Chapter Text
ONE: 2:15 PM
Bruce glanced down at his phone, already considering deleting the text. It was pointless anyway, the deed had been done.
But there was still nothing.
No response from Clark was odd. His super hearing usually meant he picked up the quiet buzzing of his cell phone, even if it was miles away from him. He almost always texted back within a few minutes, and it had been a few hours now.
Bruce shrugged.
He must be busy.
TWO: 3:40 PM
“Hi! It’s Clark. Please leave a message!”
The tone rang in Bruce’s ear for the second time that day. He shook his head.
Still no response, which most likely meant that Clark was in an interview or something. He looked out the window of his office, Metropolis sprawling elegantly out beneath him.
Unless he just doesn’t know what to say.
Bruce reread the original text he had sent, then tucked his phone back in his pocket.
I’ll try again in a bit, just before the conference.
THREE: 4:52 PM
“Hi! It’s Clark. Please leave a message!”
Bruce sighed as the tone rang in his ears once more. He looked at his watch, minutes away from his 5:00 meeting.
“Clark. It’s Bruce. Aren’t you done work yet? Call me as soon as you get this, no matter what your answer is. I just... want to know you’re okay.” Bruce said, hanging up the phone. He stared at it for a second, frowning and gripping it tightly.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and massaged it in concern, pushing up from his desk and walking toward the lobby of the W.E. Financial Building. He tried to push Clark out of his mind, and run over his mental agenda for the conference. Mostly unsuccessful, he found himself in front of a glass door, looking in on Lucius Fox and an array of various board members, all of whom were waiting on his arrival. One last glance at his phone told him Clark still hadn’t contacted him.
He sighed again.
Something feels...off. But I’m probably overthinking it.
FOUR: 5:45 PM
Bruce reached for his pocket, intent on simply checking his phone quickly and returning it to its place, but the glare that Lucius directed at him was severe, and unnerving.
Even for Batman.
He glanced at the clock.
Another forty-five minutes. He’s probably texted back by now anyway.
FIVE: 6:41 PM
Bruce’s foot and finger were both tapping impatiently, and Lucius was keeping a constant eye on him now that the meeting was coming to a close. Ten minutes later than was scheduled.
When Lucius dismissed them, everyone around him rose to leave. Bruce shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He had three texts. One from Tim and two from Dick.
His heart sank.
Where the hell are you, Clark?
SIX: 7:28 PM
“Hi! It’s Clark. Please leave a message!”
Bruce sighed audibly again, tapping his ear-piece to hang up the call before the tone had the chance to ring.
He contemplated turning around and heading back to Metropolis, but decided against it.
What if he had overstepped? Maybe Clark just wanted his space.
He glanced in the rear-view mirror, the city lights shining watchfully over the pavement behind him, and reflected on the water of the harbour as if the highway had plunged into a sea of stars.
He shook his head. It was after dinner enough already, and he still had almost an hour of driving.
Clark will call.
SEVEN: 8:17 PM
He was greeted by Alfred, as per usual, at the top of the stairs exiting the garage.
“Good evening, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, reaching for Bruce’s jacket and briefcase. Also as per usual, Bruce shook his head with a small smirk, side-stepping Alfred to hang up his own coat, and carrying his bag down the hall and into his office.
To his confusion, Tim was sitting at his desk.
“Bruce,” he said, nodding his head toward him. “You’re late tonight. Alfred and I had dinner without you.”
Bruce set his case down in front of Tim, gesturing for his adopted son to get out of his chair.
“Board meeting at five,” he mumbled, sighing and sitting down. He unclasped the case and pulled out several folders of paperwork he had hoped to finish before patrol. “Are you finished with your homework?”
“Being finished with it implies I had any intention of doing it in the first place,” Tim rolled his eyes, flopping down in the slightly less comfortable chair across from the desk. “You should know this, Bruce.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows, smirking and shaking his head.
“Oh, should I now? Sometimes I forget that you seem to think you’re above the school system, although with your grades the way they are, how could I?”
“It’s after eight,” Tim said, ignoring Bruce entirely. “Aren’t we going on patrol?”
Bruce went back to his paperwork. “I’m going on patrol, yes, but later. You’re going to do your homework, and then go to bed.”
Bruce checked his phone again, Tim and the room around him fading slightly as he realized Clark still hadn’t responded.
A simple text: Clark? and still nothing in return. Alfred stepped into the office to retrieve Tim before there was a chance for argument. Bruce could vaguely hear his butler lecturing his son on the importance of education as he tried to focus on the documents in front of him.
Thirty minutes of drifting in and out of concentration was enough for Bruce to realize that his efforts were useless. He sighed, checked his phone one more time, then made his way to the study.
Alfred was reading in an armchair by the window. They barely acknowledged each other as Bruce opened the passageway. A quick nod and a “Good luck, sir” followed him down to the cave.
I need a distraction.
EIGHT: 9:46 PM
The wind was brutal atop Wayne Tower, whipping past Batman’s exposed cheeks as he sat in darkness, contemplating his next move.
It wasn’t that Gotham really needed its vigilante on this particular night, but more accurately, Bruce needed the city. Its skyscrapers provided a sort of dangerous refuge, ledges and perches where he could simply sit and consider the quiet of the night, waiting for something to happen as it almost always did.
He had purposefully left his phone in the cave, hoping that its absence would somehow remove Clark from his focus.
It wasn’t working.
Bruce looked out over the city skyline and across the bay, trying to decide how long it would take him to get to Clark’s apartment. If he called the Batwing…
No . Space. Give him space.
It was getting late--if Clark was alright (which he more than likely was), and happened to already be asleep, he surely wouldn’t appreciate a surprise visit from the bat, especially given that Bruce didn’t know his reaction yet. The more time passed, the more Bruce regretted his earlier decision.
He was about to call it quits almost as soon as he had started, when a familiar glow appeared in the clouds to his right.
With a final glance over to Metropolis, Bruce reached to the right side of his belt and aimed his grapple gun into the darkness.
He took a deep breath and let himself fall off the side of the building.
Gotham needs you. Clark is fine.
NINE: 10:59 PM
What if Clark isn’t fine? Shit, Clark is not fine, and I’m here fighting thugs.
Bruce’s mind was racing as he threw less-than-skillful punches at a group of Falcone’s men.
Gordon had turned on the signal to request Batman’s presence at a raid; a few million dollars worth of hard drugs had supposedly been shipped into the harbour. Several squads of inept goonies had been deemed responsible for receiving it as discreetly as possible, but had obviously failed.
“Someone on the inside tipped us off,” Gordon had said. “And if they hadn’t, this shit would have sailed in right over our heads.”
A particularly nasty hit to the gut brought Bruce back into the moment. He forced himself to focus, realizing that if he didn’t shelve his concerns for Clark, he might not make it through the fight.
And Batman always makes it through the fight.
TEN: 11:32 PM
He had finished the final brute off with a well-timed uppercut, lingering on scene only long enough to ensure that Jim and his squad had secured the material. He didn’t know the time, but figured it had to be close to midnight.
He looked down at his disheveled uniform, holes torn in his gloves and cape, exposing bloodied knuckles and producing a sigh of frustration.
Slowly, he made his way across Gotham and toward the manor.
I need to check my phone.
ELEVEN: 12:49 AM
Bruce vaulted out of the Batmobile, landing nimbly on the cold concrete floor of the cave.
Alfred approached him almost immediately, accepting the cape and cowl as soon as he had pulled them over his head. Bruce rubbed at his eyes, heavy with fatigue.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake, Alfred,” Bruce said, walking past his butler and toward the computer bay. “I’ll fill you in in a minute, but I need to check something first.”
His phone was on the control panel, exactly where he had left it. His heart sank when he realized he still hadn’t heard from Clark, slamming the phone back on the metal surface. The clanging sound echoed through the cave.
“Master Bruce?” Alfred called, approaching him from behind. Bruce sighed and sank into the chair in front of the console, signing in and immediately pulling up a blank report.
“Falcone had a shipment of narcotics sent into the harbour. Someone tipped Jim off, but he needed assistance. I stayed until I knew it was over.”
The sound of the keyboard clicking filled the space between him and his butler.
“Yes, Master Bruce, I heard. But I am, admittedly, more curious as to what else is bothering you.”
Bruce stopped typing very briefly, cocking his head and returning to his report.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Master Bruce, I’ve known you your entire life, and as much as you like to pretend that you don’t have feelings, you most certainly do, and I know when something is off. So, please, spare me the theatrics and just tell me what it is that’s on your mind.”
Bruce stopped typing completely and spun gently around in his chair.
“I haven’t heard from Clark since two o’clock.”
Alfred smiled softly.
“Perhaps, Master Bruce, he is simply busy?”
“I know, Alfred. I’ve been telling myself that all night. But...it’s not like Clark to not answer his messages. I’ve left him voicemails. Texted him. And I just...can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.”
He rubbed his eyes again, exasperated with himself and with the situation.
“I almost checked on him before I came home, and then I almost called the Batwing while I was on patrol...but Diana and I had a whole conversation about privacy...”
“And you’re concerned that you’ll be intruding on his?”
Bruce nodded.
“Especially because…”
He bit his tongue, stopping himself from revealing too much, then continued.
“I know it’s childish, and he’s Superman for fuck’s sake, but...like I said, I just can’t shake the feeling.”
“He’s your best friend, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow in his direction as if insinuating there was maybe more to say. “It’s only natural that you should be anxious for his safety.”
Bruce turned his chair around and continued typing, ignoring Alfred’s insinuation completely and actively refraining from including any more detail. He had caught himself. He wasn’t about to give it away now.
“I’ll check on him in the morning, if I haven’t heard from him by then.”
“A wise decision, Master Bruce,” Alfred concurred, sighing slightly. “Now, if you do not wish to discuss the matter any further, I do believe I will retreat to my personal quarters for the remainder of the night.”
Bruce bade him good night.
I’ll check on him in the morning.
TWELVE: 1:34 AM
Bruce adjusted the pillow beneath his head and willed himself not to check his phone.
I’ll check on him in the morning.
THIRTEEN: 2:53 AM
He woke with a start, bolting upright and panting rapidly. He slammed his fist into the mattress in frustration.
Why the fuck do I even care so much?
Bruce ran a hand over his sweaty forehead, taking a few deep breaths and eventually settling back down into the bed. He sighed as he rolled over.
You know why you care so much, dumbass. Just check on him in the morning .
FOURTEEN: 3:11 AM
A siren in the distance pulled Bruce from his half-sleep.
I’ll check on him in the morning .
FIFTEEN: 4:32 AM
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Zzzzz.
SIXTEEN: 5:19 AM
Zzzzz. Zzzzz. Zzzzz.
SEVENTEEN: 6:47 AM
Bruce could hear Tim and Alfred shuffling about on the floor below, his butler surely in a heated verbal battle with the boy about the importance of his education. Sometimes Bruce felt guilty for putting all of it on Alfred. He was grateful for his guardian’s patience.
He stared at his phone, contemplating.
No. It’s not late enough yet.
EIGHTEEN: 7:25 AM
Bruce rolled over and grabbed at the phone on his bedside table in defeat.
Still no message. His heartbeat picked up as he rose to his feet and headed for the shower.
That’s it, Clark. Fuck your privacy. I’m coming over.
NINETEEN: 8:49 AM
Ultimately, Bruce decided it was most appropriate to drop-in on Clark in his civilian clothes, rather than don the Batsuit during the day.
Besides, he had another meeting at Wayne Financial in Metropolis later in the afternoon. He could visit Clark, reassure himself that everything was fine, then make his way over to the tower and get a handle on the paperwork he had neglected the night before.
Alfred had insisted he eat breakfast, which delayed him quite a bit. It was later than he wanted, but he hadn’t been given much choice.
Bruce pulled out of the garage, his heartbeat still slightly elevated but not as dramatically so. He only had to wait another hour before he’d know.
Please just be there, Clark , and be okay. Please.
TWENTY: 9:42 AM
Knock-knock-knock .
Bruce’s cracked and bruised knuckles stung sharply as he rapped on the door of Clark’s apartment. He waited, but was greeted by silence.
Knock-knock-knock .
He cursed to himself as one of the cracks began leaking blood, sucking it immediately into his mouth and listening again.
The silence was broken by the sound of blood pounding in his ears. Bruce shook his head at his own anxiety, glancing at his watch.
He kicked himself, scowling as he stormed away from Clark’s door.
What the hell is wrong with me? It’s already after 9:30. He’ll be at the Planet.
TWENTY-ONE: 10:08 AM
Bruce’s outward demeanor could not have been further from demonstrative of his inner turmoil. He didn’t necessarily want to draw attention to the fact that he was looking for Clark specifically, so he feigned a visit to the editor-in-chief.
Despite his brash approach to supervising his employees, Perry White quite enjoyed a good long conversation, especially when it took up company time.
Bruce found himself sprawled in a chair across from Perry, trying to appear calm and relaxed while simultaneously listening to the foot traffic just outside of the office. He could hear a mixture of voices, but all of them seemed to be coming from the photography department.
Investigative journalists were all allocated desks in one area of the floor--unfortunately, that area was on the opposite wall to Perry’s office.
I just have to grin and bear it, then I can check on Clark.
TWENTY-TWO: 11:03 AM
When Perry finally released Bruce from the confines of their casual conversation, he straightened his tie and made his way across the room.
Walking through the cubicles of the Daily Planet was never something Bruce enjoyed--an interview with a handsome, mysterious, billionaire, celebrity philanthropist screamed front page news, or at the very least, well-read gossip column. A sea of press-personnel was the last place Bruce wanted to go swimming, but here he was, wading through it all.
After brushing off several awkward conversation starters, he finally made his way to the back corner of the floor. He turned and began walking toward where he knew Clark’s desk was.
Before he made it, he stumbled into Lois who was carrying a bankers box of what looked like MPD evidence. Bruce glanced at the box hesitantly, and she blushed, setting it down on the floor. They shook hands, making sure to keep up with appearances.
“Bruce Wayne! What are you doing here?”
“Miss Lane,” Bruce nodded, cordially, but getting straight to the point. “I was actually hoping to speak with Mr. Kent. Is he here today?
Lois shook her head.
“Is there something I can help you with instead? Why don’t we head downstairs and grab a cup of coffee?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow, and Lois returned it, confirming that she had something she wanted to tell him.
Once they were safely in the stairwell, they paused. Lois’ voice was barely a whisper.
“He didn’t come in at all this morning, and Perry was pissed. Apparently he didn’t call, or anything, and he was supposed to cover the City Council banquet last night, but Perry’s got a friend who was there and apparently Clark wasn’t .”
Bruce frowned.
“What time was the banquet?”
“Um...I think around eight? I can verify with Perry if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. Knowing he didn’t attend something last night is what’s important.”
Lois nodded.
“Yeah. The last I heard from him was two-thirty yesterday afternoon--Perry was in a mood, and dismissed us all early. We walked out together and were going to walk home too, but he heard something. Said that someone needed help on the other side of the city in some old building.”
Bruce’s mind was racing. The last that Clark had been heard from was the previous afternoon, which meant that in the eyes of the police, he wouldn’t yet be a missing person. Not that the police could help them all that much, but extra eyes and investigators were never a hindrance.
“Did he say where?” Bruce asked, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t hear from him last night and I called him a few times. It’s so unlike him to just disappear like this.”
“I know,” Lois said. “It’s annoying, but Smallville is dedicated to this job. I’ve never even seen him take a sick day, much less pick up and leave without a word of warning. Let me think, though. I want to say it was some abandoned lab building...but it wasn’t Star’s old facility. Started with an I, maybe?”
“Ivo,” Bruce said. “They used to be over on Patton Street, near the docks.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Lois said. “He definitely said Ivo, cause it reminded me of that red-headed bitch you always have to fight.”
“Thank you, Lois,” Bruce said, ignoring her commentary and immediately starting down the stairs.
“What was so important anyway?” She called after him. He pretended he didn’t hear. “Make sure he’s alright, Bruce!”
Don’t worry, I will.
TWENTY-THREE: 12:10 PM
“Alfred,” Bruce said, as soon as the butler had answered the phone. Bruce had walked several blocks from the Daily Planet building, and was waiting at the base of one of the city’s tallest buildings. “I need you to send the suit to Metropolis.”
Alfred cleared his throat.
“Sir, you have a meeting in just over an hour. Are you sure you have time?”
“Cancel it,” Bruce said, firmly. “Alfred, I was right. Superman is missing.”
He was met with silence on the other end, for a moment or two.
“My goodness...Atop Wayne Financial, I assume?”
“LexCorp Tower, please. Lex can have the press associated with its arrival. And make that as soon as possible, Alfred. It’ll be a one way trip for the Batwing.”
“It's already on its way, sir. I will call Mr. Fox as well. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Alfred.”
He was about to press the button on his ear piece.
“Oh, and sir? Do be careful. Whomever has taken Master Clark...well, they must be a force to be reckoned with.”
To whoever took Clark... I’ll be the force to be reckoned with.