The Last American Hero

by Nicole Field

  Leo looked up as Bruce entered the kitchen. "I left you some eggs," he said, glancing towards the stove.

  "Thanks…" For all that it seemed like the last month hadn't happened, it was also strange that there was someone in his house again. Bruce didn't know when he'd stopped thinking of it as 'their' house.

  He kept his head down as he scooped eggs onto a plate and put two pieces of bread into the toaster, not sure how to begin a conversation that was anything more than small talk.

  The sunlight coming in from the kitchen window offered a different filter to what they'd had the night before. Even freshly showered, it didn't matter. The events of the last month hung heavy over Leo's shoulders.

  They ate breakfast in silence.

  "Look, I got your emails," Leo said, as Bruce stood up to put the dishes in the sink. "I'm sorry I worried you."

  Bruce stared back at Leo, unable to understand the sheer level of underestimation for a moment. It was such an ordinary statement from him. It didn't go towards addressing anything real.

  "You…" Bruce had to look back to his plate. He dropped it in the sink with a loud clink. "You worried everyone. You turned up on national TV and then… you vanished for a month."

  Bruce hadn't realized he'd raised his voice until Leo's face hardened. He hadn't meant to. But now there was a force behind them that Bruce hadn't known was inside of him. Bruce gripped the edge of the sink tightly. He would have white imprints on his palms to show for it later.

  "Sorry if it seems harsh," Bruce said, forcibly bringing his volume back down to a reasonable level. His voice didn't sound sorry. Not at all. "But 'worried' doesn't cover it."

  "I did what I had to do," Leo growled.

  "Did you?" Bruce rounded on him. "Did you really?" he demanded, at the same time as realizing that it wasn't a couple of missed emails that he was railing at. It was so much more than that. The light of morning hadn't diminished the horror of what Leo had said the night before. Thoughts and feelings he'd had came back with surprising force, having had all that time to simmer and bubble under the surface while he should have been asleep. "How could you, Leo? You killed an entire race! You, who have stood up for black rights and Muslim and Mexican rights for almost as long as I've known you. How could you just… kill them?"

  His voice cracked on the last words, and something about that made Leo blanch and look away. That didn't stop Bruce's searching gaze. He needed to understand this about Leo. He couldn't just face that Leo had gone, for a month, systematically hunting and killing the remains of a species.

  "Did you even try to understand them?" Bruce asked when Leo didn't answer. His voice sounded hoarse.

  Leo looked back sharply at him, his square jaw jutted out and eyes flashing with fury he wouldn't voice. Not to Bruce. "I can't talk to you about this right now," he answered abruptly, before turning away.

  Bruce was left braced against the kitchen bench, long after the front door opened and slammed shut. He felt terrible. Leo had only just come home—he'd made him breakfast!—and this was what Bruce had had to say to him.

  He noticed how shallow his breathing still was when he turned around and started to do the dishes. Then he spent the next three hours waiting to see if Leo was coming back.

  *~*~*

  Bruce didn't ask Leo where he'd gone when he finally came back. He didn't want to fight. He'd just gotten his best friend back. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. He wanted them to go back to the way they had been. He wanted them to be okay again.

  Although he wanted to find a way to say all of that out loud to Leo, all he said when he finally saw him again was, "I'm sorry."

  "I'm sorry too." Leo pushed the unfamiliar hair out of his face with a disjointed flick of his wrist. "I seem to be saying that a lot right now." He fell down heavily on the couch. Bruce sat down more carefully beside him. "I didn't try to understand them," Leo told Bruce, staring directly into his eyes. His voice stayed low, an efforted calm that Bruce could see. "I understood everything I needed to know about them. They were going to destroy us. I told you."

  "You told me what you saw on the ship." Bruce didn't raise his voice. He was determined that, this time, he would sound reasonable throughout this conversation and whatever happened next. If Leo could do it after everything he'd been through, Bruce had to. "You didn't tell me anything about the aliens you found in those rural towns."

  Leo closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again. "You didn't see what I saw, Bruce. If you had…" Leo shook his head, wiping a hand over his eyes and down his face.

  "If I had, what?" Bruce asked quietly, curiously. "Do you find it so easy to imagine I would have been able to hunt them all down?"

  There was a long pause, in which Bruce made himself face the shadows behind Leo's eyes. "No," he said eventually. "I don't imagine that."

  "What do you imagine?" Bruce asked, yearning to actually understand.

  Leo slashed a look his way. "Don't test me, Bruce," he uttered warningly. "I'm not the same man you once knew."

  "I can see that," Bruce said, trying to sound as open as he could so Leo would believe him, would hear him. It was difficult. "I'm trying to figure out what kind of man you are now."

  An unsteady breath whooshed its way from Leo's lungs. He didn't answer immediately. Again they sat in what was becoming a reliable awkwardness.

  "I'm the kind of man who uses his powers to jump into the air and disable an alien space ship," Leo said, quiet and intense, not looking directly at Bruce this time. "In order to save the White House and the members of Congress within it."

  Bruce didn't ask if that made him above the law. There were no laws regarding aliens; the government had believed them all dead even before Leo had made that into a fact. There were no laws regarding superheroes either.

  "I saved lives, Bruce," Leo said, as though Bruce didn't understand that. He slanted a glance towards him. "Why don't you see that?"

  Bruce closed his eyes against the raw pain that reached towards him from his friend's voice. "I do see that," he said honestly. "But I also see how you did it."

  He mustn't have managed to get that statement across with as little judgement as he'd been intending. Leo immediately burst out.

  "I didn't ask for this! For any of this! These powers didn't come with a rulebook. I did what I thought was best at the time. I owe them something for… everything I've just been given. The powers are only one part of it. People have to go through years of hormone replacement therapy just for a chance—" Leo cut himself off, hissing between his clenched teeth. He was losing his temper again, but for the first time, Bruce began to see something beyond that.

  "You don't think you've earned this," Bruce observed slowly. "So you think you have something to prove."

  "They're going to find out," Leo told him hotly. His voice still sounded choked and unnatural. "Whether I tell them, or whether they find out on their own, they're going to find out that the man who saved them is transgender. And I don't want them to have anything to rail against when they do."

  Bruce laughed, a light sound that carried disbelief, before he could stop himself. He immediately felt awful when he saw the expression on Leo's face. "That's ludicrous!" he said, by way of explanation. "People are always going to find things to rail against."

  Leo shot him an irate glare. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with meaning.

  "I don't mean me." Bruce rolled his eyes. "I'm probably your most impartial observer, all things considered."

  "That thought fills me with joy," Leo said, drolly.

  "What I mean is," Bruce said, pressing on, "you can't hope to fix things so people don't take issue with you. That's impossible. If people are going to be upset about finding out you're transgender, then they're gonna find something to rile against regardless."

  To that, Leo had nothing to say. It was turning out that Leo's return was complicated in more ways than even Bruce could have imagined.

  "I don't want to have this conversation ri
ght now," he said.

  Bruce pressed his lips together. He wasn't going to force his best friend to have a conversation he was uncomfortable having. He sighed. Well, not beyond a certain point, anyway.

  *~*~*

  Monday morning saw the two of them skirting around each other in the kitchen. Traffic had already begun several hours ago, and horns were honking outside as a testament to early morning impatience. Bruce found himself reassured by the responding bustle in his kitchen. Their kitchen.

  "I know why I'm up this early," Bruce said, speaking to Leo around a mouthful of toast. "But you don't have to be."

  "I'm going to go in to my old work." Leo ran a hand through his hair, then looked at his hand in confusion as though he was still unused to his hair being long. "See if I can get my old job back, or something."

  Bruce paused. "Already? You only got back on Saturday night."

  Leo shrugged. "I can't just sit around."

  Bruce nodded. It wasn't up to him to decide for Leo what he was and wasn't up to. So he just swallowed the rest of his toast. "See you after five?"

  Leo gave a small smile. "I'll be here."

  Bruce grabbed his laptop bag and headed out onto Monday morning in Arlington Street.

  Chapter Four

  Bruce came home from work to find a couple of kids playing on their cells outside the house.

  "Excuse me," he murmured, not wanting to physically push past them to get into his own house.

  One of them elbowed the other, but neither of them said a word as they both moved out of Bruce's path. He gave them a raised eyebrow briefly before pushing open the door.

  His keys made the familiar clank in his pocket as he closed the door behind him. He waited to hear the once familiar sounds of Leo moving around in the house, but there was nothing. Maybe he hadn't gotten home from work yet.

  So thinking, Bruce jumped when he stepped into the kitchen and found Leo staring pensively out the window.

  He swore. Was Leo's presence at home again ever going to garner anything other than shock and a pounding heart? Then Leo turned to face him, and Bruce noticed the lost, kind of confused look in the other man's expression. "What's up?"

  The confused look didn't change. He wasn't quite looking at Bruce so much as in his general direction. Leo's lips parted. "I've been approached to feature on the Morning Show."

  Bruce's eyes narrowed. The words didn't immediately compute.

  "The Morning Show," Bruce said, in the vain hope that the words would make more sense when he had said them out loud. They didn't.

  Leo nodded once. "Pretty much my reaction too." He pushed away from the kitchen bench and walked past Bruce. "Sorry to scare you."

  "Nah, it's…" Bruce abruptly was talking to his roommate's back as Leo wandered through the dining room. "Gonna take some getting used to," he mumbled under his breath. "You being back."

  They were both in the living room before Leo spoke again. "So, I'm a celebrity now? Guess I should have seen that coming." He huffed a low, bitter laugh.

  Bruce couldn't blame him. He'd run the story several times in his mind throughout the day. He lived with guy who had won the Battle of D.C. He couldn't imagine how Leo felt actually being that guy. Honestly, he couldn't blame him for not wanting to say that out loud. It was one hell of a heavy load.

  Leo looked at him. Really looked at him, this time. "What do you think I should do?"

  Bruce's eyebrows rose. "What do I think?"

  "Yeah." Leo seemed affronted, or defensive.

  Bruce scratched the side of his head. "I don't know that it's my call," he said. Leo's shoulders hunched further. Bruce stopped shuffling and stepped forward. "How did they know you were back?" The question of how they had contacted him could come later.

  Leo shrugged. "I went out into work today. I was obviously seen."

  "But you weren't…" Bruce's mouth closed. Was he really going to argue that Leo hadn't been wearing his 'costume'? After all these years of saying how stupid everyone at the Daily Planet was for not seeing Clark Kent was Superman? This wasn't a comic book, and Leo's face—without any glasses or a mask—had been all over the news for over a month. "Right," Bruce uttered instead. He took a deep breath. "Do you want to do it?"

  Leo frowned. He was back at looking distantly across the room, gaze not really focusing on any one thing in particular. "What would I say?" he asked.

  "Anything you like," Bruce told him. "You could say what it was like when you first realized you were a superhero. You could… I don't know, talk about current issues. The political climate. Things we might change to make things better for non-white people. Or, you know, trans kids in schools." He said that last quietly, not knowing whether his friend would want to get up and talk about trans issues on television, given they were so close to home. Yet it was still immediately better than focusing on Leo's month long search and destroy mission. "You could tell them you're trans before they figure it out on their own."

  Leo looked up sharply. Bruce met his gaze straight on, lifting his chin ever so slightly. Leo's lips parted, but he was the first one of them to look away, leaving Bruce to speak again.

  "And, of course, they'll have questions of their own."

  "I guess…" Leo's hand rose to rub the back of his neck. His jaw stood out as his teeth clenched. "So I should do it." He nodded to himself, as though the decision was made. "All right. I'll call them back."

  "Good." Bruce wasn't sure that was what this was, but it was what he felt like he should say. He sat down on the couch. Leo stayed standing. Bruce wasn't even sure the other man had noticed him sitting down. "So, did you get your job back?"

  Leo glanced at Bruce. He looked around him then, as though remembering there were places in here he could sit. Once again, Bruce found himself wondering what Leo's last month had really been like.

  "Nah," Leo said eventually, after he'd sat down. "I'd been gone too long. They'd already filled my job. Like, a week ago. My old boss did look concerned, though."

  "I don't wonder," Bruce murmured.

  "What? Because I'm 'Captain Hart' now?" Leo asked.

  Bruce looked at Leo and spoke frankly. "Because you look like you've been through hell. Chances are, she could see it."

  "Maybe." Leo shrugged as though it wasn't anything much, but even the shrug was half hearted. "It has been a hard month." Leo's voice sounded hollow. There had been a time when being a superhero with new powers had been fun and kind of funny.

  That time had passed.

  The two men sat in silence. Again.

  Eventually, Leo pushed his hands to his thighs and stood. "Are you hungry? I bought home food."

  *~*~*

  Leo was asked to arrive at the set of The Morning Show at 5 a.m. so they could do hair, make-up and otherwise ready him for the screen.

  Bruce could hear him the night before, through the thin walls that separated their bedrooms, pacing back and forth. Coming close to the doorway. Pausing. Turning and pacing the length of the room again.

  When he finally showed up in Bruce's open doorway, he asked if he would come with him.

  Bruce took the day off work.

  "Wow, you have amazing skin," the make-up artist marvelled. She looked over to Bruce. "Do you ever get jealous of how wonderful your friend's skin is?"

  She seemed to remember she was talking to a guy only after she looked away from the skin canvas and into Bruce's eyes. A faint flush coloured her cheeks. She lowered her gaze, then went back to Leo silently. Bruce gazed over her head at the back of Leo's and stopped himself from telling the artist that Leo's skin hadn't always been perfect. That kind of information was for Leo to share if he wanted to.

  The backstage crew looked at him and Leo strangely all morning. They were clearly trying to figure out what the relationship was there. What was an ordinary guy like Bruce doing accompanying Captain Hart? Was he some kind of manager? A friend? A… lover?

  Leo had gone to a barber to get his hair cut to the length it had been befor
e his month-long disappearance. Bruce had smiled to see it when Leo walked in the door after Bruce returned home from work. It seemed like a part of his friend had been repaired in the action.

  As Leo stepped out front and shook hands with the show's hosts, one of the crewmembers came up to Bruce. "So, are you the Captain's sidekick?" He looked Bruce up and down, plainly wondering what kind of powers such an ordinary looking person as Bruce could possibly have.

  Bruce shook his head before he could stop himself. "No," he said. Then nodded once and looked back towards Leo, effectively ending the conversation.

  For reasons of anonymity, Leo had once worn a brown, leather mask to cover the top half of his face. There was little point in it anymore, and so it had been forgone. The rest of the outfit was made out of Kevlar at Bruce's insistence. It didn't matter if Leo proved he might be nigh on indestructible. There was no need to take stupid risks. Bruce could hear the way the panel of Morning Show hosts were gushing over his outfit. It had been the appropriate thing to wear, even for an interview that posed no physical risk.

  They all sat down, the prompter advised the audience to start cheering and clapping, and the show began.

  "So, I guess the question everyone in America is wondering is… Where have you been the last month?" the single male host asked him warmly.

  Bruce and Leo had talked about how to answer this question. There was no thought of undermining the government by saying that there had been more aliens than anyone knew about. That would create panic and, more than likely, change Captain Hart's status from 'hero' to 'vigilante', at best.

  Leo tipped his head. "Well, you know," he said, with a wink. "A hero's always needed."

  "Just not here in the States, apparently," one of the female hosts commented, but they let the subject go.

  "It has got to feel great. You saved the White House. America owes a debt to you."

  But Leo came across as humble as well as grateful for the remark. "I didn't do it for a debt," he said, sounding no less than the all-American hero. "I did it because it had to be done."