XVIII. epilogue
"Luthor's locked up in one of them fancy cells," James Gordon says matter-of-factly from the other end of the line. "They took his suit- real flashy- and it can do some really innovative stuff, apparently, so they're taking it apart. That's all I know."
"Good." The two exchange a few more words, and Bruce hangs up. He stands from his chair in the Cave, eyeing every vast screen spread across the wall in front of him, and turns just in time.
Superman touches down soundlessly on the rocky floor.
He still takes his breath away, makes his heartbeat rise just a touch higher.
It was hard at first, to break down the Incident, and see it as something that happened to him, not something that was a part of him. There were countless nightmares where he couldn't bear the sight of Clark, and when they touched each other he couldn't stop the momentary flashbacks. It took time to get used to the touch without being reminded of It.
But he's healing. It's slow. Difficult. But he's healing. And right now, the only thing he feels is pure, liberated joy. Clark is a shining beacon amongst the dark shadows of the Cave, real and natural, unlike the computer screens throwing light.
Bruce's lips part ever so slightly, and Clark walks to him. He doesn't fly, or appear suddenly, or pop up with a swoosh of his cape. He only walks. He stops when he reaches Bruce, and then they're kissing.
It's steady and constant. Bruce hears the other man's heartbeat. His hands on Clark's shoulders. He feels gentle fingers at his waist. The cowl is already off, but the cape drapes heavily around his shoulders.
Bruce lets himself relax.
He's finally home.
YOU ARE READING
aftermath
FanfictionA pause. "Alright then," Superman says, and moves on. Bruce cannot move on.