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Chapter 8

Alfred was right. Again.

Clark Kent was quite impressive.

His six foot three frame filled the doorway. Then his presence took over the room.

Power. Command. Control. These were the words that popped into Bruce Wayne's mind in the first five seconds of seeing the hero of tomorrow. For there was no question in Bruce's mind, that's what Clark Kent was meant to be.

A hero.

Past the blue shirt and red jacket. Past the casual blue jeans and work boots. Past the paradox of a Kansas farm boy standing the middle of ancestral luxury and looking as if he belonged.

Bruce Wayne saw…beyond.

There was so much raw, untapped potential in the coiled frame. The unconscious and barely controlled flexing of the muscles. The solid, firm stance. The determined set of his strong jaw.

And the eyes. He knew now what Lois meant when she said it was impossible to look in them and not feel what he was feeling. Though they were currently narrowed with suspicion, there were layers of other emotions underneath, tightly bundled and waiting to explode.

Bruce Wayne understood every one.

And instinctively knew this was one battle he was destined to lose.

Still, he loved a challenge. And going up against Destiny, against a future already set in stone, was certainly a challenge he could embrace with relish.

Especially with Lois Lane as the prize.

"Mr. Kent." Bruce crossed the length of the study in long strides, hand extended. The smile on his face was warm, but reserved. His business smile. The one he carried with him into tough negotiations. And hostile takeovers. "Bruce Wayne. Welcome."

Clark glanced openly around the room before focusing on the hand extended to him. He intentionally did not take it. His steely blue eyes flickered upward to meet Bruce's. Squaring his shoulders, his expression was unreadable. "I was told Lois would be here."

A soft voice. A gentle timbre. With a stubborn edge of determination. And a solid, unbending ripple of steel.

"Yes." Bruce smirked as he let his hand drop to his side. "Alfred follows instructions well."

"I see." Clark's voice was tight. As were his generous lips. "Mr. Wayne, I understand you are a powerful man and this is your home. But make no mistake. I came here to see Lois. No one will stop me from doing that."

And the battle was on. Right out of the gate.

Bruce was even more impressed. Nothing in the research had indicated a will of iron. "Oh, don't worry, Mr. Kent, you will." He attempted to shake Clark's seeming calm with a parry of his own. "See, I am no Lex Luthor and Lois is no Lana Lang."

Eyes narrowed at Bruce's obvious knowledge of the players in his past. Not with pain or wariness, but simply with surprise. Then again, Lois must have filled him in. "Meaning?"

"I would never keep Lois from seeing a…" Bruce paused, his scrutinizing gaze taking in the whole of Clark Kent, considering him, before labeling him. He chose and emphasized the word most likely to offend. "…friend, and Lois would never be swayed from caring from someone just because she was told to."

If possible, Clark tensed even more at Bruce's words. If Lois had spilled the beans, just what was her take on the Clark-Lana-Lex triangle? And how had she described their own relationship? "So this meeting then is to…"

"I thought we might take a moment…" Bruce swept his hand toward two chairs sitting opposite each other in invitation. "…to get to know one another." As an example, he headed in that direction himself. "After all, you must be as curious as I am."

"Curious?"

"Surely you've heard the news by now." Bruce turned to face him, then lowered himself casually into a large leather chair. Power and confidence oozed from his smile. "It appears we are rivals, Mr. Kent."

"Rivals."

"Yes. Lois and I are to be married. And, I assume, you are here to prevent that." His sharp gaze snapped upward. His tight lips tilted knowingly. "See? Rivals." A pause. An out. "Unless, of course, I assume incorrectly."

Clark's jaw twitched. His stance became more rigid. His chin jutted out defiantly. All unconscious reactions to a meritless thought.

Bruce allowed a knowing quirk to capture his lips as his voice lowered meaningfully. "No. I didn't think so."

Ever the consummate host, he flashed a smile. "So, would you like to start? I have no doubt you have some questions for me."

Clark took a hesitant step forward. "Any questions I have…" A pointed eyebrow rose. "…are for Lois."

"Keeping things close to the vest." Bruce surmised with a nod of admiration. "I like that. Shows discretion. Discernment."

"Mr. Wayne…"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Mr. Wayne, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not in the mood. Bring Lois to me now, or I will find her myself."

Bruce's warm chuckle was an attempt to knock Clark off his guard. To ease the obvious tension mounting in the room. After the results displayed on the news, Bruce did not need one seriously angry Clark Kent on his hands. "Relax, Mr. Kent. I've already sent Alfred to fetch her. Unfortunately, this is a rather large estate and Alfred is not as spry as he used to be so. It may take a moment or two."

"Please." He indicated the chair opposite him once more. "In the meantime, since you are not in the mood for games, as you put it, we could…" He watched with a certain level of satisfaction as Clark warily lowered himself into the offered seat. "…put all our cards on the table. If, of course, that's what you would prefer."

Clark Kent was curious. Not about the simple, but extravagant surroundings. Not about the number of Bentley's in the garage or the multitude of zeros sitting in a Gotham City bank vault attached to the Wayne family fortune.

But about the man that had managed to coax a life long commitment from a love-wary Lois Lane.

That man was an enigma. A mystery. An unpredictable surprise.

For a Kansas farm boy, Clark had a wealth of his own. Experience. Rubbing elbows with the affluent of the world—the Lex Luthors, Lionels, Oliver Queens—Clark had learned well.

It had taken a while, but he could finally see through the learned niceties, the manipulative words, the masks of social graces right to the heart of a man. To his true intentions, his ability to betray. Clark had honed his instincts to detect deception almost immediately.

In his quick assessment of the man sitting before him, Clark's instinct told him one thing: Bruce Wayne was, as stated, no Lex Luthor. But he was no Oliver Queen either. He sat somewhere in the middle. With honor and good intentions, Bruce Wayne could manipulate. And would, when needed. Clark sensed so much more going on under the surface. Something he couldn't yet see or touch, but it was there.

Simmering. Boiling. Waiting to explode.

If nothing else, this was going to be interesting.

Clark inclined his head, giving permission for the non-game competition to proceed.

"Alright, then." Bruce tossed Clark a casual, innocuous smile. "Why don't I start?"

"I met Lois when she crashed her car into my front gate." Clark's face crumbled into worry. A barrage of questions slipped to the tip of his tongue. Simultaneously pleased and dismayed by the obvious and immediate non-verbal response, Bruce waved Clark's concern away with a flick of his wrist. "She's fine. She had a few bruises and a slight concussion that kept her in bed for a few days. Despite that, her recovery was quick. And normal."

Nodding, Clark seemed to accept Bruce's story. He relaxed. A fraction. "Lois is strong. She always has been."

"Yes, she is that." Bruce agreed. "In fact, I think she took a total of two pain killers the entire time. And they were only to ease Alfred's worried mind."

Sensing a deeper reason for this particular conversation, narrowed eyes flashed dangerously. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Like I said, I'm not Lex Luthor." Bruce repeated with a knowing quirk of his lips. "I want you to know our seemingly sudden engagement was not drug-induced, coerced or manipulated in any way." Gauging Clark's reaction to his words, Bruce continued. "It was the natural outcome of two people spending every waking moment with each other." He paused. "But I'm sure I don't need to explain that to you."

Clark's jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. His fingers clenched around the arms of the leather chair.

Continuing as if he didn't noticed, Bruce remained surprisingly open. "Before I realized it, I had fallen. Quite hard, I will admit. Lois is…" The ragged breath he pulled into his body indicated just how unexpected his devotion to Lois was. Especially to him. "…not a woman one falls easily for." He paused again, his eyes flickering to Clark's face. "But I'm sure I don't need to explain that either."

Clark swallowed hard. "So, this is the real thing."

"For me, yes."

"And for Lois?"

"I assume that's one of the questions you are here to ask her." Bruce commented softly.

A hint of something flared in Clark's deep blue eyes. Hope? Confidence? Understanding? "You aren't sure of her."

"Like I said, Mr. Kent, we are rivals. I suspected that before, but when she mentioned your name for the first time today…" Bruce shrugged away the uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty and embraced it. "…let's just say all doubt was removed."

Clark's brows knit together in concentration. "She hasn't told you about us then?"

"She's told me precious little of her life in Metropolis. All the more reason for me to be cautious, no?" A disbelieving chuckle. "But it's too late for that now. I'm already in, as deep as I can go."

His gaze shifted in contemplation. His assessment was unexpectedly straightforward. His voice, gentle. Reverent.

"I'm not quite sure what it was that did it. Her strength. Her ability to say exactly what I need to hear at the precise time I need to hear it. The way she…" A deep, knowing smile ghosted his lips. "...sees me. The real me. Beyond…"

"The walls. The lies. All the secrets." Clark softly concluded Bruce's thought.

Bruce's gaze met Clark's and held. A look of understanding. Of recognition. Of kinship. He tilted his head in agreement with Clark's sentiments. A flash of a smile appeared suddenly, lightly. "Or it may be because she's just so damn beautiful."

A tentative smile slipped through Clark's eyes. The first of the day. "Yes. She is that as well."

The playing field had been leveled. Two powerful men, each unique in his own right. Both harboring secrets from the world. Both wrapped in a cloak of intense loneliness. Two men with similar tastes. With the same needs. And the same love.

"So. It appears, Mr. Kent, you and I see eye to eye on quite a bit when it comes to Lois Lane.

"It appears so."

Bruce suddenly leaned forward, his knees on his elbows. His hands clasped in front of him. "You know she'll have to choose one of us."

"Or neither."

"That is also a distinct possibility." Bruce agreed, a hint of amusement dancing across his features before disappearing into truth. "But I think not. Lois is ready to be loved. I want to assure you, if she chooses me, I will love her as she deserves and I will do everything in my power to make her happy. My question for you…will you let her go so that she can be."

Chloe's words came rushing back to Clark. "Then you deal with it. Somehow, Clark, you find a way to let her go." Implicit in those words were 'If you truly love her…"

Which Clark Kent did. More than he'd ever expected. More than she could possibly know.

Something shifted in that moment.

The balance of power. The weight of destiny. The upper hand.

Clark was stunned. He actually liked Bruce Wayne. For a man that had the ability to destroy Clark's happiness, his future, he was actually nice. Straightforward. Honest. Open.

What was more, Clark had a fundamental understanding of the man before him that he clearly didn't expect. An understanding that went so much deeper than words or images. A kinship that didn't need to be explained or even acknowledged. It just was.

In any other situation, Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent could actually be…friends.

He saw what Lois saw in him and it was beyond what he had imagined.

Bruce was everything a woman like Lois would want. And yet, he wasn't even close.

Because he wasn't Clark Kent.

Clark almost regretted the inevitable. Almost.

Clark answered Bruce the only way he could. "If that's what Lois really wants. If you are what makes her truly happy, then, yes, I will let her go." He paused, before issuing a soft warning. "But I'm sorry, Bruce. I don't think you will be."

That calm confidence knocked Bruce back. His unwavering gaze unnerved the unshakable.

Bruce's unexpected chuckle covered the loss of control of which he was suddenly, acutely aware. He immediately retreated to the familiar. To the evident. To the world's measure of success. "Look around you, Clark. I can give her everything. With just one snap of my fingers, the world could be laid at her feet. And will be, if that's what she wants."

"It isn't." Confident knowledge layered his words. "While I don't question that you would devote yourself to her, I do wonder how long she will let you."

"Meaning?"

"You're not what I expected." Clark answered slowly, carefully. "You're better. And I have no doubt you could make Lois happy. For a time. But then she'd feel it. The emptiness. The ache. If she hasn't already. Which, I suspect she has, given this conversation."

"You seem to be working from a lot of assumptions there." Bruce's eyes narrowed.

Clark shrugged nonchalantly. "Or maybe I just know Lois."

"So do I." Bruce swallowed hard as his lips tightened. "She doesn't believe you love her, Clark. She thinks Lana Lang still has a hold on you. And always will."

"She's wrong." Not wanting to give up any ground he had won, Clark ended his explanation there. "But that's really between Lois and me."

"Of course." Recognizing the tactic, Bruce nodded his admiration before trying a different route. "You and Lois have a complicated relationship, Clark. Ours is not. She could still choose me."

"She could." Clark agreed without hesitation, knowing in the depths of his heart that it was a very real possibility. "On the other hand, Lois doesn't do simple. Or easy. The more complex something is, the more interested she gets. And the longer she stays glued."

"Still, she did say yes to me." Bruce countered.

"She did." A flash of pain in his eyes. "And I'll have to ask her about that too."

"So, you are willing to fight for her." Bruce stated the obvious.

"Isn't that what you've been doing this whole time? Fighting for her?" A knowing quirk slipped across his lips at Bruce's suddenly tight and wary expression. "It's interesting really. How you've put so much effort into proving to me that you are what I knew in the first minute."

"And what's that?"

"The real deal. A good man that truly loves Lois." Clark stated with a shrug. "So, what did you think? That I'd take one look at all of this, that I'd like you, be convinced she was better off with you and just…wish you well?"

"It was worth a shot." Bruce quipped.

"And it might have worked on anyone that doesn't know Lois Lane." Clark responded. An almost arrogant attitude wrapped around Clark like a cloak. He had won this all important first, and perhaps, final round. And he knew. They both knew it. "But I'm not that someone."

"No. It appears you are not." Bruce sighed his conclusion and leaned back in his chair. He regretted the position they were both in. He liked Clark Kent. He liked him a lot. "So, we are war then. So to speak."

"Yes." The determination in his eyes softened. "Unfortunately."

Bruce ignored the concession. "For how long?"

"That depends on Lois."

"You think you'll win her." It wasn't an assumption. It was a statement of fact.

"So do you." Clark countered easily.

"Well…" Bruce shrugged as his lips tilted in acknowledgement. "…every play has a trump card."

"And you believe I hold it."

"Don't you?"

An eyebrow rose. "Only Lois can tell us that."

"Yes. I suppose you are right." Bruce nodded his agreement.

Clark was done with the chit-chat. Now all he wanted was to see the woman he loved. To convince her of what Bruce Wayne had just learned. "Which is why I would very much like to see her now."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

"Ah." Bruce rose in one smooth, graceful move. "It sounds like your wish is about to be..."

No one was more surprised than Bruce at the sight that met their eyes when the door fully opened.

Alfred. Alone. And completely flustered.

"Master Bruce. May I speak with you alone please?"

"Where is Miss Lane?" Denying the older man's request, Bruce posed a question of his own.

"Sir. Please." His worried gaze shifted from Bruce to Clark then back again. "Alone."

Bruce lost no time in crossing the room to where his faithful butler stood with uncharacteristic nervousness. His voice lowered automatically. "Yes, Alfred?"

"She's gone." Alfred whispered.

"What do you mean she's gone?" It was Clark who asked the question, gaining him an upraised eyebrow of inquiry from on Bruce Wayne. Clark swallowed and lied. "I can read lips."

Alfred looked to Bruce for permission to speak. Bruce silently nodded his head.

"I've searched everywhere." Alfred continued in his normal tone. "Just as you asked, I went to fetch her, but I cannot find her."

"She's just probably in her room. Or down by the garden." Bruce suggested, though it was clear the news was troubling to the master of the house.

"I've checked, sir. And what's more…I've taken the liberty to scan the surveillance tapes."

"And?"

"Sir, she's gone."

"I see."

"What's going on?" Clark crossed to where they are, a knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. "Why would Lois just up and leave without saying a word?"

There was a pause. And exchanged looks. Then Bruce Wayne turned to Clark with sadness in his eyes.

"It seems you were right, Clark Kent. Perhaps you do hold the trump card after all."

Tbc…