Epilogue

…moving all around me/screaming of the ups and downs
pollution manifested in perpetual sound
the wheels go 'round and the sunset creeps past the
street lamps, chain link fence and concrete
a little piece of paper with a picture drawn floats
on down the street till the wind is gone
the memory now is like the picture was then
when the paper's crumpled up and it can't be perfect again…

"What do you need?"

"Anything you can give me, for as long as you can give it to me." The dark, raspy voice cracked and Clark watched in surprise as Bruce turned from him, shielding his face from both his new colleague and the city.

"Bruce," he started.

"No!" the man hissed, whipping around. "Never while I'm in this suit. I'm not the same person."

There was a breif silence, uncomfortable and thick until Clark nodded, admitting his understanding. There was more freedom when your face was hidden from the world whether physically or, as Clark's was, mysteriously. It was a freedom to let release parts of yourself that you weren't normally comfortable with. It was also a time where you wanted nothing connected to the more normal parts of your life, wanted whatever simplistic freedoms and everyday hassels you had to stay intact.

There was more silence as Clark just stood on the edge of the building, unsure where or with what to start first. There was so much fear here in Gotham, so much dark in the light, and death in the shadows. It was something that was going to take a lot of work to fix, or a lot of his heart when he failed.

Maybe Lois was right, after all. Maybe Gotham was too much for him. He had the feeling that he was going to be eaten alive by the city.

"It's a lot that I'm asking, I know," Bruce began, his voice clearly weak and distraught. He sounded as if he'd aged years in moments. "But I've lived in Gotham all my life, and… I've never seen times worse. I've got no help here. The police are just toys in this sick charade."

Boy did that sound familiar. "The police never know what to do when the're up against the supernatural."

Bruce mulled on that a moment. "The Joker isn't my only problem, but he's there. He's behind at least a third of the criminal proceedings in this city, I know, but there's someone else. A lot of someone elses. And they're tearing my city to pieces."

Clark stood in silence, respecting what had to be a difficult admission of need from Wayne. After all, Batman had never needed anyone.

"Christ, I'm-" He broke off and breathed in, turning to Clark and ripping his mask off. "As much as I hate to admit it when I see what you are, I'm only human, Clark, and I can't do everything. I can't fly, can't withstand bullets. I've got scars and poorly mended bones and torn ligaments. And I don't have minions or sidekicks or coworkers. This was my game and I wasn't… am not going to pull anyone else into it."

His burning eyes looked Clark over quickly. "Not unless they've chosen this path already, and can handle their own."

"I can assure you, you won't have to follow me around. No eggshells to walk on around me."

He nodded. "That's why I went to Metropolis and found you. Practically begged you."

If that was Bruce's idea of begging…

"I need your help before this goes too far. The criminal syndicate is already too strong. The citizens of the city pretty much believe I'm on their side now, but… I'm not the first one they think of when being attacked. They think they're going to lose. And I have to stop that. The innocent cannot be prisoners in their own city."

Clark turned to scan the horizon, hearing a scream. Not for help, like in Metropolis, but just a scream of fear, pain and resignation.

"We, Bruce. We have to stop it."

He took off into the city.






Forgotten - FIN

To be continued...