"How long?" The frosty blue eyes seemed to glow as he glared down at the young metahuman. Connor struggled to respond, his voice caught in his throat. He'd never seen Batman without a cowl before, let alone seen him so angry… it was like having all the fear and rage he felt about Robin's disappearance directed back at him ten-fold. The large black gauntlets gripped his T-shirt, dragging him toward the menacing face.

"How long did you wait before telling me this!" Bruce was practically seething now and Clark shifted uncomfortably next to them. He reached out tentatively.

"Bruce…" He turned his fury toward the Kryptonian.

"You swore to me he'd be okay! I knew about the disappearances and you still convinced me to let him live on his own. Damn it, Clark…" The muscular shoulders slumped forward as Clark placed a comforting hand on his back. Superboy watched the intimate gesture, jealousy and fear further tightening his throat.

"Disappearances?" Connor ventured cautiously. Superman pulled Batman closer to him when he flinched at the question. Relaxing slightly in the taller man's grip he started to speak again.

"Lowlifes, the homeless… The kind of people who wouldn't be missed any time soon. Almost two hundred people... gone without a trace." He took a steadying breath before pushing away from Superman and firing up his computer. He started flicking through the profiles of the missing people.

"When did you know he was taken, Connor?" The voice was steady now, almost too steady as he slipped back into the role of the Batman.

"T-Two hours ago. I thought… I—"

"It's okay, Connor. You panicked." Superman smiled comfortingly at him, the smile never reaching his eyes as he rubbed Bruce's shoulders. "What do we know?" he asked Bruce gently. Instead of replying, Batman continued flipping through the missing people's profiles, shaking his head slightly.

"Not much. No one has reported any of the kidnappings. All we know is the location from which they are being taken." Batman returned the computer to standby mode actively avoiding Superman's attention. He slipped out from the comforting hand before approaching his costume display case. Superman quickly followed after him while Connor stayed glued to one spot.

"No. Bruce, no. This is a terrible idea…" Calloused hands worked the clasps of the Batsuit, easing the cape onto a mannequin. He slipped his gauntlets off of his fingers, ignoring Superman's pleas. "You have no idea what will be waiting for you! I… I won't allow it." His deep, rich voice waivered in a way Superboy had never heard before and Batman continued to ignore him. "Damn it, Bruce. At least have me go," Superman forced Bruce to face him.

"No. This is my responsibility. I'll do what I can to remain in communication. If I don't check in every day or so, something has happened and I need you to contact the League." Superman felt sick as he watched Bruce remove the final piece of his protective armor. There should be something he could say the man's mind… but nothing. Nothing short of death would keep Bruce from finding his only son. The tension was palpable as the men stared each other down.

"Go to the Watchtower, Connor. I'll be there shortly." He waited only until the teen was out of the room to reach out for Bruce. His smooth fingertips brushed down Bruce's rough stubble, cupping his chin. He could feel the man's cool gaze watching him as he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Warm breath tickled his lips as he closed his eyes, losing himself in the intimacy.

"Bruce…" he breathed airily. He could smell the warm scent of coffee on the man's breath mixed with the soft scent of deodorant and sweat. He heard Bruce's heart rate rising and felt the strong muscles flex before he was pushed away. The man was stiff and unresponsive as he held him in place and Clark had to press forward to match Bruce's arching away. "Please…" he pleaded, his voice heavy with vulnerability reserved for Bruce alone. Slowly the muscles relaxed under his pale skin and he leaned forward slightly to accept the gesture. Powerful fingers ran a feather-light path up Bruce's neck weaving into his hair. Slowly he tilted the unwilling face up the inch he needed to lean down and steal a kiss.

The kiss was slow and careful in fear that Bruce would run away. He didn't press forward into it, allowing their lips to just barely touch. Bruce accepted reluctantly, leaning in just enough to feel the man of steel's soft lips on his rougher, chapped ones. Gently, one of Clark's hands reached for his, doing its best to still the shaking. Clark could feel Bruce's lips move as he spoke.

"Clark… We can't." Clark only pulled him closer in response.

"I want this Bruce… We could make it work," he promised. Bruce pulled his hand away slowly and turned back to his work.

"It's a distraction, Clark. A dangerous one." He pulled one of Matches' old disguises out from a hidden panel in the display case, doing his best to ignore the warm breath upon his neck.

"You'd never have to worry about me, Bruce. I wouldn't stand between you and your work. It makes perfect sense," Clark's hands rested lightly on the broad shoulders in front of him. "Please. Let yourself find some peace…" He worked on his reflection, applying Matches' thin goatee. By the time he turned back around, he was a completely different person.

"I've got to go. I'll signal you when I can." He buttoned his cheap, ill-fitted suit jacket as he walked over to one of his spare motorbikes. It took everything he had to rev up the engine and ride out onto the highway. If he had spared a single glance back at Clark's longing expression, he was certain he wouldn't have gone alone.