#crssover

part two of my Oz and Bruce fic. now named. if you want to read part one it is here. still unbeta and just for fun. okay....

The second meeting was more informative than the first. A little less disaster a little more conversation. It was in Varanasi when Bruce ran into Oz again.

Bruce usually stayed away from cities like Varanasi.Too many people, too much history,  all in all things he would regret destroying if the Other Guy got loose. But he had heard muttering of America forces scouring New Delhi and he had hoped on the first train out. Now Bruce found himself wandering around the steps of Kedar Ghat after nearly fourteen hours on the train. Looking out to the water,  Bruce paused rubbing his face tiredly taking a moment to gather himself. The next instant though, he found he felt a slam against the back of his legs, his knees buckling, and the stone stairs approaching his face rather quickly.

“Whoa there.”  instead of Bruce’s face making its appointment with the stone, he found an arm wrapped around his chest. As he was pulled up the voice spoke again,

“Tāki āpa aṅgrējī bōlatē haiṁ”

Do you speak english?  Bruce’s brain translated.

“Yes, yes thank you.” Bruce responded as he reached his upright state.

“No problem, that goat came out of nowhere.” the voice responded, and with a look Bruce saw, sure enough, a black goat bounding down the stone stairs.

“What a way to go, death by goat.” Bruce couldn’t stop himself from saying as he turned to face his savior.

“Technically it would be death by head wound, but that doesn’t make as good as headstone.” The man had his hands shoved in his pockets, staring down at the goat in question. A small man, Bruce noticed, his hair was ruffled red at the roots but blue at the tips, clearly grown out from when ever he had dyed it. He wore cargo pants and a red tee shirt, faded print reading Sunnydale University. When the man’s eyes turned back to him, Bruce noticed the blue depths full of mirth, even though the man’s expression only showed through a slight upturn of his lip. “It would very likely make the morning paper.”

Bruce extended his hand taking a step forward to shake the man’s hand, and stumbled the stranger grasping the offered appendage steadying Bruce.

“I think I need to sit for a moment.” Bruce muttered allowing himself to be lowered to the stair below. Once settled, the man shook his hand once before letting go.

“Oz”

“Bruce”

“Pleasure”

“Likewise”

They sat there in silence for a while then, watching the people bathing and washing in the waters, the children chasing each other around the stairs. The sat as people wandered around them and the various languages wash over them. as the steps began to clear and the sun set, Oz turned to Bruce.

“Hungry?”

Bruce thought about it for a moment, allowing the Other Guy to enter his mind, feeling for danger, an instinct more than a choice.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Oz’s lip twitched again, “Cool I know a place.” and he stood, picking up a sack that Bruce hadn’t noticed before, swinging it up over his shoulder, and began walking away, not looking back. Not that he had to because almost on instinct Bruce had picked himself off and was following the small man. They moved through the various buildings on the shoreline, pushing past the brightly colored awnings and dodging the various jauntily placed umbrellas until they came upon a mostly empty alley.

The buildings on either side were a dingy white, stray papers and various garbage lined the walls. Out of  an open door, a scrappy dog came running followed by two scrawny boys fresh on its heels. Oz knelt down and scratched the dog who had flopped down at his feet. Bruce watched as the children began calling out Oz’s name and tackled him to the ground hugging him and laughing.

“Hey guys.” Oz responded as he hugged the children back moving carefully untangling himself and standing again. The children began babbling and pulling Oz forward as the dog danced ahead excitedly. Bruce hesitated for a moment, watching the happy scene. He could just leave now, while Oz was distracted, just make his way silently back out, go to the next town, avoid the situation.

Bruce had just began to turn around when Oz called over his shoulder.

“Coming Bruce, Shanta makes the best curry you’ll ever taste.”