Book One: Good Intentions

-- Fight As Though The Odds Aren't Against You --

(1)

The first thing Clark noticed as he stepped off the Watchtower transporter pad was the sound of the ventilation systems. That was usually the case.

What was a faint whirr in the background of human hearing could be as loud as the roar of a tornado's hurtling winds if Clark let it. He didn't.

At this time of the night - around midnight, Pacific Standard Time - the primary sounds of the Watchtower were the ventilation systems, the ever-humming computer banks, and the occasional tap-tap-tapping of someone doing research about whatever situation they were currently looking at in their territory.

He tipped a salute at the monitoring camera of the transporter pad, letting Captain Atom know Clark was glad of the ride at this time of night. Ordinarily, Clark would have finished his sweep of Metropolis, gone for a quick fly through several of the northwestern states, checking for trouble, and gone back to his apartment for a handful of hours of sleep before rising to go to work at the Daily Planet.

Today's earlier battle had changed his priorities slightly.

Supergirl had claimed she heard Wonder Woman's bones crack as the creature slammed Diana to the pavement. Superman wouldn't have gone quite so far; but he'd heard her slam into the ground and the small gasp she gave before unconsciousness claimed her.

It took something horribly strong to put Diana out for the count, and the once-over check he'd given her battered body after they'd defeated the monster had done nothing to alleviate his concerns. Three cracked ribs, one broken rib, one broken collarbone, a cracked tibia, and an assortment of burns and bruises was not the usual complement of injury for Wonder Woman.

According to Batman, it was amazing that nobody else had ended up injured or dead. As it was, half the League had worked together to take the creature out. Diana had just been the first unfortunate to encounter it and lead it away from the bystanders who'd gawked as it pulled itself from the smoking lip of Mount St Helens.

He passed through the hall where the League had anxiously gathered to hear the status of their downed members, through the now-silent corridors of the Watchtower, through the corridor in which four of the charter members of the Justice League had waited for the fifth to bring news of the sixth, and into the infirmary.

Other members of the League had come here to be patched up at the end of the confrontation. Most had suffered mild burns or a few bruises. Diana had been the one to take the brunt of the creature's solo attack before her teammates came to help her.

Now, it stood quiet and empty.

Nearly empty.

The man who stood beside Diana's bed looked up as Clark came to stand by the side of the hospital bed, but he gave no other sign of greeting. Clark glanced briefly at the gauntlet that rested on the sheet beside Diana's bandaged one, but said nothing as he turned his gaze to Diana.

She lay on her back, the covers neatly folded over her, hands by her side. Her hair splayed oddly across the cotton of the pillowcase; chunks had been seared and singed by the monster as it tackled her and the fine black strands had twisted in and around on themselves in the heat.

Otherwise, to the human eye, her condition looked horrific. Bandages hid the worst of the burns and bruises, but the raw edges seeped out beneath the cream gauze. For a moment, Clark fancied that the injuries wanted to be seen, that they were pushing beyond the boundaries of the dressing to flaunt themselves against Diana's skin.

They'd never seen her like this before.

A quick scan of her body showed her to be healing well. While a human would take months to recover from the injuries she'd gained, it would take her no more than a matter of weeks. In less than a month, Clark judged, the scabs would be healed, the scars would have vanished, and the bones would be knitted back together as densely and powerfully as they'd been before.

At least she was sleeping.

J'onn? He made the telepathic call a soft one, hoping not to disturb his friend in another activity.

She awoke earlier, the Martian responded, as smoothly as though he'd been waiting for Clark's arrival. It was brief, and she asked after everyone else.

Which was typical of Diana, Clark thought, wryly. She seemed fine when you spoke?

Tired, J'onn noted, But yes, she was coherent and well in spirit if not in body. Her injuries pain and frustrate her - and will for some time yet. It will be a difficult thing for her to stand back and watch.

There was a pause, and then Clark 'heard' a new voice enter the conversation as Batman's joined them in mental speech.

You don't usually come back to the Watchtower at night. Was there an accusation in Bruce's voice or was that just his imagination? Clark wasn't sure. The next question, however, was loaded. I guess it was a quiet night in Metropolis, then?

He didn't hide his response, the frown that marred his forehead, the slight tensing of his shoulders. Batman would be cataloguing his reaction, coldly and inhumanly; and yet Bruce's presence here was no less of an oddity than Clark's.

You don't usually come back here after Gotham patrols, Clark replied, keeping his mental voice level. If Clark had little reason to return to see Diana, how much less reason did Bruce have, obsessive as he was about the city he'd made his own?

The broad, dark shoulders rose in the faintest of shrugs, I sent Batgirl and Robin out with Nightwing tonight. They know how to call me if things get tight. And I had the information from this afternoon's battle to process. On the surface, it was a reasonable statement. Nobody could process information like Bruce - not in the League and not on Earth.

But there was something in the careful neutrality of Batman's stance that caught Clark's attention. It was nothing he could have pointed to as proof, just a feeling, a notion.

He sent himself a mental memo to review any and all instances where Batman and Wonder Woman had recently worked together. As the putative leader of the League, and as their friend, it was incumbent on him to keep a wary and watchful eye on any personal developments in that area.

Of course, he said none of this to Batman, and J'onn's link was set up so that they could only 'hear' each other's mental voice, not sense each other's thoughts. Just as well - the prospect of seeing into the mind of the Bat was not something Clark cared to consider. He respected Bruce, he just wouldn't want to be him.

Did you find anything?

Lots of things, Batman replied. Silence. It seemed that was all the information Bruce was going to reveal.

Clark rolled his eyes, but didn't press any further. He didn't like the other man's secretive behaviour but it wasn't currently worth the effort to pry. Instead, Clark lifted his head to a 'listening' pose as he spoke to J'onn. Thank you for passing on the information about Diana. I hope I didn't interrupt anything important?

At this hour of the day there is little to occupy me. A touch of J'onn's amusement washed over him, Only the early morning informercial feed.

Those programs rot your brains, you know, Clark teased.

I am sure they do, the Martian replied evenly. However, are you aware that I could develop 'Fab Abs' in less than sixty days by using the 'Fab-Ab-ulator' for only thirty minutes every day? Clark failed to hold in a broad grin. There was something inherently hilarious about the Martian talking about 'The Fab-Ab-ulator' as solemnly as though he were informing Clark of the most recent crisis requiring their attention.

Judging by the faint half-smirk touching Bruce's mouth, J'onn was including him in the conversation. Over the years of association with Batman, Clark had learned that a lot of expression could be fitted into a mere quirk of the lips.

As a shapeshifter, you could have 'fab abs' in considerably less time than sixty days, Batman remarked.

True. However, the satisfaction gained from such exercise has yet to be considered. J'onn's mental voice had a 'twinkle' to it. And the patient is awake, he noted, the 'smile' in his voice continuing as both men's heads whipped around to start at the now-awake and conscious woman in the infirmary bed.

"If you gentlemen are finished holding a conversation over my head?" She spoke huskily, her voice rough, like sandpaper or a cat's tongue.

We apologise for the impudence, Diana, J'onn said smoothly. We did not wish to wake you.

"And yet you did," she smiled, glancing up at the ceiling.

"Sorry," Clark said, impulsively reaching out to slip his fingers into her bandaged hand. The smile blossomed further, a beauty of spirit that all the bandages in the world couldn't hide, and the fingers in his turned enough to grip his hand slightly.

"We didn't know you were awake," Bruce said, retaining his gravelly tone of voice, and she turned to look at him, before her eyes flickered across the room to the timepiece that hung on the wall.

"You're not in Gotham." It was as much a question as a statement, and yet Clark sensed there was something else behind it. Diana was suddenly detached, reserved. Then she paused and turned back to Clark, surprised. "And you should be in Metropolis. Or at home."

"Good observation skills, Princess," Batman said dryly, apparently unheeding of her concern. "I left Gotham to Batgirl and Robin tonight." When she arched a brow, he qualified it. "I had some research to do."

"On?"

Clark wondered if they'd notice if he walked out and left them, not touching, just watching each other. The setting was hardly romantic, but the intensity between them was palpable.

They would notice, J'onn said gently.

"There aren't too many creatures that can injure you like that." Batman was answering her question and Clark was hard-pressed to keep his jaw from dropping. He could count on one hand the number of times Batman had qualified a statement at someone else's request - especially when they didn't need to know the answer. 'Close-lipped' didn't even begin to describe the tip of the iceberg that was Batman-Bruce Wayne. "Very few that are strong enough to withstand blows by both Superman and Supergirl, and there have been none yet that can do that and keep track of Flash at the same time. So I did some research."

Diana shifted slightly in the bed, but didn't take her hand from Clark's. She seemed unconcerned about the burns and injuries, although they had to be paining her. "And you discovered...?"

"The creature was made to combat the Justice League - made to be able to counteract our more obvious abilities. Including invulnerability, super-strength, and super-speed."

Clark was a little miffed that Batman answered her question. It seemed that Bruce was willing to humour Diana's curiosity, but not willing to humour Clark's. He understood Bruce's paranoia, and endured his secretive ways, but the irritation with his teammate - and friend - remained.

To distract himself, he picked up on Batman's choice of words. "Made?"

"Designed, made, produced, created," Batman replied. A humourless smile touched the full mouth and he looked over at Clark. "It's not the first time such a thing had happened."

Clark caught the reference and winced. Recently, Kara had discovered she'd been cloned, and that her clone had killed people in cold blood. A psychic link between the girl and the cloned woman had begun a chain of events resulting in a battle between the two, out of which only Kara had emerged alive.

"Do you know if they used Kara's DNA again?"

Batman shook his head. "Not Kara's. Yours."

No disguise in the world could have hidden Clark's grimace or the sudden heavy feeling in his stomach. "Would there be more of them out there?"

"I'd say it's almost a certainty," Batman answered. "We defeated it far too easily."

Diana's mouth twitched, "If that was 'easy' then I should hate to encounter the next creation," she murmured, but there was no offence on her face, only amusement. It was broken up as she yawned, her hand slipping from Clark's grasp to cover her mouth. She stared at the bandages, as if surprised they were there.

"You were fairly badly injured," Clark said by way of explanation. "Does it hurt?"

"Not much." She looked back defensively at him as he narrowed his eyes, questioning her answer. "It doesn't disturb me, Clark."

"Well, you should be resting."

"I've rested all afternoon and evening," she said as she sat up, wincing a little. "I am fine." She pulled off the sheeted covers, revealing more swathings over her bare abdomen and torso - as well as a goodly amount of bare skin, then paused as one black-gloved hand closed around her wrist.

"You'll disturb the bandages, Princess."

Diana looked from the hand on her arm to Batman's mask, incredulously. Then she chuckled and looked from one man to the other. "This is something I never thought to see. Superman and Batman playing mother hen! Great Hera, do wonders never cease?"

Not around the Woman of Wonder, evidently, J'onn spoke into all their heads.

Clark groaned, "That was bad, J'onn, even for you."

It is early morning. I am watching infomercials and keeping an eye on Wonder Woman. Neither you, nor Batman, have had any sleep in the last twenty-two hours, and Wonder Woman has had enough for all three of you combined, but requires still more if she is to heal properly. It is understandable that you would not appreciate my humour.

"And now J'onn has joined them," Diana remarked, presumably referring to her earlier 'mother hen' comment. A smile still hovered over her lips as she looked from one man to the other. "I will strike a bargain with you, then. I will return to rest, if you - both of you - return home and sleep right now."

There was a moment of silence before Batman asked, "And how do you plan to enforce that, Princess?"

"J'onn will let me know when you are home and in bed," she said with infuriating certainty. "And then I'll rest."

Batman looked over at Clark, then back at Diana, smirking. "You are aware that I could think of a dozen ways to--"

Diana rolled her eyes and pointed imperiously towards the door. "Go."

"Still bossy," Clark teased her, amused to watch her colour a little.

I will let her know when you are gone, J'onn said, inexorable, even in the face of Diana's embarrassment. You both need the sleep.

"So we're summarily dismissed?"

Batman met his gaze with a shrug that was almost wry - but then, there was nobody here to be intimidated by the Bat - only friends. "It would appear so." He let go of Diana's wrist. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Batman," she replied, with a formality that seemed just a little sad. Then she looked at Clark, "Night, Clark."

"Rest and get better," he told her with a smile, before starting for the door.

As he reached it, he glanced back at her, finding her settling back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Probably quietly speaking with J'onn.

The doors hissed shut behind them, and, without any explicit agreement, they headed for the transporter room. Whether consciously or unconsciously, they matched their strides, both tall men, although Clark had a few inches on his friend.

"There's been a recent increase in drug activity in Gotham," Batman said as they walked down the corridor. The topic was apparently random - except that Batman didn't do random. "Several crime lords have been setting up shop. We've been clearing them out, but Batgirl believes there are shipments we're missing that are getting to other cities."

"I'll keep an eye on Metropolis," Clark murmured. He hadn't noticed too much activity in that area, but then, Superman didn't have the kind of underworld informant connections in Metropolis that Batman had in Gotham. They worked in very different styles according to their respective personalities, and they respected each other's methods - particularly when they were in each others' cities.

"She was surprised you came back from Metropolis to see her." And now, Batman wasn't talking about Batgirl. Clark nearly missed a step.

So Bruce wanted to be oblique? Fine. "And she's not the only one surprised you didn't go on patrol in Gotham."

"There was work to be done here." That almost explained Batman's presence.

"And there was a friend to be seen here." And that explained Clark's.

"A friend?"

"A friend," Clark said firmly, sneaking a quick glance at the man beside him. And why are you asking, anyway? He didn't voice the question, though, knowing that Bruce would never answer.

That didn't mean that Clark didn't wonder.

"You know," he said, apropos of nothing in particular, "In my 'perfect world' dream - the one induced by the Black Mercy plant Mongul sent me for my birthday - the woman I woke up beside wasn't Diana." If anything, the woman had been more like Lois - a Kryptonian Lois; which, to Clark's mind, said where his interests lay quite clearly.

Diana was a dear friend and one of his most trusted confidantes, but Clark didn't like her like that.

Bruce, on the other hand...

They said nothing until they reached the transporter room and strode to a transporter to begin programming in their destinations. "How are things at Wayne Enterprises?"

He got a brief glare for mentioning anything to do with Bruce's secret identity. "The usual. How are things at the Planet?"

"Oh, so-so." Clark smirked slightly as he finished the programming and walked to his transporter. "Actually, we got a report from Gotham last week about a new associate seen about the town with Batman. Female, five-foot eleven, black hair, strength in the meta range. Came and went like a shadow. Climbs walls. The newsroom coined her 'Trinity' after the character from The Matrix." He arched a brow just before he stepped onto the platform. "A friend?"

His inflection was precisely designed to mimic Bruce's earlier question to him. This time, he got the full-force Batglare, and deflected it with a smirk of his own as Bruce replied, "A friend."

"Good to have that confirmation from the source," Clark said blandly, playing the Daily Planet reporter for all he was worth. "I'll see you the next time the world needs saving. Batman."

The light coalesced around Clark, depositing him in his apartment in Metropolis. He smiled slightly.

If there was one advantage of being 'the Big Blue Boyscout' of the group, it was that when he did want to give someone a verbal nudge, they were rarely expecting it. And there was always a distinct satisfaction on the rare occasions he succeeded in provoking Bruce.

The smile faded as he stripped out of his uniform and put it into the wash.

The matter of Diana's involvement with Bruce - whatever it might be - was a little worrying, for Diana's sake. It wasn't that Clark didn't like Bruce, it was just that Bruce was...well, Bruce. He came with...baggage. More baggage than Clark would wish on a woman he cared about, even if not in that way.

He'd have to sit down and talk with Diana sometime soon. About Bruce and Batman and relationships. Sometime soon.

Right now, he was going to sleep.

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