Well, I stumble through the dark and light a candle...

[silver_lined]

Leaving their younger versions behind, he gave Bruce's hand a soft, careful squeeze before tugging him the rest of the way through the warp hole. He wasn't about let him lose a limb to being a smart ass, after all. And it was hell to replace the pieces of the exo-suit.

"I ought to kick your ass for that, Bruce," he said with a sigh as they made their way back into his own Fortress. It was a bit darker, a little more full, and dustier. Definitely dustier. He'd never quite be able to undo the damage that eight years of neglect had done on the place.

Comments

[silver_lined]

Once Bruce got a hold of him, once Bruce got things under control, Clark relented. He started, carefully, piece by piece, removing the exoskeleton.

And then, once it was done, once it was all done, he wrapped himself as firmly around Bruce as the device had been. He would support Bruce. He would use his strength to hold him, some of his flight to ease the wear of gravity.

Rest he couldn't say aloud. Couldn't voice. Could never ever say. But he could will it.

Bruce was in so much pain.

He knew where they were. He knew what this was. And Bruce was in so much pain.

I love you. I love you with a force that could move galaxies. I love you more than words could ever say.

I love you. And you can rest.

[beyondthebat]

Bruce knew Clark was there. He could feel Clark holding him, feel Clark lessening the pull of the ground on his body and the warmth and life of him. He could all but hear the unspoken words. He knew beyond all doubt that he was loved. He knew Clark was letting him go.

He knew Clark was being torn apart.

He couldn't - respond the way he wanted to. He was in pain, yes, but far worse was the exhaustion. He didn't have the energy or air for all the things he wanted to say to Clark. He didn't have the energy to do anything except continuing to hold onto his life by his fingernails and with nothing but will power, because.

He was physically cooling off, his fucking brain was defying him and shutting down and he couldn't let go of that one -

"Don't forget your promise." Please Clark. Please.

[silver_lined]

"Never," and there was such force in his words, so much force. He couldn't do anything else, couldn't save him, couldn't help him but God, God help him, he could do that.

"I promise you. I promise you, Bruce. I promise you."

[beyondthebat]

that was it. What he needed, what he'd been waiting for. He squeezed Clark's hand, somehow managed to say "I love you," one more time.

Then he let go; one last demonstration of trust in Clark.

He was unconscious almost immediately after those final words. As soon as he stopped fighting for conscious control, stopped struggling to hang on for Clark, there was a... cascade of body systems shutting down entirely. It was fast, surprisingly orderly and undramatic, and for him at least painless.

He got his reassurance, he trusted Clark at his word, and then he was gone.

[silver_lined]

Done. It was done. Bruce was gone and it was done.

Clark held him for only a minute or so, let every sign of life fade away, before he breathed out. Breathed out and floated to his feet with his husband in his arms.

He couldn't--

He wouldn't--

They'd prepared for this.

The legal documents, the arrangements, the notices. Everything that needed to be done now that Bruce Wayne had passed from the world had been ready to go for years.

Because of course it had been.

And of course it had been triggered to his own monitoring system. Because in all things, Bruce would never make the people he loved go through any more trouble than was necessary.

There was already a coffin picked out. There was already a plot on the manor grounds, next to his parents and only a few feet away from a pauper's grave that had been dug ages ago for a man Bruce had never learned the name for. There was a shovel on the grounds and they'd all agreed. They'd all agreed, the same way that they'd agreed that Clark would be there for him at the end.

They could have the funeral later. They could all mourn him or celebrate his life or do whatever the hell they wanted to later. But Clark would put him in the ground.

The kitchen was cleaned. The rooms were neatened. The manor was arranged and Bruce was as well. So little work for a man who could do so much. So little work left to do for Superman.

She only arrived at the end, as he shoveled the last part of the dirt on top. He knew she'd waited the same way he'd known that this was coming today. So many things his senses could tell him. He was old but still full of wonders. That was why he'd agreed, after all. That's why he'd promised Bruce. The promise that stood as the only thing he'd ever hated his husband

Partner

Soulmate

Words. So many words and he couldn't raise a single one now. Not a single one until she walked over and dropped a flower from the Paradise over the fresh grave.

"There are others who need you, Kal." Because she knew she could not comfort him. Not through this loss. Not from this. There was no comfort to be found, not for a thousand years. And at least he had that.

At least.

And he'd need to make sure he was ready then. But right now. Right now, he was full of so many things and empty of them. Right now, he was as dead as he was ever allowed to be.

"No one needs what I am right now, Diana. But..." he could manage that much, "thank you. And tell them thank you."

It wasn't flight so much as it was leaving the Earth, letting go in his own way. There were people here who loved him; he knew that. There were living people, people who needed him, people who cared about him. And he'd once thought something like this would be selfish but... now, now that it was, it wasn't. He'd promised Bruce. He'd promised Bruce. But if he was going to keep his promise, he just... couldn't. Not now. Not... for some time.

Diana seemed to understand, as she always understood, and lifted a hand in something that was a wave but also a salute as she watched him go. Watched him disappear into the sky just as he'd come from it.