Ashes
Ashes and pain.
Clark's knees dug into the glass shards and ripped metal below him. He imaged that if he had been human the edges would have punctured his smooth flesh, his cherry red blood running onto the charred ground.
A scream echoed in the air, sobbing from another location, whimpering from below.
A wrecked sob. Normally those wails were like a sirens call to him, begging him to aid those in need. Urging him to create a better world.
But not now, the pleas for help, for God, for mercy, fell on deft ears.
The noise was closer then the others and he realized it was from him.
He had never felt so helpless, utterly useless. His fingers curled around Bruce's stationary body, gripping the burned flesh as if he could will it back to life.
The cold light of morning crept through the destroyed building, highlighting Bruce's sacrifice. Another choked sob rang from his lips as he stared down at Bruce's crumpled body, his once handsome face burned beyond recognition.
The bomb that killed Bruce had destroyed half the building with it, but it had boiled down to the same choice a weary doctor gave his gangrene infected
patient: the leg or the life. The building or the city.
Clark's hands trembled as he ran a hand over Bruce's chest, the world can't lose you Clark. I can't lose you.
The Bat of Gotham's last words to him before he detonated the bomb. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on him, how he had once died for the good of the world. His actions being the final act to prove his humanity to Bruce.
Now Bruce had committed the same sacrifice.
His heart felt like it was burning, he physically hurt. The once pale morning boiling into a dawn of crimson, amber, and golden hues.
Clark closed his eyes as the first rays of the sun hit him. The light bathing his skin in power. Breathing in strength and fury and resignation.
"What would you do for him to return?"
Clark turned, obsidian hair haloed by the light, eyes feverishly bright with fallen tears.
"Anything."