Ch 8: Commiseration

It's late when Clark gets home, but he finds the porch light on and a key under his ma's favorite purple gnome for him, as always. A normal person would have no choice but to wake their parents in a creaky old house like this, but Clark has the advantages of experience and flight; he dodges every creaky step, and makes it to his old room silently. His Ma has his bed made up for him – again, as always – and he all but collapses into it.

In the morning, he's awoken in the morning by the smell of baking biscuits and the sound of sizzling bacon.

"How'd you know I was here?" He asks his ma when he sneaks into the kitchen and sees four place settings.

"Oh, a Mother's intuition." She accepts his kiss on the cheek and waves a wooden spoon to his old chair. "Sit down, Dear."

"Yes ma'am."

"Don't you listen to her mumbo-jumbo nonsense, Clark. Kara tipped us off that the League issued an all-clear. It wasn't a hard guess you might be coming after that." His pa folds up his newspaper as Clark sits down.

"Jonathan! Stop giving away my secrets!" Martha shakes her spoon at him. He reaches out, grabs her hand and kisses it.

"Sorry Darlin." Clark suddenly realizes how interesting his fingernails are. He's not embarrassed. He's not.

"Y'all are going to have to get a room. You're upsetting Kal."

"Kara!"

Said girl has finally gotten up and made it downstairs. She folds her arms and smirks at the Man of Steel. "Don't deny it, 'Cuz."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, Dear. We'll stop." His ma says, and his pa chuckles.

Kara slips behind him and throws her arms around his neck. "Soooo… what's up? I couldn't make it last night, so you owe me some answers!" She gives him a squeeze with just enough Kryptonian strength to show she's serious before sliding into her own chair.

"I really don't know if I should…"

His pa presses. "Oh, c'mon, Clark! We're all curious!"

"That Flash boy was always so nice. I do hope he's okay." And he can't say no to Ma's stern look of 'you better tell me right now if I need to make some get-well soup.'

"He's fine. He's just… Not who we thought he was."

"Oh?" Jonathon steeples his fingers to look at his son. Dishonesty is a serious issue, one that has plagued the League from day one, but he never would have expected it from the cheerful boy that ate every single bite Martha put on his plate (no mean feat, that).

"Not… Not in a bad way." He glances at Kara and sighs. Stargirl was at the meeting last night. "You're going to hear this as soon as Courtney wakes up and starts texting you anyways. Flash… isn't exactly from around here."

His parents listen attentively to his story, except when his mom has to pause to get the biscuits out of the oven. Kara is more opinionated, and he has to stop several times to assure her of the facts, but she seems satisfied with his explanations by the time she has to leave for school.

He's helping his ma wash the dishes after breakfast when he finally says, "Am I a bad person?"

"Oh sweetie! Of course you're not!" His ma immediately assures him.

His pa glances at him and asks, "What makes you say that, Son?"

"Just… a few things."

Martha puts down the dish she was drying and pulls her son to sit between herself and his pa. They wait for him to gather his thoughts and speak.

"IkindofagreewiththeLords." He says in a rush.

"Come again?" Pa asks.

"I… kind of… agree with the Justice Lords." He winces, and waits for his parents to speak.

"Oh, sweetheart!"

"Calm down Martha! Let the boy talk for a minute without your coddling. Say your piece, Clark, then we'll see if we need to talk you outta something."

This is why he had to come to his parents with this. The League would probably throw him out (or at the very least sic Question on him) for saying such things. Lois would hit him with whatever paper she was inevitably writing and saddle him with an outraged rant as soon as he got the words out. His parents, though, have always known when to listen and when to talk him around to a new way of thinking.

"It's just, the whole time Artemis was telling us about the Light, about Luthor, all I could think of was how much damage would have been prevented if we had stopped them in the first place. I mean, if we had stopped them stopped them." He runs his hand through his hair.

"I'm not talking about everybody. I know we shouldn't – we can't – go that far. I'm talking about the dangerous ones. The ones that keep doing bad things, over and over. Luthor became the head of the United Nations. He and his cronies got so many people killed… How easy would that have been to stop? One man's life for all of those innocents… Or what about the Joker? How many times has Batman put him away? He always gets back out. He always kills more people, tortures them… Artemis said, in her universe, he tortured Bruce's son to death! Why does someone like that deserve to live? To keep hurting others? It's not fair!" He slams his fist on the table, and it buckles. They're all forced to jump out of their seats to avoid the debris. "Daggummit! I'm sorry, Ma, Pa, I'll get you a new table. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry…"

He's almost whining, backtracking from his anger out of guilt. His Ma just pulls him down into a hug. "It's okay sweetheart. We know you didn't mean to. It's okay…" She murmurs in his ear. He gives her a squeeze and a kiss on the head, but she doesn't let go, so he's forced to raise his eyes to meet his pa's.

"Well, I'm just a simple farmer, not really experienced in making life or death decisions like you," His pa scratches his head. His voice is steady. It's a familiar, comforting balm to his emotional upheaval. "But it seems to me you're missing a few pieces that turn your logic right on it's head.

Clark pushes his mother away and shakes his head. "Who am I to be judge, jury and executioner, once I start where do I stop, every life is precious," He mimics. He's heard all of these arguments before. "I know. I really do. And I remind myself of them all the time. But then Luthor turns around and…."

"Stop, Son." His father holds up his hand. His voice is gentle, but Clark knows well enough to obey. "Those are good points, the ones we raised you on. But I was thinking of something else."

He steps forward, next to his wife, and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "People change Son. Sometimes unexpectedly. When you take that permanent solution, you take that chance away from them." He looks right into his son's eyes. "What I'm saying is, who are you to decide who's never going to change?"

"But they never do!"

"Never? You can't think of anyone that's stopped being a villain, or even a villain that's done some good in their life?"

Clark is suddenly reminded of an early part of Artemis' story.

I never wanted them to know that I was from a family of villains. The Team –once I told them – never held that against me. They said it didn't matter. That I got to decide who I could be.

"Artemis… her mom quit being a villain. She was the one that got Artemis into the hero business. She's part of the reason Artemis' sister became a hero too. Quit the League of Shadows after years of being an assassin to work covert ops for the Justice League instead…"

This is awkward… um. Clark, Superboy isn't full Kryptonian. Now don't be all prejudiced, because Conner's an awesome person and your counterpart loves him… but he was created by Cadmus and the Light using your DNA… and Luthor's.

"And my brother… My counterpart's brother. He would never have been created if not for Luthor."

It was awful being down there for Kaldur. His dad really did care for him you know? And… Kaldur loved him a lot, too. Even when we were planning to take him down… he talked to me every night, about how he might change Manta's mind. How he would get permission to visit him if we won, if we got him in Bel Rev… It sort of became our secondary mission on the sub.

"And there was a villain, Black Manta… he's still bad, I think, but his son loves him a lot, and thinks he can change him. I… I would feel terrible, if I loved someone, and someone else didn't give them that chance…"

He sinks back into one of the chairs, head in his hands. "What if I was wrong? Because I could kill Luthor now, and maybe prevent whatever he's planning next. But he's brilliant. He might be curing cancer, or ending world hunger, or making me a baby brother. How do I say, now he's irredeemable? That he has nothing good left to offer? And if I could say that, would I be able to do any good if I'm that heartless?" He can feel his conviction returning as he mutters through these thoughts. His parents were always good about that, about getting him to see the right path, and to walk it with confidence. Finally, he sighs. "You're right. As always. Thank you for helping me see things clearly again. Even if the answer is frustrating."

His Pa pats him on the back, and his mom pulls his hands between her own, forcing him to look at them.

"You know we're always glad to help, Son."

XxXxX

Diana finds Shayera in one of the training rooms, attempting to mutilate a perfectly good sparring bot.

"You did a good job, y'know, with the explanations and stuff." Shayera compliments without pausing in her assault.

"Thanks." Diana watches her fellow heroine punch, block, kick, dodge, and finally, pull out her mace and smash, the bot. "Feeling better?"

"Not even a little."

"Want to talk about it?"

Hawkgirl gives her a look. "If you drag me into girl bonding over this, I am not painting my nails."

"It wouldn't do much good anyways." Once upon a time, Shayera would have taken offense at that. Once upon a time, Diana would have meant offense.

"You're telling me. I haven't found a single polish that can withstand more than three punches without chipping. I don't know why Dinah bothers." They share a smile for a moment. "Wanna see if live sparring is more effective than bot-smashing?"

"Tempting. Not sure it's actually going to make you feel better though."

"No. Probably not." Shayera drops her mace, and flops down onto the mats, careful of her wings. "I'm exhausted, and all I want to do is push through it and keep hitting stuff."

Diana sits down, knees to her chin, and folds her arms around her legs. "I know the feeling." She's thinking of smashed cars and broken pool tables and Ares' war machine.

"Does it bother you that he lied to us?"

"…He seemed to have good reasons for it. Does it bother you that we didn't notice?"

Shayera's grip tightens on her mace. "No."

"It bothers me." Shayera immediately sits up at her friend's confession. "It's just…" She shrugs. "I thought we were family. Batman's supposed to be the mysterious loner. Not Wally."

Shayera can't argue with that, but she feels she needs to break the silence weighing in on them. "Do you have a sister?"

"All the Amazons are my sisters."

"I know, I mean… a biological sister. Artemis was telling me about the Team. They had a Donna – your little sister – for a while."

"That's a strange thought. I don't have a biological sister. I can't. My mother made me out of clay, and the God's blessed me with life."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding." Again, they're silent. Diana breaks it this time, and Shayera's glad they're not giving each other time to just be… contemplative. "I didn't get to speak with Artemis. What do you think of her? She seems… nice. Good name."

"Yeah. She's even an archer by trade, appropriately enough."

"Really? Why the sword then?"

Shayera lifts her wings in something like a shrug. "Says she gave it up after…" She waves her hand in a circle. "Everything."

"Ah. Of course. I hope she is able to pick it up again. It would be a shame for such a skill to go to waste. She's lost enough as it is."

Shayera thinks of Artemis' losses, and then her own. Her people, her family, her former life… she feels compelled to ask, "Do you think we would have been happier?"

"Hm?"

"It seemed like – in the other universe – that we were both on good terms with our people. Do you think we'd be happier if we could be with our families?" Diana looks her right in the eye for a moment.

"I am with my family."

"Okay, now you're getting too sentimental for me. I'm rested. Let's spar." She stands up and offers her hand to the other heroine.

"Very well."

Later, when they're both sweat-soaked and breathing hard after a good fight, she resists the urge to confess to Diana. Me too. You all are my family too.

XxXxX

Bruce leaves the Watchtower alone, as always. He teleports to the Gotham and drives the single-passenger Batmobile back to an empty Cave. He puts his suit up in its case in the corner and ignores the space that could have been filled with other cases, other suits. He walks up to the main house and sees that Alfred has set him a plate in the family dining room. He sits down to eat without acknowledging the other seats, which have never been filled. When he finishes, he heads upstairs to bed. He never once looks at the doors he passes on the way, the bedrooms that he has never seen children in.

He's about to slip into his room when Alfred appears at the end of the hallway.

"Master Bruce! I apologize for being absent upon your return. I'm glad to see you are unharmed. Did anything of importance happen tonight?"

He answers quietly before continuing into his room, and closing the door firmly behind himself.

"No, Alfred. Nothing important happened."

XxXxX

AN:

What? You thought Batman was going to talk about his feelings? Silly reader.

But yeah, this fic finally passed the Bechdal Test! That was harder than I thought. Sorry if it was a bit stilted, but once I realized I was close to finally passing it, (seriously, the only other girl-girl scene was in Ruminations and Shay and Arty spent the WHOLE time talking about Wally) I couldn't bear to bring it back to Wally/the other guys/etc. like I originally intended.

As always, hope you liked it, I'd love to hear about it even if you didn't. It really does affect what I write (like this chapter. This was not here last week, then everyone wanted more reactions, and I got inspired).

P.S. I really do believe in most of the arguments I gave Superman not to kill, but I don't think they hold up for the Joker. He's nuts, and if Batman won't kill him, some cop needs to just shoot him next time he's threatening them.