Bruce Wayne arrives with Clark’s body back to the farm outside the town of Smallville. He pulls up with the hearse, personally delivering the body of the man most know as Clark, and the world knows as Super-Man.
Martha, upon seeing the hearse from her kitchen window, walks to the front door, tears in her eyes. Her heart is broken; this is the second of two men she’s lost in the last 10 years, and she’s shaky as she holds herself against the doorframe.
“That’s twice you’ve saved me in as many weeks,” she says, eyes wet with emotion.
“I promised your son I’d protect you,” Bruce grumbles, lifting her back to her feet and placing an arm around her waist. He walks Martha back into the kitchen and helps her to a chair. He looks out as the men with his entourage begin unloading the arrangements for the funeral tomorrow.
“Here,” he proffers, handing a glass over to the distraught Martha.
“I never thought I’d bury Clark. I didn’t think it was even… possible,” she lets out between sips. “What… what is this?” she asks, raising the glass up to figure out what’s burning in her throat.
“Alfred makes it. We jokingly call it ‘Bat-gin.'” Bruce takes a slug from his flask, and leans back against the sink.
“It’s good,” Martha says, knocking back the glass as she raises it to a picture of Clark and Jonathan on the wall of the steps to the second floor.
“You know, Martha,” he says, a moment of defeat in his voice. “I can’t help but feel I killed your son.”
“The weapon used to kill that thing in Metropolis; I made it with the intention of killing Clark.”
Martha turns in her seat, staring at this beat down man.
“But we had a moment, when I was about to end him, where his final words were ‘Save Martha.’ I… I realized he had family he cared about as well, and ‘Martha’ was my mother’s name, too. It was…” he swigs his Bat-gin and winces as it burns a cut still on his lip, “…my mother’s name, too. At that moment, I swore nothing would ever happen to you.”
Martha stood up, an anger starting to color her face. “You… you… bastard.” She slaps his face. Bruce doesn’t stop it.
“He knew, when he picked up that spear, what the outcome most likely would be. I think he trusted that you would be cared for.”
She went to slap Bruce again, but this time, he caught it. With his other free arm, he reached around, grabbing the small of Martha’s back, pulling her in close. She stifled a cry as he leaned in, pulling Clark Kent’s mother into him, close.
“You’ll always be safe. I made a promise.”
Bruce grabbed the back of Martha’s hair, pulling her head to look up at him, her eyes puffy from tears, her voice caught from a sudden spike of adrenaline and fear as this man, so much stronger and more capable than any who’d ever embraced her, forced her to look him in his eyes.
“Don’t worry. You’re my Martha now.”
Bruce’s eyes suddenly come up, looking past Martha’s head.
“Oh, hello, Diana!”