Part of him is screaming not to do this, not to show Clark and put himself in that position of vulnerability and exposure, to risk the other man saying something to Jason-- even if it would help, he can't stand the thought of not handling it himself. Jason deserves his honesty, if nothing else. But he can't. He has to-- something. He doesn't know and he feels for a moment like he's drowning.
Bruce looks at him when he gaze is intercepted. He listens. He stitches it together with what he did at home, the steps he took here to confirm it, and the knowledge that the Eudio powers that be would not permit him to be possessed in their realm. He looks down at his phone and enters something short. When he sets it aside he doesn't bother hiding the app; No. Not ever. He'll never feed Jason anything about Joker, he'll never enable a continued focus on that abomination. Never.
He stares absently for another moment and then leans forward, hands over his face.
He reaches forward for a moment before rethinking it and instead kneels down on the ground in front of Bruce and sits back on his feet. He reaches out a single hand but keeps it far away enough from him that Bruce wouldn't even absently brush him.
"May I touch you, Bruce? I'd like to hold your hands if that's all right."
Bruce drops his hands from his face and reaches out to let that happen. He doesn't know if he actually wants physical contact-- but he doesn't know what the hell he wants at all. He feels lightheaded and blank. Clark is a focal point of something real, though, and he knows he needs it. Something he can focus on, like keeping his eyes on something still while in a freefall, preventing him from becoming dizzy.
"I don't know why I..." Reacted like this, why I can't handle it, why this hit me so hard.
Clark reached up and took Bruce's hands in his own, rubbing irregular circles in his palms and along the sides of his hands. Soothing but not lulling. Something to focus on.
"There's no logic in emotional responses, Bruce. Not really. You feel like this because you feel like it. And whatever it is, you're not wrong."
A soft sigh as he leans over to press a gentle kiss on one hand.
"And you're not hallucinating. And you're not him. And you're not alone."
Bruce focuses on Clark's words and tries to connect with the meaning of them. It's hard. Emotion is the one thing he never sees coming; the one thing he can be blindsided by when any number of physical or psychological attacks he spots a mile away. He lets out a huff of air, pained, like a humorless laugh.
"I'm certain I was confident for a good hour," he says, his voice rough. "It's falling apart now that I'm not in the middle of a battle."
That adrenaline kept him safe for ages, the smooth impenetrable fortress of being Batman. Being here, trying to have a semblance of a normal life, and he's robbed of all his coping methods and his center of balance.
"You're dealing with it instead of pushing down and ignoring it for the mission," Clark corrects, because he knows Bruce. He wasn't there, but he knows Bruce. "Believe it or not, but this is better. This is processing. It's rough but..."
He gave Bruce's hands a squeeze.
"But you don't have to do any of it alone."
He considers his words carefully before he continues. And he says exactly what he means because it's important.
"And Bruce Wayne can do this. I know he can. I know you can."
Bruce seems to consider that. Was he? It has not entirely escaped his notice that he made a somewhat rash decision while under the influence of more fear toxin than it'd take to kill Bane. That's ... a factor worth considering. But he's not sure it's more important than the end result. If there's even a chance he can relapse, he has to remove himself from the equation. Logically, he knows it isn't possible. But the Joker has never been confined by logic.
He takes one of Clark's hands and presses it to his face, letting his eyes closed as he slows his breathing. He hadn't even noticed he'd started to veer towards panicking. He wants to apologize for this mess, for needing so much delicate handling when Clark's going through as much shit as he is. This is so stupid and awful.
His hands don't stay lifeless against Bruce's face, but they remain gentle. And where Bruce put them.
"I don't just have this faith out of nowhere, you know," he points out carefully. "You inspire most of it. Your heart..."
He sounds in awe, just a little. Wordless. And he is. He doesn't know how to tell Bruce what he sees, how he feels. The overwhelming emotion around the other man is hard to simplify into language.
He can't help but lean down and kiss one of Bruce's hands.
"Just because I see something other people don't doesn't mean it isn't there."
"My heart is cold and bitter," he grumbles. His phone has beeped, but he's not looking at it now. He needs a minute. Bruce leans his forehead against Clark's and breathes deep.
He's got a headache now. Goddamnit. When did he get old enough for headaches.
"I don't want him to be hurt further because of me... I would never have bothered him. You know that."
As potentially foolish as it is-- it's true. Bruce would have left Jason entirely alone, once he figured out there are two in the city and it was the other who'd been hassling him. He doesn't want to make him feel like Bruce is breathing over his shoulder.
Clark also knows that hurt happens in absence as much as in presence. He knows that Jason, the one from Bruce's world, was angry but still loved, still cared.
"There is nothing cold about you, Bruce," he says with some authority, "bitter..." yeah, he won't fight that one, but-- "maybe. But that's not all that's there."
He kisses the other of Bruce's hands and gives both of them a squeeze. Then, with a deep sigh, he addresses the issue of Jason.
"I know you would never knowingly hurt any of your kids, Bruce. Through action or inaction. And I know that whatever happened with the Jason of your world... there's still light in there. There's still love."
He points to the phone.
"He's troubled, and there's a lot of bile in there, but he still cares."
Bruce shakes his head. "You didn't see what he did," he says quietly. "He funded Crane nearly destroying the city, and invaded with an army. Gotham was evacuated, it looked like an atom bomb had gone off, it was so bad. Ivy helped me and she died for it. He revealed Barbara, dragged her out of the Clocktower and gave her to Crane."
He lets out a shuddering breath. All that and more. He thought ... he thought something had reached Jason, when he left the fight and when he came back to watch over Bruce. He saw the red bat on his chest. He had Bruce's life - all of their lives - in his hands and he'd chosen to act to save them. Jason either hasn't been through that yet, or he's discarded it. What is Bruce supposed to do against that? He can't force him. He can't shake Jason and tell him to stop acting like a stupid child, that he's smarter than this and it's deplorable, that it's embarrassing to see him trying to interrogate him like that.
Bruce can believe Jason truly wants to know if there's a chance the Joker is present. He can't believe he cares.
"No, I didn't see," he admits, and it's not easy. Because he's reached out to Jason being unaware of all of that, especially that Barbara had been used so sorely. The loss of Ivy hurts, mostly because he understands her more than most of Bruce's assembled troublemakers.
"And I didn't know. About Barbara. Or Ivy. And I am sorry about Ivy."
From anyone else, it might sound cheap or like a brush off. But he means it and Bruce would know he meant it. Seeing someone turn around, seeing them realize that there are larger things than their needs and wants, having a villain turn hero and try to save people with you... losing them is terrible. Losing them just as they'd found their light...
"But there are only two options, Bruce," and his voice shakes a little, because he means every word. "Either his light is gone and he needs to be put away" Did part of him think down instead of 'away'? Can he admit that? Yes, but it's a part he refuses and isn't that the important part? Subconscious thoughts he can't help, not after all these years, not after all the fights, but he can choose what he does about them. That's what differentiates him from that bastard in the other universe.
"Or it isn't and he has a lot of work to do making up for what he's done and figuring out who he really is, what kind of man he really is. There's either no hope for him or there's hope for him."
Bruce closes his eyes briefly, about Ivy. It hadn't been the first time they'd worked together, but it had been the least tentative, and it had been something of a revelation to experience how years of back-and-forth left them with such an easy battlefield rapport. She was never going to commit herself to peace and harmony with the human race, but she was different from the rest of them and had firmly picked her side on the line in the sand. He'd hurt more for her had he not gone back and seen that plant growing where she died, a flower he could tell at first glance was unknown to science. Someday, Pam.
Don't get him started on Barbara.
"I have hope for him," Bruce says. He looks at Clark, and it's obvious he means it. But he means this, too: "Just not for where it concerns me."
"Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst," is the only way he can think to approach it. Another little squeeze. "And whatever comes, I've got your back."
He reached a hand up and stroked the side of Bruce's face, letting the tips of his fingers run through some of Bruce's hair.
He wants to tell Clark that he shouldn't have his back, that he should be able to be objective about Bruce if anything goes wrong-- but it'll just be an argument. He has to trust Clark, and believe that he'll be able to make the right call in a potential bad situation. Jason, Bruce thought, might have been able to. He was there waiting to see how it would go, but after their fight-- would Jason have been able to kill him even if the Joker had won? He doesn't know. Seeing the way he's speaking to him now, what if he had just been watching for the chance to see Joker again.. he feels so tired, suddenly.
Bruce leans forward and kisses Clark, hard, like he's reaffirming that they're both here and alive and all right, his hands gripping the other man's shoulders. I need you and I wish I didn't he thinks. He should be strong enough to deal with this on his own, he shouldn't be dragging Clark down with him.
The thing about having his back is the thing that has always been true of Clark having his back, namely that he will also call him on his shit and do what he needs to even if Bruce wants to fricking murder him. That offer isn't just for kisses and cuddles and holding his hand. It's also 'I will talk you off a ledge' and 'I will smack you off a pedestal' because that's what having someone's back means.
The kiss doesn't take him by surprise, and he accepts it in the spirit in which he feels it was given. They're both here and they're both alive and they're together. I've got you and you've got me and we're stronger together.
They have a lot to talk about, still, but not now. Maybe not even soon. Bruce breathes and slows his heart rate, resting his forehead against Clark's, and puts everything else out of his mind for now. In a few minutes he'll go back to looking at apartments and maybe respond to Jason again - in a much better mindset - but just for another little while ... staying right here is the best option.
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Bruce looks at him when he gaze is intercepted. He listens. He stitches it together with what he did at home, the steps he took here to confirm it, and the knowledge that the Eudio powers that be would not permit him to be possessed in their realm. He looks down at his phone and enters something short. When he sets it aside he doesn't bother hiding the app; No. Not ever. He'll never feed Jason anything about Joker, he'll never enable a continued focus on that abomination. Never.
He stares absently for another moment and then leans forward, hands over his face.
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"May I touch you, Bruce? I'd like to hold your hands if that's all right."
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"I don't know why I..." Reacted like this, why I can't handle it, why this hit me so hard.
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"There's no logic in emotional responses, Bruce. Not really. You feel like this because you feel like it. And whatever it is, you're not wrong."
A soft sigh as he leans over to press a gentle kiss on one hand.
"And you're not hallucinating. And you're not him. And you're not alone."
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"I'm certain I was confident for a good hour," he says, his voice rough. "It's falling apart now that I'm not in the middle of a battle."
That adrenaline kept him safe for ages, the smooth impenetrable fortress of being Batman. Being here, trying to have a semblance of a normal life, and he's robbed of all his coping methods and his center of balance.
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He gave Bruce's hands a squeeze.
"But you don't have to do any of it alone."
He considers his words carefully before he continues. And he says exactly what he means because it's important.
"And Bruce Wayne can do this. I know he can. I know you can."
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He takes one of Clark's hands and presses it to his face, letting his eyes closed as he slows his breathing. He hadn't even noticed he'd started to veer towards panicking. He wants to apologize for this mess, for needing so much delicate handling when Clark's going through as much shit as he is. This is so stupid and awful.
"I wish I had your faith."
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"I don't just have this faith out of nowhere, you know," he points out carefully. "You inspire most of it. Your heart..."
He sounds in awe, just a little. Wordless. And he is. He doesn't know how to tell Bruce what he sees, how he feels. The overwhelming emotion around the other man is hard to simplify into language.
He can't help but lean down and kiss one of Bruce's hands.
"Just because I see something other people don't doesn't mean it isn't there."
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He's got a headache now. Goddamnit. When did he get old enough for headaches.
"I don't want him to be hurt further because of me... I would never have bothered him. You know that."
As potentially foolish as it is-- it's true. Bruce would have left Jason entirely alone, once he figured out there are two in the city and it was the other who'd been hassling him. He doesn't want to make him feel like Bruce is breathing over his shoulder.
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Clark also knows that hurt happens in absence as much as in presence. He knows that Jason, the one from Bruce's world, was angry but still loved, still cared.
"There is nothing cold about you, Bruce," he says with some authority, "bitter..." yeah, he won't fight that one, but-- "maybe. But that's not all that's there."
He kisses the other of Bruce's hands and gives both of them a squeeze. Then, with a deep sigh, he addresses the issue of Jason.
"I know you would never knowingly hurt any of your kids, Bruce. Through action or inaction. And I know that whatever happened with the Jason of your world... there's still light in there. There's still love."
He points to the phone.
"He's troubled, and there's a lot of bile in there, but he still cares."
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He lets out a shuddering breath. All that and more. He thought ... he thought something had reached Jason, when he left the fight and when he came back to watch over Bruce. He saw the red bat on his chest. He had Bruce's life - all of their lives - in his hands and he'd chosen to act to save them. Jason either hasn't been through that yet, or he's discarded it. What is Bruce supposed to do against that? He can't force him. He can't shake Jason and tell him to stop acting like a stupid child, that he's smarter than this and it's deplorable, that it's embarrassing to see him trying to interrogate him like that.
Bruce can believe Jason truly wants to know if there's a chance the Joker is present. He can't believe he cares.
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"And I didn't know. About Barbara. Or Ivy. And I am sorry about Ivy."
From anyone else, it might sound cheap or like a brush off. But he means it and Bruce would know he meant it. Seeing someone turn around, seeing them realize that there are larger things than their needs and wants, having a villain turn hero and try to save people with you... losing them is terrible. Losing them just as they'd found their light...
"But there are only two options, Bruce," and his voice shakes a little, because he means every word. "Either his light is gone and he needs to be put away" Did part of him think down instead of 'away'? Can he admit that? Yes, but it's a part he refuses and isn't that the important part? Subconscious thoughts he can't help, not after all these years, not after all the fights, but he can choose what he does about them. That's what differentiates him from that bastard in the other universe.
"Or it isn't and he has a lot of work to do making up for what he's done and figuring out who he really is, what kind of man he really is. There's either no hope for him or there's hope for him."
He gives Bruce's hands a soft squeeze again.
"Do you choose hope or not?"
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Don't get him started on Barbara.
"I have hope for him," Bruce says. He looks at Clark, and it's obvious he means it. But he means this, too: "Just not for where it concerns me."
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"Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst," is the only way he can think to approach it. Another little squeeze. "And whatever comes, I've got your back."
He reached a hand up and stroked the side of Bruce's face, letting the tips of his fingers run through some of Bruce's hair.
"You need anything else?"
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Bruce leans forward and kisses Clark, hard, like he's reaffirming that they're both here and alive and all right, his hands gripping the other man's shoulders. I need you and I wish I didn't he thinks. He should be strong enough to deal with this on his own, he shouldn't be dragging Clark down with him.
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The kiss doesn't take him by surprise, and he accepts it in the spirit in which he feels it was given. They're both here and they're both alive and they're together. I've got you and you've got me and we're stronger together.
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