But Diana had plucked him from Doomsday's spikes, and it had been Bruce and not Clark that had forged into the creature with kryptonite spear in hand. Maybe it was like the papers said, a tragedy but not an unexpected one, the Batman had been careening off the rails and needed this act of redemption. Or maybe it was like Alfred said, somber and red-eyed, that Master Wayne had been very tired these last few years. So very tired.
Either way, doesn't change the fact that Clark is enshrouded in the gloom of the Wayne family mausoleum, bringing a farewell to a man he barely knew and yet whose death has struck him profoundly in ways he can't explain.
Maybe if Bruce was in his place he'd be standing in a Kansas cemetery in the late evening sun. He might linger there with hope in his heart, might whisper his name and believe it could call him from his grave.
Clark, placing wildflowers in a vase, has no such luxury.
Flashfic Challenge - ghostly monosyllable
It should have been him.
But Diana had plucked him from Doomsday's spikes, and it had been Bruce and not Clark that had forged into the creature with kryptonite spear in hand. Maybe it was like the papers said, a tragedy but not an unexpected one, the Batman had been careening off the rails and needed this act of redemption. Or maybe it was like Alfred said, somber and red-eyed, that Master Wayne had been very tired these last few years. So very tired.
Either way, doesn't change the fact that Clark is enshrouded in the gloom of the Wayne family mausoleum, bringing a farewell to a man he barely knew and yet whose death has struck him profoundly in ways he can't explain.
Maybe if Bruce was in his place he'd be standing in a Kansas cemetery in the late evening sun. He might linger there with hope in his heart, might whisper his name and believe it could call him from his grave.
Clark, placing wildflowers in a vase, has no such luxury.