The Cages In Our Minds, part 3
by KungFuNurse

Disclaimers: DC raised them to be good little boys.  I gave them candy and corrupted the heck out of them.
A final thanks to ‘rith for her talent and inspiring fiction.  A HUGE smooch to Crystal for beta-ing this chapter.  

Warnings: Adult Only for gore, some angst, some sexual situations (but no outright sex…gotta read the sequel for that)  ;)  
Slash M/M themes.  Bruce, Clark, Kyle pairing.

kungfunurse@visi.com

                    ******


“I wouldn’t do that, Kyle.”

Kyle glanced over his shoulder, one hand still poised over the doorknob.

“I just wanted to, you know, see.”

The door was one of a number of doors lined up along the side of the road.  They looked like nothing so much as a contingent of soldiers standing at attention, guarding the pretty green countryside from travelers on the highway.

“It’s not attached to anything.  But it’s just standing there.  Besides, I think I heard a noise behind it.”

“Bruce, back me up, here.” Clark said to his other companion, shifting the young boy in his arms for emphasis.

Bruce’s eyes came back into focus.  He’d obviously been lost in his own thoughts.  “Whatever.  Just don’t take all night.  We’ve got places to be.”

Clark chuckled and shook his head.  “Fine.  Just don’t fall off of any tall buildings.  I have all I can handle keeping Lois's curiosity from killing her.”

“I can fly, you know,” muttered Kyle as he twisted the round knob.  Bruce, trying to affect disinterest, couldn’t quite keep himself from straining to see around Kyle’s shoulder.  Clark smiled to himself and gave in to his own curiosity.  He had been wondering what all these doors were meant to represent and…

“Kyle?  Kyle, what is it?”

Clark’s voice was tinged with worry.  Kyle had stopped cold in the doorway and Bruce was strung tight with nerves in his arms.

Clark moved to look around Kyle’s back.  He saw a perfectly ordinary living room and kitchen area.  A middle-aged man was typing on his computer, the half eaten sandwich testament to his absorption in his task.  Two children were in the living room watching television.  The kids were sitting really rather close to the TV, but other than that he didn’t see anything too upsetting…

Kyle made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and Clark looked closer.  No.  The kids weren’t watching the TV.  They were wide eyed and stupefied, slowly being dragged closer to screen by some sort of tentacle.  Clark could just see the trailing fingertips of what must have been a third child as the hand was absorbed into the flickering surface.

“NO!!”  Bruce yelled and leaped out of Clark’s arms, tackling the Green Lantern before he could cross the threshold.  They landed in a heap, Bruce’s smaller mass twisting furiously to keep Kyle from getting away.  “Clark!  The door!  Close the God-damned door!!!”

Bruce’s voice jolted him out of his horror and he sprang forward, pulling Kyle back by a foot and slamming the door shut.

“What are you doing?” Kyle screamed.  “Those kids need us!”  Enraged Kyle dumped Bruce off of him and threw himself at the door again.  He crashed with an “oomph” into Clark’s broad chest as the alien was suddenly there, blocking his entrance.  Clark’s impossibly strong arms folded Kyle to him as the younger man fought and struggled to get free.

“Stop it!  Stop!” Bruce commanded sharply.  The boy picked himself off the ground and tried to dust his clothes clean with a hand.  Now is NOT the time to get lost in someone else’s dream.”

“A dream?”  Kyle screamed.  “A friggin’ dream?  That was a nightmare!  That was hell!  What would you have done if we’d thought like that when we found you!”  He still struggled weakly against Clark, more to be doing something than because he thought his friend was going to let him go.

“Those children aren’t in danger.” Clark rumbled softly around him.  “They weren’t the ones dreaming.”

Kyle stopped fighting completely and just stared up into the kind, blue eyes.  Clark was really, really warm.  “But, it was eating them,” he protested weakly, trying to stay on track.  Clark slipped an arm lower around Kyle’s waist and hugged him a little tighter to his chest in understanding.  This was, actually kinda nice, Kyle thought vaguely.  Crap.  What the hell?  He’d lost his train of thought and Bruce was saying something.

“Umm, what?”

“I said,” Bruce repeated acerbically, “it was the father who was dreaming.  He’s obviously afraid that he spends so much time at work that he’s losing his children.”

“Oh.”  Kyle said.  Oh?  Is that the best I can come up with?  Did I just receive a lobotomy?  Earth to Kyle?  Anyone home?

Clark squeezed him again before letting him go, and Kyle stumbled a little when all that warm, muscular mass stepped away.  Oh yeah.  And Clark was naked.  Why was Clark naked?  Kyle wondered dazedly as he watched the glowing man walk over to Bruce and swing him up again.  Scratch that.  Why was it only now that Kyle had a problem with this?  It’s not like he hadn’t been completely in the buff since Kyle had first opened his door to the guy…

Doors.  Concentrate on doors, Rayner.  Anything but how tight Clark’s ass looks when he flexes it like that.

Kyle looked back at the door behind him.  He wondered what the other people in the world were dreaming about.  Not all of the dreams could be terrible, right?  Not everyone could be dreaming about killer appliances, after all.

Bruce and Clark seemed to be having some sort of disagreement about which way to travel.  Clark wanted to leave the road and fly overland, while Bruce insisted it was safer to follow the path.

Kyle tuned them out and marched resolutely to the next door.  It was stupid, plain and simple.  Bruce had told him not to, and Clark had agreed.  And the only times those two ever agreed on anything were definitely times to pay attention.  So it was beyond idiocy to think about opening this slim little gateway of temptation.

The door squeaked a little on its hinges as it swung wide.  Inside was a dark, cramped apartment littered with trash and rat droppings.  Dingy, hopeless sunlight streamed from a cracked shutter over the single window.  In the corner were two children.  One was scrawny, his belly bloated from malnourishment, his skin and clothes incredibly filthy.  The other was a very small child, perhaps a year old.  It was dead.  The boy looked up at Kyle, blood dribbling down his chin from the wound on his brother’s cheek.  The eyes were soulless, abandoned. Empty.  Without seeming to register him, the boy bent down to take another bite.  Mother had never come back, and the deadbolt was too high on the door for either of them to reach.

Kyle screamed and slammed the door closed.

“What the FUCK!!  WHAT THE FUCK!!  Did everyone read fucking Stephen King before going to bed!!!”  Kyle exploded hysterically.  He raced for the next door and threw it open.

A young girl lay huddled in the middle of a school playground.  Hundreds of laughing, taunting, jeering hands were pointed at her as she cried and tried to cover herself.  She had obviously forgotten her pants at home.

Another door.  Kyle wrenched it open to see a potbellied business type in boxers and tall black socks pulled up to his knees.  The man was working desperately through a maze of spider webs, calling out a woman’s name as he went.  His progress was impeded by his two mistresses, one hanging on to either foot as he dragged them along behind.  “Never gonna happen again, Nel!  I promise!  Nel?”

A warm hand rested on Kyle’s shoulder and the door was closed in front of him.  “Don’t do this, Kyle.  Don’t you have enough nightmares of your own?”

Kyle found himself slumped against Clark’s broad chest again.  He was so tired.  So damned tired.  This night had already lasted so long and he was so…embarrassed at the choked sounds coming from him.  He realized he was clutching at Clark’s bare chest, little sounds of fear and horror tearing from his throat.  He was also burrowing his face into Clark’s neck, tears rolling down Clark’s skin, making Kyle’s face slippery against the smooth, warm muscles.

“God.”  He sniffed and pulled back, covering his face to wipe the tears and keep from looking at anyone.  “God.”

“Seems to be my night for it.”  Clark returned good-naturedly, wiping the slick from his chest with one big hand.  Kyle looked up at that, startled, and could almost feel the stare boring through the back of his neck.  Bruce.

Clark cleared his throat awkwardly and shot an apologetic look at Bruce.  “Ah, Kyle,” he began, “weren’t you looking for Bruce for a specific reason?”

Oh sure, Kyle thought.  Way to change the subject, big guy.  He turned around and was shocked to see the anger trembling in every line of Bruce’s small body.  Even more shocked to see the furious…was that jealousy?…in his eyes.

“Umm, geez, Bruce.  I’m, I’m sorry.  What did I, I mean if you tell me…”

He trailed off helplessly, pinned by that hostile glare.  Clark’s warm hand slipped over his shoulder, precluding any thoughts of running.

“Bruce, enough.”  Clark said reasonably.  “You know it doesn’t make you any less…”

Kyle would dearly have loved to hear the end of that sentence, but the two of them were just staring at each other now.  Glaring, like a battle of wills was taking place and Kyle was completely lost as to what the hell they were fighting about.

“Look,” he squirmed uncomfortably.  “Whatever you two have going, I’m just gonna be over there,” he gestured vaguely.  “Come find me when the screams die down.”

Kyle walked off a distance and watched covertly as they talked.  He could hear indistinct arguments and muttered phrases.  Something about them needing Kyle too, and Bruce would see that if he wasn’t so…something.

Well, Kyle didn’t know that they actually needed him for this mission, though he’d been helpful back there before the door thing.  He kept listening.  Clark never insulted people so Kyle was sure it wasn’t really an insult, whatever it was.  But maybe it wasn’t very complimentary either because Bruce was on his sandy little tiptoes trying to get all 3 feet and 7 inches of himself into Clark’s face, whispering fiercely.  Kyle didn’t catch a word of that except that it made Clark flinch and draw back.

And that was really kinda surprising.  Not that Clark would step back from Bruce, because even a glowing naked god-like being could reasonably be intimidated by a three foot Batm… - er, Bruce.  No, it was surprising because Bruce followed him after a moment and placed his hand flat on Clark’s stomach.  The two of them stared into each other’s eyes, Bruce craning his neck way back to hold the gaze.  They seemed to be apologizing.  They seemed to be…looking in his direction.  Kyle blushed and spun around, too late to disguise his interest.  Damn.

He heard footsteps behind him and glanced back to find that Clark was carrying Bruce again.  “You two finish making up?” he joked weakly.  The speculative look in their eyes made the joke fall way flat.

“Ummm…” he stumbled.

“Tell me.”  Bruce said quietly.

“Umm, what?”

“Why were you looking for me?” Bruce returned patiently.  Very patiently.  

Kyle stole another look at the man.  Boy.  Whatever.  “Ookaayy,” he drawled, stalling for time.  “Well, it’s about my Mom, and an old ex, Donna.”

The three of them tramped further down the road as Kyle related his tale.  He thought it would be harder to talk about all this, about his mother’s death at the hands of Major Force, and Donna’s murder before that.  But Bruce was listening with that way he had.  His head cocked slightly to the side and just WATCHING Kyle, like Kyle was the only thing that mattered.  Like as long as Kyle kept talking Bruce would ALWAYS be there to listen.  It had always creeped Kyle out before, the intensity with which Batman paid attention to everything.  Now it was, well, encouraging.

Kyle found himself telling the rest of it.  About feeling rejected by the rest of Earth’s Green Lanterns.  About the cold despair that cracked his hands and made them useless.  All of it.  It actually felt good to get all this out.  He’d never really told any of this to anyone, and Clark was nodding sympathetically and Bruce’s blue eyes were fixed on him and they were LISTENING.  Kyle felt almost sad when he didn’t have any more to say.  As though now he would lose something that he was just learning to value.

*****

Clark nodded his head while Bruce listened to the end of Kyle’s story.  He had to hand to it to the man.  He had promised to try, and he was delivering.  Clark felt very grateful to Bruce.  He should have known, no, he did know how Bruce would react when he’d hugged Kyle.  But he couldn’t let fear of that reaction stop him.  The time for half measures was past.  He’d gone far beyond that already and wasn’t going to go back to the old way.  He couldn’t keep living like that.  He’d been suffocating.  Dying.  So he’d taken his chances and had thrown his life and his faith in Bruce’s hands.  It was the right choice, but by Rau it had been close.

Clark had tried to persuade Bruce with all the reasons that Kyle was essential for a functional relationship between the two of them.  Tried to point out the gaps Kyle filled between them, the thingyle could do for both of them that Clark
and Bruce wouldn’t be able to give to each other. In the end, Bruce had agreed to try and understand Clark’s needs.  But, he had added, Clark shouldn’t expect Bruce to necessarily imitate those needs.  Maybe Clark needed Kyle, but Bruce was far from certain that HE did.

Clark knew Bruce would understand, in time.  That’s all they needed, was time.

And Bruce had agreed to give it to him.  Had actually agreed to help Clark meet his needs.  It was a heady experience.

He came back to himself in time to hear the end of Bruce’s assessment.

“Then it sounds like you’ve got it pretty much figured out,” the boy murmured. “Now that you’ve stepped far enough outside of your dream world you can see that your actions, that of throwing your mother’s severed head and your fear response to Donna, were all quite justified.  You no longer feel the need to return to the tableau, correct?”

Kyle nodded, looking fascinated by the conversation.

“There you have it.  Your sleeping mind was confusing anger and loss with responsibility for their deaths.  Your super-ego wanted to punish you as a way of protecting your conscious mind from the grief of fully realized loss.  So you felt the need to return and share their fate.  You have survivor’s guilt, and you’re using that guilt as a defense mechanism.  It’s quite common.  Once you fully embrace your loss and integrate it into your life, you will no longer need the guilt or the urge to punish yourself, and the dreams will stop.”

“Wow.  I mean, wow.”  Kyle looked blown away.

Clark lifted one sardonic eyebrow.  Pots and kettles anyone?

Bruce ignored him.

“Well, what about Clark?”

Bruce lifted an eyebrow.  “What about him?”

“I mean, are you gonna interpret his dream too?”

Bruce looked up into Clark’s eyes and quirked his lips in a tiny smile.  “Well now, I don’t believe Clark’s told me his dream yet.”

Looking down, Clark thought he might fall into those bottomless eyes and be lost forever in the quiet deeps that were Bruce.  It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend the rest of eternity, he thought fuzzily.  Rau, he loved this man.  No one else could do what Bruce did for him.  No one else even came close.

Bruce snorted a little and tapped his forefinger on the bridge of Clark’s nose.

“Hello?  Did you get lost?”

God, Bruce was playing with him.  Bruce was relaxed enough to play.  It was, it was incredible.  Overflowing with happiness, Clark took Bruce’s small hand in his own and kissed the fingers.  Bruce lit up from inside like a Chinese lantern.  Like his heart had glowed from inside its stone prison.  He was gorgeous.

They both started a little when Kyle cleared his throat uneasily.  He was looking away, an embarrassed flush on his face, and rubbing the back of his neck with his ring hand.  He also looked a bit confused.  Clark had to stifle a wicked little chuckle.  Kyle wasn’t going to know what hit him.

“So,” Kyle tried.  “About your, ah, dream, Clark?”

Right.  Clark gave the condensed version of his trip to Perry’s office, finding Lois and the naked man at his table (And that still hurt quite a bit.  Lois would never have been unfaithful to him.  Not physically, or so he’d always thought) and the decision to hunt down Bruce.  He left out a few minor details, like the trip into the sun.  Those were for later, for private.

“Obviously Lois is not having an affair.” Bruce began.

“But how can you say that?  He saw her with some other guy!”  Kyle sputtered.

“That wasn’t ‘some other guy’,” Bruce flicked his fingers to dismiss the idea.  That was Clark.”

“Um,” Clark began, now completely confused.

Bruce looked back up at him.  “That man was Lois’s dream version of Clark Kent.  Everything she’s ever wanted her husband to be, including being human.”

Clark was dumbfounded.  Of course.  Why hadn’t he recognized it himself?

As if reading his mind, Bruce scoffed at the idea.  “Why should you have recognized that man at the table as yourself?  Really, he’s NOT you.  He’s not even the same species as you.  He’s a figment of Lois’s mind, representing what she thought she was going to get when she married you.  Unfortunately, your wife was so blinded by her romantic ideas of knights in shining white spandex that she missed the most important part of what makes you, you.”

“And that would be,” Clark prompted, not really sure he wanted to hear this.

“The way you’ve integrated your alien physiology with your human upbringing.  Look.  All young animals bond with the first major nurturing influence that they interact with after birth.  They see that creature and decide that that’s what they must be, too.  It’s called imprinting.  When hawks and eagles imprint on humans they are no longer able to return to the wild.  Their entire behavior shifts radically from that of properly socialized birds of prey.  They need to be around humans and do human things.  They need jobs, for pity’s sake!  They need to accomplish goals in a very human sense of the word.

Now, Clark, you’ve imprinted on humanity, too.  You’re not really Kryptonian, and not just because our sun has so completely mutated your genes.  You wouldn’t survive if you could somehow be released back to your native world.  But you’re not human either.  You’re a hybrid, absolutely unique.  Nothing like you has ever existed before.  Lois just saw the human behaviors and chose to overlook all the rest.  That’s all.”

That’s all.  Two little words summing up a lifetime of confusion.  Clark felt dazed.  No wonder he had been trying to deny his Kryptonian self for so long.  It was easier to think of himself as…how had Perry put it?  A human who could fly and shoot lasers from his eyes?

He shook his head and wondered how much damage he’d caused by refusing to accept himself and his innate, unchangeable needs.  He had certainly hurt Lois.  By pretending to be human so well that he himself had believed it, he had sold her on a bill of goods that he was unable to deliver.  He couldn’t go back to the way things were yesterday.  He didn’t want to.  But there was going to be a lot of heartache before things could be put to rights.  He studied Kyle and Bruce as they talked.  They were examining the surrounding dreamscape now, discussing what each thing meant and whether it was symbolic of something else or if that cigar really was just a cigar.

They were his future.  He wasn’t Clark Kent.  Or rather he was, just as much as he was Superman.  But he was also Kal-El, and these two men beside him were very special members of his House.  There would be pain and uncertainty ahead, but with these men as his prize at the end, he was glad to step into the flames.

*****

Bruce snuggled a little more firmly against Clark’s chest, trying not to be obvious about it.  Clark was his, damn it.  How the hell the vapor-brained farmboy had managed to forget that already was beyond him.  Perhaps it had been that initial kiss.  Or perhaps it was because he looked so small and helpless at the moment.  

Well, he certainly wasn’t helpless.  And if Clark equated ‘small’ with ‘easy to dismiss’ then he was going to be in for a rude shock.  He knew Clark like no other.  He knew what fantasies lay sleeping deep in the unexplored recesses of the man’s desire.  Clark was a strong man.  Dominant.  He liked to be in control…at times.  But quietly, almost shamefully, Bruce knew he was also searching for someone who could equal him.  Match his strength, his will, and finally, master him.  

A thin tendril of heat snaked through Bruce’s small frame, and he shivered deliciously.  Obviously he wouldn’t be able to overcome Clark by strictly physical means.  Not directly.  But there were other ways to compel Clark’s submission.  And there were a few things in the cave that might prove useful…

As if this strange dreamscape had heard his musings, he looked up to find a handsome, well muscled young man wearing a collar around his neck. And very little else.

“I think we’re almost there.”  He heard Clark murmur.

Kyle was looking around, completely fascinated by the change.  The young man with the collar was being lead by a very tall, very muscular woman holding his leash.  And he wasn’t the only one.  There were collared men shopping for food while their protective women-folk lounged nearby, exchanging news or sharpening their weapons.  A group of school aged children were being guided down the street by more shackled men.  Men who deferred instantly to the woman whom they called Teacher when she called them to her side to give instructions.  Bruce gazed upwards and took in the city.  Everywhere he found soaring towers of crystal and bright metal.  Gracious melodies seemed to flow from the very air around them.  Everything was serene, almost transcendent in its peace.

“They don’t even care,” whispered Kyle in wonder.  “I mean, look at them.”

“The men?”  Clark asked.  Bruce detected a faint note of wicked amusement in Clark’s voice.  Odd.  He examined Kyle more closely.

“They’re smiling!  They, they’re happy!  But, they’re slaves!”

“Not quite so loud, if you please.”  Bruce drawled.  Several of the fierce looking women were staring at them now as they walked down the main road.  One began sharpening a blade, but so far none had made to stop the three unbound men.

“Of course they’re smiling.”  Clark answered Kyle.  “This is what her nightmare looks like.”  

Dianna.  Bruce frowned.  He obviously hadn’t given the Amazon enough credit.  He had always thought she had come to “man’s world” to teach them to eat with their mouths closed and say ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’.  That she was a self proclaimed warrior among warriors, and was here to teach men how to achieve peace…skeptical would be the kindest thing he could say of her motives.

But if her nightmares included the death of men’s self-determination at the hands of her own culture, then perhaps there was more to the Princess than he had seen.

Kyle almost tripped over his feet while staring at one of the men.  The slave’s mistress was doing…things to him.  Things that probably shouldn’t be done in the middle of the street like that.  The slave groaned happily.

Bruce squirmed a little uncomfortably.  The further away from his own nightmare realm he traveled, the less and less he felt like a child.  Obviously though, they were still too close for him to be completely sanguine about this.  Dear God the things that woman was doing to her slave…

Kyle had stopped cold in the street, all circuits given over to watching.  His breathing was becoming a bit harsh, and a thin sheen of sweat was breaking out on his skin.  Kyle’s hands closed into tight fists, and as Bruce watched, the young artist gently bit and sucked his bottom lip, too absorbed in the “performance” to notice his own body.

And it was a fine body, Bruce realized.  Taut, hard muscles clenched and relaxed, straining against the worn blue jeans and ripped t-shirt.  A soft spill of dark hair obscured one eye.  Unbelievably green eyes that burned darker with growing lust and fascination.  

This was…interesting.  In fact, it presented definite possibilities.  Bruce felt Clark tear his gaze away from Kyle’s agitation and beamed down at him.  He looked up, returning the gaze.  A dom, a sub, and a flip.  Bruce, Kyle, and Clark.  Yes, definitely interesting.  Clark might have a point about keeping Kyle around after all.  They grinned sharp grins of pleasure at each other.  

A sudden, unnatural quake interrupted the scene and threw everyone to the ground.  The men screamed while the women reached for their weapons as they fell.  Bruce gasped as Clark stopped their fall, his face inches from the road. 

“It’s coming.”  Kyle said, activating his ring.  The trim, black haired man was engulfed in green flames as he stood up.  
“Yes.”  Bruce agreed as Clark straightened them.  “Whatever it is, I feel it too.  J’onn should be close by here.  Time to run.”

“You mean fly.”  Clark interjected with some satisfaction.  He hugged Bruce close and he and Kyle leapt into the air.  Bruce glanced down and watched the safe, known path fall away under them.  It would have been better to remain on it until they had found their fellow Justice Leaguer, but now they were out of time.  

Swiftly they flung themselves through the night sky, tattering dream remnants and fleeing echoes of screams.  The uncontrolled dreams of all humanity flung themselves at the three, and they dipped, swerved, and occasionally did battle with the nightmares around them.  

Kyle was magnificent in emerald and shadows, burning fiercely in the darkness.  Beside him Clark radiated white heat and intense, searing flames.  The two drove back their attackers and scorched a path through the fear ahead.

Bruce closed his eyes and tried not to get airsick.

He refused to open them until he felt them touch down safely.  They were in the midst of a vast, red desert.  Sand swirled and eddied around them, kicked up by their feet as they again began walking.  Ahead, figures sat arranged in a semicircle facing one other.  As they drew closer, Bruce saw the other was J’onn Jonzz.  He was thin and chitinous, his head elongated and his body completely alien.  This was his true form, which he showed the rest of the League but rarely.  The other Leaguers crouched around him, looking like children being taught their lessons.  Besides the League were several of the foremost magicians alive today.  Reserve Leaguers, all.

The old, old Martian turned first to welcome them.  //You’re late, my friends.// he spoke telepathically.

“We got a bit caught up there at the end.” Clark replied.

Bruce squirmed and tugged at Clark.  “Let me down.  I can walk, now,” he whispered.

Clark gently eased him to the ground and Bruce fell a step behind his two companions.  It was easier by far to let the stares of his teammates fix on Kyle and Clark.  A few wide-eyed comments about Kyle’s transformation, and a nervous laughter about Clark’s…state of undress confirmed his suspicions.  They were no longer in the dream world, but instead in a holding area of J’onn’s making.  The easy acceptance that finds logic in chaos was gone.  Clark and Kyle moved protectively in front of him as first the whispers, then the chuckles, then the outright laughter exploded from the ranks.

That's what we’ve been afraid of, all these years?”  Doctor Fate laughed.  “The big bad Bat is really nothing more than-“

A sizzling green bolt shot forwards and wrapped the laughing magician from head to toe.  Belatedly, the man tried to yell, but found it muffled by the green energy over his mouth.

Kyle was obviously furious.  Coldly the young Lantern stalked forward and bared his teeth in the struggling man’s face.  

“I’m sorry,” he growled menacingly.  “I didn’t catch the joke.  Maybe you’d care to repeat it for the rest of the class.” 

With each word, the bonds constricted tighter until Fate was gasping for air.

//Enough.// J’onn spoke into all of their minds.  //I’ve called you here for important matters.  Let him go, Kyle.//

Kyle glanced briefly at the Martian, then shrugged and turned away, dissolving his constructs and allowing Fate to hit the ground with a thud.

Bruce observed from behind Clark’s hip.  He hated  being the focus of attention, now more than ever.  He peered out with intense blue eyes at the heroes before him.  Depending on how much they all remembered come morning, he was going to be wasting a great deal of time on damage control.  Damn.  Couldn’t be helped, but damn.  Easier to keep them in fear of him.  Easier to keep them at a distance, unapproachable and wary.

He gripped Clark’s hip tighter as Kyle stalked back to them and absently ruffled Bruce’s hair.  Well, okay.  Maybe not everyone had to be afraid of him.  Not completely.

//As I was saying,// J’onn continued, the dreams we have all experienced are the result of a force beyond our normal existence.  There are…things that live in the corners of our universe.  They exist between waking and sleeping, between what is tangible and what is thought.  Tonight, one of those things has died.//

Silence followed this grave pronouncement.

“That’s it?”  Dianna asked quietly.  “All this pain and suffering, just, just because?”

//You may view it like a tsunami, like a force of nature.// J’onn said, gesturing with one sharp claw.  //Energy was released, pain and loss sent streaming unchecked through the cosmos.  It is unfocused.  It is not evil.  It merely exists.//

“I knew that,” muttered Kyle under his breath.  Bruce snorted and Clark thwapped Kyle gently on the shoulder.  Kyle grinned.

//With the help of our mystics, I have folded the dreaming minds into a defensible area.  We are here, we few, to deflect the energy and prevent it from harming our world.//

“Wait.”  Clark held up a hand, palm out.  “It’s already affecting our world.  Are we supposed to undo this somehow?”

//No, young one.//  J’onn clicked affectionately at Clark.  What we have felt are merely the first tremors.  The tsunami is almost upon us, and it’s full force would leave madness and death in it’s wake.//

As if on cue, the red sky darkened ominously.  Black beasts of terror and despair winged their way towards the waiting heroes.

//I cannot assist in this battle.//  J’onn yelled over the sudden wind.  //My strength and that of the mystics will be used instead to protect the sleepers!//

And then there was no more time.  The shadows engulfed them all and there was fear.

Bruce heard screams of ultimate horror from every side.  Clark and Kyle tried to shield him with their bodies and energy, but they were bowed under with the hopeless weight of centuries.  Death came for each of them and spun terrifying visions of loss and betrayal.  The glittering eyes of the winged demons forced unthinking despair on all they viewed.  

Bruce clenched his fists, feeling his partn-…well, feeling Clark and Kyle shivering in terror over him.  He hadn’t wanted it to end like this.  He knew what had been following them all this while, waiting for him.  Blank white eyes staring from a black cowl, hungry for the heat and warmth that had been given to him.  To Bruce.  

And now he would have to give up all that warmth.  Return to the cold, the darkness.  The Mission.  Would they ever touch him again?  After being reminded of his coldness, his other self, would he ever find that gentle acceptance again?

Hell. 

He shook the tears from his eyes.  This wasn’t love.  Taking and hiding and whimpering while they shuddered over him wasn’t love.  They deserved better from him.  

Clenching his jaw, narrowing his eyes, Bruce surged up from under their protective shield.  Shadows of his own swirled and engulfed him, feeding him with power, swelling his form with speed and strength until he stood tall in the night.  He was darkly magnificent.  He was Batman.

Leaping into the demonic mass, Batman pulled weapons of smoke and sharp reason from his belt.  He attacked, swift and sudden, striking shining eyes and blinding his prey.  The creatures screeched defiance and tried to track their dark hunter.  But they could not see.  And without their eyes, the burning despair passed, and the other heroes rose to fight.

*****

Epilogue 1:

Bruce woke.  Flaring white light from the dawn sun streamed through the open window and made his eyes squeeze tight.  Slowly he opened them again.   The early morning light shone through the greenery outside his window, illuminating the maple leaves and sending flickering green and white shadows dancing on his bare chest.  

What did that remind him of?  It was something…something in a dream.  Something very important.  Damn, it was slipping, no…something about his parents and, well, Clark wouldn’t have been there.  Clark was never in that particular dream.  And green, green…Poison Ivy?

It was gone.  Whatever it was.

Bruce sighed, stretched, and slipped out of bed.  A hot shower to loosen up tight muscles, then the paper and breakfast before his morning meetings.  He became so engrossed in his daily routine that he barely noticed when he started drawing his finger along the foggy shower door.  Absently he hummed a little tune.  Sounded like the Wizard of Oz.  Odd.  He hated that movie. 

He turned off the shower and stepped out to towel himself dry.  

“Master Bruce, sir.”  

“Yes, Alfred?”

“A pleasant good morning to you, sir.  I must say it is rare indeed to find you in such high spirits.  Especially in the morning.”

“No more than usual, Alfred.”  Bruce replied, working up the foam and applying it to his face.

“If you say so, sir.  Although one doesn’t often hear the enchanting melodies of Broadway echoing from your shower, sir.”

Bruce flicked Alfred a glance as he scraped his razor along his cheek.  “Let it lie, Alfred.”

“Of course, sir.  And the meaning of your private message?”

Message?  Razor pausing in mid-swipe, Bruce turned, confused, and looked to where his butler was pointing.  On the shower door, fading away with the steam, were two names.  Bruce’s eyes grew very, very wide.

Epilogue 2:

Clark slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Lois.  Her lip was swollen and red where she'd bitten it earlier, testament to her own nightmares.  Clark wondered what she'd seen.  He wondered if he figured in them at all.

He sighed and kissed his finger, pressing it lightly to her bruised lip.  He really did love her.  But the dawn sun was pulling at his body.  Pulling him ever further away from her.  His erection grew thick and hot between his legs, pulsing his need.  Clark floated gently into the living room, the large bay windows engulfing him with the living light that called him.  

Slowly, Clark trailed sensitive fingers down hard muscles and sleek skin, teasing himself.  He brushed and tweaked hardening nipples, groaning softly with the burn.  Whispering in his native tongue, Clark promised himself that soon, soon he would not face the dawn alone.  Clark wrapped his hand around his straining cock and threw his head back, calling out in his mind for his lovers.  Soon.  Please soon.

Epilogue 3:

Kyle had never hurt so much in his life.  The kink in his neck was killing him.  He staggered upright, only to find that somehow he had fallen asleep at his easel again.  

Swearing softly, he reached out with his ring and created several constructs to clean the place up and start the coffee while he headed for the shower.  An odd clinking noise made him turn and he froze in his tracks.  Normally, his coffee girl was a cute little French number with a frilly don’t-go-there skirt and legs that just wouldn’t stop.  

Why a mostly naked man with a leather collar around his throat was making his coffee was a mystery to Kyle.  But, hey, the guy seemed to know what he was doing.  Kyle yawned, massaged his neck, and stumbled into the shower.  

The smell of brewing coffee pulled the young Lantern out of the heavenly water and into semi-formal attire.  Time to find another job.  Time to get out there and…

Time stopped.  Kyle’s coffee mug dropped out of his hands and smashed on the floor.  The painting in front of him was gorgeous.  The colors were so vivid they hardly seemed real.  The technique was extraordinary.  The eyes seemed to stare at Kyle, deep and mischievous and full of something dark and tantalizing.  

It took a moment for him to recognize his own brush strokes, his own particular style.  His breath rasped harshly in and out as he stared at the two men he’d drawn.  One dark, proud, sensual, striding across a field strewn with fallen enemies.  Striding to embrace his opposite, a man of perfect beauty and glorious light.  Both men were looking at Kyle, both pairs of eyes strikingly blue.

A hand shaking, Kyle went to the phone.  

“Sara?  Umm, yeah, it’s Kyle.  Kyle Rayner.  Cancel my interview today, will ya?  No, I didn’t get another offer.  It’s just, umm, there’s some people I’ve gotta see.  Yeah, I think it’s pretty important.  Yeah, call me…”

Kyle trailed off, his agent still speaking.  Absently he hung up the phone.  He was confused as all get-out.  But he could guess the two people who might have some answers.

His hand a little more steady, Kyle dialed another number.  

“Lois?  Oh, sorry, yeah I guess it is early.  Say, is Clark in?”


fin – but don’t despair, if you liked this story there will be more.


Home

Back to DC stories