Bruce still enjoyed his days off to regress and let go. But there were times where Bruce would go quiet, and Clark had no idea why. Bruce wasn't upset, nor was he anxious. He just stayed in place and completely content on place.
When Clark would ask what was going on with him, curious, Bruce wouldn't say anything. He would just continue his task coloring, playing with a toy, or whatever, in silence. He would smile at the sound of Clark's voice calling him. That was all.
Eventually, maybe five or ten minutes later, Bruce would say something and pretend that nothing happened.
When Bruce was back to his regular self, the issue wasn't so big that Clark would think to ask about it.
That was until one night.
Superman was taking a nice fly when he heard a familiar thumping of a heart speed up to a fearful pace. It was in Gotham. He listened for more details in that area.
It was Batman. He was thankfully alone, but it was the only positive thing. He was crying.
Superman immediately flew to Batman's location in 10 seconds tops. He arrived in an apartment. Just then, he knew what got Bruce with way.
Batman was on the floor with his face in his hands. His sobs were muffled by his gloves. In front of him were a murdered couple.
Both shot.
In the far away room was a wailing of a child.
Superman kneeled beside Batman and called in a gentle voice, "Batman?"
Batman looked up at him.
Superman saw the guilt, fear, and despair through his mask. "Bruce..." He placed a hand on Batman's shoulder. He looked through the walls where he heard the child crying.
The child was barely three or four. He was hiding under his bed.
Superman quickly hatched a plan for them in his head. He whispered, "I'll be right back, okay?" Just as he was about to get up, Batman grabbed his arm tight.
Batman shook his head. It looked like he wanted to say something, but only his lips trembled.
"It's gonna be alright," Superman soothed. He felt him shaking. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and held him close. "Okay, let's go get the kid together."
The two walked to the bedroom of the little kid. When they came in, the cries of the child rang louder. He was crying for his mother and father.
Batman let go of Superman and took a few steps back. He didn't stop until his back was against the hallway's dark corner.
Superman glanced at Batman then back to the child. He crouched down a little as he reached the kid. "Hey. You're safe now."
"Momma?"
Superman had to control himself from shuddering in sorrow. "It's okay." He glanced back at Batman.
Batman was watching Superman. He was sitting down on the floor. His eyes seemed to only focus on Superman's movements. His breaths hitched in his throat ever so often.
Before taking his eyes off of Batman, he said, "You're safe now." He held his hand out to the child.
The child crawled from under the bed and fell into his arms.
By the time the police arrived, Batman was quiet enough to not be noticed in the dark corner. Superman was the one to answer the questions, and the child was whisked off to police's custody.
When all was settled, Superman went to the dark corner and whispered, "Let's go." He wrapped his arm around his waist and his other arm under his knees. He flew them home.
Once they were at the Batcave, Superman sat Batman down on his feet. "Bruce?" He took off Bruce's cowl.
Bruce held his hands out to Superman. He hummed. He shook his gloved hands at him. His eyes looked at Superman with dependence.
"Alright," Superman said. He took off Bruce's gloves. "It's best to get you out of the Batsuit." He took the suit off of Bruce until he was in his underclothes.
Bruce was soaked in sweat.
"I guess a bath is in order." Clark held out his hand to Bruce, and Bruce grabbed it.
Clark and Bruce went to take a very quiet bath. Bruce didn't want to be one meter away from him. Afterwards, Clark wrapped Bruce in his robe while he settled with a towel around his waist.
Bruce sat on the bed and looked down at the toy truck across the bedroom on the floor. He didn't say anything. He just stared at it.
Clark noticed it. "You want your truck?"
Bruce glanced at Clark, then back at the truck.
"I'll take that as a yes." Clark got the truck and handed it to him.
Bruce took it and placed it on the bed in front of him. He stared down at it. He sat his hand on the hood of the truck. He was content with just that.
While Bruce was preoccupied, Clark put on his pajama pants. Then he got the clothes Alfred sat aside for Bruce. He got in front of Bruce and said, "Let's get you dressed up."
Bruce looked up at him.
"Let's start with the underwear."
Bruce picked up the truck. He held on to it as he played with the wheels. His feet swung off the edge of the bed. He let Clark slid his underwear on.
"Okay," Clark said. "Shirt?" He grabbed the edge of Bruce's robe.
Bruce groaned, "Mm." He held his truck to the side as if Clark was going to take it.
"I just want to put on your shirt."
Bruce groaned louder. He was against it.
"Then how about pants?"
Same response.
"Okay," Clark said. "As long as you are comfortable. It might be warmer than usual tonight." He placed Bruce's robe back in place neatly. He observed Bruce concerned.
Bruce hasn't said anything since he found him. He seemed to have regressed before Clark reached him. He was shaken up from the parent's deaths and the poor child. He kept his eyes fixed on his toy.
Clark asked, "Want me to hold you?"
Bruce looked at him fast, as if that was something he really wanted.
Clark sat beside him and opened his arms to him.
Bruce crawled onto his lap. He didn't let go of the truck as he laid his head on Clark's shoulder. He hummed and snuggled close.
"It must've scared you, hunh?"
Bruce responded with a gentle squeeze.
Clark rubbed his back and said, "I see. It's going to be alright." He placed his other hand on the back of Bruce's head. He rocked them gently. He hummed, "It's gonna be alright. I got you."
Bruce's arms tightened. He took a deep breath in and out.
Clark felt the car's wheels press against his back. He continued to quietly rock them. He whispered, "I got you."
The two stayed like that until Bruce was lulled asleep. They laid down on the bed with Bruce on top.
When morning came along, Bruce woke up beside Clark. He was hugging Clark's arm. He looked and saw that Clark was awake.
Clark smiled and said, "Good morning, Bruce."
Bruce said, "Good morning, Clark."
Clark reached over and cupped his face. "How are you doing?"
"Better," he replied.
Clark couldn't help but look at him with concern. He said, "You regressed, but you didn't talk..."
"So?" Bruce said as he avert his eyes.
"You've done that before," Clark said. "Well, it's similar. What... Was that?"
Bruce exhaled, "Some times when I regress, the bad memories can still happened. It can overwhelm me when I've already tried to cope by regressing." He finally met eyes with Clark. His eyes were calculating. "It's like I go lower."
"Lower?" Clark replied inquisitive. "You mean you regress to a younger age?"
"Yes," he said. "Last night, it was the crying after I found the parents. That got to me."
It wasn't the dead parents that got him, it was the child crying after the shock of the deaths.
"But I am a bit better," Bruce reassured.
"You sure?" Clark said. He caressed his cheek. "Do you need me to take care of you?"
"No," Bruce said as he placed his hand over the one on his cheek. Then he let go of him and sat up, pulling himself from Clark. He cleared his throat as if to get himself straight. Then he got up from the bed.
Just as Bruce was about to walk away, he stopped himself. He turned to face Clark, who was sitting up. He leaned over until his face was leveled with his. He placed a kiss on his lips. He pulled back a centimeter and said, "Let's have breakfast."
Clark said, "Okay." A smile couldn't help but grow on his face.
Bruce stood up and began walking off.
Clark followed soon after.