"And you still don't know who did it?" Lois asks.
They've settled into Clark's apartment. Clark usually doesn't bring work home, but when work turns out to be an attempted murder on both his and Bruce Wayne's life, there's little he can do to avoid it.
Besides, a visit from the one friend who knows he's Superman is always a comfort.
Even if their topic isn't as pleasant.
"No," Clark admits with a touch of defeat. "It could've been anyone from Gotham. And when I sought out Batman, I could barely get a word in before he disappeared."
Lois hums as she takes a sip from her coffee mug. It's filled with hot chocolate -Clark would never let her drink coffee this late at night- and the drink leaves a thin line on her upper lip before it's licked away. "You're sure it was someone from Gotham? This whole thing stinks of Luthor."
"He isn't the only one with Kryptonite," Clark says gravely. "At least, I don't think he is. Not anymore."
Lois gives him a look. "That doesn't answer my question. Luthor wants both Superman and Bruce Wayne dead. Seems like the obvious choice to me."
"It's not him." Clark insists. "Lex uses Kryptonite as a way to gain power over one of the few people he can't touch. He'd want to gloat about it, rub it in." He thinks back to his many encounters with Lex Luthor. The green glowing weapons and wicked smiles. The words Lex spews when he thinks he's finally got Superman under his thumb, and the venom after he's lost.
No, this isn't Lex Luthor.
"Alright." Lois sets her mug down. She shifts her position into something more relaxed. "Then why would a Gothamite want Wayne dead? Doesn't he fund most of the hospitals and relief programs?"
And that's the part Clark is stuck on. "I don't know. I'm not very familiar with how Gotham works yet. You know what Perry said about it."
When word got out that Superman was saving people across the river, several of the Planet's reporters jumped at the chance to cover it. It's new territory, something fresh for Meptrolois to read.
But ever since Matilda went missing, they haven't been allowed into the city. It was the first Clark has ever seen Perry speak to them quietly.
"You know Perry's never going to let you write your own articles once he finds out what you're doing." There's a warning in Lois' voice. A hint of concern too, but it's outweighed by her blunt nature. "Why can't Superman do all this?"
Clark frowns down at his hot chocolate. He'll need to reheat it before drinking. "Superman can't do everything, Lois." He should say more but Clark can't quite find the words for this pit that's started to settle in his gut.
Gotham is such a different beast to handle than Metropolis. He knows his city has issues. People like Luthor go unnoticed by the law no matter how many times Superman tries to bring them in. Metropolis is shiny on its surface, but there are rotten spots on the underbelly needing to get cut. At least Superman knows how to handle them- how to keep them from spreading too far. But Gotham...
Clark is beginning to think he was being arrogant in accepting the mayor's offer.
A movement above catches Clark's attention and he looks up to see Lois shrugging on her coat. She sets her cup by the sink as she taps her flats onto each foot.
"It's late, Clark." She says, sounding just as tired as Clark feels. "I know this won't go away overnight but...sleep on it, okay? Something will come up and you can get back to your detective work in no time. Just...give it time."
Clark settles a hard look at her. "And risk people dying in the meantime?" He knows she means well, but the next attempt on their lives could be successful. Clark can't let his parents bury him. Not when there's something he can do about it.
"Clark-" Lois stops herself. She looks away from him pointedly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kansas." She mutters on her way out, the door snapping shut behind her.
Exhaustion rolls over Clark like a heavy cloud. He yawns, stretches, and decides to take part of Lois' advice to heart. A night's rest will clear his mind. No one will die because he was too stubborn.
But shit, this has turned into a mess.
After a steaming shower, Clark walks into his bedroom with nothing more than a towel around his hips and his favorite slippers on his feet. He shuffles to the closet, picks out a green pair of pajama pants, and is seconds away from dripping the towel to pull them on when the faintest noise rustles from behind.
He spins around immediately, the pants held high in warning.
Batman is standing on the other side of the bed.
"Holy shit!" Clark gasps, his heart leaping into his throat for a terrifying moment. Then, when Batman doesn't move, he leans over to catch his breath. "Oh, Rao...Oh shit!" He's reminded of his modesty with a flash of heat and Clark's hand flies to his towel with a vice grip.
"How- Why...You couldn't have waited until I got dressed?!" Clark squeaks.
Batman moves like a shadow across the room, his face never moving. "Clark Kent, of the Daily Planet." Clark backs away with every step the bat takes closer until he's trapped against his own dresser. "Your article, 'Metrolopis's new hero; an inside look at Superman', is the first to reference a weakness to lead. Tell me, how did you come across this knowledge?"
Clark blinks.
"I'm not known for my patience, Kent." Batman's eyes narrow, a threat in his voice. "Tell me your relationship with Superman."
They're nearly touching with how close Batman is standing. It makes Clark's face go hot in the cheeks. He's never felt so naked, so exposed. He pulls his arms close to his body, scared of touching the Dark Knight. Water still drips from Clark's unruly hair, little droplets splattering against Clark's nose, his cheek...
Batman's chest plate. Clark watches a trail roll over whatever armor the vigilante wears until it falls to their feet silently.
He swallows. "I, uh, I'm not sure what you-"
Black, clawed gloves reach for Clark at once. They stop just before his neck, as if forgetting he doesn't have a shirt to grip, but the movement is quickly redirected. If Clark weren't superhuman, he wouldn't have caught the mistake at all.
The bat pulls something off of his belt and raises it between them. Clark feels it immediately; though, the effects are dampened. Sweat joins the droplets on his skin, nausea creeps at the edges of his consciousness, and his heart beats fast.
Within the safety of a clear bag glows a single shard of kryptonite.
"April twenty-seventh! You published an article about Superman's planet of origin! Tell me what you know about Krypton!"
"Nothing!" Clark shouts back, desperate to get away from the kryptonite. "Everything I know was in the article! Why would I keep anything to myself-"
"You know what this is!" Batman presses. "Tell me!"
Clark holds his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine, just- please, put it away! That stuff is radioactive!"
Batman takes a step away and slips the bag into his belt again. Finally, Clark feels like he can breathe again. "I'm aware," is the only answer he gets.
When Clark steps around Batman, he isn't stopped. Clark walks all the way to his bed and sits, his aching muscles thankful for the relief. He slides on his glasses, then addresses the vigilante at last.
"I...I don't know much. I was just excited to actually interview with Superman and we were kinda pressed for time." Clark chews at his lip as he continues. "But, he said that rock is...it's kryptonite. It hurts people like him. People from Krypton."
Batman's eyes narrow. "How is it on Earth?"
"I don't know. Meteorite? Maybe someone harvested it, I don't know, but Superman didn't bring it. He couldn't have."
A slight tilt of the head. "Who would be interested in this kryptonite? Surely a reporter that follows Superman so closely would know a few of his enemies."
This is dangerous territory. Telling someone all of this could put Clark in even more danger than he's already in.
But then again, if he has to trust anyone, why not Batman? They have the same goal, after all. To save Gotham.
At least, he dearly hopes so.
"I'm still investigating that part," Clark admits. "Lex Luthor has had Kryptonite before, but he could be supplying someone else. That's why I went to you in the first place! Uh, Sir."
Batman goes quiet for a long while. They sit in silence, the tension rising with every passing minute. It makes Clark anxious, scared. Is Batman really an ally? Is he as trusted as Commissioner Gordon insisted? Is the Commissioner trustworthy either?
He doesn't know, and that uncertainty turned anxiety pushes Clark to use his x-ray vision. It's just a peek, just enough to see past the mask at the real person underneath-
But the mask does not move. Lead.
Alright, he deserves that.
"Metropolis docks at three o'clock tomorrow morning. Meet me there."
Clark sits up, surprised. Then, he frowns. "Does it have to be so early?" The glare Batman gives him is answer enough. "Alright, three it is. I'll be there."
"Don't tell anyone else. This is just you and me." Batman steps back to the window he likely came in through. "I'm sure you don't want your friend to get hurt."
Lois.
"You and me." Clark agrees. She'll be upset when she finds out; but hopefully, he can prolong that until after this is all said and done.
Another woosh of wind and the bat is gone. Clark is left on his own, more conflicted and sweaty than before his shower. He groans as he rubs at his eyes, the exhaustion sinking into his very bones.
The kryptonite certainly didn't help.
If Clark is going to meet Batman again, he wants something of substance to share. Call it an offering of some kind. He wants to prove to Batman that they need to work together. Or, at least, that Clark can be helpful.
Of course, his most important secret would be the perfect bargaining chip, but the only issue with that particular reveal is the fact that Batman doesn't trust Superman. It was clear in the way Batman spoke, how he's been gathering information on the hero under the radar. If Batman trusted Superman, he wouldn't have come to Clark about the kryptonite.
So, Superman can't make a showing yet. Clark Kent will find out about Batman, about the kryptonite, instead.
So far, Clark has little to show for his efforts. The list of guests at the Wayne opening event runs into the hundreds and even with superspeed, he doesn't have time to check into each and every one of them. When he tries to ask others at the Planet if they've heard anything, no one seems to know any more than he does. After all, only he, Lois, and Jimmy were there.
Dead end after dead end. Every time Clark thinks he's found something to jump off of, the floor falls beneath him and he's back at the beginning.
That is, until Superman finds a solid metal box at a bank he's saved from getting robbed. All five hooded robbers have been tied up and left for the police to handle while Superman examines the box.
It's welded shut on all sides, impossible to get into without cutting it open, which could damage whatever's rattling inside. Superman uses his x-ray vision to peer into it, half expecting it to be lead-lined. When it isn't, he's surprised to find a sealed envelope inside with a question mark drawn on the front. The other side reads, "To Big Blue". A swift cut with his heat vision and Clark pulls the envelope out.
Inclosed is a riddle, "I have billions of eyes, yet live in darkness. I have millions of ears, yet only five lobes. I have no muscle, yet rule two hemispheres. What am I?".
"What in the world..." Clark frowns, reading the riddle again. Who in their right mind would go through this effort just to give him a riddle? Billions of eyes...millions of ears...
What lobes is this referring to exactly? Does this have something to do with the atmosphere? Two hemispheres-
"Superman!" A voice cries from across the city. Clark looks up from the riddle and towards the source. He knows who it is already and that fact makes his heart pound.
"Superman, help!" Wayne calls and Superman answers.
He bursts from the bank and zips across the sky in a wave of color. Clark only slows to a stop once he's reached the new Wayne building. It takes less than a second for Clark to go from the roof to Wayne's personal office, the doorknob groaning in his tight grip as he nearly rips the door from its frame. Superman stands at the ready for any kind of danger they'll thrown at him this time-
But there is none. Clark steps into the room slowly, his eyes scanning for anything that could make Wayne cry for help, anything at all...but again, he finds nothing.
Wayne is sitting back in his office chair, looking both bored and amused. Not as if he were screaming for help a moment ago.
"Huh. It does work." Wayne says flippantly. "Who knew."
Superman levels him with a glare. "You aren't in danger." He doesn't ask. "There are others who need me, Mr. Wayne. This is completely irresponsible-"
"Oh, I need you." Wayne sits up in his chair, his shiny shoes clicking against the floor. "We have some things to discuss, you and I." He waves his eyebrows suggestively but there's something more serious in his eyes. It's the only reason Clark decides to stay.
"We do." Clark agrees. He doesn't sit, he won't be here long, but he does watch as Wayne rounds his desk. The man leans back against the surface, his entire body curved seductively. Maybe his playboy reputation has some tact after all.
Clark doesn't think about how his chest tightens.
"Oh, relax." Wayne waves at him. "I'm not going to interrogate you. We're friends, after all." He says the word 'friends' as if it holds no meaning whatsoever. Interesting. "Now! Tell me, Kal -I can call you Kal, right? Kal, how has Gotham been treating you?"
Clark fights a grimace. "I think I prefer Metropolis."
Wayne laughs, the sound high and airy. "Whaaat, bright colors don't blend in with the gothic architecture?"
"Not exactly." Clark breathes a sigh through his nose. "Did you only call me here for small talk?" There are others who need him more. People who could get seriously hurt without help. Or worse.
"So serious." Wayne tsks, but he does stand a little straighter. The flirtation dampens and his shoulders turn inward. "You're the Ambassador of Krypton, right? What's it like there?"
The switch in topic gives little in way of Wayne's actual motives. But at least Clark knows he has one, now.
Second comes the reminder of his practiced lie. Well, half-lie.
"It's not something I'm allowed to talk about freely." He says evenly. "The Kryptonians-"
"Confidential, I know." Wayne interrupts. "I don't mean politics, Kal. God knows I already get enough of that." He leans forward, his eyes intense. "Tell me about life there. Are there trees? Birds? Giant reptilian beasts that you have to fight off every other season?"
The question startles a laugh out of Clark. "No, nothing like that. It's...similar. Krypton is like Earth in a lot of ways. The animals, the plants, they all look nearly the same. We live nearly identical lives. All but our technology. Krypton is ahead of Earth by millennia."
Wayne snorts. "It must be so boring for you, then. You're stuck here in the Stone Age while Krypton's off inventing- whatever the hell you have. Robots? Cloning?"
Clark doesn't know. He hasn't stepped foot on the planet, nor will he ever. All he has are the memories left for him in the Fortress of Solitude. Jor-El's memories. The word of a man who only saw the planet's end. His father lived on a barren planet, one segregated into factions and ridden with wars.
And yet, his father fought for it tirelessly. That, at least, Clark can connect to. He would do the same for Earth, no matter his biology.
"Confidential." Clark eventually answers. "Sorry. I would say more if I could."
Wayne doesn't seem to take it personally, thankfully. "Alright. Then what can you tell me? Are there glowing rocks there too?"
"Yes." Clark's voice turns stern. "Kryptonite. The rock someone tried to kill us with."
Before Wayne can respond, Clark is reminded of the shard Batman held in front of him.
"Mr. Wayne, what did you do with the kryptonite they slipped into your pocket? Do you know where it is?"
Wayne blinks in surprise. "What, that green stone? No, I tossed it off the roof. You were going to vomit on my suit."
Batman must've found it somehow. Either off of the civilian who picked it up after or whatever gutter it landed in. But how would Batman know it was there to begin with? Was he investigating the scene?
"You know, I don't remember thanking you for saving me." Wayne sounds unusually soft when he says it. Almost...shy.
How can this man keep surprising him?
"I don't do it for thanks," Superman says.
It's a little hard to breathe with the way Wayne looks at him from under his lashes. "Then why do you do it?" He takes a step forward, invading Clark's space. "Why are you Superman?"
"For you." Clark rasps. "For every human who can't help themselves. I give hope to anyone who needs it because I can. With the powers I have -my strength, my speed...I have to."
There's something in Wayne's eyes that Clark can't place. Surprise, but deeper. Awe but without the starry eyes Clark is so used to.
Like understanding.
"I see," Bruce whispers. His persona is gone, leaving the barest cracks of a man entirely different underneath. Someone with a weight in his eyes, who bears a burden larger than anyone else can fully grasp.
'I made Gotham!'
"Why do you do it?" Clark turns the question back.
Bruce's eyes darken. "Me?"
"You." Clark answers. "You pay billions to Gotham's charities every year."
The man scoffs. "What else am I going to use my money on? New cars get old eventually."
He's deflecting. Hiding.
"You pretend to be a rich brat, but you're not. You care about Gotham, just like I care about Metropolis. You...feel like you have to help. Because you can."
You understand me. More than anyone else Clark has met.
Bruce stares at him as a variety of masks shift over his face. The playboy goes up first, then someone more intense. But that too shifts away until Bruce is left openly gaping at Clark, his mouth working to form words he doesn't say.
"Get out." Eventually, Bruce snaps. Anger twists his once open expression into a scowl, making his eyes burn. Bruce's hands ball into fists where they lay on his desk. They could rise to hit at any moment. A threat.
Clark can't help but feel like he's failed a test. "I didn't mean-"
"Out!" Bruce shouts. "Before I call security!"
He can't explain the outburst, but Clark leaves anyway. He steps through the office building in a fog. Replaying the conversation over and over doesn't prove any help in how things turned out so poorly. He thought they were connecting. He was being honest with Bruce, more honest than he's been in a while.
It felt nice.
Clark floats in the air, his eyes remaining on the office window. He can't see Wayne from this distance, but it doesn't matter. He can still hear the man huff angrily, curses flooding the room in mutters.
And Clark's chest sinks heavier than it did before he entered the building.
I will admit, that's not how I outlined that scene to go, but one must follow a character's choices. A writer's choice is an illusion.