Work Text:
February: Wish You Were Here
by jen-in-japan
Bruce Wayne sits at a writing desk in the luxury suite of one of the best hotels in Monte Carlo, writing a postcard. He stares at the blank rectangle of paper for about an hour before touching pen to paper.
Feb 1. Hotel le Metropole, Monte Carlo. The front of the postcard is of a glittering casino. "Dearest Clark"â€"Oh good Lord, no. "Dear Clark"â€"not that, either. Keep it light. I shouldn't even be writing you at all. Why am I writing you? Hey pal, how's life in the big city?
I miss you. God, I miss you. Monaco is great fun. I keep thinking of your face as the ship pulled away and left you on the dock. You looked like a puppy someone had kicked. I hate when you look at me like that. I always did. Like that time at your eleventh birthday party...no. Stop it, Bruce. Don't think about that world. Don't think about it or you'll be back in Metropolis next week.
Tim's a little bored, but Dick's already managed to lose quite a bit at the baccarat table...and with the ladies. I guess boys will be boys. The boys are currently sprawled out on the rug, their dark heads almost touching. Dick is teaching Tim how to cheat at baccarat.
I can't come back to Metropolis, Clark. I can't even go back to Gotham yet. It's too close, too easy. Hope that shoulder's healing well. When that crazy drifter stabbed you last month, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him in a way I haven't wanted to kill anyone but the Joker for a long, long time. Just a crazy old homeless guy. I can't afford to have that inside me. I have to get past that. And I can't do that around you.
But God, I miss you. The weather's great, wish you were here. Bruce.
: : :
Another fancy hotel room. Bruce sits at a desk in a white bathrobe, rubbing his forehead and frowning with concentration. Feb. 12. Baur au Lac Hotel, Zurich, Switzerland. The front of the postcard shows a city ringed with beautiful snow-capped mountains. I can do this. This isn't so hard. I'm the goddamn Batman, I can write a cheery, empty postcard to a friend. Of course, "the goddamn Batman" doesn't write cheery letters to friends.
Or have friends, for that matter.
Hiya, chum! How's my favorite reporter? (I mean Lois of course, ha ha.) Good God. That's lame even for good ol' Bruce.
Zurich is gorgeous but DULL DULL DULL after Monaco. Which means more time to think about you. You with your stupid wrinkled suit and that little cut on your cheekbone that you got because you don't know how to shave anymore. Could you possibly know how sick it made me to see that little cut on your cheek? All I could think about was how your hand had trembled for just a second and how the razor had cut into your skin...how horribly vulnerable you were now and how infinitely precious. I wanted so much to wrap you up in my arms and take you to the Batcave and keep you safe there forever and ever, like the hero in some ridiculous Gothic romance. Yet another thing that I can't do. Who knew there were so many things I couldn't do?
I couldn't keep you safe and I couldn't stand knowing you weren't safe. And I couldn't bear to burden you with the details of that world, all the pain and suffering we caused. It's better to forget, isn't it? Even when I'm trying to remember, I can only recall scattered fragments, the images from dreams left after the dream is gone. Some details are more vivid than others. Your hands. How you touched me. Lots of mountains here but no nightlife to speak of, everything's focused on the stock market. I hire accountants to watch my money so I don't need to, right? The wind all around us. The taste of you, like salt and sunlit grass. Stop it, Bruce.
The boys say hi. Dick and Tim are reading up on counterfeiting, Tim drawing a diagram for Dick of some important detail. They look up as Bruce leans back in his chair and sighs. Tim asks for his help on figuring out this latest plate. Bruce looks at his two boys and smilesâ€"really smiles. As usual, they look slightly taken aback before returning the smile. But they do. There have been some plus sides to this trip as well.
Wish you were here. Bruce
: : :
Sunlight pours onto a wide balcony outside the royal suite of a Greek resort. Bruce wears a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sunglasses as he sits at a white wrought-iron table and touches pen to paper. Feb. 25. Hotel Grande Bretagne, Athens, Greece. Hey bro, wassup? OK, now you're just being silly, Bruce. Imagine Clark's face when he reads that...no, upon reflection, don't.
Athens is more like it! Lots of history and lots of excitement. And I miss you. I thought I would miss you less and instead I miss you more. I wonder if you dream about me, about us, about those two boys, so stupid and cruel and happy. Last night I dreamed that I opened a window and held out my hand to you and smiled, and you looked at me like you had never seen anything more beautiful. I don't remember what comes before or after that. Just the look on your face and the feel of the wind at my back.
Dick says they've got a temple to Nike here. I'm not sure I approve of corporate sponsorship going that far, but it's kind of cool. Bruce looks over the balcony railing to where the boys are sitting by the pool. Dick has decided that Tim needs to work on his flirtation skills. The older boy is surrounded by enthusiastic women; Tim looks like he wishes he were anywhere but there. Dick likes the Greek ouzo, Tim likes the spanakopita. Me, I've been hitting the libraries. Seriouslyâ€"don't laugh! OK, OK, there's this cute librarian...ha ha, you know me! The librarian had indeed been very cute, and Bruce Wayne had been quite charming, charming enough that she had given him access to areas of the library closed to the public. They had flirted and Bruce had murmured meaningless sweet things to her and kissed the top of her head and tried not to hate himself too much when she smiled at him. The look on your face. The way you said my name when you wanted me to talk dirty to you. How your bright, bright eyes fluttered closed when I touched you.
Damnit. Damnit. Off to Dubai next week. Your tongue in my mouth. Your tongue....
Wish you were here. Bruce
: : :
At the Daily Planet offices in Metropolis, Clark turns over the postcard to look at the picture on the front. The Acropolis, of course. Nothing but the most banal and cliché for Bruce Wayne. He smooths the picture with a thumb, flips it over to look at the bold, looping handwriting again. He looks at it for a long time, then stands up and heads to the editor's office.
"Mr. White? I've got some fascinating leads developing on that ports security firm based in the United Arab Emirates. If I could just get to Dubai I think the results could be quite interesting..."