A Mile in Your Shoes

Clark has known Bruce for almost as long as he's been Superman. He's seen Bruce grieve (everybody who's seen Batman has seen Bruce grieve), not just for his parents but for his children, all of them. He knows how much Bruce loved them, loves them even now, but after they'd died he'd at least been functional, if a little more violent for a period after each of the deaths. He's never seen Bruce like this.

Alfred was one of those people who you met once and you immediately liked them, immediately made a place in your heart for. Bruce had been raised by him. With exceptions that, when added together, amounted to mere months, Alfred had always been there for Bruce, had been there to comfort the nightmares which happened with disturbing frequency, had been there to cook and clean and be a parent for Bruce. Clark doesn't know if Bruce even knows how to live on his own. When he first hears the news, he winces at the thought of the bruises and broken bones the criminals of Gotham will soon experience. Then he sees Bruce at the funeral.

Bruce is as impeccably dressed as Alfred had always made him, perfectly enough that even Alfred would have been proud of his appearance…clothing-wise. Bruce has always been pale, the cost of doing most of his work at night, but now he looks as if there isn't a drop of blood in him. He doesn't give a speech, even though he's the closest thing Alfred had to a son. He doesn't speak at all. He seems to exude an aura which keeps anybody from approaching. He looks through everybody as if they aren't there, as if he has Clark's X-ray vision. When the funeral is over he leaves without saying a word to anybody. He doesn't look at Clark.

The next week, Batman never shows up to the JLA meeting. He's never late, much less absent, unless something major has happened in Gotham. When something major happens in Gotham it's on the news. There's nothing on the news. Batman always calls if he's going to be late or absent. They never get a call. Everybody is worried. Clark is the only one who's worried about Bruce's mental state rather than physical. Nobody knows Bruce as well as Clark does, now. That thought is like a knife in his heart. He can only imagine what it feels like in Bruce's. Clark promises to check up on him and heads to Gotham.

What he finds is…not good. Bruce is eating, and it seems like he's just taken food out of the refrigerator at random. Clark hopes that's the case, because otherwise Bruce is eating a raw onion by choice. He knows Bruce has never been picky about food, especially after No Man's Land, but he's never seen him eat anything quite this revolting when he has a choice. Even if the refrigerator was empty (it isn't) Bruce could go to the grocery store, or call for takeout, or something. Bruce finishes eating and turns to leave the kitchen, and Clark catches a glimpse of his face, which is just…blank. There isn't a hint of emotion on it, not even that small amount he allows when he's being Batman. It's as if he's completely emotionless. That scares Clark more than Batman ever has, more than knowing that Bruce has access to kryptonite. It scares him more than knowing that Luthor has access to kryptonite.

He goes home to Lois, but he can't get the image of Bruce out of his mind. Bruce's coping mechanisms have never been normal (his first involved dressing up as a bat, after all), but before this they were always successful. Bruce couldn't, wouldn't, ever be normal, wouldn't ever be quite sane, but at least before this he'd been able to pretend. Before this he'd been able to deal with his issues at least to the extent that he could get up and function in the world. Now, he isn't coping at all, just sitting there and staring into space.

Lois suggests he should take care of Gotham while Bruce is how he is. "When he comes out of it he'll growl at you," she says. "But secretly he'll be grateful. You should fill his refrigerator too, and if he bitches at you later about not eating onions and moldy carrots and spoiled milk you can always tell him to pay you back." She puts a hand on his arm and looks him in the eye. "Just because you're his best friend doesn't mean there aren't other people who are worried about him."

So Clark refills Bruce's refrigerator (Ma is glad to help him prepare some actual meals) and begins stopping crime in Gotham. It feels wrong to do it at all, much less without Bruce's permission, without his orders. Gotham is Batman's city. Clark isn't the only one surprised that Superman is operating in Batman's city. The ordinary criminals react the same to him as they do anywhere else, but the major-leaguers seem almost disappointed every time they see that he isn't Batman. He knows the feeling.

He's distracted at work, listening to the heartbeat of a man in another city who never moves more than he has to, whose heartbeat retains the same even pattern throughout the day. He passes it off as being worried about a sick friend; the best lie is a truth. He lets the JLA know that Batman is indisposed and will be for the foreseeable future. They ask him questions but he doesn't answer them, merely informing them that it's personal. They ask him when Batman's going to return, and he doesn't have an answer for them. Increasingly, he fears that the answer will be "never".

It's been months since the funeral. Clark's been checking up on Bruce every day. The only change in him has been the length of his unshaven beard, the appearance of his clothes, and his odor. Bruce hasn't shaved, changed, or showered since before the funeral. Clark decides that enough is enough. He can't stand seeing his friend like this any longer.

He places himself in Bruce's path back to the chair from the kitchen. He almost thinks Bruce is going to run into him, but he stops before that happens. He doesn't raise his eyes. He doesn't speak. At this point, Clark would be glad to even hear one of Bruce's territorial growls, one of the ones that mean he's messed up, anything. His wish isn't granted. Bruce is silent.

"Bruce, this has to stop," he blurts out. He kicks himself mentally, not wanting to give Bruce the chance to misunderstand anything he says. "We know how much you miss Alfred, but it's been months since you've done anything but sit in that chair. We're worried about you." The last is almost a whisper, not because he's afraid of admitting his feelings but because it can't contain the true depth of his feelings. He reaches out a hand and puts it on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce hasn't been touched by anybody in months. Clark can't go even a day without touching and being touched. He can only imagine what it's like to have nobody to hug you, to not have brushed skin to skin even incidentally for months.

Bruce's heart rate and breathing speed up. Clark knows that if he could see Bruce's eyes, they would be dilated. In a move almost too fast for even Clark to see he reaches up and grabs Clark's hand and uses it to throw Clark into the wall. There's a table with a statue (doubtless something priceless) in his way. He's so surprised at what Bruce did to him that he lies in the wreckage for a moment. Bruce turns from Clark and goes through the door into the room with his chair. Clark gets up and looks at Bruce, and he's sitting in the chair as detached as he's been these past few months, staring into space. He's also shaking. Bruce has never gotten the shakes after combat, especially something as minor as that. This is not a Bruce who Clark thinks he can fix on his own.

Clark calls the Gotham police and asks them to check up on him, saying they'd had an interview scheduled but when he'd rung the bell there hadn't been a reply, and that Bruce hadn't answered his phone calls either. "It's probably nothing," he says, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "But nobody's seen him in months, and better safe than sorry, right?" When he hears them head out to the Manor (Jim Gordon's going too, because if it turns out Bruce is all right he's the best person to put a good face on things) he keeps one ear tuned to the conversation, to their cries for Bruce as they walk through the Manor, to their shock at finding Bruce so disheveled. He hopes none of them touches Bruce, since his combat reflexes seem to kick in when he's merely touched now. He knows they won't be able to restrain him if that happens, no matter how much backup they call in. He's ready to go to the Manor at a moment's notice if he hears that happen. He doesn't want Bruce to get shot, and he doesn't think Bruce knows how to stand down when he's in that state.

He hears the sound of Bruce's fist on Gordon's nose and is halfway to Gotham before Gordon gets up from the driveway. Fortunately Gordon convinces his men that Bruce doesn't need to be handcuffed, so Clark doesn't have to intervene. He wonders why Gordon is breaking procedure for a man he thinks he's only met in passing, especially one who's just punched him in the nose. He keeps an eye on Bruce with his telescopic vision until Gordon locks him into a cell at GCPD headquarters for observation and heads home.

"I just feel so useless," he says to Lois. "I can take down criminals and set things on fire with my eyes and lift heavy things, but there isn't a single thing I can do for Bruce."

"You got him in the care of people who can help him," Lois says.

"Aren't you supposed to be the cynical one?" Clark asks. "Do you honestly think they can help him? Do you think he'd let them?"

She considers for a moment and slowly shakes her head. "Why did you call them, then?"

"Because," he sighs, "at least it's a change. And we might get surprised." He gives her a small smile. "Bruce is full of surprises."

The phone rings and he answers it because he's closer. "Hello?"

"Is this Clark Kent?" He hears papers shuffling on the other end of the line.

"Yes it is," Clark replies. "What's this about?"

"This is Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department. Are you aware that in the event of Bruce Wayne becoming incapacitated you have decision-making power?"

Clark had almost forgotten about it, but Bruce had insisted he sign the document, "just in case". This is one of many occasions on which he's been glad for Bruce's contingency plans, even if he'd thought it was pointless at the time. After all, Bruce had already had several people sign the document; Clark was the fourth on the list. "Yes…" he says. "Why, has something happened to Bruce?" He allows the smallest amount of the concern he feels to leak into his voice.

"We were asked to check up on him, so we did, and he's currently under psychiatric observation."

"Psychiatric observation?" Clark asks. "I don't understand." He does, of course, but he still has to play the game.

"I'd like for you to come in and sign some forms to have Mr. Wayne committed."

"Is that…necessary?"

"I'm not qualified to make that decision, but in my opinion it is. Why don't you come see for yourself?"

"I'm in Metropolis, but I can make it out there tomorrow," Clark says, reaching for a pad of paper and a pencil. "Where do I need to go once I'm in Gotham?"

***

It isn't any easier to see Bruce like this in a jail cell rather than at the Manor. If he'd had any hope that the catatonia was merely a result of being in the Manor where Alfred had been for Bruce's whole life, it had died upon seeing him exactly the same in a different setting.

"Has he been like this the whole time?" Clark asks softly. It's one thing for Bruce to act like this in the Manor, but for him to just stare into space like that in such a public area…normally, Bruce's eyes would be trying to take in everything, roaming over everyone and everything looking for potential threats, unless he was pretending to be the billionaire playboy, which requires a different type of eye movement. In none of Bruce's normal modes did he just stare at a spot for hours.

"Unless he's touched."

"And if he's touched?"

"He only gave me a bloody nose, but not because it was the most he could do."

"That doesn't sound like Bruce," Clark says. "He doesn't like violence."

Gordon gives him a look that makes him wonder if he knows. "Maybe he took martial arts when he was younger and the reflexes just kicked in. I've heard stranger things."

"I suppose that's possible."

"Come on," Gordon says. "You have to fill out some paperwork."

***

"He's going to be sedated for transport for Arkham," Gordon says.

"Arkham?" Clark says. "Isn't that for criminals?"

"That's what it's best known for, yes. But it also has normal patients, and all of the best psychiatrists in Gotham work there."

"I see," Clark says, and makes a note to go down to the Batcave and see the feeds he knows Bruce has of Arkham's cameras. Arkham might have the best psychiatrists, but the guards are another matter. Even in Metropolis Clark's heard about the abuse they sometimes give the patients. Bruce can defend himself, but other than his extreme reaction to being touched he shows no desire to. There are other forms of abuse than the purely physical. "How is he going to be sedated, anyway? Since he reacts so violently to being touched."

"We never even thought of that."

"Can I try?" Clark asks. If Bruce attacks him, he knows he won't be hurt. He can't say the same of anybody else.

"It's against procedure…but yes. He obviously trusts you. Maybe he won't attack you."

Don't bet on that, Clark thinks.

***

He takes the syringe from Gordon. "I just stick it in his arm and press the plunger all the way down, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay." He steps into the cell with trepidation and starts talking to Bruce in a steady stream of words that are just there so he's saying something. He doesn't know if Bruce registers anything other than orders any more. "Bruce, I know you don't like sedatives but they're insisting you be sedated. You're going to be put in Arkham which apparently isn't just for criminals, but don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you. Okay, I'm going to use this on you now but I'm going to try not to actually touch you so try not to freak out." He carefully slides the needle into Bruce's arm without touching him. Within a few seconds Bruce slumps as if he's a puppet whose strings have been cut. Clark catches him gently before he slides off the bed. He doesn't move at the touch.

They take Bruce to Arkham in an ambulance and Clark follows in his car. At Arkham, he signs the papers to have Bruce committed. He has nothing else to do there, so he gets back in his car and goes to the Manor. He needs to contact some of Bruce's people, such as his lawyer Rachel Green and Lucius Fox, and he doesn't know how. Hopefully Bruce had an address book or a list of contact information on his computer or something. Clark isn't taking this well; he's freaking out about little things which he probably doesn't need to. Knowing Bruce, he has files on his computer with not only contact information but everything from where they went to college to their youngest child's favorite color, because Bruce is just that thorough.

Clark feels as ridiculous as he always does parking his car on the driveway in front of the Manor. It's dwarfed by the Manor and seems out of place. The Manor should have sports cars and limos parked in front of it, not a several years old Accord.

He hadn't noticed it before because he was so worried about Bruce, but the Manor feels empty. Not just Bruce-is-out-for the-day empty, but nobody-lives-here empty. Clark supposes that makes sense; it had always been Alfred who made this a home, who made it lived-in. Bruce had always spent much more time down in the Cave or on patrol (not to mention the various charity and business events he'd gone to) than he'd ever spent up in the Manor. Still, it's eerie to walk through the deserted Manor and know that he's the only person here, that Alfred won't come out of the kitchen with freshly-baked cookies, that Bruce won't step out of the shadows to growl at him for being here. He finds himself walking faster than he has to until he gets to the study and the clock and realizes that he doesn't actually know how it opens. The process has always been blocked by Bruce's body and he'd never thought to use his x-ray vision to look anyway. He'd never expected to need to get into the Cave this way without Bruce being here. He fiddles around with it for a little bit until he gets the clock hands into the right position (10:47; he doesn't have to wonder what significance that has to Bruce, not with who he is) and it opens to reveal the stairs leading down.

The Cave still feels lived-in, although Bruce has been absent from it for longer than he's been absent from the Manor. This is, perhaps, an effect of the bats, the real ones (will there be Bats ever again? Clark isn't so sure), which hang from the ceiling as they always do. The guano on the floor is a testament not only to their presence, but also to Alfred's absence. Everything is dusty here, as it is up in the Manor. Clark blows the dust off of the keyboard and wipes off the mouse. The monitors have various camera feeds and alerts displayed on them. The computers have been working as tirelessly as always these past two months, displaying information which nobody has seen. Telling the empty air about every crime committed in Gotham, as if it'll bring Bruce back from wherever he is in his own head.

Clark hasn't used Bruce's computers before, but fortunately the search function is relatively easy to find and he has Rachel Green's number in a matter of minutes (relatively being the key word; this isn't Windows, it's some sort of unique Bat operating system designed by Bruce or Barbara or Tim or all three, and he doesn't know his way around it). He decides to use the Manor's phone to call her; things might be easier if she sees the Manor's number on her caller ID. He writes down her number and Lucius Fox's. Mr. Fox undoubtedly deserves to learn about this from him, rather than from tabloids and rumors when somebody at Arkham speaks. Somebody at Arkham always speaks. He doesn't know of anybody else from Bruce's other life; Bruce never talks about it.

"Rachel Green," she answers her phone.

"Ms. Green, this is Clark Kent. You're Bruce Wayne's lawyer, right?" He knows she is, but he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say, not to a complete stranger.

"Yes…what's this about?"

"I don't really know how to say this, but he's been committed to Arkham."

"Arkham! But why? And why wasn't I contacted? How do you know about it?"

"I'm his legal guardian now," Clark says. "He had a…a thing, you were there when I signed it, and now I'm his legal guardian because he's insane. I don't know why you weren't contacted, though."

"What do you mean by insane?"

"He just sits there staring into space and attacks anybody who touches him. I don't think he's taken a shower since Alfred's funeral."

"Alfred?"

"Alfred Pennyworth, his butler."

"Oh! I remember him." She says something to somebody on her end of the phone.

"I just thought you needed to know," Clark says. "And…I don't really know what I'm expected to do. I never thought this would happen."

"Tell you what," she says. "Why don't I look in on him and we can meet tomorrow?"

"Okay, what time's good for you?"

"How about nine?" she asks. "You can drop by my office."

"Sure, I can do that. Can I get the address?"

***

Clark leans back in the chair and sighs, his calls to Ms. Green and Mr. Fox completed, and then he calls Lois and lets her know what's going on. Hearing her voice is reassuring. There are places which aren't the Manor, people who aren't as messed up in the head as Bruce. When he hangs up he notices that the Manor doesn't seem quite so eerie any more, nor so deserted. Nothing has changed but his perception of it.

He goes out for a quick flight, but there isn't anything more than a few robberies to stop, so he returns to the Cave. Might as well see if Bruce's monitors have picked up anything interesting. Bruce isn't going to be Batman for a while; he should probably familiarize himself with the computers so he can stop the crime Bruce would stop if he could, instead of just whatever he sees or hears. If Bruce ever recovers, he at least wants to be able to say that he did things the right way. For Bruce, that means doing detective work to the point of obsession. If that's what it takes then so be it. Clark isn't about to do a poor job just because it isn't how he usually works, and besides he's an investigative journalist. He knows how, even if it isn't what he's known for.

He tries to familiarize himself with the computers, but it's difficult without a guide, without somebody being there for him to ask questions about. Of course there isn't a user's manual or a help file or anything; that would be too easy. And while everything seems to be well-organized (of course), the information and the resources on the computers are extensive, with mission reports and profiles and forensic results all carefully cross-referenced and thorough and with summaries. There are records for everything from muggings to multiple-person battles, DNA information for small-time crooks as well as major foes.

Clark sleeps at the Manor that night, in one of the guest rooms, wishing he could be with Lois, that he didn't have to be here. If he didn't have to be here it would mean that Bruce was all right. He has to be here. He wakes up in the morning, makes himself presentable, and heads down to Rachel Green's office. She informs him of his rights and responsibilities and tells him a little bit about how Bruce usually manages this side of his life, or at least the parts that she's involved with. Clark is grateful that Bruce has pretended to be an idiot over the years; it means that most of the control of his affairs is already in someone else's hands, primarily Lucius Fox's. Clark has never dealt with many of the things that Bruce (or his fiduciaries) has to deal with on a regular basis. He knows he's in over his head, but he'd be even more so if he had to deal with them too.

"What you need to consider," she says, "is that he's a public figure. One way or another, this is going to come out, and you need to control that."

He understands what she's saying. "I need to call a press conference?"

"Yes. I suggest you plan it with Lucius Fox so you can spin the news so it has the least impact on Wayne Enterprises. Have you ever held a press conference?"

"I've been on the other side," Clark says, dodging the question. He's held press conferences as Superman, but not as Clark Kent. He suspects the experience will be different. Even reporters respect Superman (not that it keeps them from asking the questions, they just do it more respectfully).

"There's a difference between being the one asking the questions and the one answering them. You should probably have somebody else make the statement and answer the questions, just be there in the background."

"All right." He doesn't hesitate; he knows the kinds of questions reporters ask, can make a good guess as to what they're going to ask, and he doesn't want to face that barrage if he can help it.

"You should have it as soon as possible. Tomorrow."

"What if he recovers? Won't letting everybody know about this be bad for him?"

"To some extent. But I don't think he's going to recover any time soon. He's probably been like this for the past couple of months, right? And this isn't the sort of thing someone just snaps back from."

"I suppose you're right."

"Go, set it up," she says. "Visit Mr. Wayne, talk to his doctors."

"I will," he promises.

***

There is, of course, no change in Bruce. By now Clark has stopped half-expecting one. The hospital staff did clean him up and change his clothes while he was sedated, though, so he looks closer to presentable. The beard still isn't attractive, though.

"He's being officially evaluated today, but I don't think there's much we can do to help him," Dr. Arkham says. "Not until he breaks out of the catatonia."

"Do you think he will?" Clark asks.

"It's difficult to say. He may be like this forever, or he may break out of it in the next minute. We will, of course, have our best doctors working on his case, but I suggest you don't get your hopes up."

Clark nods, resigned. Bruce has always walked the line dividing sanity from insanity. It makes sense that when he finally crossed it, he went all the way. Bruce does (did? a little voice in his head suggests) many things in that manner. He spends an hour talking to Bruce, about nothing and everything. He doesn't know if Bruce hears a single thing he says.

***

That night, the Bat-signal goes up. Clark isn't Batman, but he's the closest thing Gotham is going to get. He lands on the roof of Gotham Central, feeling like an intruder, like he's the last person who belongs here. Here on this roof, here in Gotham, here answering a very specific summons which isn't meant for him. He lands, and the police look into the shadows, expecting one of the shadows to reveal itself to be Batman.

"It's just me," he says. "Batman is…indisposed." They look a little surprised at that, but he doesn't blame them. Until recently, Bruce wasn't alone. If he wasn't available, he'd send Robin or Nightwing. He didn't allow other heroes into his city if it could possibly be avoided. It can't be avoided any more.

Gordon recovers first. In fact, he doesn't seem very surprised at the news. Perhaps he knows who Bruce is. If he does, he's probably already figured out who Clark is. "Joker's on the loose," he says. "He kidnapped a busload of kids going home from school and is demanding that Batman show."

"Where?"

"The Happy Time Factory on 5^th and Loeb. Are you sure you can handle it?"

It's unusual for people to question whether Superman can handle a non-meta, but Clark knows how tricky the Joker is. "Yes."

Gordon nods, and Clark has the odd feeling that if he was anybody other than himself Gordon wouldn't let him go without an argument. He hopes he can live up to Gordon's trust in him. He's heard Bruce tell stories about the Joker. Most of them have very bad middles. The endings, of course, are always Bruce taking the Joker back to Arkham, but that doesn't make the middle have not happened. Some of the stories made him ill just thinking about them. He can only imagine what it's like to be Bruce, to have actually seen the horrors he'd described. In this business everybody sees bad things, but there's a difference between what most of them see and what the Bats had to deal with.

Sometimes Clark wonders what Gothamites are thinking. They voluntarily stay in a city which is dirty and corrupt and in which you can be killed for an accident of naming. Gotham has gone through a plague, an earthquake, No Man's Land, and a gang war in the past few years and yet people still live here voluntarily, still consider it home no matter what happens. And they know they can get killed over something as arbitrary as a business name, but still they name their casinos "Double Down" and their cafes "Alice's" and their factories "Happy Time". Clark knows what it's like to see a city as home, but Gothamites seem almost suicidal about staying.

Clark lands and walks into the factory. He can hear the children crying and he follows that sound. The school bus is parked in the middle of the factory, the kids inside of it.

"You're not Batman!" a voice exclaims. The Joker. "Where's Batman?"

"He couldn't make it," Clark replies. "Release the children."

"I don't think so," the Joker says, and his voice isn't filled with the mirth it had been. "If Batman refuses to come out to play, I won't play either."

Clark hears a click, but he's too slow to even figure out what the sound is before it's too late. The bus explodes in a rush of heat and light and flying pieces of metal. Suddenly there is no bus and no children and Clark is splattered with blood and chunks and he's trying to avoid thinking about what those chunks used to be but it's impossible with the evidence right in front of him. Clark doesn't get sick unless he's depowered, but he vomits on the floor in the corner. By the time he recovers the Joker's gone. He's failed completely, in a way he hasn't often failed.

In shock, he flies back to the Cave (he's surprised he can find it, with the condition he's in). How could he let this happen? How could he underestimate the Joker by so much? How could he be so arrogant as to think he can defeat Batman's erratic enemies easier than Bruce can? At the cave he strips out of his costume, knowing he'll never wear that particular one again even if the blood stains can be removed. He burns it to ash with his heat vision. He doesn't need a reminder of how he's failed; the image of the children he'd failed is seared into his brain. He stumbles into the Cave's shower, grateful that for all of the items down here there isn't a mirror in sight. He doesn't have to look at his face stained red with blood except for where his tears have etched clean lines. He stays in the shower obsessively scrubbing himself for long after the water swirling down the drain has lost its color. He feels like he will never be clean again and wonders if this is why the water heater down here is so large and the hot water lasts for so long. He knows it probably is.

It's too late for him to call Lois, so he goes up and lies down on the bed he's claimed as his. He doesn't think he'll be able to sleep but after hours of staring at the wall he finally falls into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares.

***

In the morning, Lucius Fox takes one look at him and cut him out of the press conference. Fortunately he assumes that Clark's mood is because of Bruce's condition, so Clark doesn't have to make anything up. After last night he isn't sure he could manage anything coherent, much less convincing. He goes to visit Bruce instead. When they're left alone, Clark checks to make sure there aren't any hidden microphones and that nobody's within earshot and then tells Bruce about his night. He has to tell somebody, and as tough as Lois is he doesn't want to tell her about it in the detail he has to tell somebody about it. He feels nauseous just talking about it, but he can't stop the flow of words. He knows that if Bruce is hearing any of this he understands, even if he would never talk about it if he was in Clark's position. Clark's heard Bruce having nightmares. He's read some of the worse mission reports on the computers.

He stays for an hour, talking to a person so still that he might as well be an inanimate object, and when he leaves it's easier to pretend everything's all right, to pretend that last night he hadn't seen a busload of children blown up. He hasn't forgotten, doesn't think he ever will, but it's easier to pretend. He thinks he understands, a little, why Bruce is more Batman than Bruce Wayne, why Bruce Wayne is so much of an empty mask. Bruce Wayne can't be upset about things he doesn't know about, will never learn about, and although Bruce puts on a façade of stoniness, everything he does is because he cares so deeply, because every death he can't prevent wounds him, is catalogued and added to his inventory of psychological scars.

Lois calls him after she's done at the Planet, and he tells her some of what had happened last night, how ineffectual he was. "Bruce could have saved them," he says.

"Maybe you should change your strategy then," she says. "Being Superman works everywhere else but what can I say? It's Gotham, with everything that implies. Batman's rogues aren't exactly sane. If they insist on being beaten by Batman…maybe Batman should make an appearance."

"But he can't," Clark protests. "Or we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Who says Batman has to be Bruce?"

***

Clark can't believe he's doing this. There's an unspoken rule that you never dress up in somebody else's costume and pretend to be them without their permission. Relationships are difficult enough when you only know about half of somebody's life without adding multiple people with the same codename into the mix. Add to that the fact that his results are completely different from Bruce's and, well, he shouldn't be doing this. But he doesn't think anything else will work, not with the Joker. When the Bat-signal is turned on this night Batman answers the summons.

The commissioner is alone on the roof tonight, once he dismisses the woman who turns on the light.

"Commissioner," Clark says, stepping out of the shadows. He's being as much Batman as he can be, but he isn't sure he's pulling it off well enough to fool anybody, much less the people Batman has to deal with on a regular basis.

"You're not him," Gordon says as if he's looking for confirmation.

"No," Clark replies after a pause. "How did you know?"

"When he gave me a bloody nose it all just fell into place. I've only seen one person make that move before. You're his friend, then?" Clark can't keep himself from making a small sound of dismay, and Gordon smiles a little. "Members of the GCPD are hardly incompetent, despite what the papers may claim."

"I never thought you were," Clark says. "He's always had the highest respect for you. Even if he isn't the best at displaying it."

"That's the understatement of the century."

"So did you only figure it out because you know where he is, or can my acting use some work?" Clark asks. "I need to convince the Joker."

"You can't be seriously thinking about going after him after what happened last night!"

"I have to," Clark replies. "I don't think he'll play any nicer with the police than he did with Superman."

That stops Gordon in his tracks for a moment. A repeat of last night is the last thing either one of them wants. "First of all, you should get rid of that expression, or any expression which can be seen through the mask."

Clark doesn't have nearly as much experience at being expressionless as Bruce does; in either of his guises he's free to show the world what he's feeling. But he can do it if he has to, so he does. After years of dealing with Bruce, Gordon has several more useful pointers.

***

Clark returns to the Cave. The only blood on the suit this time belongs to the Joker, who's back in custody for as long as they can keep him. He was successful, but he doesn't feel good about it. Sure, he may have stopped the Joker from killing any more, but that doesn't erase the deaths he'd caused last night. It doesn't absolve Clark from responsibility for them. He falls asleep in the chair with the computer running a constant slideshow of the kids whose deaths he couldn't prevent. He gets the impression that Bruce has done this a lot in the past, Alfred or no Alfred.

He wakes up to the sound of a doorbell. He isn't expecting anybody, and he realizes he doesn't even know what time it is. He's surprised when he goes up to the Manor and the sun is streaming in through the windows because it's afternoon. The doorbell rings again. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he mutters.

He opens the door. "Lois!"

"Smallville," she says. "You look like hell."

He has no doubt that it's true. He might not have been exposed to Kryptonite, but his nights in Gotham have taken a toll on him. "Come in. What are you doing here?"

"It's my day off, remember?" she says. "And I'm worried about Bruce and you."

"I don't know how he does it," Clark sighs. "Night after night of darkness and atrocities. I've been Superman for as long as he's been Batman, but I just don't see the sorts of things he sees."

"Maybe it was a fluke," she offers hopefully. "Just the Joker being himself."

He shakes his head. "Bruce keeps very good records. I looked through some of them and…it wasn't a fluke."

Lois is his rock, his anchor. When he's in her arms he can feel comforted, even after what he hadn't managed to prevent.

***

Clark leaves Lois at the Manor and goes out to Arkham to spend another hour talking to Bruce (and a little bit talking to his psychiatrist, who has some ideas to try which Clark doesn't believe will work but you never know). He knows this is quickly becoming a routine for him. He wonders how he'll manage to do this once his personal leave is over. Clark Kent can't visit his friend in Gotham every day, since he lives in Metropolis; the commute is too long. But he also can't just desert Bruce. Sure, it doesn't look like it's having any effect, but Bruce has always internalized things. For all Clark knows, his daily visits are Bruce's lifeline.

When he gets back to the Manor (after a detour to stop a few crimes in Metropolis) there are two cars parked in front of it. One is Lois's, but he doesn't recognize the other. He walks into the kitchen (which is somehow still, as always, the most lived-in room in the whole mausoleum) and isn't entirely surprised to find Gordon sitting at the table with Lois.

"I hope you don't mind," Gordon says. "I wanted to talk to you about a few things, so I stopped by."

"I don't mind," Clark replies. "After last night I was hoping to have the chance to speak to you when we're not both working."

"I'm here to help," Gordon says, looking him steadily in the eye. "As much as I can. I owe him that much."

"As do I," Clark replies.