Nothing Left to Say
A/N: A short piece I've been thinking about since I watched "A Better World" on my computer last night. If I'm wrong about Flash being killed before Lord Superman assassinates Luthor, please correct me. I don't intend to follow this up: I was just thinking about how Lord Batman would react when Flash died.
This happens before the League comes over to the Lord's universe. Slight BM/WW. Absolutely NO F/BM implied. Ew. I always saw Wally as Bruce's younger brother. Enjoy.
He doesn't watch the news reports. He doesn't listen to the radio. He even refuses to let Alfred bring him the paper. All his efforts go into his work. Gotham has been a frenzy of killings and break-ins since it happened and the same could be said for Central City.
The only sound he hears are his fingers striking the keys, the soft sound reverberating around the cave and making the bats above him stir. The silence numbs him. He welcomes the feeling.
He is suddenly aware that someone is behind him. He does not pause in his work.
"I'm busy, Diana. What is it?"
Her breathing changes and he knows why she came here. The funeral had just ended. He knows that because Alfred tried to convince him to go several times. He'd refused coldly each time, his voice never rising in anger or sadness. There was just him and his work.
"Bruce, please. At least come to the burial—"
"Gotham's a mess, as you can see. We need to assign someone to Central City as well at the next meeting." He cuts her off, his voice sounding distant and professional in his ears; how Batman was supposed to sound.
He hears her heels click across the cave floor. "Don't."
She stops. His voice is sharp, vicious, hurting. She wants to comfort him, but does not know how.
"Bruce…please." Is all she can say.
"Please what, Diana? What do you want me to say? What do you want from me? What will I accomplish by going to the burial other than reminding the world that the World's Greatest Detective couldn't keep him from getting killed?"
His questions slice through her and she can almost feel the fury, the pain, boiling over her skin. But he doesn't stop there.
"What can I say that would make it better, Diana? Tell them about how many times he's saved the world? Tell them about how many times he's risked his life only to be ridiculed by society for being immature? Tell them about how he fought until the end and still managed to have faith in the people? What can I say that would make any difference?"
The last part he shouts and it echoes, sending panicked bats above them in all directions. Silence falls over them for a long moment before she walks over to his chair and slowly takes his hand still lying on the keyboard. He doesn't notice, but there are thin tracks of tears on his cheeks, which are rough from not being shaved in days. A long exhale escapes him and there is something like a sob in it. Diana squeezes his hand, then moves in front of him, sliding the cowl away from his face to look at him. He bows his head and leans against her stomach, his hands on either side of her waist. He buries his face in the soft fabric of the black, satin dress, whispering hoarsely,
"He was a good kid, Diana. A good kid…"
She bows her head over him and wraps her arms around his neck, silent tears trailing down her face. He never makes a sound, just stays leaned against her with hot tears pouring from his closed eyes. They stay in the darkness like that for a long time, neither speaking because there nothing left to say.
Let me know what you think, please. Accurate? I need to know these things. :D
Thanks for reading,