Work Text:
To my dear Batman,
Forgive me, Batman—my friend, my partner, my beloved—for the injustice that has occurred. I know you never fully trusted me, nor my ideals, but now I understand everything. Who would have thought I would only open my eyes when your body lay in a coffin and a statue of you loomed over the garden of the Hall of Justice?
You always knew my identity, and I knew you knew. And you knew I knew. Yet even when we both knew who the other was, nothing changed between us. Perhaps, if something had changed—if I had told you how much I love you—you wouldn’t be dead today. But I was a fool, unable to utter those words in any language, even though you were always present in my heart and mind. To this day, I think with regret about everything that might have changed if I could be by your side once more.
Bruce, my dear and sweet Bruce. This world was always too cruel to hold a soul as noble as yours. Everyone says I’m the hero—the first, the greatest—but I don’t see it that way. I failed to protect the person I loved most, to save you from this world. I let you die, and I let your son go through the very pain you never wanted anyone else to endure. I let Jason watch you explode, all because I didn’t answer your call. I was a fool. And even though Diana tells me there was nothing I could have done to save you (because apparently I’m not fast enough to rescue one of the loves of my life either), I know she’s lying.
Speaking of her… I suppose you could say the Trinity is dead. They used to say you were the mind, Diana the heart, and I the strength. But I never agreed. It was impossible to believe that someone as kind as you could be the “mind.” To me, Diana was. But now I see it clearly—you were the mind, because you were the brain. Without you, the heart stops beating, and the body loses its strength. You were the one who guided us down the right path—the hero who couldn’t kill, even when told there would be no consequences. You were unwavering in your ideals, never faltering for even a moment. The moral compass of the League… and without you, we are all lost.
I can’t describe how I felt when I saw that damned clown laughing his head off—so amused, so delighted that his plan had worked. Wiping that grin off his painted face was the only satisfaction I had after your death. I know it was rage that made me pierce his chest with my hand. And I’m quite sure Diana wasn’t thinking rationally either when she kept him alive just to have the satisfaction of killing him herself. But now, Bruce, I can almost hear you scolding us, telling us we didn’t do the right thing. And still—I don’t regret it. And that disgusts me.
I know there’s blood on my hands, that I killed a man with them, and that I couldn’t stop smiling for hours afterward. Diana says it’s normal—that knowing your enemy has fallen is the greatest satisfaction a warrior can have. But we’re not warriors, are we, Bruce? We’re heroes. Fathers. Mentors. We were supposed to be the embodiment of humanity’s goodness. You were always the only human among the Trinity—the one who stopped us from doing something utterly foolish. But you’re gone now, because we thought you were immortal. That nothing could ever stop you. That you were something more like us—something beyond human comprehension, a god fallen from the heavens. Because for us, Bruce, you were our god. And now I see that you were simply human—the strongest, the kindest—and the only one who truly deserved to be heard. You were too good for this world, and I know you were too good for us, too. But a god can’t help being possessive of what he loves.
Maybe that’s why I did what I did with Richard. You raised that boy well, and you’re the only father he should ever be grateful to have (even though Diana and I are here for him, too). I know you wouldn’t approve of my methods, nor of Diana’s—for dragging that ungrateful brat back to Earth by force. But he brought it on himself, and I mean that. I don’t give a damn about the little group of heroes he formed. He’s just like you when he talks about them—so sweet and protective. (You even sound the same when you yell at me.) And at the same time, he’s such an idiot. He doesn’t understand that no matter how powerful they are, they can never save him from death—just as we couldn’t save you. He should be grateful that at least we didn’t force him to disband them. (He fights like you, Bruce. Hides the kryptonite in the same pocket.) He was all anger and shouting when I brought him here, all tears and snot when I slammed his face against the wall beside your bed—where your body lay.
And Jason—little, fragile Jay. That boy hasn’t stopped crying since the moment you said goodbye. He’s withdrawn into himself, spending every day hiding under his bed, either crying or sleeping. Diana managed to carry him out during your funeral, but he clung to your body when they closed the coffin. He’s a good boy, Bruce—just scared, because his dad isn’t there to support him anymore. I know Richard didn’t like him at first (you said so yourself), but now he’s trying, at least, to be a good big brother. Still, the little bird prefers hiding under the bed to being near anyone. I think Diana’s planning to take him to Themyscira once things calm down. I know she’s lost her title as his favorite hero (since his father was her greatest hero and she couldn’t save him), but there’s still love between them.
Now, I just want to build a better world for them, Bruce—the world you always dreamed of, because it’s the one you deserved. It’s what I could never give you… but if I could, I would. I want a better future, because the dreams of a noble man are destined for greatness. And maybe I’m not a great man (because you’re gone), but your dreams are my dreams, your children are my children, and your villains are my villains. You were justice, my love. And for you, I will be the judge who sentences them to death.
To you, who always dreamed of a brighter future—perhaps, in your eyes now, I’m just an idiot in a cape. But I don’t care, my love, because you always said that justice is a poem. And the death sentence, I know, is its final verse.
My love—Batman, Bruce, son of Wayne, of the night and the stars—the one who lit up my life: I love you. I hope you’ll protect me from wherever you are, because I will make this world a better place. Even if I must do so by walking the path you never could—and I’m grateful you didn’t. Because, my beloved, the League was always destined to be witness, judge, and executioner.
And now that justice has fallen, the judge has spoken.
Let the era of the League begin—where the only path left to follow is the one that leads to justice.
With love,
Kal-El, Lord Superman
One of the greatest loves of your life.