The Curse Of Knowledge (SuperBat)

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It all started with a date. Clark and Bruce were together in Gotham. They wanted to paint the town.

Clark wanted to spend time with Bruce as much as possible since he separated from Lois a few years ago. His son was the new Superman, so he had more time on his hands.

Nothing was in their way despite Superman's secret identity was out in the open. Somehow they were able to play it off as Clark and Bruce knew each other from Clark's journalist job. Now Bruce and Clark were out in the evening, spending time together.

But Superman was needed.

And Bruce was left alone.

Next thing he knew it, Bruce was found. In Crime Alley. Tied and gagged. Humiliated. Barely conscious. His wrists and ankles bounded too tight and cutting circulation. Devoid of clothes. Written on his stomach: Gotham's Bitch. His eyes were vacant with tears and sweat were all over his face.

Thankfully, Commissioner Gordon was on the case and found Bruce. But it may have been too late.

Bruce was sent off to Gotham Hospital.

Alfred was the first to be there. He stood there beside Bruce's bed. He could only feel sorrow for the man who was like a son to him. He could barely listen to the injuries that Bruce had from whoever this person was.

Alfred was sure to text Dick about what happened.

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air.

Superman came through the window. He quickly ran to Bruce's bed with trembling hands. He was distraught. He breathed, "Bruce." His hand reached his lover's on the bed.

"Where were you?" Alfred said, trying to keep his composure. "You two were on a date, weren't you?"

"Alfred," Superman said. "I was needed and-."

"Don't you think he needed you more?" Alfred yelled.

Superman swallowed as he couldn't push past the guilt. He closed his eyes as tears fell from his eyes. He felt bad. If only he was listening to Bruce's heartbeat as he always did. If only he wasn't far away. "I'm sorry," he said barely audible.

Superman had to see the injuries Bruce had. He had to see how badly he had neglected Bruce. He used his x-ray vision to see.

Broken fingers on one hand. Bruised and cut wrists and ankles from rope. Many bruises on his stomach. And injuries towards the lower parts.

Superman turned away. He swallowed. He had to find whoever did this to Bruce. "Alfred, I'm terribly sorry."

"So am I," Alfred said bitterly.

And so, Superman left out the window.

Alfred sat on a chair beside Bruce's bed. He would stay by his side as long as he could.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said softly. "Take all the rest you need."

After an hour, Bruce steered awake.

Alfred gasped, "Master Bruce? Bruce?"

Bruce opened his eyes. He glanced at Alfred. Then he looked around the room. He didn't say a word. His eyes darted to each object.

Then he stopped. He turned on his side, facing Alfred, and curled up into a more comfortable position. It was something different about the way he looked at Alfred. His eyes stared as he knew Alfred would protect him. His eyes were wide and honest.

Alfred couldn't put his finger on it. He asked, "Are you okay?"

Bruce didn't answer as he closed his eyes.