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“He-- What?”
No one was entirely sure who said it, but the one word question embodied the thoughts of every member of the extended-Wayne family.
Everyone who currently wore the Bat, or otherwise affiliated symbol, across their chest was gathered around the stainless steel conference table. They were all in their usual spots: Bruce sitting at the head, his cowl pulled back, revealing the grim expression on his face. Dick was at his right, looking at him with horror stricken across his face. Next to him, Duke had an equally as shocked expression. The teen’s jaw was dropped an inch, visually stunned at the news. At the opposite end of the table from Bruce, Barbara was leaned on her forearms, tears already building up in the corners of her eyes. One hand moved to cover her mouth, the other moving to Stephanie’s knee -- the younger girl sat with her hip leaning on the arm of Barbara’s wheelchair.
On Bruce’s left, Cass sat on top of a stool, just at her father’s side. In the chairs pulled up to the table were Damian and Tim respectively. While Tim was just looking down at his hands, clearly trying to process what Bruce had just said, Damian’s expression looked almost angry. The only one not seated new or around the table was Jason. The man leaned against the pipe railing around the perimeter. His arms had been crossed over his chest, but fell, slipping out of their hold and falling loose at his sides.
“Clark is…” Bruce took a deep breath, looking up at his children. “Superman was confirmed dead one hour ago by Metropolis City police, following a battle with a villain by the name of Doomsday.” The man looked like he was in pain himself as he explained the details, his expression dour and shoulder slumped.
There was silence. The air around the group was stiff, almost suffocated despite how open the Cave was. No one seemed to know what to say. Cassandra wordlessly put a hand on her father’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. It was a simple comfort. Bruce responded by covering her hand with one of his own.
“I…” Dick looked down at the table, his eyes burrowing into the old scratches along the surface. “I know this is probably a stupid question… But are you sure?”
Bruce looked at his eldest son. His expression stayed steady; He was Batman after all. He stayed collected and together. The only thing betraying how broken he truly was right now was the slight shake in his breath before he spoke again. “Yes.”
“Oh my god.” Barbara’s voice was quiet, like it had meant to be a whisper.
“I can’t believe this.” Tim was the next to speak. His voice shook. The teenaged boy leaned back into his chair, his shoulder’s haunching together, as if he were trying to make himself look small. He rubbed at his eyes. It was a bad habit he’d never broke; something he did whenever processing new information was causing too much of a strain. Tim’s hands didn’t leave his face as he looked back down the table at his adoptive father. “What about Doomsday?”
“Defeated.” Bruce assured. “Clark was at least successful in that. The damaged he sustained during the fight was just too much, even for him.”
“Uncle Clark he’s…” Dick pushed out of his seat. The chair’s wheels scraped against the sheet metal flooring. The young man started pacing. He circled around the table twice before walking over to the metal railing by Jason. His hands gripped onto the top bar, his back hunching over.
Despite them having not been close for some time, Jason clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He went out fighting. It’s what he would have wanted.”
Dick let out a shaky breath. “I just saw him two weeks ago.I barely said hi.”
“You can’t predict these things Dick.” Barbara nudged Stephanie off of her her chair so she could turn around, rolling up behind the man. She pulled at the fabric of his shirt and encouraged him to face her. They made tragic eye contact just before Dick crouched down to her level to wrap his arms around her in a hug.
“What’s gonna happen now?” Duke’s voice rung out. The teen looked at Bruce, as if hoping that, as always, Batman would have all the answers.
“We don’t know.”
“What about Metropolis? The Justice League?” Duke pulled on the edge of the table, using it as leverage to roll himself closer to Bruce. “Didn’t Superman have a family? What about them.”
“Jon…”
It was the first thing Damian has said, but it was enough to draw everyone’s attention to him. No one had seemed to notice until now -- they were all so fixated on their own emotions -- that the thirteen year old ad completely shrunk in on himself. His legs had been pulled up onto the chair, his face hidden in his knees so with the hood of his cape drawn up, no one could see his face. His voice and breathing stayed steady, despite his stance. If not for how he looked, it would have been impossible to know that the Robin was affected by the news.
The qingle name made Bruce’s face go dark once more. “Lois is going to tell him. She witnessed the event.”
“No!” Stephanie’s hands flew to cover her mouth after her exclamation. “No, she saw it? That’s horrible.”
There was silence. Each member of the family was clearly just trying to absorb the information to the best of their abilities. Dick had moved into Barbara’s lap, not quite crying, as if he planned on saving his true emotions for when he was alone. The redhead in turn held onto the younger man. Jason didn’t say much, but the expression on his face was sour. He kept a hand tethered to Dick’s back. The three of them had known Clark the longest out of the protegés. The man of steel had been a large part of their childhoods, and of their trainings. They were grieving.
The younger generation seemed more stunned. Duke seemed to be staring at nothing, not saying anything else. Stephanie had worked her way into the same chair as Tim, the two barely fitting, but not fighting the forced closeness of it. They leaned into each other’s shoulders, their hands intertwined. Tim’s knuckles were white, arising the question of just how hard to must have been squeezing onto the girl’s hand. Cass’s attention was solely on her father, studying his expression. Damian… Damian just looked lost.
“There will be a service tomorrow.” Bruce continued.
“That soon?” Tim’s voice cracked.
Bruce nodded. “The funeral for Superman is going to be broadcast internationally from Metropolis. I’m not requiring anyone to go. You can watch it privately, or not. Whatever you’re most comfortable with.”
“Are you going, Father?” Damian finally looked up. His expression didn’t betray his natural dislike for showing weakness, save for the tinge of redness that had found its way into both of his eyes, and stained the edges of his eyelids.
“Not tomorrow. No.” He shook his head. The first time the usually stoic man’s emotions betrayed him was when he looked over at his youngest son. “There will be a funeral for Clark Kent in Smallville in a few days. I’d…” He looked back over the faces of his children, seeing them all on him. “I’d appreciate it if you would accompany me.”
“Of course.” Dick whipped at his eyes. “Yeah. We’ll be there.”
“Thank you.” Bruce stood up from his chair with a sigh. “There won’t be patrol tonight. Take this time to mourn. Think about Clark. Go to each other.” He specifically looked over to Tim and Damian. “Go to friends.” He looked back to his family. “Alfred’s in the kitchen with tea and dinner. If anyone needs me, you know where I’ll be.”
Normally their little meetings ended with a restatement on instructions for a mission, a choired “yes sir”; on some occasions it ended in a fight, and at least one person stomping out. Today, it ended in silence.
Bruce pulled his cowl back over his face, and began walking towards the main computer monitor. Before he could get far, Damian stood from his chair, moving to block his father’s path. The preteen didn’t say anything. He just stared down at his feet.
“Damian?” Bruce looked down at his son, slowly reaching a hand out to pull the fabric of the boy’s hood down so he could look at the somber face. When Damian didn’t say anything, Bruce put an arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “On second thought, why don’t you and I go for a drive? I’m sure Jon would love to see you.” His son just nodded into his chest.
“I--” Tim stood up next, looking pale faced. “I’m going to the Titans.”
“Of course.” Bruce nodded in understanding.
“Why don’t you stop up with Alfred before you go, Tim.” Dick spoke up next, having seemed to pull himself into some semblance of composure. “Get some tea for the road.”
“Take care of yourselves, and take care of each other.” Bruce jumped into the conversation once more, making sure everyone knew he was addressing all of them.
The next day, bagpipes played loudly as a mahogany coffin was carried by members of the Justice League to the base of the large statue erected in the center of Metropolis, in honor of their fallen hero. The broadcast was shown all over the world.
Lois Lane stood at her seat in the front row, tears streaming down her face. Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon were caught on tape, sitting in the row behind her, next to Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD. Many people asked her why Clark Kent wasn’t there with her, but she wouldn’t respond.
There was a sudden part in the crowd, a few gasps and whispers that would never be caught by the cameras, as blue, red, and black walked up to the coffin; Superboy and Robin. The Robin gave a tight squeeze to Superboy’s shoulder, and a respectful nod, before the youngest vigilante stepped forward on his own. He flew, just barely hovering, until he was over the coffin. The Leaguers holding the casket stopped as the boy reached under his jacket and pulled out a long piece of red fabric. Everyone in the world would recognize the clothe in an instant. With tears in his eyes, the Superboy opened the cape, letting it fall open like a bedsheet, before draping it over the coffin so that the metallic gold S hung proud at the head. The funeral proceeded.
Batman was never seen.