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

Bruce came home to the cave to find Alfred already there with a tray of lunch including ice-water and a turkey sandwich. "Have a nice visit with your Aunt Evie, Master Bruce?"

"Yes Alfred, she seems happy."

"Did her dogs remember her?"

Bruce smiled slightly as he reached for the ice water and then picked up the sandwich with his other hand. "Yes, though she complained they were more excited to see me."

Alfred's voice got a little drier. "Indeed, you 'have' been spending quite enough time with them."

Bruce's smile remained in place. He glanced up at his butler. "Sorry about the laundry, Alfred."

His servant and once legal guardian sniffed, but they both knew he was happy about the joy Evie's dogs brought to Bruce's life mostly otherwise spent in wakeful nights chasing enemies and asleep in a cave. Bruce spent the next minute sipping water and biting into his sandwich, but when he'd thoroughly chewed and swallowed the latter, he sighed. "Alfred, Lucius is going to be away a while."

"With the young men and Clark Kent, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Interesting choice of bodyguard, Master Wayne."

"Trust me, he'll do."

Alfred gave a slight bow of ascent. As he straightened, he asked a question. "Will this put off Madge Robertson's move to Ainsley Manor?"

Bruce raised a hand and scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. I wanted her to feel like she earned the job. Like Lucius' interview coaching helped her land it. Like she held her own."

"I think my sister and her have already hit it off quite well."

Both men looked up to see Leslie standing in the cave. Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you working?"

"It's my lunch break." She strode on. "I think putting it off until their next job makes more sense. We can tell them how to weave their work for my sister into a resume as well as the qualities she begins to praise them for."

Alfred nodded. "Makes sense." He then turned and gave another slight bow to his employer. "I shall go make more turkey sandwiches for our guest, Master Bruce." He walked toward the elevator leaving host and guest together.

When the lift's door had sealed shut behind his butler, Leslie's godson whispered, "Thank you, Aunt Leslie, I know this had been hard for you. I couldn't have helped her so much alone."

Leslie cocked her head at him with squinted eyes. "What does she mean to you Bruce?"

He raised his head and gave her a cool, fixed stare. "She's the first …"

"The first to go through the pipeline you mean to use to help those engaged in illegal and/or harmful activities in the worst parts of Gotham to heal and gain upward mobility. I know. But my sister, who is almost never wrong about these things, agrees with me on something. You've taken a far more intense interest in Madge than just that plan points to."

Bruce turned his gaze away. Leslie approached and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Bruce. Talk to me. You know the likelihood of my judging you harder than you judge yourself is infinitesimal."

Bruce strode away from her touch after putting his glass and sandwich down on his tray. He paused a few steps away his back then to her. Leslie spoke into the silence between them. "Bruce, there is nothing shameful about feeling attraction for a woman your age." Bruce raised his arms to fold them over his chest as she continued, "I can't promise you such a relationship will prosper indeed the chances are it will not. Frankly, however, we're all a little relieved you're experiencing something so normal."

Bruce gave a sniff that sounded bitterer than those she often heard from Alfred. She approached and laid a hand on his right arm. "Bruce … why are you so afraid of admitting to yourself and the rest of …"

He turned on her and his grey eyes seemed lit on silver fire. "This isn't my 'first' 'attraction.' I recently discovered a woman I was 'attracted' thinks killing another human being is funny."

Leslie's eyes widened. She backed away in a few small steps her heels clicking on the stone floor. When she realized this, she stopped herself and blinked up at him. "When was this?"

Bruce turned his face away and gazed at the floor. Some of the fire in his eyes faded. "Not long before I came back … I didn't want to 'fall in love.' I always knew I was coming back here. I had a purpose, 'here.' But her father … kept … instigating meetings between her and I. Sometimes at night. He came to often point her out to me and ask me if I found her beautiful. Strange behavior for a father. Somehow, he came to believe we were the best thing for each other."

"Did her father know you were extremely wealthy?"

"I don't think he cared." Leslie's eyebrows rose. Bruce went on. "Finally, I let them know I was leaving them to return to Gotham City. They thought my words funny. They were sure I would stay with them, sure I was impressed with them, or ensnared by her, or they'd scared me into fearing angering them too much to refuse them."

Bruce noticed from the corner of his eye Leslie had her "Psychologist" stare fixed on him. His shoulders lifted and spine straightened slightly. If the professional, rather than the godmother, had awakened in her, she hadn't been scared too badly. He'd been purposefully vague to avoid that. He must have succeeded. He looked away and continued in a tired tone. "When I convinced her know I 'was' really leaving and her beauty, strength, and charm weren't enough to keep me, she did not take it well. Bad things happen to those I entangle myself with. I doubt that's any less true now. The farther Madge Robertson stays away from me, the better for her it will be."

Now, Leslie sniffed. "Bruce, you are too intelligent to believe such superstitious nonsense."

Bruce turned a glare at her. "What is science except observing patterns and drawing conclusions from them?"

Leslie cocked her head and set her hands on her hips. "Does that mean you expect terrible happenings to happen to Alfred, Lucius, my sister, and me?"

Bruce looked away. The muscles of his jaw tightened as did those of his still crossed arms. Leslie's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open as she crossed her own arms over her chest. "You do! Bruce why haven't you told me all this in any of our sessions?"

"I mostly wanted to talk about what I saw on the streets of Gotham to keep myself sane as I walked them. I did not want to worry my godmother about dangers from my time away from this city."

"You 'know' it's all connected, Bruce. What does all this have to do with Madge?"

Bruce glanced back to her. "I want Madge to have a bright future." He shook his head. "That can't involve me."

. . .

Superman sat in the dark plane over the Atlantic. The boys were asleep in the back. They'd refused to elaborate on the dangers of Amanda Waller. Neither Clark nor Lucius blamed them at all.

Clark was debating to himself the relative dangers of "not" telling Lois about this possible story. She'd want to kill him for not sharing it with her. Bruce's anger if he "did" share it with his colleague would be scary too. He wasn't considering telling Lois details about the boys or their past. He'd already promised to not share that in his article on their home. He's leave out of any such story the gap between their time with the rebels during their country's civil way and their return home tomorrow. He would not even ask them more about it.

To not tell Lois about a woman in some kind of military organization who 'collected nightmares,' even if only according to a few anonymous sources, though … That was the kind of story Lois pounced upon. Once he told her he couldn't share his sources info with her, she was more than capable of sniffing something out on her own about it. Even with the barest bits of information she could do that.

If Lois found out about Waller entirely on her own later, and then found out "he'd" known first, without telling her, he'd pay for it. If he told her and Bruce found out "that" he'd be in trouble with him. His best friend or office crush would be coming after him either way. Her fury or Bruce's, it was not a nice menu to choose from.

"Now that the other passengers are asleep, are you going to fill me in?"

Clark glanced at his pilot with widening blue eyes. "On how I plan to cover this story?"

Lucius gave a warm, wry grin. "Sure. But I 'meant' the story of how you met my boss and came to call him friend. Usually, Mr. Wayne avoids relationships like quarantined buildings. Actually, he'd probably break in to such a place before he'd agree to go to a ballgame with someone."

Lucius gave a sideways glance at the younger man. Clark gave a tired smile back. "That does sound like him."

"There you go again. Talking like you know a man most people think is dead."

"Getting to know him didn't come easy."

Lucius nodded. "Had to have taken some time."

Clark turned his gaze fully upon the man. "I'm a journalist. I know what leading questions are. You won't believe me if I give you the whole story. Not a dare, just an assumption."

"I'll be more inclined to believe you both because he brought you in on this and because of all the accurate comments you're making about the son of my late bosses and friends."

Clark glanced at the businessman and pilot. Then he looked out into the night sky. "We … got roped into helping out some folks. They decided we were the best sources of help they could find for their problem. I didn't want to say no. Bruce did, but couldn't. We helped them, and, because I found out I liked helping, I stayed. Bruce didn't want to leave me alone with them, so he stayed too. He was critical and unfriendly to us all. I think he hoped everyone would freeze him out back. The problem was we really 'needed' him enough he kept having to do things for us."

Lucius glanced at the reporter. Clark leaned back in his seat and gave a sigh. "We all found out later he was being unpleasant on purpose. He had a phobia of friendships. He believed they'd either end up with treachery or death on his friend's part, or death on his. If he pushed us away, we'd fail to fool him or not be hurt if he was taken from us. That's how he saw it anyway."

Lucius' jaw went tight. His eyes narrowed as he continued to listen to the story while flying the plane. Clark bent over his knees and lifted his hands up like a supplicant. "In the end, it didn't matter. Bruce didn't die. That was someone else." Clark paused. His throat went tight. He muscled through. "All the rest of us had already gotten fond of Bruce, though it took us a while. He held us together after that death. It wasn't like he was unaffected. He just … seemed to expect it more than us and wasn't shocked by our reactions to it either. Finally, I told him I wanted to go home, and he took me home. He was the only one I stayed in touch with afterward. I think he blamed himself for not getting me out of there earlier, or letting the death happen. None of us blamed him, but that didn't matter to Bruce …"

"You know my god-nephew …"

Clark looked sideways at the older man. Lucius continued in a softer voice. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For telling me about this, and not giving up on Bruce."

Clark gave the other man a true grin. "I don't give up easy. Bruce calls me …" Clark stopped, realizing he'd been about to say "nosey, stubborn Kryptonian," Clark settled for on telling Lucius "Nosey and stubborn."

Lucius laughed.

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes