I do not own Bruce Wayne/Batman, Clark Kent/Superman, Lucius Fox, or Alfred Pennyworth. I did create the other characters seen here.

Please read and enjoy without cost since I make no money from this. :)

God Bless

Three of the men smiled at him, the fourth's expression had gone slightly softer though he still appeared suspicious. Amanda Waller strode with her people to her own private jet minus the boys. She leaned over and spoke into Bruce's ear though it was loud enough he thought she knew the boys would hear. "They slip up, Wayne, they're mine again."

Bruce thought he saw a slight upward twitch of the corner of Judah's lips as he watched her leave. That was the name of the boy whom Bruce had rarely ever seen smile possibly assigned by Amanda Waller herself. "Judah."

. . .

Evie stopped and sighed again blinked as her face fell. "I still miss my second and best husband today …"

Madge's face fell in sympathy. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd reached out and taken the older lady's hand in hers.

"Sorry." She whispered.

The other lady smiled at her through watery eyes and laid her free hand over the one clasping her other. "Well, it is as they say. If you don't miss anything, you never had anything."

. . .

After Waller's jet had taken off, minus four young men who had been on it before and plus one unconscious sniper, Lucius approached the majority owner of the company he helped run. "Mr. Wayne, those young men over there stand and watch me like highly trained soldiers."

"That's because they've been training to be just that for five years, Lucius."

"They also seem very young to me."

"Yes."

"I'm going to be on a plane, alone, for fourteen hours with highly trained soldiers without fully matured brains, whom I do not know. And one of them does not look any happier about it than me."

Bruce turned his back on Lucius and marched across the tarmac away from him with a calm gait. He spoke in an even calmer voice. "Come on Lucius. Let's search the area for the recording devices Amanda left behind."

. . .

A blank expression came over her face. Madge leaned back in her chair to think. "I miss my mother … but … mostly my art teacher … I miss … a few of my friends back from … well, the old neighborhood."

Evie sat up and blinked at her. "Do you now?"

"Yeah … I guess … my mom you know. She was killed by my dad and then … I got placed with my aunt uncle and cousin and … that didn't end well. So, I came here … and that didn't en … 'go' well … for a while either."

Madge hoped her slip of the tongue didn't make the lady think her ungrateful for all she and the others had done for her. She looked up to see. Evie was simply drinking her tea while watching and waiting for her to go on.

Madge sighed. Then she looked straight ahead remembering. "I guess that's why I was really mad about the art lessons. They were the best part of my life before this I think." She waved her hand at the kitchen and house surrounding it perhaps. Evie lifted her eyebrows at the compliment. Madge sighed and went on. "I just … don't want anything to ruin that … memories … to have 'bad' art lessons now … in case. It's all I got, from my past, I think. I don't want anything to ruin it …" Madge looked at Evie, flinched at what she'd just said, implying the art lessons she offered would be bad, and muttered "Sorry."

Evie reached out and took her hand now. "Don't be … but, if I'd not gone through with a second marriage due to how my first turned out so bad, think of what I would have missed missing …"

Madge laughed. When she stopped laughing, she looked back to Evie with wet eyes but smiling lips. The other lady looked back with the same.

. . .

Bruce enlisted the young men in their quest of finding and destroying recording devices around them. They did indeed find some of hers along with some of their own. After Bruce gave Lucius a look, they both let the four young men destroy whichever they found. Bruce later said any found deserved to be destroyed anyway and they could improve upon them. Also, there were some things he didn't even want their own devices to record.

Some bugs had been placed under vehicles outside and the underside of tables within the hanger. Cameras were placed high on the chain-link fence and support beams of the hanger. Finally, Bruce sent the boys inside the jet itself to sweep it. By then, the older men had faith in their skill.

Lucius looked to Bruce as soon as they were out of sight and sound. "So, we got the bugs. Now what? One of them keeps looking over his shoulder at me, and the others still give him a few signs of deference."

"He's been their leader. You can tell in how he talks. They keep silent until highly motivated to speak. Otherwise, he does the talking alone."

"Fourteen hours is a loooooooong time, Mr. Wayne, anything could happen."

Bruce reached into a pocket of his jacket. "I know Lucius." He pulled out a small whistle.

. . .

Evie, still with a pleased smile, shrugged her shoulders. "If you think these memories of your old art lessons are too precious to risk tainting them with something new that might usurp their place in the category of your mind under "Art Classes," you don't have to take them. We both can think of other note-worthy activities to occupy ourselves. But if you think you'd like to try to increase your talents with skill, practice, and knowledge from others, I can help there too."

Madge set her teacup in her saucer and sighed. "It's been a long morning, let me have time to think about it."

Evie gave her back a warm, tired smile of her own. "Of course."

. . .

Lucius squinted at it his employer. The older man's mouth screwed up into an odd line while Bruce blew into the instrument. Lucius heard nothing. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to call Mrs. Evelyn's hounds?"

Bruce ceased blowing into the whistle, stuffed it back into his pocket, and looked up into the sky. "No …"

They waited for forty-five minutes. Lucius looked at his watch a third time. "It's almost dawn, Bruce. The sky's turning grey now. As you pointed out, I've got a long flight ahead of me. I tried to get enough sleep before coming over here, but …"

"Here he is …"

At the sound of Bruce's words, Lucius turned his gaze to the drive leading up to the gate of the airstrip. A car was driving up it. The paint and make were common about twenty years ago. It looked as non-descript as the sedan already parked on the tarmac. In fact, it looked more "sincerely" mundane.

It parked in front of the gate. Then its driver-door opened. A figure stepped out.

The man was about Bruce's height or taller, though he hunched. He wore a tan trench coat, matching hat, and horn-rimmed glasses. He had black hair combed straight back. His blue eyes were warm as the summer sky. His whole face shone with good humor and optimism. A camera and press pass hung from his neck. He raised his hat into the air as he called over to Lucius and Bruce. "Good morning!"

Lucius froze and blinked. "A journalist?"

"Trust me Lucius."

Bruce strode down to the gate. Lucius followed at a measured pace. The man approached the gate carrying a suitcase. After Bruce opened the gate for him, the other man held out his right hand to Lucius with a grin. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox."

As Lucius shook the man's hand, his employer introduced the. "Lucius, this is Clark Kent. He's going to do a story for 'The Daily Planet' on how our home away from home in Africa is healing and being rebuilt after the uprising there five years ago. Clark will hitch a ride with you on the jet to get there. He'd also like to use you as a source for his article. If you don't like the idea, he'd just appreciate you introducing him to anyone you think could or would like to help you with his story."

Lucius reciprocated Clark Kent's gesture with a firm grip, surprised at how gentle the other man's touch was. As Clark shook Lucius' hand, his grin grew bigger. Lucius' own tone as he replied was dry. "The more the merrier."

Bruce cleared his throat. Then he looked down at his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Can you let Clark and I have a minute alone before take-off, Lucius?"

Lucius turned cold, narrowed eyes upon his employer. "Of course."

As he tried to walk away though, Bruce caught his arm. Bruce looked up to meet Lucius' equally caught gaze with a serious one of his own. "Thank you."

Lucius' bunched shoulders fell. He gave a small smile back and patted Bruce's free shoulder. "Don't mention it Mr. Wayne." Lucius then walked away. His gait slow and easy.

Bruce turned his head to watch Lucius leave over his shoulder. Clark looked over Bruce's same shoulder to do the same. When Lucius had entered the jet and closed its door, both men met each other's gaze.

Clark stuffed his hands in his pockets. His eyes grew a little wet to the other man's embarrassment for him. "Hi, Bruce …"

Despite his dry eyes, Bruce swallowed before replying. "Nice to see you Clark. Don't be offended by Lucius' demeanor today. He's used to me being overprotective and paranoid for everyone's safety. Now he thinks I'm sending him on a fourteen-hour trip with trained soldiers who might turn on him along with someone sent just to get the story … and pictures."

Clark laughed. "Good one, Bruce." He looked back up with an even warmer smile. "Lucius should know better by now if he's worked with you for long."

"Very long. He's assuming, though, right now, I must care less for his safety than anyone else's. You're his unofficial body-guard for this trip with four young, but well-trained soldiers who've just taken a big gamble."

Clark grinned wider. "Then you must love him."

Bruce looked away. "He taught me … after my mom … couldn't … I barley saw the inside of a school until several years later, when I took university classes I thought might help me with my mission. I was mostly taught by family before then."

Clark's smile became a tad sad. "Then you must trust me."

"About as much as I trust anybody I didn't know before I was born …"

Then, to Bruce's slight irritation, Clark stepped closer and hugged him even patting his back. He soon pulled back to Bruce's immense relief. The journalist then looked the millionaire in the eye the joy in his returning. "It's good to see you, Bruce. It's been a few 'years!'" He stepped back and stuffed his hands into his pockets still smiling. "How've you been?"

"Tired …"

Clark laughed. "Every time I ask ..."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "How are you?"

The reporter shrugged. "Not tired."

"Same answer as always ..."

Clark laughed again. When he stopped, the reporter drew even further back and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. "So … I'm going to protect your man on the plane … all the way 'there' 'and back?'"

"Only if necessary. If you can ward off any trouble without giving yourself away by simply being Clark Kent the whole time, that would be preferable. You might have to protect the boys from each other, though. One isn't too happy with the other three. A fourteen-hour flight is a long time for things to change." Bruce then raised an eyebrow. "Have you had any run-ins with Amanda Waller?"

Clark awkwardly raised a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it while looking down at the ground. "Once … when I didn't look like this."

Bruce's voice went hard. "What. Happened?"

Clark looked up with only mild surprise and shrugged. "I met an alien she was tracking down and 'let him get away without learning anything of his future whereabouts.' Her words not mine."

Clark looked back to Bruce's face to find him glaring at him. He raised his hands in preliminary surrender. "She seemed far more interested in him than me from what I could tell."

"And you don't think she's been watching and learning all about you even before this run in over another target of hers?"

Clark shrugged. "Lois, Jimmy, and everybody else wants a piece of me when I don't look like this, Bruce. No one, but my editor does otherwise. I've noticed people, including at least one I saw on Waller's team during that run-in, staring at me in costume, but no one like that watches me when I'm like this. Except once. Lois was doing a story on the pentagon and they followed me back to my apartment after I had lunch with her. I noticed them then. I should notice them whenever they're around if they are. I haven't since as Clark Kent." He smiled again, innocently, a little too innocently Bruce thought.

The billionaire raised an eyebrow not smiling. The reporter's grin just grew bigger. "You've given me a pretty good idea of what to keep an eye-out for when scanning my surroundings for paranoid types, Bruce."

The other man rolled his eyes before meeting Clark's gaze again. "How do things sound on the plane so far?"

Clark glanced over Bruce's shoulder. "Some quiet talking, mostly cheerful, and pounding hearts, most likely just from excitement though. Except maybe your CEO's."

"Leave something behind, scan the whole plane on your way to the door and once you're through it. Especially scan the boys inside and out for anything lead-lined. If you feel even the slightest bit nauseous …"

"Use the excuse of going back for what I forgot out here to leave the plane. Come back out here even if I don't see or feel a thing also, because if I don't come back out … you'll know something's up and come in to my rescue." Clark raised his own eyebrow at Bruce. "Was I right?"

Bruce sighed deeply and glared at the reporter. "Clark … you are still much too cocky."

"It's hard not to be when I have to even out your paranoia."

"You do 'not' have to even out anything about me. We don't work together anymore."

Clark laughed at him. "What are we doing now?"

What did you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes