Bruce's Guilt
After leaving St. Patrick's Cathedral, Bruce quickly made his way to the waiting limo which would take him to the airport and his private jet. He and Lois felt it wise that, for now, his visits to Metropolis go unnoticed.
By evening Bruce was back at Wayne Manor and in his study. The CD and brown envelope Lois had given him on his desk. A knock at the door as Alfred asked if there was anything else Bruce needed that night. Bruce said no and asked Alfred to shut the door.
Lois had asked Bruce to review the "real" Luthor obituary. Bruce was reluctant to do so, but Lois insisted, and so he sat down to read it. Bruce took out a notepad and pen - the point being to put nothing in digital form that might be "captured" by those who monitored wired and wireless chatter constantly. Even his security systems were only good until the next person or agency found a way to break them.
Reading the obituary would be hard to do, re-living everything that had happened the past year. Hardest of all, it would remind him of his part in it. It was, in a way, all his fault. Though Lois had pointed out that all of them - Clark, Luthor, herself, as well as Bruce, had made mistakes. Were they all a set of coincidences that led to the tragedy? Or was this fated from the start? Lois felt it was fated and took what little solace she could from that.
Bruce didn't know if he believed that things are fated. That made all of us just puppets on someone's else's stage. Still, he never had failed in all these years to beta test any new system he had installed. Testing it not once but several times. And not just him - he would have Clark, Diana and others try to break whatever the system was meant to make foolproof. But he had done just that, installed a security system without testing it, without even thinking to test it. That was just not him. Inexplicable. Maybe he was getting old though, at 41, he didn't really think his memory was going. Lois may have been right - it was beyond his control what he did or, in this case, did not do.
Still, it gave Bruce little solace. Even if it had been pre-ordained, Lois's "biggest mistake of all" wouldn't have mattered if Bruce would have done the beta-test. Bruce was brutally honest with himself and probably a bit too self-critical, but this feeling would stay with him for the rest of his life. What had happened all came down to him in the final analysis.
Glancing at the brown envelope, Bruce knew what it contained. Besides the handwritten obituary, there was the DVD. One that he thought should be destroyed as did Diana and Lex. Lois, however, had decided to hold off on it's destruction. Something inside of her - she had been a history major at Shuster University on top of 15 years a journalist - made her ponder the need for the historical record to be complete and intact. Nothing held back from future generations on Earth and on worlds well beyond Earth for this was a pivotal event in the history of the universe. Still, Bruce had told Lois to just give him the word and he'd destroy the DVD.
It was going to be a long night. Bruce had turned off his cell and shut the windows so he could focus. Undisturbed, alone, in the quiet of what seemed an ominously dark night - even for Gotham City. The kind of night that drew Gotham's lowlifes out. Tonight they would have their way - Batman would not be making any appearances.
Walking over to the wet bar, Bruce poured himself a glass of his favorite bourbon. Picking up the decanter, he carried it to the desk and placed it there. Bruce was mostly a social drinker, but normally allowed himself one glass of bourbon in the evening. This night was not one you would call normal and Bruce expected he would exceed his one-glass limit.
Bruce stood by the window and took in the darkness. It always gave him peace. Not the normal reaction, but Bruce was not one who you would describe as normal.
Taking a sip of the bourbon, Bruce thought back to that day years ago when he first met Clark - in his Superman persona - on top of Gotham Towers. He had heard of the new Metropolis phenomena and wasn't happy that he had been sighted near Gotham City and might be extending his territory to Gotham. Bruce wanted to make it clear to this "Superman" that Gotham was his, and his alone, and to stay away.
Upon first seeing Superman perched on the outside terrace ledge, Bruce thought he looked like an over-confident frat-boy out for a night on the town on Halloween. Bruce could still recall their first conversation as if it had taken place yesterday.
"How long did it take you to get that spit-curl just right - an hour?!" Bruce had asked in a mocking tone.
Superman matter-of-factly replied that it was natural and the only thing that would take an hour was the effort to squeeze enough gel onto his hair to get it to not flop over his forehead.
"Yeah right. And it's an accident it matches the 'S' on your chest?! Don't they call that, what is the word - ah yes, coordinating your outfit. If you ever tire of playing superhero, I'm sure a big future awaits you in the fashion industry!" Bruce half-mockingly, half-teasingly replied.
Bruce then looked Superman up and down.
"That costume a bit tight don't you think? Doesn't leave anything to the imagination. Guess you need all the help you can get to pick up chicks." Bruce said with a smirk.
"Pick up chicks? Do you mean pick up women - as in a rescue - and yes it does, men too. Never snags or gets caught on anything and the cape is perfect for wrapping women and men in to protect them from smoke and other elements." Superman, in all seriousness, replied.
"No, pick up women - as in hit on women. You do understand the expression don't you?" retorted Batman.
"Oh, that kind of pick up. No, never understood why men would even do that. It's alien to me." Superman replied with all the sincerity of a Boy Scout.
"Unusual way to show your underwear preference don't you think - red speedos must be all the rage on Metropolis's beaches!" Batman joked.
"Frankly, I've been too busy lately - you know crime and all - to get to the beach, so I wouldn't know." Superman replied - almost too innocently.
Bruce smiled to himself at Superman's quick verbal comebacks and was glad his mask prevented Superman from seeing that smile - or so he had thought at the time.
Bruce liked Superman despite himself. And almost immediately, which he rarely did anyone. Bruce was a stoic pessimist and had been since the night his parents were murdered. The few friends he had shared his jaded view of life and yet - there was something about the naive, overgrown Boy Scout that seemed to cut through Bruce's pessimism, if just for a moment, the first time they met.
Fond memories of a relationship which, though rocky at times and especially at the start, had grown to become one of mutual admiration and trust. Sharing their deepest secrets and fears - indeed Clark had given Bruce a piece of kryptonite, the only known thing that could destroy him, asking Bruce to use it to kill him if he ever lost control - Clark's deepest fear. Bruce was only one of two people Clark had given some of the deadly rock to. Other than Bruce, Emil Hamilton, whom Clark trusted completely, had access to the radioactive element, but always only temporarily and when he was experimenting with it. In Bruce's case, not only had Clark given him a large piece to keep permanently, he had insisted Bruce hide it away somewhere where Clark would never be able to find it. He'd even told Bruce the quickest way to kill him with it if the need ever arose - hold the fist-sized meteor against Clark's chest above his heart and he'd be dead within 20 minutes. That was the level of trust Clark had in Bruce. And Bruce had the same level of trust in Clark.
And so it was that, over the years, Bruce and Clark had grown into brothers. And through that Bruce had become a confidant to Lois and an uncle to CJ. Indeed it was CJ who had kept Bruce from falling into a total pessimism these past few months. Truth was, Bruce needed CJ as much as CJ now needed him.
An owl's hooting interrupted Bruce's thoughts. The night was getting old and Bruce turned from the window and walked over to the desk to do the task he didn't want to do.
As Bruce reached the desk, a bolt of lightning struck the weather vane atop the mansion and the clap of thunder that followed shook Wayne Manor. As if the Fates were giving their dark blessing to the task at hand.
