle nuance in a spoken word – or even unspoken words. And Alfred understood better than anyone the magnitude of Bruce's mission and how so many sources of potential happiness had been abandoned for its sake. That was why this particular evening with this particular woman was as important to him, as he though it should be even more so for Bruce. To see now that all the magnificent preparations would go to waste affected him to an unacceptable degree.
"Oh, sir!"
"After this morning," Bruce said after rinsing his mouth and replacing his toothbrush, "I have far too much to do. I can't spend time on a date."
The way he said that last word made the old man visibly flinch. This was much more that the run-of-the-mill Bruce Wayne date and both men knew it. The fact that Bruce had already minimalized it in his own mind was exasperating. It also indicated that there was a certain amount of resolve in his mind and Alfred would have to either accept it or log yet another cunning and Homeric effort in order to force a shimmer of happiness and normalcy into his employer's dreary life. Fortunately, for Bruce's unwilling sake, for Diana's sake and for the sake of love and romance in general, Alfred was the perfect agent for such a mission.
"Very well," he sighed, much to Bruce's visible relief. "Shall I inform her highness, or would you like to."
That was one of Alfred's favorite moves; force him to make the choice. If Bruce were to ask Alfred to do his dirty work for him, it would effectively paint him as a coward, which would, in turn, shame him into bending to reason. If Bruce were to call the bluff and actually take on the responsibility, it would force him to face Diana himself with the unsavory choice. Either way, Alfred was forcing Bruce to choose some form of responsibility for his actions. A very fatherly technique.
"I'll call her," he said off-handedly, with a complete lack of concern in his voice. Alfred had a small hiccup of confidence at having his bluff called so unremarkably. There didn't seem to be any concern in Bruce's manner at all. Perhaps he was just growing as crafty as the old Englishman…
"Excellent," Alfred said with a measured touch of delight forced into his voice. "And, should I cancel all of the evening's preparations or simply postpone them? Although, I don't believe we will be able to recoup many of our deposits…"
"Don't bother," Bruce said with a simple shake of his head.
Normally, the challenge of keeping Bruce in line was something he appreciated; it meant that whatever lesson he was trying to teach Bruce was important indeed. This time, however, there was no sign that Bruce's mind could be swayed. If Alfred didn't feel so confident that he knew Bruce inside and out, he could have testified that there was no concern in his eyes about the loss of the evening's magical promises.
He was at a loss. Something was not right. He kept asking all the right questions and Bruce kept giving completely foreign answers.
Try as he might, Alfred couldn't read any of the signs that Bruce usually unwittingly sent him when confrontations like these were afoot. For a moment, this Bruce was a completely different man and Alfred was at a loss for what to think or how to handle him. The hollow void of defeat sank into his chest and he stared blankly at the younger man that looked like Bruce but didn't seem to be him.
His role of surrogate father and conscience now felt deflated and the lonely old man fell instinctively back upon his decades of butlerly service. He suddenly felt like so much furniture in the room.
Like a servant.
Gone, it seemed, was any of the warmth and respect the two had always shared, even in the hardest of times. Gone, it seemed, was the love in his charge's voice.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" he weakly asked not knowing what to expect.
Bruce, now finished with his grooming, was pulling a hooded sweatshirt over his head and making towards the door. He stole a glance at Alfred as he responded in the negative to his question. When he caught the unrecognizable expression on his distinguished face, he paused with concern.
"Alfred, are you…" he started with sympathy, then changed his tone to demand. "What's wrong?"
No response.
"I can't believe," he continued with a forced chuckle, "you'd be that upset about me having to break a date!"
"I wouldn't, sir," Alfred finally spoke, "if this had been just any date. But it isn't. I had assumed that such an evening with the princess would be…"
"You're right," Bruce smiled, "This evening was going to be special, but the timing is off, that's all."
Alfred looked into the eyes and the face and the smile that he'd known for so long and saw the man he'd raised, but not the soul he'd help form.
"If you say so, sir."
"I say so," Bruce continued smiling. "And I promise that I'll make it up to her… it may take a while, but I will! And when we finally do get a chance to…"
His pledge was interrupted by the serious alert of a hidden communicator. Bruce's face dropped into the stoic Batman front as he turned and answered.
Alfred took the moment to contemplate what had just transpired between himself and Bruce. He internally questioned if there was anything to concern himself with in the spirit of what he just experienced or if it was all just an illusion in his tired old head, tainted by the disappointment of Bruce's happiness postponed because of the requirements of some other man in a funny black costume.
Was there something different about Bruce? Was he imagining the changes? The clues, if they even existed, were so subtle, so restrained that his weary mind may have been mistaken. As Batman communicated in unshakable sternness with whomever was on the other end, Alfred was able to convince himself to write it all off as misperceptions brought on by his frustration in the cancellations. He had been so hopeful for the evening… However, he resolved that he was making something out of nothing. Whatever it was, he thought as he watched and listened, it was gone now.
"I have to go," Bruce said when the transmission was over.
Bruce strode silently to the study and Alfred followed half a pace behind. Before opening the secret entrance to the Batcave, he finally spoke.
"I guess we'll both be spared the opportunity of upsetting an Amazon," Bruce announced as light-heartedly as he could. "Wonder Woman has to report up there as well."
He grew a genuine smile for Alfred as the grandfather clock swung open.
"We'll get another chance!" he promised before ducking into the shadows.
Alfred returned the smile and nodded. When the clock slid back into place and the mechanical sounds of the locks engaging finally ceased, the proper English gentleman poured himself a proper gin and tonic.
AN: Again, I'd like to say 'sorry' for taking so long to get this chapter out!
AN: As always, thanks a whole heap to all you readers out there and extra special thanks to those that review! I always try to reply to my reviewers, but if I can't do it directly, I try to put a little something at the end of subsequent chapters... like these:
To Anon.:
I'm not an English major. I basically write like I hear it in my head & therefore, my tense and style would probably earn me a C- at best in any 10th grade Literature class. Sorry if that distracts from the story or makes it harder to understand! Also, I somewhat agree with what you said about Lois not going off the deep end unless she was overly emotional, but that's kinda what I wanted to show... she WAS overly emotional - remember, she was at the freight yard and got hurt in the explosion. That should be enough to make a person a little excited. If I didn't make that clear, I guess I didn't write the chapter well enough. Hope you enjoyed in any way! Thanks for the review!
To Tony:
Will Lois figure out Clark's secret or will he tell her? How does Bruce really feel about Clark's absense? The others? Excellent questions. All will be revealed in time. Of course, I don't want to let out anything now that the story will cover later... if you have any questions about what has already been written, then that's a different thing. You can't ask for the ending before it's been released! Thanks for reviewing!