Hey ! Like I said a day, I will translate in english my french fiction of my Superbat in the Original Universe (35 chapters).

WARNING : It was already complex to me in my own language to write it. There's a lot of superheroes (and many of them are strangers for a lot of people) and, as a superfan of DC Comics (I read about fifty comics), there are many references in there and it may be difficult to catch them'all. I had specified some of them in my French version, but I don't remember which ones. So if you have any questions, or if you want to learn more, don't hesitate, it would be a pleasure to share this with you.

Hope you'll enjoy it ;)

THE SUM OF OUR FEARS

1. Doomsday

His ears were ringing, his vision was blurred and his whole body was in pain. Stunned by the last blow he had just received, it took him a long time to free himself from the debris in which he had landed. He grimaced in pain as he held his ribs, suspecting that he must have fractured some of them. He stumbled down from his butte of rubble, dust, and metal to a place where he seemed to hear groans.

He rushed, worrying that the area had not been completely cleared. He was sure, however, that no civilians were in the vicinity, but on the streets of New York City, we couldn't know. It was then that he recognized the voice and saw him. Barry, half-buried, struggling to free himself.

"Flash! Are you all right? "

He ran as fast as he could and began to clear the debris that was preventing the fastest man in the world from moving. Then he saw the blood, and when he had finished freeing his legs, found a thick piece of metal piercing through his thigh.

"Batman... I can't run anymore... I'm not going to... regenerate in time... "

The Flash was panting and seemed to be running out of steam. In front of him, Batman pulled a morphine syringe out of his belt and injected it into his friend, before removing the piece of metal and applying strong pressure. He tore off pieces of his cape and handed them to Barry.

"Stay there, I'll see where the others are. "

At the same moment that Barry opened his mouth, he hit the silence around them.

"Doomsday... sent Superman to the power station... they moved. Green Arrow, Cyborg and Red Arrow have been put out of action... Only Superman, Wonder Woman, Nightwing and Aquaman remain operational... "

Batman took a look around to find the wounded heroes before Flash: Raven and Starfire seemed unconscious and J'onn J'onzz, wounded, was trying to get to them. He called the latter to indicate Barry's position, then sent one of his drones to his position. He aimed at him with his grappling hook and soon found himself hanging in the air, telling his drone to head towards the battle site.

Having a bird's eye view of the sky, Batman could not help but notice the extent of the damage caused by Doomsday. His strength had been growing steadily and he was thinking of a way to regain the upper hand. But they had already tried a lot of things: fire, sound waves, water, electricity,... nothing could pierce his skin and he was getting bigger and bigger, more and more tenacious. If they didn't all find a way... Doomsday would have Superman's skin. Then it would be their turn.

He finally arrived at the indicated place and landed at the side of his former apprentice, Dick, who now carried the pseudonym Nightwing. The latter had a head wound that bled profusely and could barely stay on his legs. He took a quick look at the scene, where Wonder Woman and Superman were fighting Doomsday. Diana tried to immobilize the monster with her lasso to allow the Kryptonian to strike him, but he seemed invulnerable.

"You've got a plan, Bruce ? " made a voice in the distance, which he recognized as Aquaman's voice.

"I'm thinking about it. "

"If we don't find a way soon... Diana and Clark are already exhausted... "

Gotham's watchman turned his head to the battle that was destroying the city. Diana had wounds on her arms and legs and seemed to be at the end of her strength. On the other side, Superman took the majority of the blows, his flesh too being badly scarred by the monster's bony prominences. His costume was almost completely torn. He was out of breath. He was exhausted. Superman was losing.

The first rays of sunlight momentarily blinded Batman, who covered his eyes. The League had spent all night trying to stop Doomsday, all the way from Philadelphia. He had left behind nothing but destruction and death, and wounded superheroes. If us, the Justice League, didn't stop him, then no one could.

Doomsday threw its fist at Clark, who was unable to dodge the blow. He crashed hard to the ground while the monster was already taking care of Wonder Woman: he lassoed her, grabbed her leg, and threw her hard to the ground, before sending her away. The queen of the Amazons screamed in pain and Batman tried to run towards them, but the sharp pain in his ribs called him to order and he suddenly had trouble breathing. Nightwing held him up until he recovered from a fairly violent coughing spell that twisted his ribs. He was clearly no longer in fighting condition, he wouldn't take the blows of Doomsday. He could only watch in the distance, his friends being beaten. He wanted to help Clark.

The Kryptonian used his heat vision towards the monster, which only made him more angry. In a roar of rage, the monster grew bony growths and long thorns formed at the junction of his hands. It closed its fist, and if Superman could dodge the first blow, the second pierced his chest.

"Clark ! "

Bruce couldn't help screaming. His friend slowly turned his head towards him as he rushed towards them as best he could, pushing Nightwing away in the process. Batman thought he saw Superman's expression change as he turned his head towards him, before the creature dropped him. The Man of Steel fell to his knees as his enemy turned his attention to the man running towards them. Bruce was ready to fight to the death if he had to. He was determined. So was Clark.

In a final effort, on the verge of agony, the Kryptonian gathered his strength, screaming his rage before grabbing Doomsday and taking it with him into the sky in a deafening roar. The Bat raised his head to follow them, but the sun soon prevented him from doing so. His heart tightened. If Superman did what he thought... if he went into space... No, there was a hope that he would survive. The rays of the yellow sun would be regenerative for him and if he was adrift for too long, a Green Lantern could bring him back to the Watchtower.

Batman clung to that hope, his head still raised to the sky. Clark had to survive. He had to survive. He would survive even that. He was Superman.

"Where's Doomsday? "

Continuing to stare at the sky, he didn't lower his head to Wonder Woman, who walked towards him, supported by Aquaman.

"Superman took him into space. I think so. "

"I don't think he'll make it... "

The anxiety present in the Amazon's voice challenged him enough to deign to look at it.

"Why do you say that?" Nightwing asked before him.

"Because he was on the verge of exhaustion and wounded. I don't think he had enough strength to fly. "

"It's right, it did look like it was more of a great jump... but very powerful," Nightwing said pensively.

As they all came to the conclusion that they were going to fall back down, a thud raised their heads: a dark mass was falling from the sky. Batman quickly calculated the point of impact with his gadget and contacted the authorities to send men immediately to the scene: the Uper Bay was large and it was necessary to retrieve what had fallen as soon as possible. He turned his head towards Aquaman, who seemed to have broken an arm and had multiple cuts. He was also showing signs of dehydration.

"Uper Bay. Do you think you can do anything about it? "

"I need to get over there. "

Batman didn't wait any longer. He sent his position to his small aircraft and waited for the autopilot to do the rest. Then with Aquaman, he set off for the drop point, his heart full of hope.

Hours. All they had found was the body of Doomsday, quickly recovered by the ARGUS and locked in a lead box. But no sign of the Man of Steel. And the more time passed, the more the members of the League, as well as the authorities who were helping them, lost hope. Aquaman had used his resources to probe the surroundings, but apart from the monster, marine animals such as fish were not much help.

Bruce hated waiting. Diana and Dick had forced him to go for treatment, along with other seriously injured League members. He was not surprised when he was told he had broken ribs and didn't care, it wasn't the first time or the last. It would just take a long time to heal and make him less successful.

But getting treatment kept him a little busy. He was looking forward to Arthur telling him that he had found something, but he didn't. He had been looking forward to it. And after a whole day without finding anything, they all stopped searching, with death in their souls: Superman was dead.

Superman was dead. Clark Kent was dead. No way. It couldn't be possible. He had to be in space, it couldn't be any other way. But Cyborg had assured him that the Tower's scanners had found nothing and neither had John Stewart. Superman was dead.

The news had devastated Bruce. More than he thought. He had just lost a teammate. A friend. Clark. It hurt him so bad, so much, and he blamed himself for not doing something about it. For watching him sacrifice himself for others. He was worthless. The Batman had been unable to protect the city, unable to protect his friends. He had been useless and he blamed himself.

He hit the tree in front of him even harder, cutting into its bark. One week. It had been a week since Clark had disappeared. For the first few days, he had hoped that he would reappear. But now there was no hope left. Only anger, pain, and remorse animated his heart, and since then, he saw everything in black, even more than usual. He had stopped communicating with the Justice League, claiming that he had work to do. In reality, he didn't want to see them because he was afraid to face their eyes. To see the pain in their eyes. His own was already enough for him. He had lost Clark. He had refused to go to his funeral.

Alfred had tried to get him out of his basement, and the only time Bruce would do it was to hit the tree in front of him. Dick had visited him several times to see how he was doing, but Bruce refused to see him. He wanted to be alone. The emptiness left by the loss of Clark had affected him deeply and he felt like he was broken, a part of himself had suddenly disappeared. This pain, oppressive in his chest, constant, made him feel sick and more vulnerable than ever. He didn't want to be seen that way either: weak. That's what he was now. A weakling.

This simple fact made him angry with himself and the conflicting feelings within him prevented him from being operational. How could Clark's death affect him so much? He had never realized how much he was worth to him until he lost him... he regretted so much everything they had said they would do together and never found time to do: go out one night for a drink, have a night out with the league, Clark wanted to show him his farm in Kansas, wanted him-

"Master Bruce. "

"What, Alfred?! "

He had been more aggressive than he would have liked. He turned to his butler, impassive as always. Bruce wiped the sweat from his forehead, waiting for his interlocutor to speak.

"Sir, a cab has just arrived at the mansion gates. Your presence is required. "

"Fire him. I don't want to see anyone. "

"Master Bruce, with all due respect, you should go and see, before sending the car back. "

Images. Sounds. Everything reached him in a disordered and interspersed way. He saw people crying, people screaming, their faces marked by fear and pain. A destroyed city, smoke, dust that covered everything around him. Then came the pain, intense. He felt himself toppled over. His name. Someone had shouted his name. It was far away, so far away, but he had heard it. It was enough to remind him of his goal: to eliminate the threat and save lives. To save others. His duty was to protect them.

He felt himself drawn out of the void. He had an excruciating migraine, was in pain everywhere and felt fragile. New sounds came to him, and then he opened his eyes. He coughed up the water in his lungs, making him wince in pain, preventing him from breathing. He was tired, disoriented and cold.

"Hey, buddy, ya'okay? "

He looked up at the man who was probably helping him to stand. Small, thin and with a graying beard, the man must have been in his fifties. At the sight of his outfit, he had no doubt that the man was homeless. He gave him a grateful look and stood up.

"Thanks to you, thank you. "

"Ya' not the first one w've'caught. W've seen lots of drunks diving'off bridges. But never has a'face lik'that. What's ya' lil' name? "

"Clark. "

"I'm Bob. "

Clark shook his hand and took a quick look at himself. His ragged suit hadn't held and all he had left were the sleeves and legs. Dirt and mud had washed away the color and by the smell, he was amazed that he wasn't in the sewer. Instead, he was in a part of a disinfected harbour, where other homeless people had taken refuge.

"Nice to meet you, Bob. Can you tell me where I am? "

"Ya' in Gotham, kiddo. Ya' really out of'it. "

Clark's thinking fast, his neurons temporarily connected. He remembered his fight against Doomsday. He remembered his injury... How could he be alive? He took a look at his torso: four large bruises adorned his chest and the pain that accompanied them explained more about his pain. And their presence gave him an important indication that he no longer had his powers. In order to verify his theory, he tried to see with his X-ray vision, without any success. He didn't bother to check the rest.

He tried to calm down and silence the pain that was preventing him from concentrating. Summary of the situation: The day before, he had fought Doomsday. He had probably won, since he was alive. But where were the others? What had become of them? He had to find them, but he had no means of communication to reach them. He had no identification, no money, no clothes. Great. He was in a shitty situation.

"Ya' going to catch death, kiddo, com'closer to th'brazier to dry off, at least. Ya' all pale and ya' trembling. "

"I'll be fine, thank you. Can I borrow something to wear? I know it's a lot to ask you this... "

"No worry. We've to help each'other out, don't we? "

Bob handed him a big brown coat that was a bit moth-eaten. Clark put it on with a smile on his face, happy to have a little more warmth on his shoulders.

"Thank you very much. I owe you one. "

"I hope'so. "

"One more thing, do you know where I can find a cab? "

Wayne Manor was definitely a sumptuous home, which Alfred maintained wonderfully. Clark had had the opportunity to enter the mansion several times, but rarely had he been able to take the time to admire the building. The hedges seemed to be trimmed down to the last millimetre, the flowers were beautiful and the outdoor fountains were magnificent. He was truly amazed by the estate.

"Well, when do I get paid? My meter keeps running. "

Clark turned his attention to the cab driver, who had gotten out of his vehicle and was waiting for his paycheck. He was embarrassed in advance to ask Bruce for help, but he didn't have a penny on him. He was the only one who had agreed to let him get into his car.

"When the butler returned with the master of the house. "

The driver didn't hide his anger. Clark, for his part, was patient. Alfred had told him to wait on the stoop for Mr. Wayne's arrival, but he had the impression that he hadn't recognized him. He had such a scary face?

As he turned around the building, he saw the silhouette of the butler arriving, as well as the master of the house behind him, visibly in a hurry. In shorts and a black tank top, still dripping with sweat, Clark found him something seductive. Very seductive. It was a change from his bat suit or the one he wore at social events. He smiled at him as soon as he looked at him.

"Bruce! I need your he-"

"Clark?! "

His friend's voice, both surprised and shocked at the same time, cut short the journalist's urge to come towards him. He frowned with incomprehension, realizing very quickly that something was wrong. But the billionaire approached him and grabbed his face with both hands, plunging his gaze into his own. A shiver ran through the journalist, feeling strange by such closeness to Bruce. His blue eyes, colder than his own, were truly magnificent. It was the only rational thought he had before Bruce hugged him, awakening a little more pain. Surprised, Clark responded to the exchange, astonished by such closeness on the part of the bat man, who never showed such affection with anyone.

"We thought you were dead! "

"What?! You could have waited a few days anyway, you were quick there ... "

Bruce glanced at Alfred and without even exchanging words with each other, the butler nodded and took care of the cab. Bruce dragged the Man of Steel into his mansion. He followed the master of the house who took him into one of the rooms of the manor. Clark knew that Bruce had his silent phases when he was thinking and that he tended not to share them. But he wasn't in the mood right now and all he wanted to do was take a good shower and get some sleep. Except that he wouldn't do it until his friend shared his concerns with him.

"What's going on, Bruce? "

"Look in the mirror, Clark. It's been a few days already. "

With a gesture of the head, he pointed to a door attached to the room and went there, suddenly tense. Then, as he faced his reflection, he understood. He hadn't paid attention to his face and hadn't noticed, even when Bruce had touched him, that his beard had grown. By several days. His dirty, messy curls contrasted with his corpse-like complexion, and the dark circles under his eyes made him feel like a walking dead man. The thought crossed his mind for a moment, and as panic mounted, he was seized with a coughing fit. He felt as if he was going to cough up his lungs. It was so violent that he did not feel his friend's hand on his shoulder, nor did he hear him move.

"Are you okay?" Wayne said, with a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Clark just nodded positively while continuing to cough. Bruce remarked to himself that he had never seen his friend in such a state. It worried him. He was very concerned.

"What happened to me? Bruce, I don't have my powers anymore. I don't remember what I did from Doomsday to now. "

Bruce saw Clark's distress in his eyes. He tried to reassure him, but he was worried too.

"Go take a shower, use whatever you need. I'll lend you some new clothes, then we'll talk. "

The Kryptonian didn't protest and did it willingly. Bruce, on the other hand, prepared some things for him, which he left in the room and returned to the room, thinking about it. He had dealt with Clark Kent, alias Superman, no doubt. But without care, how could he have survived? His chest wound was fatal. Was he that much of a superman? Had his return to life cost him his powers for good? Did he have to tell the League right away, or could he wait?

He was out of his mind when he heard Clark swear. Clearly, mankind seemed to have sides that bothered him. Would he regain his powers after longer exposure to the sun, even if he was dead? He would see, after several days. He heard the shower water stop and a few minutes later Clark opened the door. He hadn't put on the T-shirt that Bruce had given him, only the jeans. The wet, uncapped curls made him look more like Clark than Superman, making the billionaire smile on the inside: no matter what he looked like, he was still beautiful. His attention was focused on his muscular, hairless torso, his pecs and... he saw four large bruises very clearly. His expression changed, as did his mood. Clark didn't pay attention to him as he lowered his head to his torso, looking at the same marks.

"I'm really dead, aren't I? I think I remember..." Clark said in a trembling voice.

"It's been a week since Doomsday. What do you remember? "

"The fight. I was only with Diana, Arthur and Dick... He was too strong... I couldn't take it and the others too. Then I remember... He impaled me... Bruce, how are the others? And the civilians? What about casualties? "

"Calm down, Clark. Everybody's fine. Most of the damage is material. There were a lot of casualties, but we all did our best. What else do you remember? "

He sat on the bed and took his head in his hands, remaining silent for a few moments. Bruce remained patient and waited without adding anything more.

"I don't know... I remember the pain, I see you running towards me and... and then I wake up in Gotham's old disinfected harbour. A homeless man pulled me out. That was just three hours ago. "

"Are you sure you don't remember what you did next? "

"Why? Did I do anything after that? "

"You grabbed Doomsday and you both went up in the air. There was only one visible drop point, and we thought you were together. But we never found you. Doomsday's body was recovered by the ARGUS. "

"I don't remember and I couldn't have done that, not from my injuries. "

"Yet you did. "

Clark let himself fall backwards on the bed, running his hands through his hair. He was lost. He wasn't sure what had happened to him, but he was sure that with an injury as deadly as his, he was dead. Maybe that's why he didn't have his powers anymore? Had he become human? He would have to go to the Fortress of Solitude to get answers about what had happened.

He was seized with another coughing fit, forcing him to sit up to get better access to air. Every cough he had hurt him like hell and he would grimace as he waited for it to pass. Then he took turns falling on the bed, exhausted. Superman was dead. There must have been an official announcement. Clark might still be alive. In any case, at the moment, he was supposed to be on a trip to Burundi for his article on the war. His absence at the Daily Planet would not be noted. But if Superman's death had been on the news, as it surely was, Martha must have heard the news.

"I have to make a call. "

"I'll get you a phone. "

Bruce slipped away, conscious of the inner turmoil that was to come over his friend. But when he came back with a phone, he found the sleeping Man of Steel in the same position he had left him two minutes before. Resuscitation seemed to be an exhausting thing. He positioned his friend correctly and examined him to see if there were any other signs of injury. His fingers wandered over his surprisingly soft and warm skin, a more pleasant touch than it should be.

He smiled slightly when he saw that Clark had cut himself shaving and associated the action with the swearing he had heard. But other than that, there was nothing. Only his mortal wound seemed to take a long time to heal. But to be reduced to a bruise when it had literally reduced him to lint was a pretty good thing. Bruce was convinced that his powers would return.

He left his room and closed behind him. He asked Alfred to prepare a second one near his room: until the Kryptonian was recovered, he wouldn't let him go back to Metropolis or Smallville. In fact, he was sure his mom was the one Clark wanted to reach on appeal. He went down to the Batcave, to see if he could find more information, but also to keep an eye on the city. Now that Clark was back and he knew he was safe, he felt a huge weight come off his chest: he felt relieved and strangely serene.