Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For a late September morning, the sky was such a crystal clear blue, Jon could barely believe it. It was as if God had parted the clouds from the previous day just so that the newly eighteen year old would have the best possible birthday ever, but he knew better than to think any thoughts like that. It was just a day where God chose to put a light on the little town that just over a thousand upstanding people called home. 

The black feathered birds flew with grace, and just for a few moments, the Earth was quiet. Only the animals and breeze carried any noise- a faint hum that highlighted just how alive the teen was. With the wind flying through his dark waves and the cool air passing over his face, he had never felt more at peace. Looking over the town with its tall grasses, the small single story buildings tucked just around the bend from the viridian grass that grew over the underground rivers. From up there in the skies, the Earth seemed to go on forever, just a rolling field of ashy mountains and sprinkled with evergreen trees. Even from a distance, he saw the Walker brothers out on their horses riding side by side for their regular trail rides. He saw Mrs. Mary- Anne unloading a new shipment for her general store, and a family playing catch at the small plot of land the town called a park. It felt as if the town had been stuck at a point in history where everything was so warm and worn that just about anyone would feel at home. 

It was the place Jon was proud to call him home. The little church he and dad had been faithfully attending three times a week for the past ten years stood proudly in the center of town. Three other churches scattered through the area, some bigger, most smaller than the Church of Christ, but Jon had never so much as stepped a foot through their doors. 

He doubted there were any bunch of people friendlier than the men, women, and children he saw each week. They kindly took in him and Dad when they were at their worst, showered them with love and wisdom that they would’ve been stranded without. They didn’t even question Jon’s various oddities that, from what he could tell from the movies in Dad’ collection, would’ve gotten him bullied if he was anywhere else. They never brought up his homeschooling as most of the other kids he met at Sunday School were in the same boat. They didn’t tease him for his height or weight or why his dad was so strict about who he let over to their home. Rebecca, Luke, Clayton, and Clara were truly the best friends he could ever ask for. 

And to make such a wonderful day even better, he was finally allowed to have all of them over! It would only be for a few hours and the Kent house honestly wasn’t that exciting, but the chance to show the people he cared about most (outside of his family of course) his life made Jon want to do cartwheels. He didn’t of course, but the idea of doing them through the air did sound like a lot of fun!

But thinking more about it, Jon shouldn’t be putting so much weight on just today of all days. The whole Summer had been amazing. He graduated in May, no longer having to worry about any schoolwork until January when he’d start taking college classes. Dad wasn’t even as hard on him about training, just trusting the boy to make the right choice and stay in peak physical condition. The weather had been beautiful, not reaching the normal chilly lows after the nightfall, but still carried the Wyoming winds that every local knew and loved. It even rained a bit more than it had the last year which made every farmer happy, though that did make up a good majority of the town. Everyone either farmed or was related to someone who did. 

As the sun reached its apex in the sky above him, the blue eyed young man realized just what time it was. With a light push from his feet against the resistance of the sky, he flew to the family home. It was a beautiful house built sometime in the mid 1800s and updated sometime in the 1970s. Its abundance of windows always ensured that the house was bright and open despite its narrower hallways. The tan exterior even seemed warm, the lumber used from local trees still standing strong into the 21st century. Surrounding the two story home was a flat plane of grass, divided up into a patchwork blanket of several pastures and paddocks. It was duller than normal, but only because just a few weeks prior, Jon and Dad had worked hard to collect their crops and store them for the winter. Turning his focus from the skies around him back down to earth, he heard the moos of their small herd of cows, the clucks of the chickens, the brays from the lone donkey that Jon had named Taco not long after they adopted him. A loud splash and a particularly bratty quack got a chuckle out of Jon, those birds were always fighting over water space despite the three pools they had to swim in. He kicked off again to speed his arrival, feet gently touching the ground. 

The older man who stood just a few feet away turned his gaze away from the distant sky to face Jon, his periwinkle eyes glimmering. “Happy birthday, kiddo. Glad I finally got to get a good look at ya today.” He walked forward, reaching up to wrap his son in a hug and ruffle the teen’s windswept hair. 

“Hey!” 

“Oh shush, you were gonna have to style it for the big party tonight anyways.” The man eased his grip on Jon, moving his hands to rest on his slim built shoulders. “I can't believe you’re an adult already. I remember when you were just a little guy… But I guess you haven't been little for a long time now.” 

Jon scoffed, but his face showed how flustered he was at his dad’s neverending affection. “Not since you sent me to space at least.” Dad’s smile faltered. A stab of guilt immediately hit Jon’s stomach. “I just mean that puberty hit me like a brick wall. Who would’ve guessed that I wound up surpassing my old man?” 

Some of the tension eased in the older man, the glimmer returning to his eyes. “Only in height, Jonathan. Even with you eating the pantry bone dry, you’re still all skin and bones. It’ll be the proudest day of my life when you finally beat me in a fight.” 

With that, Dad let go of his son and turned to walk away, but before the shorter man could make it too far, Jon lunged. He willed his heart to still and feet to touch the ground only as much as needed to not tip the other man off to anything, but he was still thwarted. A muscular hand took hold of the boy’s wrist and used leverage to flip the boy onto his back. A heavy boot was resting on Jon’s chest before he could even process the maneuver. 

“Apparently today is not that day.” He smiled down at his son, and Jon looked back up with a stern face, nodding. He stepped down, removing the pressure from Jon’s sternum. “It won’t be long before that party of yours, and we have no idea if anyone is gonna show up early. Why don’t you make sure the house and you are presentable while I tend to the animals?” 

“Yes, sir.” He sat up, brushing the dust off his shirt. The flannel overshirt was toast, but considering that it was starting to smell, he didn’t plan on wearing it anyways, but the Cheese Vikings shirt underneath was exactly what he was planning on wearing today. Until a size 11 foot print directly over the design ruined it. But he knew better than to mouth off to the older man who had already settled into the routine of preparing the bottles for the baby goats they recently adopted. 

It didn’t take long for him to dust and vacuum the large home considering how spotless Dad insisted they keep it. Sweeping twice a day always seemed a bit like overkill, but it was better than stepping on sand all the time and having it ruin the finish on the hardwood. Making himself presentable seemed impossible though. No amount of gel or styling seemed to make his loose curls settle the way his dad’s hair did. It wasn’t fair that the older man always seemed so well put together even after a hard day’s work, but a leisurely fly made Jon look like a family of rats decided to take residence in his hair. He wasn’t sure if his hair being on the longer side made it easier or harder to get it to cooperate, but he didn’t have time to continue fighting with it if he wanted to be on time to his own party. Knowing Rebecca, she’d be an hour early, her two younger siblings in tow. Sighing and accepting his second defeat of the day, he did his best to just sweep it back, ignoring how it fell out of position almost as soon as he moved his hand away. He rearranged his glasses, praying that the overall look was less dorky than he thought it was. Changing was less of a struggle, but that was because Jon couldn’t bring himself to care about that too much and wind up frustrated with himself. A simple thermal and less beat up jeans would be more than enough. 

As soon as the shirt was over his head, falling to cover up waist, he heard the sound of crunching gravel as a familiar SUV pulled into the driveway. His heart started beating, and he fought the urge to fly past the stairs entirely and greet Rebecca and her family down the quarter mile long path. Instead he stood outside the front door waving to them. Mr. and Mrs. Featheringham waved back from the front seat as the car went into park. 

He ran over to the car, opening the door opposite to his friends and started unbuckling the youngest member of the family. Leah’s dark eyes widened seeing her most recent favorite person. “Jah!” 

Already out of the car, Rebecca laughed. “How did I know you were gonna steal her at the first opportunity?” 

With the little girl’s arms now wrapped around his neck, he just smiled and lent a hand to let the second youngest sister Esther out of the car. “Not all of us were lucky enough to have a bajillion siblings like you, Becca.” 

“Well she’s your present so you better be having fun- Hey!” The teen girl was cut off by a smack upside the head by her mother. 

“Happy birthday, Jon! My, my, have you grown into such a handsome young man. Sorry our little girl has such a hard time expressing that.” The older woman pulled Jon into a side hug, ignoring her daughter's grimace. Jon was fighting one of his own. 

“I don’t know, Mrs. Featheringham, Leah seems to have latched on pretty quickly.” The little girl laughed hearing her own name before reaching out for her mother. “I stand corrected. Anyways, thank you guys for coming out! No one else is here yet, but Dad should be in the barn right now.” 

His friend's parents nodded, wishing him another happy birthday before making their way to the scarlet barn where his dad must’ve been fixing up something or other. Jon and the two girls went inside and halfway through The Aristocats, two more friends joined. Not long after that, all of the guests arrived and the board games broke out. 

With all of the kids now accounted for and the sun beginning to sit low in the sky, the adults joined them in the home. As soon as the older Kent walked in, Jon heard both of the girls’ heartbeats speed up which never failed to make him nauseous. 

“Hi, Mr. Kent!” Clara practically jumped from her seat on the couch to give the older man a hug. “How have you been doing? Taking care of yourself?” 

Dad gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder and a wide smile. “You know it, little girl. Plus the big man is always watching out for us.” 

A few of the adults giggled at the nineteen year old’s attempt at getting close with the farmer. The young woman pouted, hugging him tighter before turning back to take her turn in the board game she abandoned. Once the adults were out of sight, Rebecca threw a gummy bear at the other girl, laughing. 

“Aww, after three years of you endlessly flirting with him, you finally got a pat on the back. How sweet.” The blonde glared at the brunette’s wicked grin. “Come on, if you really want him that badly, why don’t you try making a move on Jonny boy here? They look like they could be brothers.” 

Both of the teens' faces turned beet red, but that didn’t stop one of the other guests from chiming in, “I think that’s only because Jon looks super old.” Clayton paused, thinking. “I wonder if we drove to the next town over if he could buy us beer.” 

The seventeen year old is the next one to get pelted with a gummy bear before it turned into an all out candy fight that left the whole group kinda sticky. 

The party stretched on for a few more hours, the adults coming back into the den with freshly grilled burgers to eat with their children and watch a movie all together. With so much supervision, Jon could tell Rebecca was infuriated that she couldn’t mock Clara’s puppy dog look being sent towards Jon’s dad, but soon enough, the movie ended and everyone got up to wish each other goodbye. Jon received a hug from everybody (and more cheek pinches than he’d care to admit), but as soon as the last flash of taillights was out of sight, he went right to work. He sped through each task that he was sure he must’ve been a dark blur among the dark, night sky. As he listened to the now locked-up birds and scrubbed the duck pools, he smiled to himself. His friends were a bunch of idiots, but he loved them. He hoped that they’d be allowed to come over again, though he doubted it would be anytime soon. They couldn’t risk compromising Dad’s secret identity. 

To think that there was a point in life where he was grateful to be away from all of this: stuck in a weird dimensional rift in space after failing to listen to his father’s instructions, but grateful to be in a new environment where he didn’t have anyone telling him what to do. No structure to follow as he went through each and every day. No one to criticize his decisions or form during training. No more chores for animals he never asked for. It had been fun for the first couple of months, but as those months stretched into years, he missed it all. He missed his dad and the horses and chickens and having to get up early to go to church. He missed reciting evening prayers with Dad. When he crash landed back, fortunately landing in his Dad’s arms, his blood went cold as it dawned on him that what had been years to him, had only been a few weeks to the people he knew. That night, his dad just held Jon, now a grown man, as he cried, still no better than the thirteen year old he used to be. 

That was the only time the Kents had ever stepped away from the church, Dad telling everyone that Jon had been having some health issues that had been wearing him down. And to an extent that was true, seeing the other side made him appreciate everything he had and think of things in new ways. Frustration at his dad melted away after spending so much time away from the older man, and he was thankful that he was able to return and still have his dad there to hold him. He already knew what it was like to lose one parent, but he failed to think about the people who had lost both until he was left with no one to look out for him and teach him about life. He could’ve wound up like Luke, who for as long as Jon knew him, lived with his grandparents with no contact with his mom or dad in years, but instead he crashed, burning through the Earth’s atmosphere, into the person he had missed most. The one person who had always been there protecting Jon from the cruelty life could bring. 

Above him, a brilliant blue flash darted through the sky like a shooting star. For just a moment, he could pretend that he knew it wasn’t his dad. He closed his eyes and wished. I wish I can be half the hero my dad is.

The young man sent a smile up to his dad, and rushed to finish up with the evening chores. He knew the man was long gone by now, off to who knows where to help the world with their problems, the way he had for decades. It didn’t take long for Jon to wrap up the evening, sweeping the porch clear of the dust that had settled onto the aging wood, and he was racing inside, eager to look over the articles his mom had written about Dad before they had gotten together. Before she knew that the man sitting at the desk beside hers was Superman. His chest tightened seeing the small purple box sitting above the fireplace, but he still pulled it down. Not much was left of the woman, not even Jon’s memories. But he could still see the work she did during her lifetime, a picture of her winning a Pulitzer front and center in the living room. He looked over the dozen articles he had long since memorized: Superman Saves Metropolis Again!, Corruption- How the Man of Steel Took Down LexCorp, Who is Superman?

Seeing her name printed under each bold title brought tears to his eyes. Each article was written with so much care and honesty that he wished that he got to know the woman she was. Dad rarely had anything to say about her, even when Jon asked, begged, to know more about his mom. He saw his dad’s heart break each time and in turn, a bit of Jon’s heart broke too. Not only did he lose his mother, but a piece of his dad died that same day too. Fourteen years had gone by, and they still didn’t have any answers as to why or who or just anything to fill the void left in their souls. A tear threatened to spill out his cerulean eyes, and his throat closed with the burning rage that looking at these articles always brought on. He shoved the clipping back in the box, setting back to their home on the mantle. 

“Jon? What are you still doing up?” He had gotten too emotional, slipping up on his powers. He didn’t even hear his dad come back home, let alone enter the house. “Oh. Missing Mom again?” 

He didn’t care that the older man’s voice was flat. Jon raced over to hug his dad, arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders. After a moment, Dad’s wide shoulders relaxed under the embrace. 

“She was a wonderful woman. She loved you so much.”

Jon sniffled, “Why did they take her from us?”

“God has a plan for every one of us, remember that. She’s with him now, and there’s no point in dwelling on it. Sorrow leads to rage, and rage gets us nowhere.” The man pulled away from his son, holding him only by the shoulders the way he had earlier that day. “Why don’t you go up and get ready for bed? We got a big day ahead of us.” 

It took everything to force the tears away and give his father a smile. The older man gave one that didn’t meet his eyes and a clap on the shoulder. Back up in his bedroom, tucked under the covers, he took a final glance over to his nightstand where a picture of his mother stood. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, just a portrait of her smiling at something in the distance, but it was taken close enough that Jon could make out all of her features. Features so unlike his own- he was entirely his father’s child, no hint of the woman Lois Lane was. Her dark brown hair that had no curls, soft violet eyes and a sloped nose that was so unlike his own. It wasn’t fair that Jon had nothing of her. No memories, no personal belongings, nothing to show that he was her child. The picture above the fireplace and the portrait at his side were the only pictures left of the woman, and Jon didn’t even have the ability to look in the mirror and see some of his mom looking back. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the clock across the room read four o’clock when his dad shook him awake. The older man is leaning over the bed, blue and black suit peeking out from under the jacket and work pants. “Big day, buddy. Come on, wake up.” Jon tries to nestle back into the bed and drift off again when he remembers what the occasion was. He sat up, nearly crashing his forehead into his Dad’s causing the man to laugh. “Let’s knock out all the morning chores then we can head out. But don’t use your powers. We’re doing it the old fashioned way today.”

“Yessir!” His dad isn’t even out the bedroom door when Jon starts to strip out of his pajamas and into yesterday's jeans and his soiled tee shirt. 

“Patience, Jonathan. A few extra seconds won’t kill you.” The older man said, closing the door behind him. 

Jon stuck out his tongue at the man, not caring that Dad wouldn't see. He slipped on his socks and barreled down the stairs, eager to begin the day. Setting the animals up with breakfast and throwing the chickens some scratch took less time than Jon thought it would, and he bounced on the balls of his feet as the water filled all the troughs. He filled the goats’ bottles with shaking hands, giving them all plenty of love as he lined them all up to drink. Running outside, he saw his dad had beaten him to the punch and was already up in the skies, civilian clothes abandoned for the full suit. The black parts seemed to disappear in the dark sky, but the red House of El symbol still popped. The blue cape billowed in the breeze and adrenaline rushed through Jon’s veins and he jumped up to rest beside his father. 

“Are you ready?” Jon nodded furiously, heart beating like a jackhammer. “Go!” 

In a millisecond, the teen was off, flying into the bedroom window, careful not to shatter the glass. He changed as fast as he could into the clothes that had been laid on his bed while he had been out tending to the livestock. The shirt fit tightly across his lean figure and the crimson boots were snug on his feet, but he had no time to dwell on anything. He flew back to his dad who stopped the timer and gave a brief nod. 

“Twenty-seven and a half seconds. Not bad, but you can do better.” His cheeks burned with shame, but he agreed. Next time he shouldn't let his excitement take over like it had. “Plan of the day: for your first day on the job, you’re going to put your geography lessons to the test. You’ll lead us to Cheyenne. It's a quiet city, good for your first day. Then you’ll be the one listening and looking out for anyone that needs our help. Early morning shouldn’t be too bad, but don’t allow yourself to ever be caught off guard. What’s our mission?” 

This is the question that Dad asked before each training session. “To protect Earth and the people that make it beautiful.” 

For the first time that morning, Dad smiles. “Very good. Now lead the way, Jonno.” 

The tall young man looked up at the sky finding the position of the sun before taking off dead south. The flight from Buffalo Crossing to Cheyenne wasn’t long, but each second Jon led his dad, the more the fluttering in his stomach built. Today’s the day he had been dreaming of since he had gotten his powers eight (technically fourteen? Only if Jon decided to count space time) years ago. Honestly, it was more his dream ever since he found out his Dad is Superman when he was four years old, but since his only power then had been the super ability to talk someone’s ear off, he didn’t have any high hopes set for himself. But actually living that dream? 

It was an entirely different thing than what he had dreamt. With the state’s largest city in sight, the flutters grew to be full on butterflies and he forgot everything his dad had ever taught him about anything ever. He stopped, Dad slowing down until he too was resting. 

“What do we do now, Superboy?” He froze under his dad’s periwinkle gaze. Absent-mindedly, he began biting his lip, racking the backlog of his mind to remember what exactly he was meant to do. His heartbeat sped up, and the idea that his dad could hear how embarrassed he was only made the feeling grow. Then it hit him. 

“Oh! I’m going to focus and listen in on what’s going on in the city and pinpoint where I should go to help.”

“Who do we help first?”

“Anyone screaming?” 

Superman paused, but followed it with a nod. “Not a bad idea. You should also listen for gunshots and answer those A.S.A.P. And how can you tell the difference between a gunshot and firework?”

“One’s really high up and one’s really low. And guns don’t have an explosion after you shoot them.” Jon felt really confident in his answer, and added on, “And a car backfiring will be in rapid succession in a short time frame.” 

Dad’s smile eased some of the knots that had built up in Jon’s stomach. It said, You got this. I believe in you. So he closed his eyes and listened. It was a bit difficult to focus out the extra noise, especially since most of his training had been done deep in rural country, but eventually he heard the sound of a car repeatedly driving over the rumble strips. The sound was coming over from the highway, he couldn’t hesitate. He cleared the miles in seconds, cornflower eyes darting to find the wayward car. It didn’t take long to spot the silver pick up that was veering left and right of the far right lane. Traffic wasn’t bad, thankfully, but he still couldn’t let the man who was behind the wheel continue to drive in this condition. Superboy flew down, slowing his speed to be parallel to the driver. He tapped on the glass and gestured for the man to pull over to the side. It wasn’t until after the man reacted calmly, eyes wide and breathing heavy, hands shaking as he pulled over to the shoulder, that it occurred to the new hero that tapping on the glass of an unsuspecting driver is something that might definitely cause an accident if he ever did it again. 

But that wasn’t a problem right now, so he just glided beside the vehicle, feet touching the ground only when the man stopped the car. He rolled down the window and Jon immediately smelled the liquor coming off of him in waves. “Good morning, sir! You don’t seem to be in the right condition to drive, can I give you a ride home instead?” He flashed his prettiest smile. 

“Please, I can’t get in trouble again. I already have two DUIs and if I do it again, I’ll be locked up.” The man’s red tinged eyes began to fill, and Jon’s anxiety immediately returned. 

What a sight he must’ve been for the people driving by. It couldn’t have been everyday that they saw a man on the side of the road moving his arms furiously while talking to a now crying man on the shoulder of a highway. “No no no, I’m not a cop and I’m not going to take you there if I can just get you home instead. I promise. I only want everyone to stay safe.” 

“Really?” The driver sighed as he turned the car off and passed the keys to the half Kryptonian. “I live a few miles from here. That's gonna be okay?” 

Superboy nodded, stashing the keys in one of his many pant pockets. “Not a problem, sir. After I drop you off, I’ll swing by again with your car.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Superman keeping his distance and nodding. The man stumbled out and nearly collapsed. He caught the man quickly, reflexes kicking in as he held the man beneath the armpits like a baby kitten. It took a bit of questioning and flying around randomly, but eventually he found the man’s home and set him down on the porch before giving him his keys. The man could barely hold onto them or keep himself up so Jon tried each key on the ring before finding one that fit. He plopped the man on the couch, before taking off again to find the man’s car. Lifting it and flying it over was no problem, and he was grateful that Dad made him train lifting and setting heavy objects down gently so much. He would be so embarrassed if he just totaled the truck setting it down too fast or with too much force. He re-entered the house, seeing the man was fast asleep. He carefully turned the man over to his side and left a message on a stray sheet of paper that there’s no shame in seeking help or phoning a friend if he had too much. He left the keys on top for the man to find and took off again. Just a few blocks away, he heard what sounded like an older woman struggling with something, so he followed his ears. It was in fact an old lady, so old she had white hair and a cane, carefully walking groceries in, one bag at a time. 

She was grateful for his help and gave him a handful of little chewy candies that tasted creamy and delicious. He made sure to save some of those for Dad and flew up to see the man already waiting for him with a large smile on his face. 

“How does it feel being a hero, son?” 

Giggling, he pulled out a couple candies and offered them to the older man. “Pretty sweet.” 

Superman rolled his eyes, then asked if he could spot anyone else that needed any help. It took a moment of searching the skies to see a wisp of smoke starting to form in the heart of the city. No sirens were going off yet, so the fire had most likely ignited in just the past few moments. He signaled over to his dad who nodded in agreement and they reached their final stop of the day. Once they arrived at the second floor apartment, the room was already filling with smoke and the smoke alarms were blaring. X-ray vision didn’t show anyone in the room luckily, but he could hear a voice coming from in the apartment. He budged the window to see if it was open, but it didn’t give. On the stove however, the fire was starting to grow over the stove top nearing a bottle of oil. He gave it a good shove upward, snapping the lock before flying in. Anxiety began to blossom within him again– he didn’t have as much control over his freeze breath as he did his other powers, but heat vision and fire didn’t seem like they’d make a good combo. He focused, drawing all the heat away from his esophagus before blowing onto the flames. It simply flickered, putting up a fight. He blew harder, willing the temperature to go down until the fire was too cool to burn. 

Jon took a step back to catch his breath before checking on his work. Whatever had been in the pan was now frozen solid, but the fire was completely out, not even a linger of smoke coming off of it. He moved it off of the burner, noting how cold the metal handles were before his ears pricked. 

Behind him stood a teen boy with a bright red nose and tired eyes. “Are you Superman?” 

Jon just slowly blinked, looking around the apartment to see if anyone else was in the home. Seeing no one, he looked back on the young boy. “No, I’m not that old, thankfully. Everything okay, bud?”

The kid nodded before sniffling. “Just too sick for school and Mom never taught me how to cook. And I got tired so I took a nap.” 

He didn’t know what to do. On one hand, the kid seemed old enough to stay home without much danger, but on the other hand, the kid almost burned his home down. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone, but wouldn’t it cross some lines and be weird to just watch some random kid? While he toiled with the dilemma, the kid started talking again. “I called my mom and she called the fire department. She’s on her way home now.” 

“Do you need help with anything else?” Superboy asked, brows knit together in concern. 

“Nah, I'mma go back to sleep.” And like that, the kid turned around and wandered back through the door, not even closing it before collapsing on the bed. Jon looked around the apartment again, there wasn’t any damage to the apartment and while the smoke alarms were still going off, he didn’t think that was really his problem to deal with. He shrugged to no one before taking flight from the window. 

Dad however was not happy with how he dealt with the situation. “We’re not cold to civilians, Superboy. We’re here to make them feel safe, feel hopeful. You didn’t act like you cared about that kid at all.” 

“Dad, he was fine! The apartment was fine, the fire was out. What else was I supposed to do?” he shouted back. He couldn’t help the rage that was bubbling up inside him. He felt so small under his father’s stern gaze. He couldn’t even get a full frown from the man, just a slight downward turn of the other man’s lips, disappointment flashing through his eyes. 

“Make sure the child has food? Stay with him until his mom was home so he knew he wasn’t alone? Or I don’t know, turn the smoke alarms off so he can sleep?” Jon’s right eye began to twitch. His hands clenched into fists at his side, and he just didn’t want to see the older man in front of him anymore. Right as he was about to fly away, to go back to his room here he could just lay in bed and seethe, a hand dug into his shoulder, so tight it went past his invulnerability and began to ache. “Don’t fly away from me, son. You’re gonna make some mistakes, that’s how you learn. Lord above knows I’ve made plenty, but you don’t see me pouting about it.” 

The teen just shrugged the older man’s hand off, but didn’t make a move to fly away. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know you’re just trying to teach me,” he sighed. He closed his eyes and focused on the wind blowing around him. He felt the sun shining on his skin, and the smiling faces of the people he had helped. He opened his eyes again to see his dad had moved in front of him. The older man’s face was soft. “I just feel frustrated right now. I guess I just want to be a hero like you already. Do everything perfectly and not be second guessing myself, but you’re right. I am still learning.” 

Superman reached out, resting a hand on his son’s uninjured shoulder. “And you’re doing an amazing job. Let’s do one more job, get your spirits back up, then we’ll go home and you can take a bit of a break.” 

Jon isn’t the one to lead the way back, Dad is the first to take off, sapphire cape billowing behind him. The man seemed confident in where he was going though Jon couldn’t hear anything of note and they most definitely weren’t going in the direction for home. It also wasn’t anything dire, they continued at a leisurely pace until just a few minutes went by. Cheyenne was still visible behind them, but in front was a small town, bigger than Buffalo Crossing, but considerably smaller than the city they had just left. 

Also throughout the town were cows. Just a bunch of loose cows. A herd of brown and white Herefords were munching on the grass that carved trails through each building. 

Superman descended and faintly, Jon began to hear a grumble. “God damn cows, it's like none of them want to be steak one day.” With the same care one might have picked up a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, dad lifted one of the cattle before following the direction of the disgruntled rancher. Jon followed suit and only a mile away, they arrived seeing a thin, dark skinned man pulling out of the driveway in the most beat up truck he had ever seen in his life. Quickly, his dad set the cow down and signaled for Jon to do the same. He flew over to the man who had stopped and began to stare at them through the open window. 

“What in God’s green Earth am I seeing right now?” 

“I hope we didn’t scare you, sir. We just noticed you were having some trouble and thought you might appreciate some help.” Dad flashed his award-worthy smile, the one seen in every picture he’s ever seen of Superman, the one that won over the hearts of most of the people of Earth. “Superboy will work on patching the fence up, but we’ll make sure that all of the cattle are accounted for and in good shape.” 

The man broke into a smile, laughing. “You sure are makin’ my life a whole lot easier. Thank you so much.” He stuck a hand out through the vehicle. “The name’s Justin Long, pleasure to meet you.” 

Superman returned the handshake in full. “The pleasure’s all mine.” 

Superboy gave the man a wave before scoping out what areas needed mending. It didn’t seem to be too big of a job, the biggest issue would be working gently with the wire to not rip through it like a hot knife through butter. He manipulated the fence back and welded it back to one piece using his heat vision. Completing the hole that the cows had obviously escaped from took less than a minute, so he decided to take the time to mend some of the weaker portions of fencing as well to prevent an event like this from disrupting Mr. Justin’s day again. His dad had already dropped off three more cows during that time, and Jon didn’t want to get left behind. He took off after his dad, and with only a few more cattle left, it won’t take much longer. 

By the time all twenty-seven cows were back home, Jon was feeling really proud of himself. It would’ve been a hard job for one man to do by himself, and even if a few of the townsfolk pitched in, that didn’t mean they would succeed or that all the animals would return home uninjured. It could be a scary world out there for the fluffy little guys after all. Plus, his dad beamed at him. He smiled so wide, his eyes crinkled, just like how he used to when Jon would run up to him with a new drawing to put on the fridge or when Jon showed off a new power that had developed. 

“Good job out there. I couldn’t have done it better myself.” He reached up to tussle his son’s dark hair. 

Jon held in a laugh, and smiled back at his dad.  “I’m sure you would’ve been quicker– you’re a lot faster at flying than I am.” 

“Mm, but you’re a lot more graceful. Like a too tall ballerino.” Superman pulled the young man into a hug that the teen tried to fight his way out of. 

“Dad, people can see right now!” His cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t help but grin at his dad’s approval. If he thinks Jon was cut out for the family business, then he’s made it. 

Grass crunched as the rancher walked their way. His brown eyes shined as he shook each hero’s hands again. “I really can’t thank you enough, really. This means so much more to our family than y’all know.” His brown eyes brightened and he stepped towards Jon. “Now young man, if you need some incentive to help an old man like me out some more, I have a pretty daughter about your age. I’m sure she’d love to watch you do a man’s work.” 

Jon’s cheeks flushed again and he rubbed the back of his neck, totally flustered. Even as Superboy, he couldn’t escape parents trying to set him up. “That’s not necessary, sir. We just do it to help everyone out. Take care, and have a lovely day please.” His boots left the ground, and the farm was out of sight before he could see the middle aged man’s reaction. He headed north for home, adjusting to head more eastward before landing safely at his unlocked window, lunging through to hurriedly change into something a bit more normal than his uniform. 

It felt nice saying hello to his own livestock after helping out the Longs: it also gave him more comfort than he’d ever tell anyone else that the chances of that ever happening to his family was nearly zero percent. Stroking Taco’s grey snout, he smiled not only at the huff the donkey gave him in return for affection, but at his dad’s quick return with the downstairs window snapping shut. Only a moment later, the older Kent stepped out donning his usual outfit of a plain flannel button up and pale blue jeans. 

“Dad! Dad!” He ran over, hopping over the pipe fencing, being careful to remember to let his feet touch the soil before rushing over to the other man. “Did I do okay today?”

“Like I said earlier, I couldn’t have done it better myself, and for your first day on the job, you did a fantastic job.” Gone was the straight backed, cool and collected Superman, and back was the tired but proud dad Clark Kent. “Why don’t you take some time and get a nap in? We have some drills I’d like to go through, but I’m sure with everything that went on today, you’re exhausted.” 

The fatigue was hitting Jon. He wasn’t out of shape or rusty with any of his powers, but the emotional roller coaster did take a toll on the teen. But first he had one question he needed answered before he’d be able to retire to his bedroom for a few hours. At least if he wanted the ability to actually nap instead of tossing and turning, his head running wild with a million different trains of thought. “How long until you think we can take down the guys who killed Mom? Or at least learn who did it.  I know right now, I’m still pretty green to everything, but I-” 

Dad cut him off. “I’ll tell you when you’re ready, and I expect you not to ask me again.” His smile was gone and his dark brows casted heavy shadows over his thin face. “Right now you need to work on building a relationship with the public. I know I’ve raised you pretty sheltered, but now that you’re public, you’ll need to learn the problems that civilians face. You need to learn the best ways to help them, and they need to see that you’re being genuine when you say that you want to help them. You did a great job today, but what if in a month it gets to be too much? Honestly, Jonno, I really hope the day where you have to help me fight them never comes. It means I have done my job as your father to keep you safe, that you never have to risk your own life to make up for your mother’s passing.” 

Jon frowned. If his dad would’ve let him finish talking, he would’ve understood that Jon knew that it would take a lot of time, maybe even years, before he’d be capable of taking down the worst villains he thinks ever existed. Anger began to build up under his skin again. His eyes burned as if he was about to cry when he felt a warm hand on his back. 

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, son. I know I haven’t told you a whole lot about what happened, why it happened. It’s.. really hard for me to get up each day and know that dangerous people who want to hurt us, who want to hurt you are out there. I can tell you however, that right now they aren’t a threat, and when that changes or I know you’ll beat their behinds back to hell, you’ll be the first to know.” Strong arms wrapped Jon in a hug, and the tears started to run down Jon’s cheeks. “I love you, Jon.” 

“I love you too, Dad,” he sniffled out. “Sorry for getting upset. Sorry for bringing it up. I know you always know what you’re doing. Thank you for everything you do.” 

“Anytime, kiddo.” The Kryptonian held the young man close, letting him rest his head on the older man’s broad shoulder. They stood like that in the clearing just in front of their family home until slowly the tears ran dry and Jon’s heartbeat dropped to its regular rate. 

1700 miles east right off the coast of the Atlantic, a dark haired man sat on a plush leather couch, eyes wide in disbelief. After a long shift and busy day of meetings, all he had wanted to do was let his brain melt a little by scrolling through shitposts on Cheeper when one post sent his brain barreling a hundred miles an hour. “Dad!” he called out, voice shaking in emotion he couldn’t quite name. “B! I think you’ll want to see this!”

Chapter Text

Tinsel wrapped around each beam and column among the streets. Neon Santas waved from windows and the ring of jingling bells filled the air. Somehow the streets of Las Vegas smelled like the comforting and festive mixture of pine and cinnamon. It didn’t pair well with the smell of beer and fried food that still lingered on the strip, but Jon smiled at the holiday cheer that the city ran over with. The lights that ran along the streets weren’t lit up due to the sun still hanging high in the sky, but the amount of them almost made Jon wish he could stay in Sin City past sunset. But he didn’t think Dad would appreciate that very much. Maybe he’d be able to convince the guy to take a night off, and they could visit as proper tourists soon though.  

It wasn’t his first day alone keeping the streets safe as Superboy, but it was the first time Dad let him go out to a city with more than half a million people all by himself. Yeah the metropolitan area had more than that, but he was only focusing on the small little area that made up the Strip, but it totally still counted as a win. He didn’t even get this privilege as Jon– Dad got nervous whenever his little boy drove one town over to get scratch for the chickens. But after over two months of daily patrols and countless drills that only sometimes ended in wheezing, he got his dad’s approval. He wasn’t supposed to stay for any longer than a few hours, but the energy and the magic of Vegas had Jon walking the streets with wide eyes and a pounding heart. 

The city took some getting used to; when he had landed down behind a smelly restaurant that he thinks belonged to an old country singer that Dad liked, he immediately felt overwhelmed. Training his senses to be heightened all the time had its strengths, but the moment he heard all the hustle and bustle of the tourists, all the orders being taken, cars starting and stopping, the moment he smelled everything the city had to offer, he nearly curled over and cried. It took a moment to get his brain back in working order, but eventually he peeled himself off the asphalt and peeked over the corner of the building. The gray sky couldn’t cover up the vibrancy of the city. Buildings stretched high over the ground, each looking dramatically different from the last. Grecian, Roman, Domes, modern with a huge tower of flames coming from the top. Above him, dancing flamingos and men with blue faces gazed on and palm trees grew into the sky. The street was crowded like nothing Jon had ever seen in real life. 

Couples, families, loners, impersonators, musicians, every type of person was out there. And for once, Superboy wouldn’t look out of place. Every other city, whether it was Boise or Gilbert or Las Cruces, he was the weirdo who didn’t belong. And that made sense, with how he had Dad lived, it made sense that Earth just wasn’t an easy place for aliens to call home, even if you were only half. But here, he just walked past a dude in all black with a white painted face and black lipstick and spiked mohawk like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

But wow, the crime rate was pretty ridiculous. He had only been there for an hour or two and already stopped or corrected so many crimes. And just helped people. A lot of people were lost or separated from loved ones, but luckily he was able to help them out, even if he was probably even more lost than they were! He retrieved a few stolen purses and wallets too. There was a decent amount of police presence, but man, all they did was make it easy to hand over the criminals for punishment. 

Though now the sun was just past its high point in the sky, and he heard what had to be the fiftieth complaint about someone losing their phone at a bar. It wasn’t even tons of people were leaving their phones at a bunch of different bars, it was just the one. Superboy wasn’t especially proud of eavesdropping, and he was sure that God wouldn’t approve, but man, it made his job so much easier than asking around like a weirdo or waiting for people to come to him. He’d just never be able to tell Dad what exactly his methods were. He didn’t have a lot of time left on the Strip, but still he stood outside the mysterious Oasis Bar. It was quite dark and dreary despite its name. He really expected some more palm trees, some lush green decorations, at the very least by the door, but nope. Superboy had never been to a bar so maybe he wasn’t one to talk, but the other bars he passed didn’t seem anywhere near this level of grody. 

He stepped in, heavy boots sticking to the floor with each step. He did his best to blend in with the crowd, fully zipping up leather jacket and untucking his pants to cover as much of the crimson boots as possible. His unruly hair swept over his forehead, and though he couldn’t do anything to disguise his height, he really hoped that his dad’s old glasses still did the same old trick. A piece of him died a little sure, but it was for the mission. Didn’t need anyone stopping by to see what Superboy was up to. Not that it happened a lot. But still each time gave him happy little flutters and made him smile like a dork. 

The first time he had been recognized while out on patrol, his dad gave him a whole lecture about how far it meant he came as a hero, but at the same time put a target on his back. He would also have to do a better job at separating Jon and Superboy to prevent anyone from revealing anything about themselves, but that didn’t come up as often as he thought it would. He’d always worn his glasses ever since Dad gave them as a gift for getting his first power, but considering his social group didn’t expand much past Buffalo Crossing, separating personas didn’t seem super necessary. 

Around him, the bar was filled with chatter. The bartender was a stern man, a few decades older than Jon himself. Trying his hardest to ignore the smell emanating from God knows where in the flooring, he gave the man a smile that wasn’t returned. He just looked at Jon silently, and the teen just looked back. 

Finally, the bartender grumbled, “What do ya want?” 

Oh, yeah. That is what people do in bars. They order drinks and drink them. He racked his brain for an answer that wasn’t just water, because that would be suspicious, and when the new silence was about to give him a heart attack, he blurted out, “Shirley Temple, please. Thank you so much, sir.” He smiled again, but it went unnoticed since the bartender immediately jumped into making the drink. 

He looked around the bar, slowly sipping the pink drink. No one was talking about phones or even seemed too out of it to just be leaving stuff behind. It was just normal stuff like relationship issues, evil bosses, flirting that made him uncomfortable. Normal stuff. Everyone looked like they were having a good time despite the environment, and as his gaze swept over the crowd again, a pair of bright blue eyes met his. The man was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the building, jet black hair that looked like the night sky under the dim lights. He sat in the booth confidently, taking up nearly all of the space, arm stretched over the back. Jon quickly looked away, turning his attention back to his drink but trying to pinpoint what the woman sitting across from that man was saying. She was talking about some business, something about how they needed to engineer some sort of new technology to stay ahead of the market, but after a few minutes, the man still hadn’t said anything. Jon turned around again, using his x ray vision to see what he might’ve missed during his initial assessment. And wow, the blonde woman had so many phones in her huge violet purse. He looked up at the man again, only to make direct eye contact. A chill went down his spine. He went back to his drink, taking out his wallet to pay the bartender. Somehow, the dude was onto him in some way, but he needed to get a lead on that woman. At least to figure out how she managed to get a hold of so many phones and leave perfectly cognizant people unaware of how any of it happened. 

A few seats down, a woman sat her head down in her hands, suddenly groaning. Footsteps approached from behind him, and lightning quick he saw the sapphire eyed man just a few feet away. His eyes went wide. Jon must've matched as he threw cash down on the counter, shouting a thank you to the indifferent bartender as he high tailed it out of there. The stranger’s gaze followed Jon, feeling as if it lingered even after he left the bar. Ignoring it, he ducked into the closest alley, pulse matching the rhythm of a jackhammer at full power. 

Deep breath in, hold, and let it out. 

He repeated this a few times before his heartbeat finally stopped hammering in his chest. He was kicking himself. Such a scaredy-cat move. Superboy sighed as he unzipped his jacket and hid the glasses in an inner pocket. Just as he was reaching to tuck his pants back into his boots, a scream pierced the air. It wasn’t nearby, but it was loud. And it sounded awfully like a little girl. 

He jumped into the air, the scream gone in an instant and now replaced with heart wrenching sobs. Flying down the street, praying with everything he believed in that the kid was safe. Obviously terrified, but safe. 

He searched the area, wasting no time in using x-ray to get the fastest route to her. It didn’t take long for the cries to lead him to one of the many resorts. A huge pineapple statue stood atop a tower, but huddled on the edge was a little girl, no older than six years old. Superboy took his time approaching her– there was only an inch in between where she sat and a thirty foot drop. Her head was between her knees as she sobbed. 

“Hey there, everything okay?” He smiled at the girl ignoring his own fear building in his heart. If she moved the wrong way or jumped too fast, she would fall. He’d be able to catch her, but just the possibility of her fall would be too traumatic for her to carry. 

Thankfully, the girl peered up slowly, tan skin blotchy and red from crying. “Superboy?” 

“That’s me! What’s your name?” He drifted closer to the girl. 

“I’m Amelia.” The young girl sniffled again and looked back at the space between her feet. “I’m scared. I don’t want to fall.” 

“You won’t fall, I promise. I’m here with you.” Amelia didn’t look up, she wasn’t moving toward him or asking to be taken down. But she wasn’t crying anymore. She was just frozen, a common fear tactic, especially for young kids. Superboy took a deep breath in before asking what she was doing so high in the sky on the fluorescent sign. 

“I just wanted to take a picture so I could show all my friends. They keep calling me a crybaby, but I’m not a crybaby!” Her voice cracked as she almost began sobbing again. “I dropped Mommy’s phone though.” 

“Well,” he began, gesturing at the people below that were taking pictures and videos of the duo. Some had the hones close to their ears, speaking with authorities on getting the girl help, but a shocking amount were just rubber necking “I think you’ll have plenty to show them. Do you want to go down and help me find where your family is? I think they’re worried about you.” They were. Even though he was trying to focus solely on Amelia, he couldn’t quiet a mother’s scream. Where’s my baby? Has anyone seen her?  

She looked back up, skin clearer but brown eyes still puffy. “Are you gonna fly me like the cows?” 

He nodded, thought he was amazed at what made sense in kids’ brains because that definitely didn’t make any sense to him. His hands stretched out to her, embracing her tiny hand as he pulled her close to his chest, face out so she can enjoy the once in a lifetime view of being so high up, breeze blowing her hair as they flew back down to ground level. As their feet touched the waterpark area where the worried woman’s voice was echoing from, Amelia leapt out of his arms. “Mommy!”

“Oh, Amelia, you’re okay! Thank goodness! Where were you? We were all so scared.” A woman with the same straight nose and dark hair knelt down to the girl, holding her close as tears ran down her cheeks. 

“Amelia?” A familiar deep voice joined the mix as a greying haired man ran to the group. He held his family close, before looking up and meeting his daughter’s hero in the eyes. He paused before his eyes glimmered with recognition. “Superboy?”

It took a moment for him to respond, he was caught up trying to find where the little girl could’ve escaped from- the entire area was fenced off aside from the door to the resort which was controlled by a keypad. Kids were so terrifying. The breaking voice coming from the older man sent Jon back in the moment. 

“Yes, sir?” He sent the man a grin that he hoped didn’t come off as rude, before the familiar features clicked in his brain. Now the cow comment made sense. “Mr. Long! So nice to see you again!” He walked closer to the family, getting on his knees to be on their level. 

The rancher didn’t hesitate to pull him into the hug as well. Superboy froze, surprised at the affection, but he melted in the warm embrace. Then the furious sound of speeding flip flops came barrelling their way. 

“Amelia, oh my god, if you ever do that again, I swear-!” Jon looked up to see a short woman who was somehow in a bright blue swimsuit despite the cool weather, joining them in the hug. Her long ponytail brushed Superboy’s shoulder, tickling his arms. 

The moment lasted until all the tears had dried until they stood, the reality of the situation finally dawning on them. 

Mr. Long was the first to speak. “Superboy, I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done. First, you save our livelihood and now you’ve saved half of our whole world.” 

“Anyone would’ve done it, sir. There’s no need to thank me.” He looked back over the family, Mr. Long resting a hand on Amelia’s shoulder while his wife was speaking to her in a low voice that she should never wander off from Mommy and Daddy ever again. The older sister just stood and stole a glance in his direction. He heard her heartbeat go from fast to faster. Her gaze was guarded, depression hesitant. His own picked up at the idea that he accidentally scared the little girl. She was so scared to be so far up, should he have held her close to his chest instead so that she wouldn’t be reminded of how high up they were? “I hope I didn’t scare you too much, Amelia.” 

The little girl just beamed with a huge toothy grin. “Nope! It was really scary but then you saved me and you’re Superboy! It was cool!” She ran out of her parents' grasp to wrap her short arms around his legs. “Do I get to tell everyone that I got to fly with you?” 

That got a laugh out of him and he gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. “Well, it’s the truth isn’t it? I don’t see why not.” 

She gave a squeal before going back to her mom to tell the probably terrifying story of how she got where she did. 

Seeing as there was nothing left for him to do, he was about to take off to make the flight home when the eldest daughter stepped towards him. Her warm skin was flushed pink, but her dark eyes met his as she, in a quiet voice, asked, “Did you see my Cheeper post? I promise, I didn’t think it would go viral.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s cheaper than what?” He cocked his head at her, trying to figure out how to best answer her, but he truly had no idea what she was talking about. If it was anything related to the digital world, he was SOL. Even his friends weren’t allowed any internet use that wasn’t solely for educational purposes. Rebecca’s family didn’t even allow that, they just had to use books and notes they took from their father’s lessons. 

“Oh, thank god you’re an alien,” she laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say thank you for helping my family again.” That comment felt a little offensive, but the smile she gave him more than made up for it.

Her skin began to prickle with goosebumps along her forearms and Jon had never wished that he had a jacket on hand more. “It’s really no problem, miss…” He trailed off. The two made uncomfortable eye contact as her face dropped from a smile to a frown. Even that didn’t make Superboy want to take his eyes off of her. Her dark eyes seemed to peer right into his soul, hands resting on her cocked hips. His face must’ve been beet red. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name.” 

“Wow, you save my cows and my little sister, and don’t even know my name? How rude.” She looked him up and down, obviously unimpressed, and as Jon began to shrink into himself, her expression broke. She laughed,“No no, don’t do that. I was just messing with you..” 

His nerves settled, but he still felt close to puking. Or at least he thinks that’s what this feeling is. “Sorry we had to meet like this.” 

She just shrugged. That was when he noticed just how much of her he could see- she wasn’t in anything that showed a lot of skin or ‘indecent’ as his dad would say, but it wasn’t like Jon had a lot of opportunities to see a girl his own age that showed more than forearms and knees. His face grew warm. He didn’t know which would be worse, just straight eye contact or looking anywhere else. But he really couldn’t look away from her brilliant smile. “I don’t think there is any nice way to meet a superhero, but whatevs. I’m Natalia.” 

She stuck a hand his way which he shook with as little pressure as possible until she squeezed his palm with more force than he thought she’d be capable of. He responded in kind, not a lot of force, but just enough that she’d feel some of his strength too. 

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Superboy.” 

“For that weak ass handshake though, you owe me a selfie.” She turned away from him before he could even ask, what in the world is a selfie?

She chatted with her family for a bit before returning with Amelia in tow and a phone in hand that Jon had no idea where she had gotten it from. Knots began to grow in his stomach as each sister stood to either side of him, the young woman’s arm outstretched in front of them all. Amelia wrapped Superboy’s legs in a hug again, and Natalia used her free arm to pull Superboy by the neck closer to her own level. 

“Come on, Superboy, give us one of those famous smiles!” He took a look at the smiles beside him and the grins coming from the Longs, and one instinctively spread across his face. Snap! Just as quickly as it had started, her touch was gone and she was looking at the device. “My followers are gonna love this one. Thank you, Supes!” 

His heart jumped. Natalia took her sister’s hand in her own before scurrying off to rejoin their parents. A part of him hoped that she’d turn around one last time, just another moment where he’d see her again, but the moment never came. He took a moment to take in the scene one last time. It was just a happy family, who loved each other, who were happy, who were complete. The sight, no matter how heartwarming it was, drove a cold knife through him. Mrs. Long had both girls in a hug yet again, petting both girls’ hair as she whispered how much she loved them. And Mr. Long looked at all three with such warmth, such pride in who they were. 

The sun was beginning to set though, and he needed to go home before he went from being kinda-sorta late to very late. He took off, turning back to get one last look at the city. At night, it must be beautiful. It took his breath away even in the daylight, but now he could see the lights twinkling on the huge Christmas tree a mile or so from where he just was. The city was just beginning to glow neon, but that would be a sight he’d have to see at another time. 

He didn’t break any of his personal records going home, but his return time was shorter than the trip there. It was just shy of six when he entered through his window to change. Only the jacket was off before a knock came from the open bedroom door. 

“How was Vegas? Lose any money?” His dad peered into the room, a small smile on his face. 

“I mean I think I paid a bartender twenty bucks for a Shirley Temple, but I had to get out of there quick.” Dad laughed at that, pulling his son in for a light noogie. “I did save a little girl though. And a lot of purses. The crime rate there is crazy.” 

“It is, but that’s what happens in big cities especially where gambling and drinking is encouraged.” Dad sat on the edge of the bed. “Did anything else interesting happen? You were out for a while.” 

Jon ran through the events of the day, though purposefully avoiding some of the details of his interaction with Natalia, ending with what went down at the bar and the pickpocketing ring at The Oasis. 

The older man went stiff. “I’ll go back and finish the case for you, Jon. For now, you need to lay low. Stick to smaller towns, smaller jobs. I’ll handle everything else.” 

Dark eyebrows drew close together. “How come, dad? It was scary, sure, but I think all villains kinda are.” 

Dad just shook his head, all traces of a smile gone and his light eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “This can be bad. But it might not be. Just please,” The look of dread sent Jon’s heart quickly to his stomach. Dad never looked like this. Never. Not even when it came to mom. “Stay safe for me. Even if it turns out to be nothing, I’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

“Of course, Dad. I trust you.” 

The older Kent relaxed a little bit and stood up. “I’ll give you some time to relax. You had a busy day out there. I’ll go take care of my end of things, but don't go thinking you’re exempt from chores. The goats have been missing you” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Dad.” He gave the man a smile, hoping he’d maybe get one back and that his dad was more okay than he was letting on, but the other hero just walked out of the room. It didn’t even take a minute before he felt the empty presence that overtook the house. 

What could be going on that was so threatening that he had to be taken off duty? Of course, he knew bits and pieces of what happened the night Mom was taken away from them, but was this that serious? It was just a pickpocket ring with an overly confident leader. He finished changing, the smell of vegas still lingering in his clothes. The comfy pair of pajama pants and tee shirt didn’t do a lot to settle his mind Jon collapsed in his bed, mind spinning. 

But no matter how many times he went over it, it just didn’t make sense. Jon pursed his lips, frustrated at how confusing everything was and if it even needed to be this confusing. He had enough though. He was an adult now, and had kinda been one for a while technically, and he’d help this time. The look in his father’s eyes, how low he carried himself, it was obvious that the load he was carrying on his shoulders was too much. He shot up out of bed. He’d have to figure it out all on his own if Dad wouldn’t tell him, but that couldn’t stop him. He had to be a hero!

And so, he spent the next hour going over each article of his mother’s, looking for any mention of a villain who’d be this much of a threat. But there was nothing. It was just articles covering the introduction of Superman to Metropolis, his dad saving a cat, the man holding up an entire building so that the people inside could evacuate before it collapsed. He already knew it would be fruitless, but what if he was wrong? What if something was hidden away in the fine print or written somewhere on the back? The only bad guy yMom ever mentioned was a guy named Lex Luthor, but he just dealt in shady business dealings. Couldn’t have been too shady since the man was president, but he’d have to get added to the list of suspects.

He scavenged the entire house, searching every drawer for anything that would give him any amount of information to work with. But nothing in the huge, stupid house told him anything! 

The final room was dad’s. He turned everything over, careful to leave the items in the same place that he had left it, but the same thing happened. His dad was a man of few possessions and the most telling things were an annotated Bible with a weird amount of Romans highlighted. The teen collapsed on the floor, trying his hardest not to scream in anger. Why did his dad have to be so private? Nothing in the room even told the story of what kind of man lived there. Nothing screamed This is Clark Kent! Nothing from his days as a reporter, no notebooks, nothing showing his love of goofy old shows or baby animals or country music. It was like a hotel room, except there weren’t even any pictures on the wall.

One idea occurred to him, but it felt wrong. So so wrong and dirty. The man was secretive, and probably planned on his son searching his room one day. But the man heavily instilled the importance of privacy, and he probably never counted on that value getting broken. He closed his eyes and focused. His powers never really worked as well in the house, everything was so muffled and he honestly felt a bit blind walking around the place compared to the great outdoors, but with enough focus, he felt it kick in. He opened his eyes, x-raying the room for any secrets that may lie within the four walls. Walls he couldn’t see through, but that was probably just a limitation of his half human side. Nothing was out of place, it was the same things he saw earlier. Even the weirdly full sock drawer didn’t have anything hidden within it. And that was kinda what he was banking on since it seemed like such a popular hiding spot in movies. 

When he glanced over the bed though, something was off. Something small and flat was wedged between the mattress and box spring. Jon rushed over, sticking a hand in between to fish it out. It was a photograph. Of dad’s life before. 

He wasn’t Superman, he was just Clark in a stained tee shirt and hair a mess of curls, standing beside an exhausted brunette who laid on a hospital bed. And in her arms was a small baby, just a shock of dark hair with chubby cheeks and red face. It was them. All together. Whole. 

His eyes began to burn, but he couldn’t look away. His mom was obviously exhausted, bags under her eyes and her short hair was sticking up in every direction, but she was smiling. Not a posed smile like in the other pictures, but a small one like she was the happiest she had ever been, violet eyes looking squarely at baby Jon. He was swaddled in a pink and blue blanket, held close to her in her arms. For so many years, he missed his mom, wished he could feel her love, wished she could be right beside him as he went through life, help guide him where he needed it. He knew he couldn’t have that, nt anymore, but he just wanted some evidence that she had been there, that she was with them at some point even if he could barely even remember. 

But Dad kept this all to himself. 

He looked at the older man in the picture, scowling. But, the man was so different. His light eyes were so full of life, hair longer than Jon had ever seen it intentionally. His shoulders were broad, seeming almost as wide as the bed Mom was on. His dad’s face was fuller, jaw square and chiselled. He sat so relaxed, so free in the chair. 

What had happened that night? His dad had never looked like this, and if Jon’s math was correct (which it was, it was just subtraction after all), then his dad should be right about the same age now. But Dad looked nothing like this. Yeah the eyes were the same and the hair was just as dark, but the man was always tense. Even his relaxed state was so straight laced that it was hard to believe he had ever looked like anything else. He was thinner now, shoulders still broad, but smaller than they had been. He was just thinner over all, his face now lanky, his chin pointed when it had previously been square. Compared to this man, this Dad that he had never known, he was gaunt, frail. 

Broken, even. 

That’s why. That’s why dad hid this away. If anyone saw it, they would see just how much one night had destroyed the Man of Steel. He just slipped it back under the mattress. Chores still had to be done, but then he should just eat and go to bed. He had done enough for the night. 

The morning after, Jon was just about to head out, keys in hand and bag over his shoulder. The house may not have been able to tell him much, but the library was sure to have something. Even just more information about the man his dad used to be would be something. Even if it wasn’t important, it was beginning to dawn on him that he really only knew the man as Dad, and nothing about him as Clark. He was just the man who made Jon run until the man decided he was done and made him eat vegetables. It never really it Jon before that the man had a whole life before he had come along. The chores had all been squared away, and he had even taken care of Dad’s share as well since the man was already late coming back. 

But then the door came crashing in. The man didn’t even look back at the entryway as he stomped towards the stairs before catching a glimpse at the younger man. He looked Jon up and down, gaze hard as stone. “What’s going on with you? Your heart’s beating like a hummingbird’s.”

“Just heading out. I won’t be out long.” Jon shrank in the man’s stare. Superman’s hands were clenched into fists and negative energy radiated off the man. “Sir.” he added on, just for extra safety. 

“Well, where are you going?”

“Just to the library.” His heart skipped a beat. His dad didn’t seem like he was about to let up. “I just want to be extra prepared for starting school. I’m kinda nervous about it.” 

“You’re lying.” The man’s voice was cold and void of any emotion. “Why even try to lie to me, Jon? You know it’s pointless.” 

His heart stopped. Jon looked down into his dads eyes. What he saw was blown pupils and half casted periwinkle eyes looking straight through him. “I’m sorry, Dad. I am going to study, but I was also gonna look into your old stuff because I snooped last night. When you left I was really confused and frustrated and I found the picture under your bed. And I’m worried about you, you’re the same age as you were then now and you look so different. You’re thinner and you look so tired all the time and I just- I’m sorry.” 

Everything came out so fast he wondered if the man had even understood his word vomit. After a long unblinking stare, Dad lunged forward, pulling his son closer by the collar of his tee. “You should be thankful that I am not the man my father is.” Jon began to tremble. Under the older man’s grasp, the shirt began to tear but that didn’t stop the man from tightening his hold more. “I wouldn’t have been able to see the light of day for a week if I pulled half the bullshit you do.” 

Without another glance, he threw the boy forward, back hitting the floor only cushioned by the book bag on his back. His keys were missing along with Dad. He hasn’t felt this small since… Just so many years. Tears burned in his eyes. If he knew that this would be how Dad reacted, he wouldn’t have done anything. He would’ve just stayed under the radar like Dad ordered, just let whatever it is blow over.  Even through the fear though, something confused him. He didn’t know that grandpa was scarier than Dad, that the man had been mean at all. He very faintly remembered laughing in an old man’s lap, the world golden around them. But that must’ve been Grandpa Sam. That grandpa had died not long after that night. 

Minutes passed by, but Jon stayed in that spot. Dad hadn’t come back and tears hadn’t spilled, but Jon felt sobs racking in his chest. He didn’t want Dad seeing him like this, he couldn’t. Dad would say he’s too weak to be Superboy and he wouldn’t get to help anyone ever again. The floor felt shaky underneath him, and he didn’t care enough to keep his backpack from slipping down his arm. It took all of his energy to climb up the stairs and finally get the chance to throw himself into his bed. 

The world blurred around Jon. The ceiling above him seemed too still and the home was too quiet despite the sounds of all the animals coming from outside. His shirt was beyond saving for anything but a rag. Luckily, it wasn’t a shirt he cared about, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the frayed cotton and stretched out collar that laid limp against his chest. The pukey feeling came back, but it was way less exciting than it had been the day before. Then it hit him. Dad talked about Grandpa in present tense. Dad’s dad had died years before Jon was even born. 

Before he could think any further, a knock came from the door. Jon didn’t even get the chance to tell the older man to leave him alone before the door opened. He was in his regular clothes now, no longer in the blue and black costume that made him look so much grander than a old fashioned farmer. He gave Jon a small smile but only got a pout in response. “Hey bud, can I come in?”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, you’re just gonna do it anyway.” 

Dad sighed, but walked into the room regardless, sitting right by the teen. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that at all. You’re just young and curious, and I get it. I shouldn’t have hidden that picture from you anyways– you deserve to know how much your mom loved you.” Jon sat up when he heard the older man’s voice begin to crack. The pit in his stomach hadn’t disappeared entirely, and he was still upset by everything that had happened, but those feelings had to be put on hold for the moment. This was another new for Jon. No matter what happened, whether it was the anniversary of losing the people he loved most or a low harvest season or banged up knee, his dad never cried. But there he was, a tear making its way down past a high cheekbone before catching on the man’s nose. “To answer your question earlier, I’m not okay, Jonathan. I haven’t been- I’ve been so scared all these years. Since I saw Lois’ laying there on the floor. Since I saw that you were still in bed sleeping like nothing had happened, and being so scared of what if something happened to you?

“I have so many enemies that I can’t even remember them all. What if I can’t protect you from them? What if they take you away from me and I’m left with no one to love? What if they come back for me or they hurt you just to get at me? And since that night, I just keep making more enemies and losing friends, and I just can’t be the man I used to be anymore. I didn’t want you to see that.” 

All Jon could do was nod. Dad continued crying in complete silence, each drop just springing from the man until it landed on the floor. “I think I understand. You’re not going against them alone anymore though, we’ll take on whoever we need to together.” 

Jon leaned into the embrace when his dad pulled him in. “I guess you’re not my little man anymore. You deserve to know what I know, but I’ll warn you now, it isn’t a lot.” The man breathed another sigh, and Jon looked at his face, shocked to see that he wasn’t crying anymore. His eyes were still tinged red, but all other evidence just seemed to disappear as if it never happened at all. “The one I’m concerned with right now is a family of detectives. One of the sons looks like the man you described, and I wouldn’t put it past them to be involved in some shady business. They have a warped moral code, they use all their technology to take down people who they think deserve it. And sometimes they do, but they won’t make any exceptions for those that are mentally unwell or come from situations where crime is the only option to live. Lucky for us however, they’re all humans. But that doesn’t mean that they’re weak.” 

Periwinkle met blue as Jon processed it all. “How many of them are there? What should I look for?” 

Dad hummed. He looked up at the ceiling, taking a moment to think over his response. “I know the leader is a man and he has a few sons and a couple of daughters. He works with a few others and the police force, but don’t worry too much about it right now, Jonno. They live across the country. Give me a few, and I’ll have some better info for you. Just avoid anyone who dresses up as a bat or any kind of bird.” Jon’s eyes went wide. “I know, but they actually do that. It’s really ridiculous.” 

Jon forced a small smile. Dad returned it with one of his own, helping to unwind the knots that had made Jon’s stomach its home. His head was still reeling, his dad had never even mentioned anything like this ever before. And these people sounded like they really sucked. Who chooses flying rodents to theme themselves around? Ew. “Since we’re talking, can you tell me more about what happened the night Mom died?” 

Keys dug into his palm, careening him back into the moment. “Not now, Jonno. You might appreciate these though if you want to still head to the library without exposing the family business.” 

That got a chuckle out of the young man. “Yeah, thank you, Dad. And thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry that I broke that trust though.” 

Dad stood, arms raised high above his head as he stretched, probably trying to clear some of his own tension from not only the fight, but the prior night. “Your old man needed a kick in the ass, I think. You’re a grown man now, surely you can live with the knowledge of a bat who can’t even fly.”

Jon laughed again and faux gasped at his dad cursing. That was a rare occurrence generally reserved for holiday dinners. “I think I can handle it. But yeah, I promise to be careful, and I’ll keep an eye out for anything weird.” He stood alongside his dad and hugged the shorter man. “I love you, Dad.” 

Tentative arms wrapped back around him. “I love you too, son.”

Chapter Text

After years of patching up wounds, studying how to best take down any opponent that may come his way, and how to avoid disfiguring or slaughtering his enemies, Damian should not be struggling this much with something as mundane as anatomy and physiology. Naturally, he had already had a great grasp on the subject– or at least he thought he did– but this paired with pharmacology was resulting in his life becoming a living nightmare. Only three days until the unit exam, and he had hundreds of slides to go over and over and over until they were firmly embedded in his brain. He didn’t become top of his class by doing nothing. Others may not have furiously taken notes to the caliber he strived for, but others didn’t maintain a 4.0 GPA while continuing extracurriculars. 

His hobbies admittedly had dwindled as he continued into his second year, although it wasn’t due to any lack of effort. He was already used to running on no sleep and feeling the walls close in around him as everything around him seemed to be too much. Damian had long trained to work through it, save it all for when he could properly scream followed by hitting something and passing out. But the occasion for that hadn’t arrived for the past fortnight. The past weekend he couldn’t even get the chance to don the cape to patrol the streets. After the fall semester he had suffered through, he desired nothing more than to take his frustrations out on someone, something, but there was only so much time in the day which he had grown acutely aware of. But errands popped up, the slideshows he studied from were atypically dense, life metaphorically hit him in the groin, and for the first time in quite a while, Damian just had to cry. 

He didn’t tell anyone that of course. Alfred had seemed to know on instinct, and brought up some tea for him, but that left him locked up in his room listening to music that even Jason would call depressing. 

As he rewrote each line, eyes darting from one tab to another, his hands shook, eyes twitching. If he could just wrap up the last bit of studying he needed and test himself for proper understanding of the biomechanisms at play when dealing with overlapping psychiatric medications, he’d have an hour to patrol before getting in bed with a couple hours to spare before repeating it all the next day. On the other hand,  if he had to listen to one more snort coming from Tim, he would snap before he could even finish the slide he was currently on. 

It wasn’t a snort that broke his focus in its entirety however. It was a shout. 

“Dad!” His older brother practically jumped from his seat.” B! You’ll want to see this!” 

Tim’s voice was quivering. It seemed unsure, confused by whatever he wanted Father to see. But it had to be urgent if the man couldn’t manage to pry himself from the Italian leather couch to bring it to the man himself. Damian stood and walked over to where his brother sat. He rolled his eyes at the privacy screen that blocked his view, but bent over from behind the sofa to see what the fuss was about. Damian always knew that his rival brother loved to waste away his intelligence with stupid posts on social media, and this just happened to be another example of that. Just a vapid post made by a woman who found two men attractive. The men were dressed in costumes of some sort however, though Damian had yet to hear of any vigilantes that worked in areas filled with nothing but cows. Admittedly though, he has been a bit more out of the loop as of late. If it wasn’t related to the circulatory system or standard hospital operating procedures, he was fairly out of touch with it. Just as he was about to roll his eyes and dismiss Tim’s hysterics, a fine detail caught his eyes. 

It was small- the photo had to be taken from at least ten yards away so many of the fine attributes were blurred together- but it was unmistakable. One of the men bore a scarlet symbol of the House of El, the other, blue, created by the negative space of the scarlet on his own suit. Both had their feet on the ground, looking somewhere that the camera hadn’t captured. The land around them was barren aside from fencing and cows. Both had dark hair, but neither wore the uniform of the Man of Steel. 

The taller of the two was darned in a simple blue tee shirt paired with navy pants of some variety and knee high boots that matched the emblem on his chest. The other was more familiarly dressed, blue cape billowing behind him with matching gauntlets on his arms. Thankfully, the caption gave them the terrific and very helpful information that these were apparently ‘the hottest men’ and that the woman who posted was ‘#blessed’ by their presence. 

Father finally appeared, seeming to be internally preparing himself for whatever it might be that his child was showing him, face detached and bags under his blue eyes. The man always remained prepared, but when it came to his kids’ social media feeds, he learned from an experience with Dick to remain more cautious than he had previously. 

He bent down as well, icy eyes scanning every detail before him. Damian watched as his father’s eyes widened and narrowed within a fraction of a second. “That’s not Clark.” 

Tim couldn’t tear his gaze away from the picture, zooming in to see any details he might have missed. “I know. I think one is Jon though,” he pointed to the shorter of the two men. “ Look at his stance. That’s exactly how Clark carried himself.” 

Their father took the phone and stood. He was totally unreadable, eyes not even giving away whatever it was that he was thinking. He had slipped from being Bruce and into Batman. No longer a man searching for any tidbits about his missing friend, but a detective who couldn’t afford to be emotionally attached to a case. Damian moved to stand beside the older man, but due to the height difference and Tim’s stupid privacy screen, there wasn’t a single thing he could see aside from the date that was posted just underneath the photograph. October 1.

It was only taken the day prior. With no proof that the men could fly, they could still be in the area for questioning. Damian shifted to look at Father’s expression analyzing to see if the man was concocting any semblance of a plan, but he saw nothing and the man just handed the phone back over to Tim. 

“It is similar, but that means nothing. Superman was a global figure, these could be copycats of some variety. There’s zero proof of these vigilantes having powers. For now, save that picture to the file with any relevant data.” Bruce ordered, focused on the phone that had locked due to inactivity. He took a deep breath in before retreating from the room. As soon as the man crossed the threshold, the two brothers waited a beat before opening the post up again. 

Damian compared the size of the cows to the men. Fencing came in a variety of heights that could be unpredictable without knowing the scale of others, but cows could only be so big. The red and white pattern led him to believe that they could only be purebred Hereford cows, a breed specifically for beef production which would explain the large empty land. That breed generally only grew to four and a half feet at the shoulders which met the shorter man in blue at his sternum. “The short one’s not Jon. The growth charts wouldn’t line up.”

Tim looked up, blue eyes meeting Damian’s green. “How do you know? They could be some big cows.”

“That breed doesn’t grow taller than five feet at the withers. Jon was already nearing four feet tall when he disappeared. That also means that man is also too short to be Clark, and I doubt Kryptonians continue to grow taller in height during middle age ruling out the other man as well. However,” Damian reached to zoom in on the taller man with the scarlet S shield. “If either of the men are the youngest Kent, I’d gather that this one is Jonathan. If the picture was better quality we’d be able to compare this versus the last known picture of him.” 

Tim nodded. “Too bad we can’t see their faces better. If it is Jon though, why wasn’t Kara able to find him? Where could they be hiding that she couldn’t find them?” The older of the two was biting his lip, eyes darting from place to place, detail to detail on the very bare picture. “We can’t even see a gate or anything to know where the ranch could be. I’ll dig into the profile later to see if she’s posted anything else.” 

Tim locked the phone, placing it right beside him as he went to rub his eyes. “I really need to squeeze a nap in before patrol tonight. Actually stepping into the business world sucks, I miss just being there in name only.” 

“Tt. No one made you join, Tim. That was your own doing.” Damian sulked. If he didn’t play his cards quite right, Tim would know what he was planning. He stepped away from the sofa back to the table where he was studying, quick to pretend that he was simply resuming his work. He scribbled down the poster’s username. He doubted his father would involve himself directly with delving into the woman’s social media. That was work he had previously saved for Oracle when she worked with them full time and now was left up to Tim who worked so slowly that if it was left up to him, these men would be gone from wherever she lived and relocated to who knows where. 

His brother scoffed, but stood, arms stretched in front of him. “Someone had to- it’s not as if any of you guys are fighting to take over the family business.” 

“Yes, Timothy. No one wants to inherit an international corporation and  be responsible for keeping the streets clean.” Damian furrowed his brows, turning his attention to the power point that a teacher’s assistant had posted to the class’s online cloud. “Both seem to be rather dismal if you ask me.”

“They are.” Damian’s eyebrows shot up, eyes wide at the other’s response. Of all of the Wayne children, Tim was the least likely one in Damian’s book to agree with him that the caped work they assumed each night was miserable, dreary, backbreaking torture. But he supposed that being so absent from the uniform had made his detective skills dull. “Hey, since you’re going to be a doctor, you’ll be able to help put us back together right?” 

“Only if you all transform into children.” He didn’t look up as the older man left the room, listening for the footsteps that trailed down the hallway before dampening as they climbed the stairs. Seconds went by and Tim wasn’t going to be turning around. 

Damian minimized the app, replacing it with a note app that was buried so far under all the antimalware he had almost forgotten about its existence. Keyword being almost . 

It wasn’t hard to jot down all that he had known about the cold case of the missing Kents. Everybody with a modicum of relation to the Justice League knew the case almost backward and forward. Even if they weren’t there, they worked with someone who was. Whether it was mournful reminiscing of the boy whose diapers they had changed and how little he had been when they met him at a surprise JLA meeting. Feats of strength that gave Superman his name, but how he still remained so modest and gentle. How his wife was the opposite, brave hearted and fearless of anything that would come her way, never scared to get to the truth of anything that caught her careful eye. Everyone who wasn’t already a crazed maniac with dreams of ruling the planet loved all three members of the picture perfect, all American family. 

And with no alien invasions or drastic events that had happened fourteen summers ago, the family’s disappearance made no sense to anyone. The story that each person told was that the Man of Steel was his normal abnormally optimistic self, enjoying the time of peace that the League had brought to the point that he had asked Dick to baby sit his young son the next day so that he and Lois could get some time together. But by the next morning, anything related to the Kents was reduced to a pile of ash. Literally. 

Several League members hit the scene before Dick even had the chance to ask what time he’d be needed, Father included. The farmhouse tucked squarely away into the middle of nowhere was still smoldering with firefighters hosing down the home. Batman was checking the trackers that he had put in each of the Kents’ belongings: the suit’s tracker went offline just a few minutes before the one installed in Lois’ purse. The fire had destroyed nearly everything about the building, so it didn’t raise any alarms that those had disintegrated. It meant that whatever had happened had left the Kents without any time to grab their essentials. What was odd was that the tracker placed into Jonathan’s little stuffed dog that he carried everywhere was the only one that wasn’t burnt. Instead it laid scattered through the yard in a million shards. As if destroyed with super strength. 

When the ashes had cooled off enough, they were combed through over and over, each time turning up nothing. The fires had raged hot enough that nothing was left behind. That at least led the team to understand that the fire wasn’t caused by anything natural, but with no point of origin or trace of accelerant. No remains were found at all despite only one occupant being entirely human. It was up for debate whether Jon’s remains would be exterminated the same way as his mother’s, but not even the Batman or Question had an answer for how hot a fire would have to burn to leave a Kryptonian a pile of ash. The land’s radiation levels were higher than it should be, but there was no example to compare it to from before the night that claimed the Kents lives. It may have been at its typical levels having Superman living there. 

The initial thought was that they had all perished in the fire. There wasn’t evidence pointing to that, but there wasn’t any evidence pointing to them being alive either. No articles came from the pair, Clark’s parents hadn’t heard from any of them, the Fortress was never accessed. Neither Lucy Lane or her father had heard from Lois, and Jimmy Olsen hadn’t heard anything from the pair or seen anything of the man in blue. No one had noticed anything different about the trio leading up to the event, no unusual activity from them or their enemies. They were all reported missing just in case, though now Clark Kent was legally declared dead. General Lane had taken issue with the idea of his daughter and grandson having trouble when they came back, and had blocked the process at the federal level. 

Everyone pitched in. Kara searched every crevice that the Earth held for any sign that they might be being held captive. She even spread her search past the stars just in case some alien race had snuck through the atmosphere. Olsen passed out fliers around Metropolis and Gotham. Wally West joined the search with no results. No legitimate tip ever came in once the case hit mainstream media (with the exclusion of alter egos), no reports ever found any use of their socials or bank accounts being accessed. As if the assailant would have gotten much from that; no matter the motive, it certainly wasn’t financial with how little reporters made. 

Four years and three months went by after that sunny day, and everyone had it in their mind that they were solving a murder. With a man such as Superman, he had many enemies that have historically stooped to those lows. The JLA was just looking for the who and why. Until people started seeing Superman again. It was all over the globe with reports, all alleging that the Man of Steel swooped in and saved the day. There were never any pictures or videos backing up any of the claims, but they still came in from everywhere, all the same story whether it was from someone in Moscow or Martinique. The man didn’t even talk to any of the people he helped, leading to very bare bones interrogations trying to find out where Clark was all this time. All of the dead ends meant only one thing. 

Something very bad had happened to the Man of Steel. 

Every detail had been burned into Damian’s mind for the past eleven years. The storage space could be used for something more pertinent to his day to day life, but seeing the old hero smile down at him with the most brilliant eyes in the world caught his attention each and every time he went down to the Batcave. It was a difficult thing to forget as he stood only a foot away from the picture as he stored paper copies of reports, the gentle smile that couldn't even inspire rage in himself when he was ten year old and just entered the country. 

He had actually met the man before. It was years ago now, but he still remembered the man flying down from the sky. Damian was young, possibly six years old, when it happened. He looked up at the meta, entirely unimpressed. Flight was not a spectacular power if you didn’t have feathers, and while the man was big, he wasn’t as big as the Demon Head. He was handsome, but Mother was right that Father was decidingly less offensive to look at. The hero had nearly buried Damian in his poor, careless landing, asking for Mother’s assistance regarding a case of counterfeit kryptonite being sold to rogues. When Mother had waved him off and the man flew away, he had never expected to have to deal with the man ever again. But when he took those first steps into the Batcave the night Mother dropped him off, those damn blue eyes were the first thing he noticed peering out from a picture in the center of a broad bulletin board. Naturally he asked Father about why he had a picture of Superman hanging in the Batcave- he understood that he had abandoned Mother in their marriage, but the idea that he would leave her to be with an alien of all things… A shudder ran through Damian's spine as he remembered how he used to be when he was still adjusting to the way life was for most. Or at least for those in their line of work.  So sure of himself while remaining so wrong. 

His father hadn’t been able to meet his eyes as he explained what had happened three years prior. Words didn’t need to be said for the young boy to understand that this was the greatest mystery his father ever faced. His other siblings had their own additions they told him over the years having worked with the missing man, and once the man reappeared, Damian saw the investigation happen again in real time. 

They flew back to where the house once stood, still nothing having taken its place. Father, alongside Damian, Martian Manhunter, Hawkwoman, and Mr. Terrific, scouted the area yet again, turning up empty handed of anything related to the case. However, both the Batman and Mr. Terrific noticed an absence of people accessing nearby satellites or towers. It was as if no one in the nearby town of Hamilton was online or interacting with the electrical grid in any form. All but Hawkwoman stayed at the scene to double check every minute detail while the winged woman flew into the small town to see what may be going on and assist them if need be. 

Damian still remembered her voice coming from the com, “Guys, I need backup ASAP.” Crashes come through as a backdrop to the call. When they arrived, what they saw could only be described as mayhem. The townspeople littered the streets which ran red, green, blue, and every other color of the rainbow. Some looked human, some had extra appendages that revealed that Hamilton County had an extraordinary alien population. At the center of it all was a man who was practically a walking Union Jack paired with combat boots and purple hair. 

He couldn’t remember exactly what happened after that: he knew Martian Manhunter collapsed, Hawkgirl lunged at the man, things started flying around him before he was sent to the ground by an orange, squat little monster. The world was a blur until everything had gone still, the only noise filling the silence being the cries of the town’s population as they held onto what was left of their loved ones. The team had split up to tend to the victims and themselves as Damian crept away. What the Justice League needed was not only fresh eyes, but eyes that belonged to a boy who was trained for high level assassinations. 

He dug in the ruins, frustration building in his chest as his hands found nothing but ash, not even wood splinters to fill the nothingness that was left behind from the fire. No fragment of bone or teeth or singed plastic caught his gloved hands as he sieved through where the living room and primary bedroom had become one. He growled, hand slamming the ground. Then a warmth filled his head. 

It didn’t melt well with the anger that filled every pore of his very being in that moment. He felt dizzy, nausea rising from his stomach up to his throat.  Standing up was difficult as his inner ears’ calibration was skewed, but when he did he saw a little girl just a few yards away from the rubble. Her green skin was mottled with black and her braids looked a few days past needing a brush. 

“Ugh, who are you, and what are you doing to me?” Damian still had no idea how he managed to ask that in the state he was in. 

“You were mad. Mad people hurt everyone, so I’m making you happy again!” The smile on her face was sickening. 

“All you’re doing is making me more pissed off, so if you want to keep your body in one piece, I suggest you knock it off.” Her green eyes widened and the warmth ceased. “Thank you.” 

A few deep breaths helped his body return to homeostasis, but by that point the blonde had disappeared. Once he communicated with the League who he had found, it wasn’t long before they arrived back on the farm, Mr. Union Jack zip tied and wearing Father’s custom collar made for telepaths on his neck. As it turned out, the girl was an orphan from a destroyed planet- her grandfather had been killed protecting her, and none of the people in town had the ability to take her in now that their life had been dismantled so entirely. She had sat across from Damian as the adults around them scoured for potential guardians for the girl. In her human form, the injuries looked much worse. The bruises were still black, but now instead of being on a backdrop of green, they covered pasty, paper white skin. Her lip had split and she was thin enough to look as if a simple fall would leave her with a fatal injury. 

When Father stepped away to make a private call, Damian was terrified it was to Alfred to prepare to take in another child. The girl, Kathy, must have read his mind and stuck her tongue at him. Luckily, when Batman returned, he shared the wonderful news that Superman’s best friend, Jimmy Olsen, was going to be taking her in. Both children let out a sigh of relief. 

Before she was turned over to the redhead’s custody, the JLA did ask her if she had seen anything the night that the Kents had disappeared. Damian had no idea what her answer was though, he never cared enough to find out what a three year old may have seen, if she had even seen it. As the years went on, he came to understand that Kathy was not stupid, nowhere close to it, but she lived with her head in the clouds, which rather than correcting the girl, her guardian only encouraged it. Kathy was now a girl ruled by dreams and feelings, making her the teenage nightmare Damian knew she’d grow up to be. 

The blinking cursor flashed at Damian as he stared, racking his brain for any other detail that he may remember. His eyes were slowly falling, flashcards flying in his vision as his head hit the tabletop sending him back to the world of the living. It didn’t take long for him to private the text file and make a throwaway Cheeper profile. He needed some more time to fine tune it and ease his way to following the woman who posted that picture. Maybe then he’d be able to build enough trust between them that he could ask her directly for more details. 

The next eleven and a half weeks were painful. The woman, Natalia, kept her cards close as she posted anything that wasn’t related to anything that wasn’t her personal life. Damian knew what her favorite show was, which Wayne she thought was the hottest (which almost made him barf), and that she was in school for paralegal studies in Las Vegas. But anything else about the meta who came to her family’s “rescue” was kept mum. 

However, other photos and stories came out about the young man bearing the name Superboy. The pictures were mostly blurry or off focus or shot from a long distance preventing any of them from being usable to Damian. Tim and he ran over each detail together, mapping the pattern of how the young man differed from his predecessor. He rarely talked to those that he saved or reporters, other than talking about how he just wanted to “keep Earth and the people who make it so beautiful safe.” Shots and stories provided evidence that the newest meta hero held powers akin to Superman, adding to Damian's theory that Superboy was Jon Kent. Tim still disagreed- pictures of the other man were still scarce, but he held strong onto his theory that the taller of the two was behind the whole ordeal resulting in the Kents’ disappearance. It still didn’t answer the question as to where Lois and Clark were, but it solved at least one of the people involved. The two discussed other possibilities as to the two new men making their mark on the superhero scene; shapeshifters taking forms similar to Earth’s greatest hero? Stray Kryptonians that found Earth as their new home? Pure coincidence? 

In secret, Damian watched any and every video of the taller man. When he spoke, he had a particular accent that the young detective couldn’t place. It was as if a Midwestern accent had all of its character sucked out of it, but he didn’t discredit the idea that the voice was fake. After all, Superman covered his drawl when he wasn’t hiding behind the glasses. But the young hero seemingly did no wrong. He saved cats stuck in trees, helped children cross busy streets to get to school, carried groceries in for the elderly and put them away. His latest escapade involved transporting an organ needed for a transplant that allowed a family to continue to have their mother in their lives. It was as if Hallmark created a hero for themselves and managed to bring him to reality. 

Despite this work, all his research still remained fruitless as nothing brought him any closer to answering what happened that night. Even his theory that Superboy was secretly Jon didn’t hold much weight  as the man had only been a child when his family vanished, any wrong he had done since then may have been manipulated. He may not even remember that night 

Now that he had the next couple of weeks off for the holidays, Damian had all the time in the world to focus on the case. He replied to many of the Cheeps that the first woman posted, though she had been posting less in the past week or so. Her school’s finals were nearing though. He expected nothing out of her until they ended having experienced his own not too long before. But that night, she posted something new. It was another picture of her and Superboy in his screen printed glory. It was taken from up high, Superboy bent down to where his head was levelled next to hers, and a little girl that looked like Natalia had her arms wrapped around the man’s legs. All three were smiling, and the woman had an arm around Superboy’s shoulders. It was the first picture he had seen taken closely to the hero, showing each and every feature of his face, including the light freckles that dusted across his nose. He immediately noticed one thing: Superboy was far too young to have been the one to destroy the Kent family.

Damian zoomed in as much as he could with a simple smartphone. Both Natalia and Superboy seemed to be around the same age of 22, their faces lacking the baby fat that clung onto even teenagers. The way he had to bend showed that Damian had correctly assessed his height to be roughly six and a half feet in height. The two were obviously unrelated as Natalia had warm, tan skin and Superboy was almost as white as the moon. And his eyes were unmistakable. They were the same vibrant blue that Damian stared at on an almost daily basis for the past eleven years. Their close contact suggested they were familiar with each other, supported by the caption: “he just comes when i call idk what to say” 

They were at the Splat! Resort in what could only be Vegas if Damian could judge by the top of the fake Eiffel Tower peeking in the overtop of the wall behind them. And judging by the date, Natalia would be remaining in the area for another day as she took her last final. 

He should’ve felt sick as the plan formulated in his mind, but Damian didn’t. He was excited, not for what he had to do, but to finally get some answers. It was time to test if Superboy really did come whenever Natalia called. 

The next few hours dripped by slowly as he prepared everything to leave. He had busted into Tim’s phone to block her and deactivate his Cheeper account. He may kill Damian later, but if he wanted things to go as they should, he needed his brother out of the way entirely, even if it was only for enough hours to get a head start. Flying to the city wasn’t much of a hassle either, but the stakeout held very little of anything interesting. Finals meant that most of his day was spent silently watching his target silently take tests. She barely spoke to others when she wasn’t testing, instead moving from one class to another with minimal chitchat. His patience paid off as he saw her walk to her car. 

Bags were piled high in the back, and Damian almost considered letting her leave and following her to wherever it was that she was travelling to in the case that she was going to the farm, but he didn’t want to risk it. Not all twenty something year olds still lived with their parents, and he couldn't afford to let his own biases stand in the way of a proper investigation. The car door was barely open when Robin snuck up from behind, a gloved hand carefully placed over her mouth. 

“Stay calm, Natalia. Nothing will happen to you.” She still remained stiff under him. Her hands clutched at her sweats, but Robin was quicker as he slid her pepper spray out from her pocket before she could reach it. “I’m not going to hurt you. But get in the car.” 

She just nodded, allowing herself to be guided to the passenger side. Her dark gaze shifted around the vehicle, but any weapon that had been stashed was already dealt with. Robin slid in the driver's seat before taking off for the closest interstate to get them far out into the desert. 

His heart beat slow and steady as he merged onto the street, fast enough to not be spotted, but just under the point that would get them pulled over in a very precarious position. “So what do you know about Superboy?” 

He glanced from the corner of his eye as Natalia seemingly settled into the seat. She was staring out the window, stray hairs falling down her face. “Nothing.” 

“You’ve taken two pictures with him and don’t know anything? Any powers, abilities, names?”

She recoiled, brown eyes burning. “Just because you kidnapped me, doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to you.” 

His hands tightened on the wheel. He swerved to the right lane to slow down a touch as he looked her way directly. “You’re going to give me some answers. What is it that you know about him?” 

“Why the hell do you even want to know anything anyways? I didn’t think Robin would have beef with a dude that saves cows and little girls.” 

That last bit was new information and seemed to follow the pattern of how the meta had helped her out. “So that little girl in the photograph was your sister, I take it?” 

Silence swept over the car again as Natalia continued to glare holes into Damian’s skull, but he didn’t care. It did not take long for the buildings to cease and the view to shift from apartments and strip malls  to sand and shrubbery. She didn’t say anything as he pulled over, driving away from the freeway into the native landscape. Once all the lights behind them were small enough, he stopped the car. It wasn't an ideal location, but he wasn't a criminal and he had no intentions of actually causing her any harm. The Batwing was tucked away further into the landscape, hidden by a particularly large rock. As he opened the door, she grabbed his hand, slamming the door shut from her side. 

“You bitch!” He yanked the door open again, only to be met by the short woman using her height to her advantage as she jumped at him, making her way onto his back where she attempted to dig her thumbs into his eye sockets. Robin flipped forward, throwing her off where she landed on her stomach. He pressed a knee to her spine to keep her down as he said, “Scream for Superboy. Sound as scared as you can.” 

Natalia thrashed under him, but wasn’t able to move out from Robin’s hold. “Superboy, help me!” Her body began to rack with sobs. Damian’s heart twinged at what he was doing, but it was no longer necessary. He took his bent knee off of her and stepped to the side where he offered her a hand. “Sorry that I had to use some force.” 

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Father would hate him if he knew what his youngest son was doing at the moment. A moment passed and nothing changed. Natalia was still crying, louder than she had been, and Damian was beginning to wonder if it had all been for nothing. 

A boom stopped both of them. Damian turned, green eyes meeting a pale blue, twitching that they weren’t the blue eyes he was looking for. The new Superman stood, fists raised in front of them. His navy cape fluttered behind him, and the red splatter on his chest seemed to be mocking Damian. In the blink of an eye, both and and Natalia were gone, only for the man to reappear as soon as Robin opened his eyes again. A trail of dust blew up in the taller man’s wake. 

“I asked for Superboy, not a discount Superman.” 

The older man tilted his head, face emotionless. “What do you want with my son?” 

Up close, Damian could see that this man was older than the other. He didn’t have the square jaw or broad shoulders of Clark, but other than small details like that, the man was an almost perfect replica. But he was most certainly not the same age as the last son of Krypton. If Damian had to guess this man was closer in age to Nightwing than to Batman. “You know what I want.” 

The other man floated closer, boots barely off the ground, but eyes locked in onto the Domino mask. “I don’t want to fight. I just want to help you. You kidnapped an innocent, young woman.” 

“If you want to help, I suggest you go get Clark Kent then.” Robin ground his teeth together as Superman flew forward, tackling him to the ground. Hands pressed his shoulders into the earth as he continued to maneuver out of the man's hold. If this had been the original Superman, Damian knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance, but even with the other’s super strength that was very apparent as he left bruises deep into Robin’s flesh, he didn’t have as much of an upper hand in the size department. 

Robin managed to roll out from under the other man and quickly threw an elbow at his left carotid. Superman was down for half a second before reaching out to grab Robin’s leg and using it as leverage to toss the small man’s body into the red rock that surrounded them. The side of his head slammed into the boulder, and he didn’t need to check to tell that one of his molars came loose upon impact. 

“What do you know about Clark Kent?" Superman roared as he stepped closer. It took all of Robin’s will power to breath, but he needed to do this. Out of a small lead compartment that he hid on the back of his utility belt, he pulled out of a set of Kryptonite encrusted brass knuckles. He had stolen them from the cave not long after Natalia had taken her first picture. They were dusty, not having been even glanced at in so long considering Superman was gone and Supergirl was generally off planet doing who knows what. 

“I know he’s dead and that you’re connected.” The metal dug into Damian’s palm, but when the other hero came down on him again he was prepared. He threw his fist up into an uppercut, using the man’s own force to pack the punch. Superman came crashing down, dust flying as the man's body hit the ground, and even though Robin didn’t want to escalate this any more than it already had, he threw one last kick at the man’s solar plexus before taking off into the desert.

 Adrenaline was enough to get him into the Batwing and get the coordinates set for home. But as it began to take off, the pain set in. Breathing hurt. Sitting hurt. His hand could barely move. His head pounded as if he was dying. But none of that mattered. He was one step closer to cracking this case. It was going to be his. It didn’t matter what it took to get it. 

Chapter Text

Dad said to stay here. Just stay at home. Saying that with what happened the other day, Jon couldn’t risk getting himself lured into a trap, and Dad didn’t even prattle on about how dangerous it could be before the man just leapt from the window into the setting sun. Jon did stay put, anxiously sitting on the couch, leg bouncing up and down when he heard it. When he heard Natalia scream just minutes before,  he changed into his uniform within the second, but that was when Dad told him to stand down. If the moment hadn’t been so urgent, Jon knew that it would’ve turned into an argument. Jon tried to tell the older man that her naming him specifically was just because he had already helped her family twice, it didn’t mean that she was luring him into a  trap. Dad didn’t have it though, saying that she might be being forced, and that he’d take care of it. And that was that. The older man took off, leaving his son without even a chance to respond. And so now Jon was sitting outside, one of the cows resting beside him, eyes closed as he tried to focus solely on whatever was going on in Nevada. His nerves were on fire and the cool breeze seemed to only make them burn hotter.  

Initially, he tried listening from the comfort of his own bed, but the house just always dulled everything. Dad said he never noticed anything, but Jon swore up and down that something was in the walls. That or he just got too comfortable once he was home to stay on top of things. Outside though,even just sticking his head out the window, he heard everything. The harmony of all the animals settling down for the night, each cluck and bray contrasting the road rage he heard from the interstates down south. He heard Rebecca singing to who he could only guess was her baby sister. Clayton and Clara were squabbling over who’s turn it was to shower first. He heard the soft strum of guitars and footsteps moving in beat as people danced. And tonight Jon also heard Natalia crying. He had listened, heart pounding loud and hard, as his Dad crashed into the earth. 

But that was when he heard it. It was an unfamiliar voice, obviously masculine but not particularly deep. It was goading Dad, calling him a discount Superman. It mentioned Dad, not Superman Dad, but Clark Kent Dad, and said that the man was dead. Which definitely brought up a lot of questions, because who was this man that knew enough to know his father’s name, but didn’t know that the man was alive and well? And Jon felt that he would know if his dad was dead. And how old even was this dude if he had even heard of Clark Kent? Dad had been a really solid reporter as far as Jon knew, but the man had left that life behind years ago. It’s not like he was a huge, record breaking writer.

There weren’t many more words spoken after that. Just winces, crashes, and thumps that made Jon feel downright nauseous. Natalia still sobbed, but the thuds and thwacks came to a sudden pause. Jon shuddered as he heard a strained gurgle, barely audible over the ruckus of the world and a slight purr that couldn’t have been too far away from the older hero. 

Jon was off before he could think twice. The noise may not have come from his dad but if Superman needed to go that far, it was a messier situation than even Dad anticipated. As his boots touched the light sand of the Mojave desert, Jon wished he had timed that flight. The timing wasn’t great to be thinking like that, but he was certain he had never flown faster. He had even  hesitated for a moment on the way over; as he approached he could tell that the strained sounds and Natalia's sobs were coming from two different areas. The young woman didn't sound injured though. Terrified, definitely, but he didn’t hear any labored breaths or grunts of pain. Scoping out the area though, he knew he made the right choice. Superman laid splayed out on his back just a few feet away from a large boulder and patch of sharp shrubbery. The suit was intact, but the man who wore it… He didn’t look good.

“Dad!” Superboy was at his side in half a second. Blood dribbled out of the older man’s mouth, and his half lidded eyes didn’t quite meet Jon’s. His normally glowy skin was pale and wet with sweat. Green veins flashed from under his flesh, stretching over his hands and reaching up to his brows. 

“Son,” he murmured. It almost came out as a wheeze, making Jon choke up. “Save the girl. I just need… Sun.” 

Jon didn’t know what to do. He just looked over the man’s body. This wasn’t any way he had ever seen the man before. He had always been so tough, so collected. Even on the anniversary of mom’s death, he was unchanged. Every year he was just quieter as he stole glances at the portrait of the woman she used to be. But now he looked almost violet under the fading sunlight, heat beating slow and inconsistently. The teen’s mind blanked. All those hours he spent studying geography felt useless as he scooped his father up in his arms. The lean man felt like a feather. He needed somewhere sunny. Sunny and still daytime. If he left Superman here, the man would be dead come sunrise. 

But sunny and daytime. Tough combo based on the timing and the fact that his father would sink like a rock in any water. That ruled out all of the Americas and most of Europe and Africa. Western Asia would still need a few hours before the sun rose bright and brilliant in the sky. Jon felt his heart stop as his dad closed his eyes, body going limp in his son’s arms. Southeast Asia it would have to be. Warm, sunny and it should already be morning there. 

The world changed one thousand feet under the two as Jon just flew. He didn’t think, couldn’t focus on much of anything other than just needing to save his dad. The desert changed quickly to a bright and bustling city which faded within a second to become cold, deep ocean. It seemed to stretch on and on as each second slipped by. But the world also lightened, the sun bouncing off each wave shining into Jon’s eyes. 

A beach front appeared in front of them- bright and sunny with metal statues intertwining with each other, creating arches over a well walked path. As he set his father down onto the warm bank, Jon reassessed the older man's condition. He didn’t look any better, but he sure didn’t look any worse. The vivid green had begun to bleed past the man’s thick, dark eyebrows, but it was flashing less furiously than it had been in Nevada. A soft groan escaped the man, and Jon looked at the surroundings. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he left Dad somewhere where others would just abuse his vulnerable state. The area seemed safe though. Just a resort for cushy, rich tourists. It felt like a joke leaving him to heal in an area like this though. Gazebos and tables dotted the landscape, and other sculptures stood beside the trail. Crimson metal birds and emerald plants created what would’ve been an ideal palace to come for vacation, but this really wasn’t the time to think about relaxing by the beach with a coconut in hand. 

He didn’t give his father another glance as he took off again. He couldn’t afford to forget about Natalia. No matter what had happened, he needed to get her somewhere safe and warm. The desert plummeted to freezing temperatures once the sun had set, and from how loud her cries had been, the young woman had to still be outside somewhere. 

Over the west coast, he began to hear her again. She was just a few miles east of where Superboy had found his dad. He flew further out than her, putting his landing ahead of her. She looked so small sitting on a large, flat stone. She didn’t cry like her sister had, head between her knees with loud sobs that ran through her body. She was sitting up, legs crossed as tears streamed down her cheeks followed by sniffles. As he got closer, he saw how her brown eyes were puffy from all the shed tears. His feet kissed the ground and she still hadn’t noticed him. He took each step precisely, making each loud enough that she’d be able to hear over the music of the land. 

It didn’t take long then for Natalia to jump up, fists in front of her, ready to take on whatever was approaching her. “I will kill you this time, you mother-” Her eyes went wide when she saw him. Jon raised his hands beside his head in surrender. “Oh God, Superboy.” 

She raced forward, her arms wrapping around his torso. He slowly rested his arms around her. Her heart beat steadily, and from everything Jon could see, his initial guess was right that she was uninjured. Still didn’t hurt to ask though. 

“Yeah, I just. Just got the wind knocked out of me. I think I got him worse though.” She pulled away, taking a step back as she crossed her arms, bundling herself in her sweatshirt. “How’s your brother though? He’s the one that brought me here and that was before anything went down..” 

Brother? He paused as he thought about who Natalia was talking about until it hit him and he felt like an idiot. “Oh, uh, my dad’s not doing too good right now. All green and stuff.” A sick feeling settled in his stomach with how Natalia nodded in recognition, though her eyes were still wide with horror. 

“Why would Robin have kryptonite? Is he going to be okay?” the young woman shivered as the breeze blew her dark, messy hair away from her face. Jon didn’t hesitate to shed his tan leather jacket and hold it out for her to grab. She accepted it, and it practically swallowed her as she draped it over her shoulders. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about that right now, at least not with me. Thank you for coming though.” 

“Anytime you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.” His steely eyes met hers which had fresh tears ready to fall. “Let’s go get you somewhere warm.” 

The distance began to close between them before she froze. “My car. Oh my god, my car’s still off the side of the road somewhere. It has all my stuff in it.” 

“I’ll bring it wherever you need, don’t worry. Don’t forget that you have an alien on your side.” He tried lightening his tone, giving her a half smile that she returned with a weak one of her own. “Want me to take you back to your family’s farm or is there somewhere else you’d feel safer?” 

“I was about to be on my way there when Robin stopped me, actually… I just had school stuff to wrap up, but I guess he knew that.” She paused and her jaw dropped. “He must’ve seen my Cheeper post about you. I’m so sorry Superboy, I didn’t think-” 

He took her in his arms, rubbing a hand up and down her back through the thick jacket he had given her. “It isn’t your fault that he kidnapped you. I don't know who this Robin guy is, but he must be pretty messed up to hurt someone like you.” Natalia’s eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, the wet trails left on her cheeks sending daggers straight to Superboy’s heart. Before he could recognize what was happening, she had her arms wrapped around his neck and she jumped. Instinctively, he caught her, arms resting under her muscular frame as he carried her bridal style. Jon’s face grew warm as he felt himself blush which got a giggle out of the young woman. 

“Well, Superboy, it’s a long way to Wyoming. And I’m freezing out here.” Under the moonlight, her high cheekbones and sharp eyes made her look ethereal. Her full lips were pulled into a slight smile despite the messed up night she had. 

He chuckled, “It’s a bit shorter than you’d expect.”

By the time the two landed, Natalia’s hold on his neck was borderline strangulating and she was burying her face into his chest. “I hope I didn't fly too fast for you, that was kinda my first time carrying anyone, so I’m really sorry if I made you sick or-” 

His rambling was cut off with a finger pressed to his lip. “Just let me breathe, Supes. Tonight has been a lot. ” A light came on from the farm house. She looked up, relaxing as she saw her mom peeking oout through the blinds. “You gonna come in?” 

For what Jon was really hoping for the last time, his face flushed red. It’s part of the job. It’s cold out and she’s already been out for too long in the elements. He stuttered, “Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. I have a few more questions I’d love to ask you before I head out. If that's okay.” 

She didn’t get a chance to answer before The Longs, sans Amelia, joined them in the front yard. Mr. Long wrapped his daughter up in a big hug, sending Superboy a smile before giving him a hug as well. “Our favorite hero give you a ride home, Nat?” As his wife gave their daughter a hug as well, he glanced around for Natalia’s luggage. “You making a second trip, Superboy?” 

“Yes, sir,” He took a deep breath in, going into a much more heroic attitude. Or at least a persona of it. “I just wanted to get Ms. Natalia home safely first. I’ll be back with her car in a moment. I’ll give y’all some time to catch up.” Natalia met his gaze, her expression now somber, but she nodded. 

Once he was returned, the little hatchback resting safely in the driveway and all her luggage stacked carefully in his hold, the family was in the house, seemingly in the living room if the noise level was anything to go by. Luckily he didn’t need to knock before the door opened by Natalia, now wearing a significantly less dirty pair of sweatpants with a baggy tee shirt. He felt a little awkward as he walked through the home, only waving to the married couple that gave him weird smiles that made him feel nervous. Natalia’s bedroom was more cluttered than Jon’s, clothes on the floor, her desk covered edge to edge with papers, a laptop, figures, and other knickknacks that Jon didn’t recognize. She took a seat on a  very fluffy bed, a little stuffed frog immediately clutched close in her lap. 

“So, Natalia, do you have any idea why Robin took you hostage? I know you mentioned a social media post.” 

Her hands fiddled with the well worn green plush. “Jumping right into it, huh? Well, I uh, kinda posted the selfie that I took with you. And I captioned it with something along the lines of that you come when I call.” She finally looked up to where he stood. She was biting her lower lip, her own cheeks dark with blush. “I just thought it would be funny, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or anything.” 

He rubbed his hands against his utility pants, anxious to get some of his building energy out. “It’s kind of true, isn’t it? I mean, at first you got my dad, but that’s just because he told me to stay home.” Natalia’s eyebrows shot up as she gave him a questioning look. “Not because of you, just something else that happened when I was in Vegas.” 

She nodded again, and they fell into a short period of silence. Jon was one second away from pacing a hole into her rug when she patted the bed beside her. “It’s super weird to have you standing.” He sat a foot away from her as she pulled her legs up to sit criss-cross. “Thank you for saving me by the way. That was probably the scariest moment of my life, and I puked on the football field during the middle of homecoming.” 

Superboy laughed and relaxed on the bed, leaning back a touch as he sat. “I’m sure that wasn’t that bad. Got sick, but still had to cheer?” He cocked his head to a pair of gold pom poms that laid beside her desk. 

“Nah, I got kicked off the team like a week before that. I got drunk and stumbled on the field to yell at them about it. Not my proudest moment.” He stared at her, waiting for her to say sike, but it never came. 

“Well, that sure was a decision. No judgement though.” He saw things like that in movies and shows. Heck, he’s seen worse things in real life. Then he wondered to himself if any of his friends had any stories like that, and he just wasn’t invited. Maybe not at a school football field since they were all homeschooled like him, but maybe off in the fields somewhere? Or in the next town over? Each and every possible scenario started to run through his head before it dawned on him that none of those most likely ever happened as no one at the church drank and there wasn’t even a liquor store in the county. “What else happened?”

“Well, he drove me out, I smashed his hand in the car door when he tried pulling me outside, then I tried to gouge his eyes out, but that mask is tougher than it looks. Then he flipped me over and made me cry for you.” 

“For me? ” Each detail got crazier and crazier, and he knew that she was excluding some things. 

“He was very specific. After that, your dad flew me away, and like fifteen minutes later, you showed up.” 

Damn. Only fifteen minutes? That was a record. But he had to focus. Superboy drew his brows together, racking his brain for people who went by robin and wore masks, but nothing was coming to mind. Not even something his dad had mentioned offhandedly once before. Then it hit him. “Was he dressed like a bird?”

Now it was Natalia’s turn to stare at him with a puzzled expression. “Have you never heard about Batman and Robin? Didn’t your dad used to work with them?” 

Superboy felt his stomach drop and the white lie was on his tongue before he could stop it. “I only got to Earth five years ago and don’t have cable. A lot of things are pretty new to me.” 

Natalia looked at him for a moment, but shrugged. “Well, he’s not really all that bird-like. And typically not on this side of the country.”

Another detail that his dad mentioned. “I’m so sorry that you got caught in the middle of all of this. I don’t know a lot, but that family isn’t what they seem. But I’ll make this right for you, I promise” He reached forward to put a hand on her knee. “Can I do something real quick? It’s a bit weird, and I don’t know if it’ll work, but I just want to make sure I can get there quicker if something like this happens again.” 

The young woman gave a hesitant nod. Jon leaned forward as Natalia moved her stuffed animal from her lap. He rested his ear on her sternum and he heard as she stopped breathing. The slight smell of her detergent hung in his nose, but he pushed the thought away as he focused on the steady beat of her heart. He’s listened to it so many times that even though it was a crazy plan, he figured that listening to its pattern might make it easier to pick up among the thousands that drummed away constantly. It only took a few seconds before the hero was almost sure that he had it memorized. He pulled away, a stray dark curl falling into his eyes. With the slightest touch, Natalia brushed it out of the way. 

“So now that you’ve made yourself comfortable, is it a good time to get your number?” she gave him an easy smile, her tan skin crinkling around her chestnut eyes. A sudden instinct drove Jon to lean in close, get in close enough again to smell her detergent again. But he fought against it and instead just returned her grin. 

“I’d love to, but you’d be a lot more likely to get my dad than me. Landlines, you know?” Her knee moved from under his hand as she scooched closer. 

“Maybe that’s the goal, Superboy.” 

He groaned, moving his body away from hers.  “What did I do to make all my girl friends have a thing for my dad?” Seeing her gaze turn sharp, Jon flailed and stood up. “Friends who are girls. Girl. Space. Friends. I promise, I’ve never dated anyone before, ever.” 

Natalia frowned, staring at him the same way she did the other day, but seconds passed as she didn’t drop the act and he just continued standing there with face red as a lobster. “I’m gonna go. Have a nice night,” he stuttered. 

When he had one foot out the door, Natalia started laughing, the facade of anger dropped completely. “You stay safe out there, Superboy. I’m glad we’re friends.”  

She was already moving to get under the covers, not even bothering to move her luggage out of the middle of the floor. Jon rolled his eyes at her, leaving the door open a crack before joining the Longs in the living room. Mr. Long’s forehead was lined with worry and Mrs. Long had a similar expression. “I’m sorry for everything that has happened to y’all recently. Hopefully, the third time will be the end of it.” 

The older man grunted, “All things come in threes. Though if our little girl is going to be the next Lois Lane, I guess this’ll be a regular thing, huh, Josie?” 

Mrs. Long pushed back against his elbowing. “Well, hopefully Superboy does a better job at keeping her safe than his father.” 

Jon just smiled through the cold melancholy that settled in his bones. “I’ll be looking into who did this to bring him to justice, in the meantime would you guys mind letting Natalia know that she should lay low on social media for a while? I think that’s why he targeted her.” The couple nodded, but before they could say anything else, Superboy was giving them a wave goodbye and flying out the door. 

Getting Dad back from Indonesia was less trouble than Jon expected. The older man wasn’t completely back to form, but he was strong enough to have given small talk with some of the people at the resort, and had a bit more natural color and a lot less green in his skin. Jon still insisted that the other man hold on to him when they flew back to the house. Despite Dad arguing back and calling Jon a stubborn mule, he still clung onto Jon’s hand until they reached California. By the time they got back home, the sky was pitch black, all the livestock asleep in their pens. Jon’s eyes had started to droop, his reactions slower than normal. He couldn’t see past his own nose as he slipped into his unlocked window and crashed the instant he hit the bed. 

Sleep came easy after the whole ordeal of the evening, but unfortunately pleasant dreams did not. 

He was sitting in the same bedroom he had since he was eight. He was on the wobbly, stiff chair that Dad had picked up from a jumble sale at the church with a wooden block ahead of him on his desk. Dad had locked the door from the outside. All Jon had to do was burn the block with heat vision, then he could be let out, hopefully in time for dinner. But he just sat and stared at that block for hours, putting every ounce of focus he had in his body into singing the block at least the tiniest amount. But the block never changed. It remained the same ashy color it had always been. Tears started to prickle at his eyes before the scene shifted around him. 

Now, he was on the ground in the barn. Under the summer sun, it was scorching hot under the tin roof, but all he had to do was do what he had done to the board. Just light it on fire and put it out before it spread. He took a deep breath in, fear filling his lungs instead of air- what if it didn’t light? What if he couldn’t produce the powers Dad expected out of him? But when he opened his eyes, the wooden wall was already on fire. It jumped from the wall to the loft where they stored the hay. And in an instant, flames were all around him, threatening to swallow him whole. Sobs were caught in his throat. A strong pressure pressed from all around his chest even though nothing was there. A crash came in through the barn doors behind him, but Jon couldn't see anything through the smoke. A deep voice cried out his name, but the world was already going dark. 

The landscape just kept changing. Jon relived memories that he hadn’t thought of in years. Boxing against his dad at nine years old. Games of tag that ran for hours even after Jon had already vomited when he was ten. Timed flights with random destinations that Jon had to decipher out of geographical clues. Studying for hours after each task because if he wanted to be Super, he couldn’t scrape by with a B. And on top of that, he still had all the animals needed to be tended to. The dreams cycled on and on, each scene just like how it had played out in his past. His muscles ached as he repped squats with the family car, his lungs wheezed as he flew another mile. 

Jon shot up awake, from sleeping to sitting up in one movement. The pillow was wet.. Morning sun streamed in through the windows, breeze blowing through the one that he had forgotten to close in his exhaustion. Even though he wasn’t still crying, he rubbed the tears out of his eyes, rubbing his cheeks dry of any evidence. 

It was all so disappointing. His dad could stop alien invasions and still make it through a shift on the same day, but Jon couldn’t handle a few hours of excitement. He was so weak that after a few miles of flying, he just crashed. He had softened enough that just remembering some of  the training he had needed made him cry. He will never be his dad at this rate. 

Rip! The fistfuls of comforter he grabbed in his thoughts tore to shreds. Jon tossed it back, zipping through the house and throughout the property. All of the morning chores were already complete. Of course. Dad had it worse last night, and he still pulled himself together to get everything done. Jon couldn’t even bring himself to care about his manners as he slammed the door open, stomping inside with his boots still on. 

“Good morning to you too, son. What’s got you so worked up?” Dad stood in the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand despite the fact that he didn't need it. He was still dark under the eyes, and far less put together than normal with disheveled hair and an unbuttoned shirt. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jon found it hard at the moment to even look at the man. He was still really worried about how his father was holding up after everything, but the man was up and somewhat put together and acting like nothing had even happened even though he looked like a neon corpse not even twelve hours prior. 

“Alright, we can shelf it for later. Just remember that where there is anger, there is pain underneath.” Damn, Dad and all his stupid quotes about anger. “I found a picture of your mother that I don’t think you’ve ever seen. It was tucked away in a book.” 

Jon immediately looked up from where he was glaring a hole in the floorboards. Dad held up a picture. It was just Mom, flour dusting her elbows as she worked on a ball of dough. She was biting her lips as she focused. Jon reached out, taking the picture to look at it closer. For a second, he saw a glimpse of how she had been. Messy clothes and stubby ponytail as she worked. 

“This was her making a pie for your third birthday. You went through a weird phase where you would always just ask for pie- she blamed your grandma for that one- so she decided to make one entirely from scratch for you. She hated it from beginning to end, but the look on your face when it was ready…” Dad trailed off. It was the most he had really ever talked about Mom. 

“Last night, Natalia’s family mentioned her.” Jon still couldn’t look away from the photo. He swallowed down his tears. “Her dad said that hopefully I would protect her better than you protected Mom.” 

“Oh, Jonno. I hope you know I did everything I could. There isn’t a day that goes by where I wish she wasn’t here with us.” Footsteps approached and arms wrapped around Jon. “I should’ve done more. Maybe then things would be different.” 

Tentatively, Jon returned the hug, and the two stood together in silence pretending not to notice each other’s watery eyes. “Is that how you guys met? You saved her?” 

Dad stiffened. “Sort of. She was always getting herself into rough situations.”  The shorter man pulled away. “What else happened last night?” 

After a full run through, Dad’s open demeanor had shut back to his more typical grim expression. “And so yeah, that was it.” Jon finished, before one more thing occurred to him. “What’s kryptonite by the way? I told Natalia about what happened to you, and that’s what she told me.” 

Dad bought a hand to his mouth, blue violet eyes unfocused as he thought. “This is going to be a long conversation that will need a lot of research to go along with it. Go up and change, we’re going to the library.”  

Jon had researched a lot of things at the library. Math, American history, what “sins of the flesh’ meant, but what Dad had typed into Goggle was not what he expected. The drive over was a lecture about how Jon’s a man now and the stakes are high and suddenly he now has a right to know everything. It was paired with another reminder to lay low and that they’re now in an investigative phase. Dad disclaimed that this visit will only be for rudimentary information as to not set off any alarm bells that The Family may keep an eye out for, but that did come with a promise of wifi. Jon was going to be the first of his friends to be able to access the internet from the comfort of his own home. He had also explained just what kryptonite was and it didn’t feel great to learn that there was a poison out there that would just lead him to have a slow and painful death if he was exposed to it. Along with all the other poisons he was probably susceptible to unlike Dad. It was honestly kind of a mood killer.

But now the father and son were sequestered away into one of the library’s private study rooms with an open laptop showing weird photoshopped pictures of a gangly man with scrawny wings for arms. And Dad gave a sigh of relief seeing that. The next search, Jon does recognize from his conversation with Natalia. He didn’t get the chance to jot it down before he fell asleep, but the name had been lingering in his thoughts. 

Batman. Few pictures appeared of the man, but what they did show was like something straight out of a cartoon. It was a brick wall of a man dressed in dark grey, black caped flying behind him as he swung midair. A bright yellow utility belt cut across the man’s waist and his face was obscured by a balaclava with long pointy ears. But what really caught Jon’s eye was what must’ve given the man his name. Or was it made as a sign so people knew what to call him? It depends on if the vigilante named himself or was given the name, but anyways, a black bat spanned across the man’s broad chest with yellow embroidery creating the border. 

“So, Jon, this man is the leader of the group we’ve found ourselves going against. Later on, we’ll go through and study his fighting styles and tools since believe me, he uses a lot of them since he has no powers of his own.” Dad scrolls through more pictures and each one just adds to the tension in Jon’s stomach. The man was tough. There weren't any pictures of the man using much in the way of weapons, just straight hands and feet. Jon felt a chill run down his spine as he thought about how much scarier the man might become seeing him in motion. 

The screen flashed again to a new window. It was a man that Jon had covered in a bit of his history research. Dark hair, blue eyes, square jawline with a carefree smile. It was none other than Bruce Wayne. 

“Wait, Dad, what does he have to do with any of this? Doesn’t his company just do a lot of researching? Like for new pharmaceuticals that have helped save the lives of millions?” The teen leaned in closer to the computer, staring at the pictures of a man he thought was one of the best to walk the face of the Earth. He didn’t just use his money to make his life better, despite what all the paparazzi photos with dozens of models said, he seemed to be making an honest effort to leave the world better off than it used to be. He funded dozens of charities and shelters, and donated plenty of money to others as well.

“Wayne Enterprises does research biomedical fields, yes, but you’re overlooking something.” The older man clicked on a close up of the man, raising a few fingers to cover the upper portion of Bruce Wayne’s face. “Wayne Enterprises had a subsidiary company, WayneTech. There’s a part of the budget that always goes to undisclosed goods. What would you ration it really does?” 

It took a moment of staring, but then it hit Jon. That jawline honestly should’ve given it away faster. “Oh my god, he’s Batman.” Dad smacked Jon on the arm. “Sorry, Dad. Sorry, God.” 

Dad added family to the search bar, scrolling down a few rows of pictures of a man and woman that had obviously been taken quite a few years ago. He stopped at a certain picture, it was of a large group all dressed in fancy dresses and suits along with being watermarked so it must’ve been from some huge event. Dad opened it up to a new tab and zoomed in. “So most of the people in this are his kids. It’d do you good to memorize their faces.” 

Dick Grayson. First child taken in by Wayne and the oldest of the bunch. Early thirties, black hair and blue eyed. Cop by day, Nightwing by night, or at least according to Dad. Slim figure and relies heavily on acrobatics and his escrima sticks.

Jason Todd. The second child, flies under the radar. Also had black hair and blue eyes, but with a taller, broader figure. Dad had less to say about his backstory, and even less to say about his alter ego. Just that he had one. 

Tim Drake. Most likely to head the company in the future. Another black haired and blue eyed kid. Did Bruce Wayne Clone these guys or what? He was the shortest of the bunch, and looked kinda weaselly. Kinda like the dude who Jon ran into in Vegas. When he wasn’t stepping in to fill his dad’s shoes, he was Red Robin. 

Cassandra Cain. Black hair and black eyes and apparently one of the world’s deadliest fighters. Wasn’t raised to be educated in anything other than fighting, so it would be easier to slip under her radar so long as she never gets the chance to lay her eyes on Jon. At night, she became the Orphan. 

Damian Wayne. Not much to know about him. The child of Bruce Wayne and known ecoterrorist Talia al Ghul. Warm, dark skin, and honestly the kid that looked the least like Bruce. His features were sharp yet delicate. His lips were full and brows thick, and Jon was only sent out of his thoughts by his dad pointing to the young man. 

“And this is Robin. This is the one that kidnaped Natalia and poisoned me.” 

“That’s Robin?” All Dad did was hum and pull up a  picture of the caped vigilante. Unlike the others which at least had splashes of vivid color, this guy was in full greyscale. Some of the details were a deep scarlet red, but not enough to balance out how dark the suit was. “He looks like someone that would go off the rails.” 

The older man nodded. “Now we’re just going to do some research to find out why he did it and see if we can convince him to get any help he may need. 

“Think we’ll be able to find out why he knew your name, Dad?” The second detail that Damian had mentioned remained unsaid. 

Dad didn’t even look at Jon when he responded. “I already know why he did that. It’s because of who his father is.” He must've felt his son’s confusion or heard the way his heart skipped because he continued working on the computer as he added on, “I’ll explain that a bit more when we get home.” 

The rest of the research was kinda boring in Jon’s opinion. They started working on Damian’s profile before moving on to Bruce and then the other kids. Dad talked a bit about other vigilantes that worked under Batman or have in the past, but said that they would be less of a problem unless Jon got caught in their line of fire. And Jon did not feel comfortable with how that was becoming a theme with these weird Gothamites. 

The research on Robin didn’t even turn up a lot. Most of the photos and videos weren’t of Damian or from a decade ago and didn't tell them a lot on his current fighting style and available weapons. Looking into his personal life still didn’t come up with a lot. He had an animal rescue that focused on saving animals from factory farms- which Jon didn’t disagree with- a shelter that he helped out at quite a bit, and he had made the decision to turn down a spot within Wayne Enterprises. He graduated with a bachelor’s freakishly early and was now in the middle of medical school at only twenty-one. The guy was violent, but kudos where kudos are deserved. An old archived article talked about how he had spent half of his childhood in Saudi Arabia until moving to the States to live with his father’s side of the family, but it didn’t say much else other than that. 

They finished the study session up with a few videos from past interviews with all of the Waynes, some more interesting than others. Even Dad wasn’t prepared for what came out of the very drunk  billionaire’s mouth during an interview at his birthday party. But everything with everyone else was just so boring. Like yeah, Dick cracked jokes, but he was super private and tended to divert any attention away from himself. The others weren't even much better. 

His eyes started to fall when Dad snapped the laptop shut. “Come on, son, let’s go get some breakfast. I know I’m throwing a lot at you real fast, but I hope you understand how important it is.”

“I do, Dad. You’re right though, it is a lot to process all at once. And we still have more to cover at home?” Jon already knew the answer. They hadn’t watched any videos of the family in action to know what else they would have on hand and just how much of that kryptonite stuff they had in storage. And if the youngest one had managed to get Superman down, Batman had to be one formidable enemy. 

At home, the air between the father and son had shifted. Jon was back to laughing at his Dad’s little jokes, and well, Dad was Dad. At the diner they stopped at, he had wolfed down a stack of pancakes and probably the most bacon and eggs the diner had gone through in a single morning since the last time they had eaten there, which had to be at least a few years ago. With the door shut behind them, Jon finally asked the question that had been burning in his mind since they started this project at the library. “What is the history between you and Batman, Dad? Like, I know we’re looking into them because of Natalia getting kidnapped, but Robin knew your name. Natalia said Batman and Robin like I was just supposed to know about them? And you already told me to keep an eye out for them?” 

Dad sighed and patted the seat next to him on the sofa. The leather sunk under Jon’s weight, cool to the touch under his skin. The shorter man shifted until settling on leaning forward, elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands. Jon did the opposite and leaned back, his long legs stretched in front of him. He stared at his socks, dreading the story he was about to hear. 

“I’m about to tell you a lot of stuff that I’ve never told you before, but what I’m telling you is the truth. I know you’re ready to handle all of it now, and I apologize for having lied to you in the past. But, when your mother died, I wasn’t even on Earth. I was off-planet trying to take care of some business, but then I just got this gut feeling that something was wrong. I came home, and the house was already on fire. I couldn’t hear your mom, but I heard you. After we left, I tried reaching out for help, but Batman and a  few other heroes already had it in their heads that I had something to do with it. They knew I came home early from my mission, and I couldn't prove that it wasn’t me. I was scared they’d take you away from me.

“You were the last person I had left. My parents were gone, Lois was gone, my life was ruined. All I had was you. And I don’t think Bruce ever liked that. He didn’t know that you were mine, he might have assumed it, but it had become such a complicated mess that I just had to disappear with you. Bruce never liked metas. He would’ve hated your biology, never let you have a normal childhood, would have just messed you up like his other kids. He would’ve just trained you to fight for his cause and nothing else.”

Jon took a moment to let everything sink in and make sure that his father had finished. He looked up to see the older man’s stoney expression, mouth in a flat line with thin brows drawn together.  “Were you and Batman friends? Like, you worked together?” Dad nodded. “Did he know that Clark and Superman were the same person?” 

“No,” he said. “He only knew Superman as Kal-El. He knew that I was involved with Lois as Superman, but since she married Clark, and he didn’t know that I was Clark. Then I leave a mission early and Lois dies and Clark disappears? And I don’t even look the same since I got struck with that kryptonite? It’s a bit of a bad look. It’s why we had to move around so much when you were young, and why we had to live off grid. I promise, I’m not a Luddite. Just didn’t want him seeing you before either of us were ready.” 

No wonder the man was so stiff and stressed all the time. And why he freaked out at the possibility of Jon seeing Tim in Vegas. He took another look at the man. His dad’s hair was streaked with a few bits of grey, not a lot of it, but more than his physical age should have. The hint of lines had already settled around the man’s eyes and across his forehead. 

Dad let out a sigh and continued, “I’m scared that now that they’ve seen you- and I’m almost positive that it was Tim that you saw the other day- that they won’t stop. We need to find a way to talk to these guys and get them to listen to reason, but since they’re already kidnapping civilians, I’m afraid that it’s already too late.” 

“Do you think they had anything to do with Mom’s death? Like, it sounds like Batman knows his way around things and-” The question came out before he could stop it, but Jon shut up as soon as his dad raised a hand towards him. 

“I won’t lie and tell you it never occurred to me. I just don’t know. If anyone could do it, it would be him. He had all the knowledge on how and when.” Dad’s light eyes were steely. His shoulders were tense, lips pursed together. The conversation was about to be over. 

And without fail, the man got up and left the room, leaving Jon to just sit in the leftover tension. So he was up against a family of super rich, intelligent, possibly homicidal people who wear masks. Maybe Dad was right about needing to just reach out to them and find out why things went down the way they did. The sprinkle of optimism didn’t do a lot to quell his nerves, but what else was he supposed to do about them? 

Lesson learned: even working out nonstop for a week leads to fatigue and the inability to move without pain, even for half Kryptonians. Jon relaxed into the bed cover. The pain felt sort of good, it was a reminder that he was getting stronger. It was also a reminder that he really was as weak as he thought he was, but it wasn’t good to live in the past. He wanted to have sparred with Dad a bit more than he had, but the man had taken back to being out of the house for weird periods of time. He was here now. Last Jon had seen him after breakfast was pacing back and forth in the living room as he read over a laptop manual. 

It was the first day of having internet. No more having to go to the library just for wifi. The wifi had come to them.

Dad didn’t have any idea, but Jon had already set up the laptop that Dad was prepping himself for. It wasn’t difficult, the program actually just directed him with what needed to be done. The only stumble was that it had asked for an email address to create the account, but Jon was able to skip that for the moment. And he learned that it was super easy to make as many emails as he needed. He didn’t even need anything to verify them. All that was left to do was to get the camera up and break the mic so it couldn’t be accessed without their permission. It wouldn’t be usable to anyone after that, but it prevented any kind of hacking that his dad was worried about. 

Jon also got a phone, nothing super cool or fancy like all the phones he’s seen around, but he’d be able to call and text with no problem. Plus, it meant that Dad wouldn’t be picking up any calls that were meant for Jon. He’d still be able to listen in, but Jon wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to combat super hearing. The teen knew he should be working on setting up the social media accounts they were going to use to monitor the Waynes’ actions in and out of costume, but the bed just felt too good. The tension in his back melted as he just laid on the soft quilt. Plus, he already had the accounts made. He didn’t really know if they were weird as far as Cheeper accounts went, but he already had personas set up for them. He had three that he would use to focus on different things so nothing would stick out too much. 

One account was just pretending to be a teen girl who was going through a boy crazy phase, and Jon may or may not have stolen the vernacular from some of his friends. It had to be believable. The way Clara had just been set on trying to date Dad for years and how she would gush over different actors in movies heavily inspired his first post which was just crying about how Bruce Wayne still wasn’t married yet. Jon blushed furiously when he added a sub cheep about how ‘she’ would be more than happy to fill that spot. The man wasn’t ugly by any means, but Jon definitely had no dreams of becoming his wife. 

The second account was of an older Gothamite who comments on different events going on in the city. That account had a lot of complaints. And Jon didn’t need to make up much of that. Every article he read about what was happening in that city just seemed evil. Like a man stealing medical goods to use for himself when they were meant to be dealt out to sick children? What kind of monster does that?

The final account was from a faceless conspiracy theorist. That account was locked down with little personal information or posts. It was just there to save posts about the so-called Bat-family. After that, Dad and he went over all of them, noting any new tools and moves. 

Overall, Jon felt fairly accomplished. He wasn’t any closer to getting justice for Natalia, but he was getting there. But he should get out of bed. It was noon already. 

He groaned, muscles feeling as if they were on fire as he climbed down the stairs. The ground floor was empty, his father probably having flown off when Jon was drifting off in thought. The wood creaked under Jon’s socked feet. He set some stew on the stove to warm up when he noticed the laptop resting on the island. Jon opened it up, clicking away the welcome screen. It was already opened to Cheeper, the little white posts filling the entire screen from accounts that Jon had already followed, and seemingly random others. He checked the account that was logged in, and seeing that cute cartoon cat icon, he immediately knew it was ‘Yvette’. Why the site recommended the Daily Planet to a fourteen year old girl who followed all of the most popular pop singers, Jon would never understand. He lazily scrolled through his feed, ignoring everything unrelated to the Waynes. For a few minutes, he was regretting ever copying that cop movie where they pretended to be a little girl to lure predators out of secrecy. Yeah, that was pretty close to what he was doing, but a little part of him died when he read an acronym that he immediately had to look up the meaning of. 

Everything was unusually silent until he saw the post from an account that was apparently, freakishly popular. And all they posted was about the Wayne family. The username was not kidding, it was solely focused on the Wayne family adventures, whether it was Bruce travelling to China for a business meeting, Dick Grayson getting a promotion, or something as simple as Tim Drake on a walk with his boyfriend. The post was admittedly cute, and Jon would’ve thought it was a lovely depiction of the beauty of humanity if the context around it wasn’t so dark. It was Damian Wayne dressed in a sage green turtleneck and dark slacks. He was looking up at the woman in front of him, half smile on his face, as he signed a contract. He had donated fifty thousand dollars to a group in Las Vegas to put an end to animal fighting rings. And the meeting had happened in Vegas just a few days ago. Just a few days after he carried out a kidnapping in that very city.

“Oh come on.” Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. Across the home, the door opened and closed, Dad was already home from wherever it was that he had disappeared to. 

“What’s up, Jonno?” His smile faltered as he saw his son’s frown paired with what was on the computer. “Everything going okay in the research department?” 

Jon nodded. “Damian was in Vegas recently. Doing charity work.” 

“How recently?” 

“Three days ago. I’m going to look into if he did anything else when he was there. Like if he met up with Tim or whoever that dude was.” He turned his attention back to Cheeper, scrolling through the same account to see if there were any other posts pertaining to anything in the Las Vegas area. Nothing. Not from Damian or Tim or any of the others. The only other post mentioning the city was from a few years ago where apparently Bruce got drunk (which was a tragic theme that Jon was picking up on) and hit on the magician who was performing for the night. 

“I don’t think the computer is gonna give you what we’re looking for,” his dad smiled, giving his son a pat on the shoulder before stirring the stew that Jon had forgotten about. “I think you should go back down there yourself, see if there’s still activity down there.” 

Jon perked up. “Really?” 

Dad nodded. “I trust you not to do anything too stupid, Plus it gives you the chance to check in on that young lady, see how she’s holding up. Though while you’re there, mind taking care of that mind control ring for good? I figured out that they were transmitting some kind of signal and that’s how they were stealing, but I haven’t seen who’s responsible.” 

Jon agreed. Before he could eat and head out, Dad insisted on giving him a test on his observational skills. As if Jon didn’t immediately notice all the knick knacks that had been moved or painted during the night before. All he had to do in Vegas was track the pattern and double check previous locations to see if they revisited them or if the employees could give him any extra details. 

 Easy peasy. 

The strip was more packed than it had been the last time Jon was there a week and a half prior. The holiday decor only seemed to grow in abundance, filling each inch of railing and with wreaths hanging on each door. Bells were ringing with a Santa seemingly on every corner of Paradise. Christmas songs filled the streets, each business playing a different station that should’ve created a really horrible noise, but instead just lifted Jon’s spirits. 

His arrival in Vegas had even gone smoother than it had the first time. He was already prepared for the smell and all the noise, and this time he didn’t land close to a dumpster of any kind. Just landed on an old apartment complex and climbed down via fire escape. He tried his hardest to take in all of the people he passed by, noting general characteristics and style to see if they were a match for that dude or Damian. He made his way through the crowds towards the Oasis, no one quite fitting either profile. The youngest Wayne hadn’t been spotted in the strip, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. Searching for the blue eyed man from before was more difficult as Jon didn’t look at the man as much as he should have, and he really had to try to not fill in the missing details with Tim Drake in case the two weren’t connected. 

He didn’t overhear any talk about any more lost phones, but he counted that as kind of a good thing. It would certainly make it more difficult for him if the ring had disbanded itself or moved on to something else, but it meant that people weren’t getting robbed right under their very noses. The area around the bar was emptier than other areas, but since the smell that had been present before was even stronger now, he didn’t need to be a genius to figure out why it was being avoided. A different bartender was working that day, this time it was a younger woman, bright purple hair and heavily pierced. The first time Jon saw someone like her with so much jewelry, he was honestly taken aback, but since then, he’d warmed up to it. The bartender had a really cool one on the bridge of her thin nose. Even through his leadened glasses, Jon could see the purple gemstone on each side that perfectly matched her hair. 

“Hello! Welcome to Oasis!” She smiled up at him before going back to restocking inventory. He shut the door, a cold feeling growing in his stomach. Not many people were sitting at the bar top and fewer sitting at the tables. There was a man facing away from him sitting at the same table that the ring had taken up last time, but there wasn’t a good or not awkward way for Jon to see who it was quite yet. 

Jon took a seat at the counter, quickly ordering and receiving his shirley temple. Aside from the music that was gently playing in the background, the bar was nearly uncomfortably silent. A man further down the counter was furiously typing on his phone with a glass of whiskey to his side. A woman sat at a table behind him reading a book while sipping on her margarita. At the far end, there were two men quietly talking to each other about one of their fiancées who was going through something. Jon immediately tuned the two out, no need to eavesdrop on something that would just be an invasion of privacy. 

As the bartender moved over to check on Jon again, the man sitting in the back stood up. He checked something on his phone before turning around and it immediately clicked. It was the same dude from before. His hair was cut into a mullet now rather than its previously messy waves, but the eyes were the same piercing blue. It definitely wasn’t any of the Wayne kids though. The jaw was too wide, and the blue of his eyes wasn’t right. Plus he was bulkier than the majority of the Bats and lacked the scars that Jason had. A flash of recognition crossed the other man’s face, and the dread that had been brewing in Jon’s stomach since he took his first step into the bar grew larger. 

The man smiled and slipped his black leather jacket back on before making his way to sit beside Jon. “Nice to see you come back. Not a lot to do.”

 Jon gave a tight smile back to the man. “Can you blame them?” He went to put a few bills down on the bar to cover his drink, but the other man stopped him. 

“I got it, dude. Can you add his to my  tab, Amy?” He shot her a dazzlingly white smile, leaning to rest his elbows on the counter. 

“I wasn’t going to charge him anyways. It’s just soda.” The bartender- Amy- shrugged before leaving through the door behind the bar. 

Jon tried not to  show his embarrassment at being outed too much, but his heart still pounded in his chest. 

The other man squinted at him, an eyebrow quirked up. “No judgement, but why are you at a bar all alone if you’re just gonna get soda? You’d get more for less at, I don't know, a gas station?” 

“Just here to see if you’d be here again actually.” The stranger smiled at this and leaned in closer. He went to reply, but Jon stopped him by asking,  “Why did you and the woman you were here with a while back have all those phones?” 

The other man was stumped, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. There was a beat before he recoiled. “How the hell did you know about that? You ran out of here before you could’ve seen anything like a scared little girl.” His gaze trailed down Jon until he saw the S Shield logo through the gap of the leather jacket. “Oh fuck me.” 

A crack sounded in the air and Jon found himself thrown through the bar’s door. His back slammed into a trash can,, and before he could move the stranger was above him with a raised fist which Jon countered by grabbing it and throwing the shorter man to the side. The other man wasn’t caught off guard though, landing on his feet and sliding down the sidewalk. He lunged quickly, taking Jon down again. The two traded blows, somehow matching each other each time. Each strike had so much power behind it that the hero was reminded of Dad for a second. But the other kept leaving an opening on his left flank. Jon faked a right hook before sending a steel toe boot straight into the stranger’s oblique. 

A crowd of people had begun to gather around the duo, phones out and recording. The barfly used this to his advantage. He stole a skateboard from one of the rubberneckers, smacking Jon across the face with it. It splintered as it cracked. It stung, but all it had really done was make Jon mad. Dad had said to lay low, but this guy just had to go and swing first. He flew, grabbing the man by his arms, taking him up to move the tussle away from so many civilians, but the other man fought against it. He pried Jon’s fingers off, nearly breaking one in the process. He landed with grace on the cement, seemingly not noticing that it cracked under him. Jon watched in confused horror as the man ripped a road sign down with his bare hands. Jon really shouldn’t have procrastinated on learning about other metahumans. The equal strength was one thing when getting punched, but felt like a whole new can of worms seeing it on inanimate objects.

“You should’ve just stayed out of it, Superboy!” Jon dived to meet the man again before he could damage anything else or hurt anyone in his way. Then, like how a fly falls when hit with a swatter, Jon was on the ground, the other man over him. His jacket had fallen open revealing his shirt to the bystanders. Even with the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, he heard their gasps. 

The jagged end of the pole dug in through the thin fabric. Superboy took a deep breath in, trying to focus hard on keeping his skin impervious as the metal pushed forward. The crowd had only grown, talking to each other about if this was really the president’s son, why Superboy was in Sin City, why the two were fighting on the streets. The strange meta panted, glancing at his surroundings, only now noticing the scene he was making. Adrenaline was running through Jon as he looked at his opponent. He didn’t look at all like the infamous  man, but he knew who Luthor was, and he knew what sort of relationship the man had with Dad.  He looked the other man in the eyes. “You don’t want to do this, Luthor. The kids would see.” 

Luthor looked to the side to see a little boy hiding behind his father’s legs. He looked back at Jon, frowning, but not moving with the fluidity he had been just a few seconds prior. “I don’t. I have too many errands to run anyways.” 

In the blink of an eye, the pressure on Jon’s chest was gone along with the man. But he wasn’t far. Superboy gave the crowd a few waves before flying to where he saw the man through the walls. He was moving fast though, weaving in and out of the alleys and running down different blocks before disappearing entirely. Jon paused, looking around for any hint of where he could’ve gone. Luthor had vanished. 

Chapter Text

Gosh dang it. 

Luthor was gone. 

Superboy searched the area, listening for a whisper of footsteps, breaths, heart beat, anything that showed the man was around somewhere, but it was as if he vanished into thin air. The surrounding buildings were empty. Not just abandoned and cleared, they were emptied out of everything . No desks, tables, chairs, supplies or anything that showed any sign of human touch. Just the lack of anything showed some weird amount of intervention that must’ve happened recently to not have it vandalized by now. Why, Jon had no idea. It didn’t take long to find an opening to one of them. He slipped through the window, minding the shattered glass that still remained in the frame. Superboy had to bunch his body to get through, but lost his grip when he saw the interior. 

He had no idea what the building could’ve been before, the exterior had looked well aged, the brick worn smooth with time. But the interior showed none of that. The paint didn’t look very fresh, but it had no graffiti on it. The floor was clean, but not spotless. Absolutely nothing was in the room, not even a dust bunny. Across the vacant building was a glass door that opened to a street that he didn’t see from up in the air. Jon peeked through the glass only to see that the whole block was a long strip of similar storefronts. X ray showed that all were empty, the same way that the one he was in, bare all the way through. Except for one. 

One across the street at the very end of the block was jam packed full of people. To the point that he couldn’t believe that so many would ever voluntarily group together like that. They moved seemingly in tandem, packing, inspecting, and moving heavy boxes to a room off in the back. It was dead silent aside from the slide of cardboard and a thump of weight hitting the counter. No one was talking, humming, walking abnormally, nothing at all. It was as if every member of that can of sardines was a droid. And Jon would’ve believed that if not for the sounds of them breathing and their pulses. 

Then, that silence ended. It happened as fast as Jon could blink. They all separated, trying to get some space of their own. The hero rushed down the block, but by the time he made it through the door, a man already had a woman in his grips. 

“You bitch, you did this to me!” When Superboy flew over, the man had already let go. He turned his attention from the woman to the Kryptonian. The man’s eyes went wide. His heartbeat sped up and he let go of the frightened woman.  He raised a shaky finger pointing at the hero now in front of him.  “You… Why…” 

Jon looked around. The same look of recognition and fear was mirrored on most of the faces looking back at him. They all seemed unharmed, all varying in ages and races. A lot of them were dressed the same though- black button up with black pants. Any long hair was tied up. “Are you guys okay? What happened?” 

With the last word still on his lips, they all began to scram. It was a stampede hitting the door, everyone trying to push their way through first. Jon tried to calm them down, get them to just tell him what happened so that he could help, but they didn’t listen. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, and he had no idea what to do as they pushed him this way and that to get through. He just stood there, unable to stop watching the scene as he stuttered out what he was trying to do. It didn’t take long before all but one were gone, running down whatever intersection they were on. 

The one person left was a young man, probably around Jon’s physical age. He was in red swim trunks and a white spandex polo shirt. He looked over the boxes that were spread along the counter, lifting off the lid of one to see what was hidden inside. It was stuffed with phones. 

The phones, the ones that had been stolen in the very case Jon was almost positive he had flubbed! Granted, it wasn’t done yet, and he hadn’t heard anything about the smart watches or tablets that were packed alongside the phones being taken too, but he had literally stumbled onto their base of operations. He stared in awe until he noticed that the other man had turned to face him. 

“You’re Superboy, right?” Jon nodded. The man continued, “I was on shift the day you saved that little girl. I know you aren’t connected to any of this.” 

Superboy stepped forward, looking through the technology himself. “Really?” He looked at the civilian, noticing the bright red lifesaver on the man’s shirt. He probably had gotten a front row seat to it. “Do you remember anything about how you guys got here? I don’t even know how I got here, and I flew.” 

The man shook his head. “I just remember talking to someone before going into work, but I can’t remember who. Then I got a major headache, and bam. The whole world goes black and I wake up here.” 

“Did you ever have any other blackouts before this?” He couldn’t help but remember that woman at the bar, the one who groaned as Luthor started walking towards her. After Jon ran off, did something like this happen to her too? If he was less of a coward would she have been safe? 

“Nah, at least none like this. Anyways, I gotta go. Just didn’t want to leave without thanking you.” 

Jon thanked him for the help, smile going unnoticed as the lifeguard was already walking out the door. The man just gave a lazy wave in response before disappearing around the corner. The hero sighed and began going through the store. Unlike the others, this did have a long counter akin to a coffee shop, but nothing else. No chairs or tables, just like the others. There was a storage room to the back, and if Jon had to guess, at one point it had been a bathroom based on the drain in the center of the room. The walls were lined with shelving units, though only a third of one was filled. The boxes that were out in the front wouldn’t have even filled the whole thing. Each one was filled the same way as the others with nothing but technology. Nothing was labelled though, nor was any box separated by type of technology. He took out his own phone to take pictures of everything, though it's not as if that took very long. 

Shattered tech laid scattered across the floor, probably casualties of the stampede, but not much was left behind at the scene, or at least nothing Superboy could use. He shook his head. The one person he knew with any connection to this was only getting farther away with every second he spent here. He picked up one of the random phones that littered the counter, and thankfully it turned on as normal. With the emergency button, he called the police, keeping the operator on the line long enough for the positioning service to get the location before hanging up. The woman on the other end seemed hesitant to believe any of it, but was contacting the police. Jon hoped that they would find some way to get the phones back to their owners. Even if they were already out of state, Jon felt like they deserved to know it had turned up regardless of if they came to pick it up or not. 

The streets were already empty again when he left. He heard faint footsteps, but nothing that had sounded like Luthor. The hero searched, but nothing had changed. It was still empty shells of what had to have been a bustling business center before whatever it was had happened. He wasn’t going to lie though, it sent a shiver down his spine to see all of the parking spaces in front and lots sitting entirely empty. It was like this area, in the heart of Vegas and just a few blocks from the strip, was entirely abandoned. There wasn’t even any litter dirtying the street. 

The sun had fallen just a few degrees past its peak when Jon called it quits on the search. Wherever Luthor had gone, he was just entirely off of Jon’s radar by now. Which was baffling. Who was this dude? How was the president’s son strong enough to not just take Superboy on, but take him down too? He ripped through metal the same way a kindergartener rips through paper. It was obvious that he wasn’t entirely human, or at least not a normal one. And if he was really the son of one of the richest people on the planet, why in the world would he be stealing phones? Superboy couldn’t even figure out any motive that made any sense: they weren’t being sold or disassembled for parts so, what gives? 

The only real takeaway he had was that he doubted that this was tied to the family in Gotham. He’d look more into the relationship between LuthorCorp and Wayne Enterprises when he got home, but at the moment, his gut wasn’t telling him that these were connected. It just seemed like meaningless, mindless theft on a weirdly large scale. Plus, with what Dad had told him about Bruce Wayne, the man didn’t like working with metas, and Jon would eat his shoe if it turned out that Luthor was anything else. 

It still didn’t feel good to leave the city with it unsolved though. Maybe that would just be another thing added to the list of social media investigations, see if it continues going on after this. But even Dad hadn’t gotten this far. That didn’t make Superboy feel any better, but it would have to if he wanted to swallow all of these feelings down until he got home. Knowing that he was making progress was the only thing he had to hang on to since Dad had taken over all Super duties until today. For the past week, all he had to keep him occupied was farm work and repairing everything that needed some work. Which wasn’t a lot with how they kept on top of maintenance, but with no school to keep him busy, he had just spent a lot of time dwelling on everything. And it was all moving so slowly. 

Luckily though, getting to Natalia's didn’t take anywhere near as long. She was already outside in one of the pastures, long hair pinned up and wearing layers of sweaters under her overalls. Jon smiled. Though he hadn’t seen her very much, every time he got the chance to, she took his breath away. It didn’t seem to be a great time for her though, because her face went beet red when she saw him landing just a few feet away. “Superboy! Hi! Uh, what are you doing here?’ She set the muck rake against the wheelbarrow, and waved. 

He smiled. He understood. It was his least favorite chore too, but he wasn’t sure Dad would want him sharing information like that. “Hey, Natalia! Just checking to see how you’re holding up. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

Her flush increased. Jon knew it was wrong, but he did get some sense of satisfaction seeing her on the other end of being flustered. “No, just being on the farm means I have to pitch in. Don’t want to be a freeloader and all that, y’know?” 

“I get it. There’s never any shortage of things that need to get done,” he said. “But really. How are you doing?”  

Her smile fell along with her gaze. “Just confused, really. Like, it was easily the scariest moment of my life, but he only hurt me after I hurt him first, so… I don’t even know if I can even say anything about that. It was just all so confusing, and I thought I was going to die out there.” 

Superboy closed the gap between them, placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him with watery eyes. “He still shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. You reacted the way you did because he kidnapped you.” 

She shook his hold off. “Yeah, but Robin is a good guy! He’s always been a good guy. It’s only because of you that anything happened. I’ve been thinking about it all week, and I just- I can’t deal with it happening again.” 

“Natalia, I-” 

“Save it, Supes. Listen, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us, and I know my parents do too, but it’s just- ugh I don’t even know what to say. Just please keep me out of things. I know what I said before, and I know I’m the one that posted you, but I can’t go through that again. I don’t think he planned to hurt me, but what if the next person to try something does? What then?” Her tears finally started to fall. Superboy’s eyes burned too, voice catching in his throat. And she still continued, “If Batman sees something wrong with you or what you’re doing, I don’t think I want to be a part of it.” 

He stepped away. He couldn’t focus on anything aside from her words and how the world was shrinking around him. It felt as if he was running out of air no matter how much he breathed. “I’ll go. I’m sorry, I wish I had an explanation or reason, but I’m sorry.” 

“I am too.” 

All he wanted to do was wrap her up in a hug, promising that nothing will ever happen to her again. Assure her that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, or at least nothing that he knew about, but he never wanted to hurt anyone. Never. But he didn’t move. Not for a few seconds. He just looked off into the distance, eyes hot and wet. But as the weight of it all sunk into him, he couldn’t be around her. He didn’t want to risk looking over at her and crumbling, saying all the things that he shouldn’t, telling her everything that he knew. Besides, he knew that she deserved better. 

Being at home didn’t help with the pain much. Dad had popped in a few times already to ask if Jon was ready to talk, but he couldn’t find any words. He wasn’t sure if he ever would again. Who knows how many hours slipped by as he laid in bed, wrapped under the blankets without the energy to even change out of his uniform. He wasn’t even sure if his C.D. player was still on or if he was just imagining Bjork in the background as he thought over everything. 

Pardon his language, but those assholes in Gotham really screwed up his life. He didn’t do anything for them to kidnap Natalia. He wasn’t like the people the bats targeted, using their strength against the mentally ill who needed help to overcome their struggles, the poor who had no other options to feed their families, the unlucky who were just kids getting recruited into something they couldn’t understand. It wasn’t like he was better than them, but he never once committed any crime. He didn’t even swipe a soda from any of the businesses he saved from being robbed. But they were still the reason the only girl he had ever been interested in told him to get out of her life. They were the reason he was robbed of a normal life. And it had to be them who took away his chance to grow up with Mom. 

Dad obviously hadn't told the full story, but he knew it. Bruce was jealous. Of what exactly, Jon wasn’t sure. Dad’s power? His reputation? Of his relationship? It was obvious that the two didn’t get along past just being coworkers sometimes, not if Bruce never knew who Dad really was. Couldn’t be too smart either if he hadn’t pieced it together after literally being interviewed by dad too.  

Moping wasn’t accomplishing anything though. It wasn’t even helping his heart. It still ached in him. He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t heartbreak, he didn’t even know Natalia. It wasn’t like the movies where the protagonist had been in a long, loving relationship that was abandoned without reason. He wasn’t living High Fidelity or Legally Blonde. She didn’t even know him. 

He blinked the tears that already started again away. Laying in bed really wasn’t doing much. And he still needed to go take care of the animals. He didn’t need to put that on Dad along with everything else. It seemed as if he blinked and all of the chores were over though. One moment, he laid in bed and the other he was standing in the field by the chicken coop, not even soothed by the sight of the feathered babies sleeping, curled in on themselves as they cuddled each other on their roost. The cows weren’t mooing that evening, already too late for their song. The stars were out big and bright, but they had never felt so far away. It felt hollow.

The house was empty already when he came back in. Dad was already out saving the world from the typical pre-holiday crime sprees. Jon could barely process the silence around him, not noticing each creak of the floorboard or whip of the wind as it hit the old house. All he could focus on was the spinning wheel as the laptop booted up. Those seconds crept by far too slowly, but eventually it opened up to the last tab Jon had loaded. Whatever it had been meant nothing to him, and he instantly cleared the search bar for a quick few searches about his next mission. 

Going as Superboy wouldn’t help him very much; one, people probably wouldn’t be too familiar with him that far east, and two, he needed to blend in. And he couldn’t do that as some dumb hick farm boy either. 

The weather would be slightly warmer. Still cold, but hovering above freezing for the majority of the day. The total cloud coverage and constant rain fall wouldn’t be much fun, but if everything went appropriately, it would only be for a day. Not even a full day either. People definitely dressed differently there or from what he could see on influencers from the area: a lot less plaid and pearl snaps than he was used to. But he could make it work. He needed to. 

The next morning, Jon was up early. He had already taken care of the morning tasks and packed his bag with the jacket and shirt he’d need undercover. He was in uniform, the navy pants needing a wash soon, but for now they’d have to work. Any pair he’d have to bring along would have to be stuffed into the backpack, which would definitely set off some of Dad’s alarm bells. No amount of cold water made the puffiness under his eyes go down though. It seems like he didn’t inherit his father’s abilities to shove his less savory emotions down where they couldn’t bother him. 

Speaking of the older man, he was in the back pantry, most likely going over what they had in stock of their canned goods to last them through the final few months of winter. Harvesting had gone great this last season, but it still never hurt to stay on top of everything. Jon used this as an opportunity to try to sneak out. He couldn’t be too quiet, that would make Dad too suspicious, but he didn’t want to do anything that would directly call Dad’s attention his way. But right as he had the door opened, ready to call out a quick good bye and head off, the man appeared from the kitchen. 

“Feeling better today, Jonno?” The older man wasn’t quite meeting Jon’s eyes, but he was smiling. 

“A bit. I just need to head out, the final thing to knock out in Vegas, y’know?” He tried sneaking out the door, but was stopped by his hand on his shoulder. It was soft and steady. Periwinkle eyes finally made contact with his, and Jon gave him a smile that didn’t quite meet the eyes. 

Dad wrapped the teen up in a hug. “You go get her back, son. And even if you can’t, don’t let it get you down. You’re a good kid.” 

Jon melted into his dad’s embrace, his rapidly beating heart slowing down. That wasn’t what he was going to do, Natalia made it clear enough that she didn’t want to see him again, but it felt good to know that he was supported in the brand new area of life he was entering. 

Dad continued, “Don’t lie to me next time though. I’m always listening for ya.” 

The tap on his ears made Jon blush. “I’m sorry, Dad. Just embarrassed about all of it.” 

The older man just shook his head before giving his son a final pat on the shoulder and leaving to go back to his earlier task. Jon quietly thanked God above for making that easier than he thought it would go. With how strict the man had been the past fourteen years, he still couldn’t quite believe that after all of that, he trusted the teen to leave as he pleased so long as he told Dad where he was heading. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though. Later that day, he’d definitely get chewed out for lying not once, but twice, but it would be worth it. Even Dad would understand that. 

Gotham stunk to high heavens. Jon smelled the city before he even saw it. Even if he didn’t have heightened senses, he was sure that it would’ve been the same experience. Just straight sewage and dirty water mixing with industrial odors to create the worst aroma he had ever had the displeasure of smelling. And to think that almost eight million people chose to live here. 

Seeing the metropolis didn’t help much either. It was breathtaking like Las Vegas, but in the polar opposite way. Despite some of the buildings being stunning, historical mansions and churches, most were in disrepair. A lot of the city was cheaply made, cookie cutter apartment complexes that were all various shades of grey that blended into the skyline. The light pollution was equally awful. But it made sense that nearly every light seemed to be on despite it being noon since the sky was so freaking dark that there was no way for anyone to see if it wasn’t lit up. And Jon only slightly freaked out  when he landed in an alley that he thought was empty only to find that a group of rough looking men were looking at him with more indifference than people who just saw a flying man should have. They only glanced at him for a moment before turning back to each other to talk, some taking swigs from brown bag wrapped bottles. They didn’t even look back at him as he awkwardly changed, trying to keep his body hidden behind a dumpster, but all the trash that was piled to the side made it nearly impossible. It was far from ideal, but he still needed to minimize how many people saw who he was. The final touch to the disguise of a white button up and black jacket was a pair of his dad’s old glasses. Getting into the habit of wearing them was hard, but if any situation called for it, it was this one. 

The streets were packed, and all the people who walked them had mean expressions. He was a fish out of water, running a hand through his windswept curls and searching for a street sign to tell him where in the city he was, crossing his fingers it was an area he had memorized the night prior.

 Cookie Avenue and Robinson Park Drive. 

Okay, he could do this. All he needed to do now was make his way south towards Canal Street. Then it would be a straight shot to where he was going. Easy peesy. All he needed to do was tune out the screams and sobs and general misery that he could hear from all around him. And not let that rat know that it was scaring the wits out of Jon. It was easily the size of a dinner plate and eyeing him up like the hero was going to be its next meal. 

Fifteen painful, overwhelming minutes passed before he stood in front of a tall, elaborate tower, the dark brown brick staring him down with its rows and rows of windows. The tower tapered up to a glass pyramid at the top with a long spire reaching toward the sky. A slim classic W sat in the center of the building glowing brightly through the smog. People were bustling in and out of the building, all in business attire that left Jon feeling like a buffoon in his thick wool jacket and cargo pants. 

But it was now or never. He didn’t bring enough cash to pay for any new clothes, so these would just have to do. With a notepad and pen in hand, he joined the crowd, stepping off the revolving door onto plush golden carpet and warm lights. The lobby was sparsely decorated with holiday decor, though it was more general in theme than other cities were. It was a lot more gold and red decor that was kind of winter-ish than Santa Claus and reindeer. There wasn’t much in the way of other decorations on the warm, white walls. Jon noticed that most of the crowd were heading straight for the hallway in the back of the lobby to where the elevators were hidden, but Jon marched straight up to the woman at the front counter. 

He gave her a big, but not too big, smile and introduced himself. “Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Sammy Lane, I’m with The Daily Planet, and I was wondering if I could get you for a quick interview if you have the time.” 

She barely looked up from the screen as she replied, “No comment.” 

“It really won’t take much time, ma’am, just a quick read about how Wayne Enterprises treats their employees.” 

She hummed. She still scrolled and typed away at the computer, but after a few seconds of him still standing there, she looked up, blue eyes piercing into him. “Wayne Enterprises is the best company I have ever worked for. I get unlimited paid sick days, free insurance, and had my tuition reimbursed. The pay is also more than adequate.” 

He noted it all down, humming as he worked. “And how hands-on are the Waynes with the general employee body?” 

The receptionist paused, eyes narrowing. “I have met all of Mr. Wayne’s children along with the man himself. There is a company wide family day every year as well that they all attend. If you would like, I can get you an interview with Mr. Wayne to get his own opinion, he has the next fifteen minutes free before his next meeting.” 

“Oh no,” He knew that his eyes went wide, but he couldn’t help it. He prayed she just thought he was star struck.  Jon shook his head. “I can’t ask that of you. I know I didn’t call to schedule anything, and I’m just a junior reporter, so I don’t want to-” 

“It would get you a permanent spot for The Planet,” Her narrowed eyes scanned over him before meeting his own blue eyes again. “At least until your abysmal interviewing skills get your fired, Mr. Lane.” There was no time between her last word and her raising the phone to her ear. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, there’s a reporter here that would be honored to interview you…  A Sammy Lane from The Daily Planet.” 

Jon darted. He wanted to get the chance to get a few more interviews done, but he wasn’t prepared for Bruce. Not even close. And especially not here. He pushed his way through the crowd, not paying attention to who he was walking past, his gaze focused solely on the door. It was only a few feet away when he knocked into something rather than just pushing past it. 

Except it wasn’t an it (thank gosh, because that damage would’ve been more than he and dad could ever pay for), it was a man. A bit on the shorter side with golden skin and cropped dark hair. Unlike everyone else in the building, he wasn’t wearing a designer suit. He was dressed plainly in black sweats, and his hair was unstyled. Dark bags were under his eyes, and by his pissed off expression and the spilled coffee all over him, Jon knew he was in for it. His head already hung low waiting for the tirade that didn’t come. He looked back up. The young man was still there in front of him, arms crossed and scowling. It only made Jon feel more ashamed of his recklessness.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” 

“That much is obvious. You were running through here like a bull through a china shop. What is so important that you had to act so haphazardly?" Sharp green eyes looked Jon up and down as if sizing him up. “And to be dressed so pedestrian as well.” 

That last comment was unneeded, but Jon would just have to let it go. It’s not like he dressed like this regularly anyways. But as he looked closer at the man’s face, thinking of the best way to apologize, he recognized him. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Bruce would’ve been easier. He looked different now than in any of the photographs. At the galas he was manicured and styled to perfection, but now he had the hint of stubble shining through his tan skin that was paler than usual from exhaustion. He was still wearing a matching suit, but instead of Armani, it was plain sweats. Jon was looking into the same almond eyes of Damian Wayne. Robin. A spark of rage ignited in Jon, one that he had to ignore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a bit of fun. “I wouldn’t say my outfit is pedestrian if I was the one wearing sweats. Personally.” 

Damian scoffed. “My pants probably cost more than your whole outfit put together. Besides that, a good sweatsuit is classier than the abomination you have on.” Jon had to laugh at that one. He hated to admit it, but the other man was right. Of all the people he had walked past today, none had the unfortunate combination of utilities  and a button up. The Wayne gave him another look, one that went straight to his soul and shot a shiver down his spine. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

Jon laughed again, nerve filled this time instead of genuine. By the glint in the other man’s eye, he could tell Damian saw it too. Jon was lucky the other man couldn’t hear how his pulse sped up. “Probably not, unless you ever came into the diner I used to work at back home. Which I doubt. I'm just a new reporter for The Planet.” 

The other man raised an eyebrow. “There wasn’t any interview scheduled from The Daily Planet today.” Jon did not like the aura coming off from Damian. “However, considering you came in completely unprofessional attire, I assume that was due to your fuck up rather than theirs.” 

The hero just bowed his head, blushing. He nervously fiddled with his glasses, thinking of a response. “Yep! I forgot to call, but still showed up anyway. Silly me. Anyways, can I get you a new coffee, Mr. Wayne?” 

Damian scowl deepened. “Of course you can, it’s a matter of if you will . And you will. There’s a lovely little cafe just a few doors down.” He turned and started moving, not even looking back to see if Jon was following after him. The crowd seemed to part around the youngest Wayne though Jon didn’t know if that was because of who he is or just his general attitude. The rain had started up again, but under the visors the duo was left rather unaffected.  The cafe was small which did not help Jon feel comfortable with how packed it was. It was also an older part of the building with a lower ceiling that seemed to be closing in on him. 

Once they were both situated in line, Jon tried his hardest not to recoil at the prices. He’d barely have enough money to cover both drinks, and it meant that he wouldn’t be able to give much of a tip or buy something to eat. He turned to Damian, ready to ask what the other man wanted, but he was beaten to the punch. 

“So, what is your name?” The scowl had shifted to something more neutral. 

The man was distancing himself and obviously trying to tiptoe his way around getting any information. But Jon had planned for this. “Sammy Lane. I just started, so I haven’t had anything with my name published. So don’t expect to see much if you try to look me up.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “I just thought it would be polite to know the name of the man so generously replacing the coffee that he spilled all over me. Lovely to know that The Planet found another Lane to harass my family though.” 

That was about Mom. It could only have been about her. But Jon didn’t know about any articles she wrote about the Waynes. Just the few that dad had stored. And every time he had tried to look her up and read more about him, that empty pit inside of him flared up again, stopping him from going any further than having it typed out in the search bar. But didn’t Dad mention that she and Bruce knew each other? That sick feeling popped up again, almost taking out Jon’s fake smile. “There’s no relation, unfortunately. If there was, I think I might be a lot better at this.” 

“You’re honestly more bearable than other so-called journalists I’ve met,” Damian replied. “In case you weren’t already aware, I’m Damian Wayne. And I apologize for being so on edge, I’ve just been awake in the past-” He checked his watch, “thirty six hours. And I still have more studying to do after I meet with my father.” 

Jon cringed. “Yikes.” 

Serves him right though. It wasn’t justice, but Jon did think it was fair that after everything Robin did, that he spent most of his days exhausted beyond belief. However, did that level of sleeplessness impact his decision making skills that day? It was possible that he wasn’t thinking straight, but then again Jon was trying to rationalize kidnapping and that’s when that train of thought ended. “Mind if I get a quick interview from you though? Nothing long, I promise.” 

“And here I was thinking you’d never ask.” He gave a slight smile that turned the teen’s stomach. That was when the two arrived at the front of the line, the cashier looking at them expectedly. And a few minutes later, they walked away with a small extra dirty chai with soy milk and a peppermint mocha frappuccino in hand. They took a table in the back, right beside a bulletin board filled with art work that various customers had done over the years. Jon already had his notepad out, and Damian looked ready to fall asleep there at the chair. 

“So uh,” the Kryptonian began. “How involved with Wayne Enterprises are you, Mr. Wayne?” 

“Not at all. I’ve always been removed from the company due to my age, and once I was deemed ready, my ideals had shifted more akin to my paternal grandfather.” He took a long sip of the coffee. He brightened just a little bit, but still looked like a very beautiful, but very grumpy cat. Jon was grateful that Damian was following in Thomas Wayne’s footsteps rather than deciding to jump into ecoterrorism. 

“Alright, you’re in medical school, right?” Damian nodded, and Jon jotted that down. “Any particular field you’re looking at?” 

Jon was surprised to see the older man’s thick eyebrows shoot up. “Emergency pediatrics” He paused, taking a moment to think before adding, “Though anything related to pediatrics would be more than satisfactory to me.” 

Now it was Jon’s turn to be surprised. “Any reason why?” The man just coolly responded ‘yes’ before returning to his drink. Jon took a sip of his own before asking, “So, what kind of legacy do you think this generation of Waynes will be remembered for?” 

“If I had to guess, our philanthropic work. Father has a lot of charities to assist orphanages and children’s hospitals. Timothy aides under funded schools. Dick, though his work is located in Bludhaven, has donated generously to local groups that specialize in the arts and the housing crisis they’re facing. Cassandra also is a benefactor to the arts along with social welfare. I personally focus my work on animal rights causes like animal shelters and sanctuaries for slaughter house rescues.” 

Jon hummed in understanding before moving on to the next question about if Damian believes that what they have done has anything to change the systemic issues within the city.

 Damian rolled his eyes at this. “One family can’t be the sole crutch to aid a whole city. Besides, there is only so much you can do to clean up a city as cursed as this one.” 

“I unfortunately can’t disagree, sir. Do you guys ever get to see the sun?” 

“Only for about forty-five minutes in the peak of July.” 

Jon smiled, the man was opening up. And it hadn’t taken a lot. “This one isn’t related, just out of curiosity,” Jon straightened his posture, gaze turned down toward the half asleep man ahead of him. “Why were you recently seen in Las Vegas?” 

This woke the Wayne up, green eyes blazing akin to Greek fire. “I was donating money to a group that works to put an end to animal fight rings.” 

Jon continues writing in his notepad. “Yes, I heard about that, but I thought that it seemed a bit out of the blue. Was there anything else that put you in the area?” 

“I fail to see how this is relevant at all or any of your business.” The two young men stared at each other, daring the other to move first. “I highly suggest you make your way back to Metropolis now, Mr. Lane. ” 

The emphasis on his alias’ surname didn’t go unnoticed. Jon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, still meeting Damian’s gaze. The other man didn’t shrink back, instead just tensing and Jon couldn’t help but notice how the other’s hands were now clenched into fists. “Why are you dodging the question, Mr. Wayne? Or would you prefer if I called you al Ghul instead? I’m not sure if you keep in touch with that part of the family.”

“This interview is over.” The man moved so fast that he was a dark blur as he went to leave the cafe. But he couldn’t escape Jon. He gripped Damian's wrist, stopping the other man. His grip must’ve been crushing, but none of that showed on the youngest Wayne’s face. Keeping his voice low, he asked again, “Why are you dodging the question?”

“One more word, and I’ll have you charged with harassment.” Those green eyes were still alight and narrow as they glared at the hero. Jon eased up on his grip which the other man quickly followed by yanking his arm back to freedom. It was obvious that getting this information was going to be harder than he thought it would be. At the very least, he was asking all of the wrong questions. The information he had gotten was nothing more than stuff he already knew from basic Goggling. But it wouldn’t do him any good to draw attention from the police force. Batman had been seen too many times with the commissioner to not have the man in his back pocket. 

“Okay, I’ll go.” With his hands up to his head, he stood and took a few steps back. Damian was still on edge, body tense as if he was ready to go for a fight at any given second. “Go get some sleep, Damian. You seem to need it.” 

As he left the cafe, he thought on where to go next. The main branch of the Gotham library wouldn’t be a terrible idea, he was sure they’d have old articles from the Gazette with more information than what had been available online. Maybe even a few books on local history with facts that hadn’t quite made their way onto the internet yet. It was still raining outside, the clouds dark and low. In the past fifteen minutes, it seemed to have gotten worse somehow, fog lingering low to the cement and asphalt that made up the city. It was only as he crossed Canal Street and began walking down Miagani that he realized that he had left his coffee behind. Karma’s a bitch. 

It turned out that the  library was a total bust. Gotham had a surprisingly good system at uploading their historical documents and archived articles to be available to the public on the local government’s website. Jon had already read a good chunk of them all and had already taken extensive notes. The only thing he did learn was that the transfer of mediums had been funded by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. None of it was particularly helpful, what he could find on the history of the Waynes and Kanes was extensive until it got down to the final heirs Bruce and Katherine. They were particularly private about their personal lives and weren’t even seen with each other very often. The most interesting aspect of Katherine was her coming out as a lesbian in 2006, and that wasn’t anything Jon particularly cared about. Something as mundane as sexuality impacted someone’s character as much as what their favorite movie did. 

Sighing, he took a moment to take in the building. As depressing as Gotham was, its buildings were like no others. The library was huge, taking up a good chunk of the block. Each window was arched, stretching nearly to the ceiling which was hand carved wood surrounding a painting of a sunny sky. Beautiful bookcases lined the stone walls, each stocked full with any book Jon could desire. And at the center where Jon was sat were rows of large tables. Every seat had their own miniature lamp and charging port that worked with both phones and laptops. At the back was a fake home stocked with toys for children to play at while their parents worked or read, along with its own lounge of beanbags where the kids could relax and work on the plethora of puzzles that the library provided. It didn’t have the personal study rooms that Jon was used to from back home, but the room was so large that he doubted there was ever a day where there wasn’t at least one quiet area. 

Unless the day was like today. Jon was suddenly taken aback by the scream of people and the crushing of cars. It fortunately just began, but he couldn’t hesitate. He watched as the crowd of pedestrians stampeded out of the way of a large bright lavender vehicle that was flattening anything in its way. He dashed out the door leaving all of his resources behind, scattered on the desk. He felt a little bad, especially seeing how others did the same thing, only creating more work for the librarians on staff, but he had a reason. 

It was easy to get lost in the crowd. No one was paying attention to anything other than themselves or the monster car that was eating the streets. It only took half a second to blow out two of the tires with a quick burst of heat vision. The car quickly came to a stop right as a yellow figure descended upon it. Jon glanced around again. Everyone was too busy focusing on what was happening and the sight of the Signal to be paying attention to him. He slipped into an alley, changing as he ran at super speed. Only a few minutes later, Gotham was far behind him. 

The ranch was quiet. The animals were unusually silent as Jon wiggled open his window. Typically the sight of him would cause a ruckus among the birds, but this evening, they didn’t make a peep, opting instead to take cover under a fallen tree that was laid by their pen. Jon needed a shower to get the smell of Gotham off of him. It wasn’t like the trip had been worth it at all, aside from seeing Damian struggle against someone who knew the truth about him. But that didn’t even lead to anything, he had just used what he already knew, and was no closer to bringing the young man to justice. It was heartbreaking though that someone who had such amazing aspirations could do something like kidnapping. Knowing that he had spent half of his early life in a terrorist family explained some of it, but he had spent the past eleven years here. What kind of way did Bruce raise his kids that they may think it’s an innocuous thing to do? How could he do something like that and want to help children?

Jon sighed. He debated taking that shower first, but he needed to apologize to Dad for lying. Explain what he was trying to do, and that even though it didn’t return much, it still allowed him to understand more of who they were up against. The air changed when he stepped into the rest of the home. Dad wasn’t upstairs in either the study or his room, so Jon made his way down the stairs where it seemed to grow heavier. The hair on the back of Jon’s neck stood straight up. 

Dad was sitting on the couch. Even from behind, Jon could see the way that the man’s hands were clenching his knees. The teen stopped dead in his tracks. He held his breath as his father remained sitting so still it was as if he had been turned into stone. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, Jonathan?”

Jon tried to swallow the stone that was caught in his throat. “No, sir.” 

“You went to the one place you know I can’t go.” 

Everything buzzed in Jon’s body, telling him to turn around and run, but he forced himself to continue down the stairs. He hesitated as he took the final few steps to stand in front of his dad. The older man’s face was cold and emotionless. Nothing showed in his eyes, there wasn’t any twitch of his mouth or eyebrows. 

“You ruined everything. In one day, you managed to make every sacrifice I have ever made or you go to waste.” Dad’s gaze was still set down to the floor. Not once has he bothered to look up at his son yet. “I gave you the chance to make the right decision. You could have gone back to your girlfriend, begged her to forgive you for whatever stupid shit you pulled. But no.” 

Jon opened his mouth to respond, to give an explanation and tell him how things actually happened, but the older man just continued. He finally looked up at Jon, periwinkle eyes lacking any of the warmth that he associated with the older man. He knew that the older hero had moments of hiding his emotions and putting on a metaphorical mask, but this wasn’t like any of those. “If you fucked up, I would’ve had to leave you bleed out in the streets.” 

“I had it planned! I saw what they did to you! That’s why I was undercover-” Jon was cut off by all the breath leaving his lungs. He was now on his back, the older man pinning him down from above. He still had that hard glint in his eyes. “Dad, please, I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry won’t cut it this time.” A fist connected with Jon’s nose leaving a loud crack in its wake. The force behind the hand keeping his shoulders down increased as another punch came at Jon who was still in shock. His heart raced and when he saw Dad raising his fist again, he shot his head up straight into the other man’s. 

Dad flew back, the surprise of the attack knocking him off his guard. Jon flew out of the house going clear through the front door. He was half way to the front pasture when he felt a grip on his ankle. 

“I didn’t think I saved such a worthless son.” Those words echoed in Jon’s mind as he hit the metal roof of the barn, landing prone on the freezing cold sheet of aluminium. By the time he realized that his father had thrown him, the older man was back on top of him. “You just thought I’d never find out you snuck off, huh?” 

Jon didn’t get a chance to respond or fight back before dad drop kicked him, sending his crashing body down to the loft. He coughed up blood, his aching muscles crying out for an end to this. “Dad…” 

In response he got another fist to the nose. Jon landed in a pile of splitted wood, the lost spinning above him. He could still see char marks from when he lit it on fire years ago. Dad hovered above him. His face still bore no expression but this time his eyes betrayed him. The dim light of the barn reflected off the tears in the man’s eyes. His mouth was moving, but Jon could barely hear anything through his ringing ears. As the world righted itself, he caught the last bit. 

“.Get the fuck out of my face.” 

The world was beginning to go dark, one of Jon’s eyes hurt so much and he could already feel it beginning to swell. He panted on the barn floor, nothing making sense to him until he saw his father’s eyes begin to shift to red. He tried to stand up, but one of his legs wasn’t holding any weight, sending him back down to the ground. Dad just watched as his son got onto his hands and knees, pulling himself until he was in the grass. The ground was so cold under Jon’s touch. The worn soil was hard under him, aggravating his broken knee more than it already was. He still felt dad’s stare smothering him until he pulled himself to the side.  He couldn’t go any further. 

Each breath was a wheeze and when he exhaled the smell of blood overwhelmed his senses. The ringing didn’t stop either. The blue sky above him was spinning and nothing was coming into focus. Sobs started that only caused him more pain, each cry making his ribcage burn. And Dad wasn't going to be there to help bandage him up. Or make him dinner that would warm him back up. Or lend him a shoulder to cry on so the loneliness didn’t swallow him whole. Dad wasn’t going to be there at all. 

It was the middle of the night when Jon woke back up. Half of his vision was impeded by what was an already super swollen black eye, but his hearing had returned. His leg was feeling better, and as he hobbled into the farmhouse, he listened out for any sign that dad was home. 

It was deafeningly silent. 

Chapter Text

Superboy must think he’s a fucking idiot if he expected Damian not to see through his tricks and deceit. Despite not recognizing the superpowered vigilante who was flying about the American west initially, it didn’t take long for Damian to shake off the sleep deprivation and annoyance to recognize exactly who the buffoon that bumped into him was. The offensively tall man was giving him a sad face akin to that of a kicked puppy’s and in an outfit too horrendous to put into words.  After seeing that and feeling the wet fabric of his clothes beginning to stick to him, it was hard to focus. But he knew immediately that he had seen that face before. Even with the glasses, something remarkably familiar was sticking out that he couldn’t help but ask about. He knew those cerulean eyes, pink lips, and the messy hair. But what really got his mind firing was the man’s response to if they had interacted before; he spoke with the same neutral drawal that he had only ever heard from one man before. 

Even through his exhaustion, Damian noticed how the man paused and his pupils dilated past normal means for the moderate light in the lobby. He was reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights as if he didn’t expect to possibly get called out on his bluff. But he offered to replace the latte that was now spattered over the sweatsuit that Damian honestly couldn't care about. It had been a gift from Dick to try to make his time at school a bit more comfortable than slacks and sweaters, but the coffee didn’t show much on the dark fabric. Plus the young hero had gotten much worse stains out plenty of times before. He had also had much worse fluids on him in the past, but it was the principle of the situation. Superboy had ruined his coffee thus needed to replace it.

The cafe was not much of an incident to speak of. The other man’s disdain was more evident than he probably thought, but Superboy’s smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes just enticed Damian to carry on the charade. He answered as charismatically as he could, giving nothing but diplomatic smiles through the ordeal. Even the question that had ‘set’ him off hadn’t really done anything to that effect. He just no longer had any need to stay as the other man had finally taken a sip from his sugary, coffee adjacent milkshake. After that came the next question that he needed to pretend to take offense to. It wasn’t as if any of this would be in the papers anyways, and even if it did land up in print, he didn’t care in the least. Admittedly, he was banking on the idea that any mention of police would cause Superboy to go running thus leaving his drink behind in his haste, but the fool still fell for the bait. Other patrons may have given a glance or two at the rather quiet ordeal, but it really wasn’t much of anything given Gotham’s normal day to day antics. And many of the upper echelon of society had quit thinking of Damian as a way to get in with the Waynes; they learned years ago that he was the ‘problem child’ and borderline venomous when made mad. When he was out making any public appearances, they generally avoided him, giving him grace that many of his other family members weren’t allowed. 

Using a clean napkin, he gently wrapped up the straw, careful to prevent any of the overly sweet drink from further dirtying his clothes or contaminating the speciman. He slipped it up his sleeve as he took the short walk out to the front where Alfred was already waiting. He gave the older man a quick nod and smile. The other understood that Damian just needed silence in that moment, not going to make any conversation as he normally would. He thought over every detail carefully. Not just the baseline facts of the Kent case, but how they may have played into the most recent event. 

The man was bold. Damian had expected some sort of retaliation for what he had done in Vegas, and when dealing with Kryptonians that could have been many things. But he hadn’t expected Superboy to try his hand at reconnaissance. It was a poor job too, he hadn’t bothered to learn the true style of the area, style his hair, or learn how to not be a complete imbecile. Even his alias needed work. Sam Lane may not have been a man that Damian had ever met, but through the Justice League’s notes alongside how the former general had aided searching for his daughter and grandson, he knew that the man was very much real as well as very much alive. It begged the question on how the young man had crafted the name.  

It would be quite the coincidence if it was unrelated, but the youngest missing Kent was named after both grandfathers, including Samuel Lane. Plus, if Damian’s theory was true, then perhaps Jonathan knew more about his mother than Damian thought, thus crafting the false surname. But that would only make sense if the man only knew about Lois Lane and nothing about the rest of her family. Pairing that with the fact that the man hadn’t revealed himself to authorities as a missing person, Damian wasn’t quite sure where to stand on the matter. It could still be a stranger that was going around masking the youngest Kent’s life as his own. 

Damian’s instinct didn’t feel that was true however. That would mean someone had researched Superman and thus Clark Kent extensively. However, there was still the unidentified playing pretend as Superman. He might’ve had a cross to bear and brought a partner along for the ride. Though Superboy’s age, given that he is not Jonathan Kent and that his physical appearance wasn’t misleading, would have been quite young when the disappearances occurred. 

The town car pulled into the driveway careening Damian out of his thoughts. He gave his thanks to Alfred and let him know that he should be back up to the manor shortly before pulling out his cell to call Father. The old man raised an eyebrow in question, but otherwise did nothing to stop the young man. 

The line rang a few times before the older man picked up, voice lacking the perkiness that let Damian and the others know that the man had company. 

“Yes, Damian?”

“Hello, Father, I was curious about if you happened to still have the DNA profiles on all of the Kents on file.” 

The other end was silent for a few seconds before Father spoke again, “Yes, drop off whatever you have with Tim, he should be home right now." Damian scoffed, but it went ignored. “Does this have anything to do with that reporter bothering Harriet this morning?” 

“Of course. I believe it was Superboy paying us a visit under the alias of Sammy Lane working for The Planet as a junior reporter.  I doubt a word of it was true, but he was asking about the family.” 

“I’ll check with Jimmy about it, but The Planet is always on top of scheduling, and they don’t send any junior reporters out for Wayne interviews. I still don’t want you attached to this case however. Give it straight to Tim and get to bed. I doubt you’ve slept any since I’ve seen you.” 

He scoffed. Father’s cool voice always had done wonders to soothe Damian’s rapid paced mind. “There are always so many things to do, Father, and as Jason says, ‘Sleep is for the weak.’” 

The older man huffed, but Damian could hear traces of amusement. “Goodbye, son.” 

“Bye, Father.” 

Disregarding everything Father had just said, Damian slipped into the dry well, getting closer to the stone floor of the batcave with each rung. He minded each grip, taking them slower than he normally would and regretting not having worn something that could hold the specimen. But eventually, his feet landed on the stone, the sound echoing throughout the cave system. After setting the used straw down on the steel table, he prepped himself, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and donning sterile gloves. He swabbed the end that Superboy had touched. It wouldn’t be any significant amount, but it would have to be enough if Damian were to get any answers. Otherwise the case might have just become more difficult as he knew no other way to securely contact the man to ‘redo’ the interview and excuse himself as just having been sleep deprived. 

He sighed as he placed the collected DNA in the tube and aligned it within the centrifuge. As it began its cycle, Damian walked over taking a seat at the computer system. He could feel Superman’s eyes boring into him from across the room. Ignoring the weight that brought onto his shoulders, he started the operating system which came to life at an instant. The photo analysis system took no time as well, but searching for the pictures on file of the Kents was more of a struggle than anticipated. Damian knew exactly where he stored the more recent pictures of Superboy and already had the flashdrive in, but the pictures that had been logged of Jonathan Samuel Kent weren’t stored alongside those of his parents. 

After digging and decrypting several firewalls, he finally found them. It was a subcollection in a secret folder. Something Father wanted available to himself but unknown to everyone else. The collection was just photos of children, some of which Damian recognized. It was of children that were still missing or had been injured before Batman could step in. The kids who had been let down despite the Dark Knight’s presence. Unable to see their parents again and placed with new families that required adjusting to, the unideal life for any youth. 

And among them was the youngest Kent, with his own folder of pictures featuring not only his parents, but of various other heroes. Jonathan as a baby sleeping in Dick’s arms as the teenage hero beamed at the camera. Diana throwing him as a toddler in the air. The little boy looking at the camera with big eyes as he held on to a very forgiving Krypto. None of the pictures had any defined backgrounds that Damian had recognized nor did they have any captions. The only picture that any additional information added on to it was of one featuring all three Kents with the addition of Kara. It was taken at Wayne manor, the family piled onto the leather sofa that still sat in one of the sitting rooms. Jonathan was standing on the cushions with an arm wrapped around both Lois and Kara while Clark was on his wife’s opposite side laughing at the sight. Damian had no idea of the context of the shot, but the caption said enough. “06/27/2011”

With the family having last been seen by Jimmy Olsen on July twelfth of that year, it was probably the last time Father had seen any of them. At least outside of uniform. He swallowed down any of the emotion that had started to bubble up. Sure it was tragic that something sinister had fallen onto the sweet family, but pity and empathy played no part in solving their case. He duplicated the photo to save on his own drive should he need it again. He then cropped it to remain focused on the child, and plugged it into the analyzer against the selfie that had been posted from Las Vegas. Even before it started, just seeing the two side by side was striking: the alien vigilante looked roughly twenty years older, but had the same cowlick, the same dimple. If it was a shapeshifter akin to Clayface or a rogue martian, they did a hell of a job replicating the child’s appearance. Before he could start the software though, the centrifuge beeped signalling it had completed its cycle. 

As Damian was finished with the annealing process and was waiting for the strands to cool enough for the primer to attach, he heard the tell-tale sign of someone sliding down the pole that came from the study. Only one person ever did that though with far easier routes available in its stead. 

Dick looked cocky as ever as he sauntered into the center of the Batcave. His blue eyes flickered between Damian and the pipette he had in hand before his smile fell into something a bit more natural. “Doing okay down here, little D?” 

“Go away, Grayson. This doesn’t concern you.” Damian set the pipette down before going back over to the computer to get the photo analysis completed. 

“I think it does after you get benched until B decides you’re not looney anymore.” Dick walked up beside him, leaning over the younger’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen. Damian heard his brother’s breath catch when he saw the picture of young Jonathan’s smiling face. “I remember that day. Mind pulling up the full picture?” The youngest Wayne rolled his eyes, but pulled the window back up after initiating the program to begin in the background. “That was my twenty-second birthday. The Kents had their own thing planned, but they still stopped by to give me a few gifts and talk for a bit. Jon was acting like such a little ladies man that I took this so we’d always remember. He had more game than his dad ever did.” 

Damian raised an eyebrow, looking at his eldest brother through the reflection of the screen. Dick had a somber smile that was quickly replaced with his stern expression saved for missions. The younger asked, “So are you going to be telling Father about this?” 

“Nah,” Dick responded. “It’s for a good cause. Yeah, you went a little haywire, but it got us some more info and I know you won’t be repeating anything like that again.”

Only because Tim had the plane coded to reject my entry for the next year. Damian didn’t say that outloud. Dick, as Damian learned years ago, was a solver. If he wanted to rant and rave about something that had wronged him in some way, the older man gave him solutions that were not ‘blow their heads off’ or ‘why don’t you crush it into pieces so that it can’t bother you anymore.’ But his pragmatism was a strength in moments that the twenty-one year old truly didn’t know how to navigate. It helped balance out Father’s overwhelming paranoia that everything in the world was destined to go wrong. 

Damian gave Dick a hum in response before standing to resume collecting the DNA. Going the whole nine yards wasn’t entirely out of his toolbox, but with how the hammer had come down on him, he wanted to save it as a just in case instead of being the first step. It wasn’t long before he could begin the gel electrophoresis and return to where the older was now sitting. The photo analysis was complete. As far as the system believed, Superboy was one and the same as Jonathan Kent with only one discrepancy. The man was reading at twenty-four years old instead of eighteen. 

By the time he sat to look over the full results himself, Dick had already tested the system on others with various stages of aging and disfigurement. Jason, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, and even Killer Croc had come back with accurate ages with only one being off by a solitary year. 

“Run a photo of Superman. The original.” Damian spoke. Several reasons could be behind the difference. Alien genealogy, being a hybrid, a plethora of logical reasons. It was up to them to figure out the cause. Until it came back correct. Superman had first donned the cape when he was twenty-five and his first picture reflected that perfectly. 

“Could it be the result of his hybrid genetics? We don’t really have any other Kryptonian-humans to compare to…” Dick’s mouth fell into a straight line. “Maybe he had faced kryptonite at some point? Damaged his cells similar to how the sun turns some people into leather bags?”

Damian didn’t quite agree, but it was something to consider. He hadn’t been around to see how Superboy had reacted to his father’s state; perhaps he had known immediately what to do. Though, it was interesting that since that night, the new Superman hadn’t been seen.  “Do you think this could even be Jonathan?” 

Dick gave a noncommittal response and minimized the computer application. Then he dug, searching the flash for where Damian had collected the saved pictures and videos. He began with the very photo that Damian had used for comparison. It was one of the few where Superboy’s face was visible and clear. He looked, searching for something within the pixels for a full minute. He then browsed the others, seeing the boy’s stance and powers, reading the articles that were saved alongside everything. “I’m having a hard time believing it's not him. It’s just been so long though…” 

“Others have been presumed dead for years before their return. Just look at Jason-”

Dick cut him off immediately. “Don’t compare this to Jason. Jason was a scared kid who hid for a few years, not whatever this situation has turned into.” 

Tt. As far as Damian saw it, the circumstances were similar enough. One just hit closer to home for the eldest brother. The timer went off letting the two know that the DNA sample was ready for analysis and comparison. They worked in silence as Dick prepared the second computer in the cave and Damian transferred the contents to a new tube to prevent contamination. 

“Dick, how did Father even acquire the DNA of a four year old to keep on file?” 

Dick just shrugged. “If Clark didn’t want him to have it, shouldn’t have left Jonno’s pacifier here when they visited.” 

If Damian had said that surprised him, he’d be lying. That was Father’s modus operandi and a wonderful reminder of the man’s preparedness for a plethora of near impossible situations. And how often the man was often right despite the odds. He placed the sample into the plate beside it as Dick pulled up Jonathan Kent’s profile. The program wouldn’t take too long, not with the CPU and RAM that Luke Fox had helped Father pick out. The machine hummed as the two men sat in silence. 

Dick was the first one to break it. “I know you  would’ve been young, but you would've gotten a kick out of B’s reaction to little baby Jon. He wasn’t scared to hold him or anything, but giving him back to Lois? Nearly impossible. He was terrified the little guy would accidentally burn her head off.” 

“That was a possibility though, wasn’t it? It’s not as if Superman knew what their genetic mix would’ve entailed. Plus that ‘little baby’ is also now the size of an NBA player and is a total moron.” Dick chuckled, but Damian just started shrinking in on himself. The computer was irritatingly stuck at eighty-nine percent and the adrenaline that filled Damian was starting to wear off, leaving sleep deprivation in its wake. “Just so you know, Superboy actually was just here in Gotham.” 

Dick’s bright blue eyes widened as he turned to stare at his youngest brother, gripping the computer mouse so hard it nearly cracked. “How do you know? Was he in uniform?”

Shaking his head, Damian struggled to remember the fine details of their interaction in that moment. “No, just some failure of an attempt to be incognito. He was posed as a journalist and spilled coffee all over me.” Dick cracked a joke about how it probably made the younger smell a bit better that resulted in him getting elbowed.  “He was asking about the Wayne family legacy. I’m not sure if he knows who we are or not, however, he was asking me about my time in Las Vegas." 

Dick grimaced. “Oof. Yeah, Dames, that’s not a good sign. Any idea how he would know who we are though? Clark is dead and Jon wasn’t ever told since he was, y’know.” 

“A child? I haven’t figured that out either. There’s still a chance that he just followed the tabloids and assumed that Father funds Batman, not that they’re one and the same.” The progress bar kept creeping up, now at ninety-three percent. 

“Crazy that he came onto our turf. Do we have any clue where those two have been hiding out?” Dick asked, leaning back in the seat and resting his feet on the table.

Damian was about to respond when the program finally finished. It was a match. Not an almost match, but entirely complete. The profile didn’t show much history of any severe injuries or drugs or poisons, but the amino acid pattern did correlate with a high level of stress. Between the two samples, the most recent one also backed up what photo analysis had shown. The methylation and telomere strands weren’t average for what should be an eighteen year old. It matched much closer to that of someone in their twenties. The two brothers locked eyes. 

Dick rushed off to the other computer, pulling the photo analysis system back up. He plugged in a photo of the new Superman and ran it through their database. It had only been done a few times since pictures of the man became available, but still, none were very high quality. Dick tried again though, surprising Damian by pulling a screen shot from Robin’s body cam footage. Dick caught a screencap that showed the man’s face much closer. While in the moment, Damian hadn’t realized how similar he actually looked to the original hero. He was far lankier though, with features sharper with a smaller frame. 

The system loaded before returning with the same result it always had: zero matches. Dick growled and looked ready to punch the screen. But instead he took a deep breath and stood, muttering under his breath “What did he do to you, Jon?” 

Damian was inclined to agree. Knowing that this was the same as the missing toddler made it more complicated. The taller man may not have much in the way of knowledge about his parent’s disappearances, and the presence of high stress impact on his DNA did not indicate having had a good childhood. He sat in the empty chair, mentally going over the notes of the case in his head. His eyes started to fall hearing Dick in the background complaining about Kara never answering her comms. Being flighty and unresponsive was all Damian had ever known of the woman though. By the time he arrived in Gotham to live with father, she had already taken off on her space escapades that she used to cover up her substance abuse 

Finally, Dick must’ve gotten through though because after a series of hiccups he heard the woman asking what the hell he wanted. Sleep tinged her voice and her frustration was evident, but the older man had fully transitioned to his vigilante persona. “Kara, I need you to check your damn messages and tell me if you’ve ever seen that man before.” 

The Kryptonian woman groaned, but Damian heard her shuffling from wherever in the galaxy she was. “No, I’ve never seen him and why the hell is he wearing my baby cousin’s costume?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out! And that’s not Clark’s costume anyways, not that any of us have seen. We need your help, plus we have some important news for you anyways. Come back to Earth, Kara. Please.” Damian couldn’t see his brother, but knew the older man’s face was tight with exasperation despite his level voice. 

“Why? So I can search the globe again and still not find them?” Hiccup. “Get reminded that the only family I had left is gone forever?”

“No, it’s so we can tell you that Jon’s still alive! Why do you have to fight me every time I just try to talk to you?” Damian couldn’t make out whatever gibberish Kara had tried to respond with, but opened his eyes again when he heard the call disconnect. It hadn’t done much to ease his exhaustion at all. How he longed for Tim’s ability to will his body to sleep anywhere for any amount of time. He turned the chair just in time to see Dick running a hand through his dark hair with a pinched face. “I don’t even know the last time I didn’t see her drunk.” 

Damian just stared at the older man waiting for him to return to baseline. “Why are you helping me with this, Dick?” It was odd to Damian that the Super family had shown up for his birthday years ago. Nightwing was also one of the heroes that didn’t talk about the Kents often, saving special stories for rare occasions rather than openly celebrating their lives the way Wonder Woman or Jimmy did. 

“I loved them, little D.” Dick pulled a second chair over to sit beside Damian. “Clark was like an uncle or something to me. He took me in when B and I were in a rough place, and he’s the one who inspired me to become a hero on my own. He gave me the name Nightwing, and helped me figure everything out about life. Because of him, I was able to understand that even though Bruce is a control freak with the emotional intelligence of a baked potato, it didn’t mean he didn’t support me..” 

Sleepy green eyes looked over at his brother. Dick wasn’t even looking at him, gaze focused on the second screen that read Jon’s DNA results. “Will you work this with me please? I never knew them like you did.” 

“Why don’t you ask B?” Blue eyes flickered in his direction. 

“Because Father gets frustrated. He’s too close to it.” Richard’s smile showed that he understood what it was really about. 

“So I haven't been keeping up with any of the updates since they started making appearances in October. What’s the run down?” 

And so the two spent the next ninety minutes reviewing everything from the past three months. From every save that Superboy did, reports on the new Superman creating ditches to help with monsoons and saving a school bus of children on the highways. They pooled over the original case together as well, just to keep details fresh for whenever Kara eventually arrived. Nothing, absolutely none of it painted either Superboy or Superman in any negative light. It was almost freaky how perfect they were. 

“What if the new Superman is just another Kryptonian type refugee and they're both in hiding?’ Dick proposed which Damian quickly rebutted.

 “As in, Superman is not the leading suspect, and there’s still someone else out there to be wary of? No vehicles entered or left the atmosphere in that time period, and the other villains have alibis. Even if we are working with a refugee, why would they hide from the League? Even other planets now know of it with how extensively it has grown.” 

The older man sighed. “You’re right.” The two looked over some of the League’s interviews that still contained nothing they were looking for. Damian’s mind was starting to shut down as he was struggling to retain any on and  think of any new theories that could hold water. Dick suggested a new idea. 

“What if we reached out to them? Let them know that we just want to talk and figure out whatever this is.” 

“Why do you think that would work?” The words ran together, but Damian couldn’t bring himself to care. He just needed to get this wrapped up before he could finally go nap. 

“Because Clark never wanted to immediately jump to fight, he just wanted to help people, even if they weren’t great.” 

“But this isn’t Clark. They aren’t behaving like people who want to talk. Jonathan showed up here, in Gotham, to figure out more about us while pretending he wasn’t on our radars. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he was looking at us specifically or that he named himself after the general.” Damian’s head was starting to hurt from everything. He grit his teeth and continued to make his point. “Kara couldn’t even find them in fourteen years. How could we do it?”

“I’ll start scanning socials, maybe Jon or whoever that other guy is will have hopped on the trend too.” Dick smiled, and rested his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m gonna need to unwind after all this before I head back down to Bludhaven. Wanna join me in watching a movie?”

“Depends on what movie. I can not do Legally Blonde or whatever drek was put on last time.” In this state, no matter what Dick put on, Damian wouldn’t even have the energy to even snark about it. The older man was about to respond as he cleared out the windows and erased the trail of activity when the screen of the Batcomputer went stark red. An alarm blared, filling the dwelling and waking Damian up from his half asleep state. 

They looked over to the surveillance- Louie the Lilac was up with a new scheme, riding high on an oversized vehicle with his famed flowers in tow. Duke spoke over the com, letting the team know that he was on it and only a block away. They watched the scene as civilians scrambled away from the crushing car. It didn’t take long for the flash of yellow to appear from over a building, but just as soon as the Signal arrived on scene, two of the vehicles tires were blown, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Damian leaned forward. It took a few perspective changes from the other cameras in the area before he spotted what he was looking for.  He rewound and slowed down the scene. “There,” he pointed to the lower left corner where he spotted a familiar button up and glasses. In slow motion, he was able to catch Superboy look around and lift his glasses. It barely caught the red of heat vision however. Damian didn’t fail to notice the great range of control the man had over his powers.  

It had taken Superman years to get to that level of precision. Jonathan must’ve been trained. Most likely by the other Kryptonian that was flying around who knows where now. It may explain the stress that had left its mark on the man’s DNA. He rewound the clip and set it to loop. 

Was this some kind of warning? Was ‘Sammy Lane’ just stepping in to help the people of Gotham when he saw the need? Damian’s jaw tensed as he thought over the possibilities of just why Superboy had stepped in. It could be a show of powers, or it could be that Dick was correct and that the two men were true heroes who meant no harm. But that still wouldn’t explain why they had hid- Robin had even given the older of the two a chance to explain himself and who he is, but the man didn't take it. Damian ran his tongue over the spot where a back molar used to be. The area still hurt, and his ego hurt worse knowing that he had been thrown like he weighed nothing. 

“Damian,” a hand rested on his shoulder, sending him back to the moment. “Let’s go up to the manor now. No offense, but you’re looking a little rough.” 

He shook the older man's hand off his shoulder. He glared at Dick over his shoulder, but still turned around to head up to the main house. Once settled onto the couch with the Wizard of Oz playing in the background, Damian was taking a page out of Tim’s book. Though his scrolling was a little more targeted, just focused on anything that was new with Superboy. No one else had seen him in Gotham for who he truly was. Or at least, no one had posted about it yet. But there was something. 

Several videos, all from different perspectives, of Superboy having a brawl with another dark haired man. The caption claimed it was President Luthor’s son which made Damian do a double take. The last he had heard was that the first son could most decidedly not fly, though most pictures did portray him with a Redbull in hand. Perhaps that slogan wasn’t for nothing. 

One of the videos had managed to capture what had to be the beginning with Jonathan flying through the air to land in a trash can. Luthor’s son whose name Damian couldn’t care to remember at the moment came through next in a dark blur before he was thrown. Another video continued the fight, Luthor back on top of Superboy. He must be strong, at least as strong as Superboy going by the grimace on the man’s face. With strength, speed, and as he discovered in a later video, flight, all the signs were pointing to Kryptonian. Plus the two looked shockingly similar to the point of looking like twins. The only clear difference was their heights, but that didn’t stop the two from being built in similar ways. Lean muscle with long limbs and solid shoulders. Their dark hair held the same waves and both had the same piercing eyes of a certain big blue hero. 

Holy shit. Thank all the forces that be that Dick was in the other room changing into his uniform before his shift because Damian wasn’t sure if he said that aloud or not. He took a sip of the honey colored tea that Alfred had prepared for him and processed everything he had learned. 

Superboy was the missing Jonathan Kent. Who had possibly helped them against a rogue. And knew that the Waynes had some sort of connection to Batman. And to top it all off, Luthor somehow had custody of the late Superman’s bastard child. 

The reality couldn’t set in yet though. He went to scroll through the feed again, to see if there was something else he had missed, but the phone was snatched out of his very hand. 

“Damian, you need to rest.” Dick appeared, dressed fully in his black and white uniform, long hair gelled back to perfection. He took a seat beside his brother, brows furrowed in concern. “I know this isn’t something you want to hear, little D, but I think you should take a step back from night shift for a while.” 

Damian huffed. “So you’re punishing me too now?”

Dick shook his head. “I’m just worried about you. You’re stretching yourself too thin. I know I said I’d help you with this, but if that means seeing you like this again, I don't know if I can do it.” 

His brother was right. School was already out for break and here he was still staying up for two straight days. Part of that was indeed for studying, but he had spent so much of the time on the streets listening and watching, just trying to catch up for all the missed time since starting his second year. It hadn’t even amounted to much, especially since he did it out of costume. Even Stephanie now had a better vigilante work-life balance, and she was the messiest one of them all, allowing her personal life to bleed into her nightlife that made her stupidly easy to track down. 

“Besides,” Dick continued,  “Once you're finished up with school, you’ll save way more lives than any of us. At least,  if you don’t die of exhaustion before graduation.”

Damian pondered it. It would get a weight off his shoulders, and with so many Bats on the streets, there wasn’t a lot that would fly under the radar. “I suppose you’re right. But I need this case finished first.” The other man gave him a certain look. “I want my last case to be something memorable. Something worth doing.” Something Father would be proud of. 

When Dick asked if there was any reason this was sticking with him so much, Damian didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say that he felt Superman’s stare ripping into his soul every time he was down in the Batcave or how the puzzle pieces that couldn’t fit together wouldn’t leave his mind. And now he knew that Superboy was the missing toddler with such a dreary childhood, it was embedded into his DNA and how in another world, that could’ve been him. So all he did was shake his head. 

Dick didn’t pry any further. “Sometimes it’s just a gut feeling. We’ll figure it out together though. We already have a lot more info already than we did a few months ago.” 

Damian relaxed under his brother’s smile. They always solved every complicated case. The puzzle pieces would all come together, and most of them were putting themselves on the board without Damian having to go looking for them. There was still plenty to be done, but soon it would be over and done with. Then any time where he was up for forty-five hours would be dedicated entirely to medicine. 

When Damian awoke, he was no longer on the couch. He was in bed, still tucked in and feeling much closer to being alive than he did before. He checked his phone, ignoring the long list of notifications. Twenty-two hours. He slept for twenty-two hours and no one tried to wake him up, not even to help tend to any wounds. The young man groaned and threw himself back on the bed. Deep breaths helped fade away the rage that still bubbled up when he felt slighted, and with his stomach rumbling, it was difficult to focus on the anger anyways. He thought back to when he last ate- it was a granola bar right before he had left to see Father at his office. 

The kitchen wasn’t empty when he stepped in. Thankfully it wasn’t Tim trying and burning a new recipe, but it also wasn’t Alfred who still managed to wow Damian after all the years of having his cooking. He couldn’t feel Father’s foreboding aura either, so he just assumed the man was either at the other side of the home or just absent as he normally was. 

The chef stepped out from behind the door of the fridge and revealed himself to be Dick again, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat and still wearing the clothes he must’ve just worked out in. The older man saw Damian and smiled. “Have a good nap?”

“I’d liken it more to a coma.” Damian eyed the ingredients laid out on the counter. Just because none of the things that were out weren’t cruelty based doesn’t mean that the other man was making acceptable food he  could steal. “What are you making anyways, Richard?” 

“Lentil bolognese. Saw a recipe online and it looked good.” He pulled out a cutting board and began dicing an onion. “And before you ask, I’m here because I got some news for you.” 

Damian nodded and took a seat at the island. He began munching on an apple, waiting for the other man to continue. 

“Jesus, I hate and you got B’s silent response thing. So annoying,” Dick whined. “Anyways, I searched Jon’s picture to see if I could get any other matches online and I got one. He must’ve just started a new social account earlier today because it was really new when I found it.” 

“Any other news about him?” 

Dick just shook his head. “Nah, no public sightings. His account only had two pictures, one of him and one of his movie collection. Is having physical media cool again? It was a ton of VHSes.” 

“No, Dick. VHSes will never be cool again, and you’re showing your age.” Damian smiled as the man gaped in horror and tossed the onion into the pan. He stirred it around before reaching for his phone and sliding it over to Damian’s way. It showed a PicPool account under the name sammylaneee. Superboy was real creative with fake names it seems. Dick wasn’t lying, there really only were two pictures to slide through. One was the man caught making a face, glasses sliding down his bruised and crooked nose. And the next was of a huge collection of movies and shows tagged with an assortment of vintage related hashtags. “So what are we going to do with this?”

“You tell me.” Dick squeezed in the tomato paste. “You’re the lead on this.” 

Damian’s smile turned to a slight frown. He looked back at the screen. In the very first picture, the location data wasn’t turned off. He dug deeper for the post details, and within the picture’s data, found that it was taken in the town of Buffalo Cross, Wyoming. But when dealing with a man who can fly, it didn’t mean that he lived there. But in conjecture with the woman that Damian had used as bait, it showed that the man had some sort of connection to the area. Using his own phone, the town of Buffalo Cross was only a couple of hours north of Cheyenne where Superboy had first been seen. “Have you checked to see if you could pull any more data from this yet?” 

“No. I was thinking about just sending him a message to let him know we just want to talk. Get some more info about what happened to his parents.” 

He took a few minutes to think it over. In a clearer mind, it didn’t seem as if Jonathan had any true sinister intentions. Even the bruise that had wrapped around Damian’s left wrist had healed already. And he had helped take down a rogue, even going as far as to make it with next to no collateral or scaring the crowd further. “Let’s do it. But only under the condition that Superman isn’t present for it.” 

The smell of cooked tomato filled the air alongside the cooking pasta. Dick let him know that the throwaway account was logged in and ready to go whenever Damian was ready to send it. He sat for a few minutes just staring at the empty chat screen, pondering the best way to go about it. He didn’t want it to sound too clinical in fear that the alien would take it the wrong way, but coming across as too chummy would also make him seem juvenile. He second guessed even mentioning himself as he doubted the other man had forgotten the kidnapping of Superboy’s girlfriend. He chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew that if someone had taken Nika against her will he wouldn’t forgive anyone. Even if it happened now, he’d still be there to reign hellfire on the assailant or whatever was left of them from when Nika was through with them. Eventually he settled on, ‘Greetings. This is Nightwing. Pardon my interruption, but given the circumstances, I would love to talk with you (and you alone) about the details surrounding your family’s disappearance. The case has been ongoing for fourteen years and deserves to be closed.’ 

He read it aloud to Dick before sending it as the other man strained the pasta. Dick laughed so hard he had to set the pot down before he doubled over. “God damn, Dames, are you an alien or is Jon? What the hell was that?” 

Damian sat back, stunned at his brother’s response. He glared at the taller man. “It was formal and perfectly carried the point across!” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Red Tornado would’ve been more charismatic.” His lips turned up again at the other man’s pout. “Give me a minute to plate this up and I’ll give it a try.” 

Still pouting, Damian ate a forkful of the pasta as the other hero crafted a ‘better’ message. It only took a minute before he turned the device around shouting “Ta da!” 

It was too casual, too friendly. It wasn’t at all what Damian had wanted. 

‘Hey there, Jon! Nightwing and Robin here. We really appreciate you helping us out yesterday, and wanted to reach out to get some more details about whatever you remember about your parents disappearance. Thank you!’ 

It only would’ve been worse if the man had added an emoji. Damian’s eye twitched. “That is way too buddy buddy, Richard! How is he going to know that we mean business?” 

“Maybe because you already kidnapped his girlfriend? I don’t know!” Dick shrugged and swallowed his last bite. “Too late to worry about it anyways, I just sent it.” 

Damian jumped to his feet, spaghetti forgotten as he stared down at the other man. 

“I don’t know why you asked for my help if you’re just gonna judge whatever I do. Besides, we don’t plan on trying to take him down right now, and if we need to use it, we can pull the kryptonite out of retirement. Again.” His blue eyes stared back at Damian with the final word. 

The younger of the two took a few deep breaths in before sitting back down. “You’re right, Dick. Thank you for your assistance. And for dinner.” 

Dick leaned over to ruffle Damian’s short hair. “Anytime, little D. There’s more in the pot too if you want it. You’ve been looking kind of gaunt lately.” 

He shifted in his seat. His recent weight loss had been apparent to him as well. There wasn’t enough time to go to school and study and patrol and surveille and eat. And if he had to pick one to sacrifice, he wasn’t going to let his grades or reputation fall short. He looked back at the man whose attention was entirely on his food like it was the last thing on Earth. “Like you didn’t lose weight when you went to the academy?” 

Dick laughed through his full mouth. He swallowed before responding, “Oh hell no. I gained like fifteen pounds in between everything. Too many gas station hot dogs.” 

Before Damian could tell off his eldest sibling for how disgusting he was, the man’s phone dinged. 

“Damn, that was quick.” He opened the notification. Dick’s blue eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot straight up. “Well, Damian. Maybe you were right.”

Damian held his breath as he read over the reply. It certainly wasn’t good, and his assumption that the man would still be pissed about the recent kidnapping was true. But there was more to it than just that. 

“can you waynes just leave me the fuck alone. killing mom and ruining my life wasn’t enough, you have to harass me online now? go choke

and natalia is doing FINE, thanks for asking” 

“Richard, did you reach out to him at all before this?” Damian asked. The other man shook his head, eyes still locked on the messages. “D you think Father reached out?” He doubted that heavily, Batman was never one for social media. Dick just shrugged.

The animosity that Superboy had shown the day prior now made sense. He knew who they became at night, and knew that Robin was responsible for that woman’s –Natalia- kidnapping. For some unknown reason, he also believed that father had killed Lois Lane which would certainly add a level of disdain. But worst of all, another Bat had already contacted him. 

Damian may not be the one to solve this mystery. 

Chapter Text

Static was inescapable in the upper bedroom of the old farmhouse. Even with the windows closed and curtains drawn along with the heater working as hard as it could go, there was a chill on Jon’s skin that was slowly bleeding down each layer that made up his body. Yet again, he was left laying in his bed with his stare fuzzy and looking at a plain spot at the wall. The CD had already played through all of the tracks, how long ago, he doesn’t know. The white noise was mildly comforting against his grated soul, but it didn’t matter since he didn’t even have the energy to get up and even cycle through the album again. He couldn’t get out of bed to try and leave the heavy feeling behind him.

It hadn't happened yet, but it was going to. Another person in his life was going to leave him behind where he couldn’t follow. Rebecca already had the general plan schemed up for her great escape, but Jon was left in the dark about when it would be. Because he had said no. It was probably soon given that she insisted that they do their gift exchange earlier when they were hanging out. She was going to go God only knows where without  much of  a plan other than doing whatever it would take to be free. Just get to a place where she could lick her wounds and take the first job that came her way.

How didn’t he see it before? The first time they studied together, she winced every time that she sat and constantly shifted in her chair with tears in her eyes. He remembered when they were still young, she ran around with him in old jeans, climbing trees and roughhousing the way he loved to do, until one day it all changed. She started looking more like a Victorian ghost than the girl he met on his first day in town. Only a couple of springs ago, she lost so much weight, it seemed as if she had become half the size she used to be, and all she had told him was that she had given up eating for pleasure during Lent. And he didn’t question it, didn’t ask why her parents weren’t worried by their daughter fading away or why she never gained all of the weight back despite the two and a half years that had passed. Jon failed Rebecca. Everyone failed her. 

He ate so many dinners at that family table with them, and it was just all laughs and smiles and prayers. When Dad would go out of town, Jon would study with them, and Rebecca had to watch as he was taught by the man who did it all. Hell, it was the Featheringham’s church that he went to most days of the week, often staying after service to talk to his friends or use it as an excuse to hang out with their family friends, to hang out with her. Jon went to both of her older sisters’ weddings, and ever since those days, he never once asked himself why the two women never returned to Buffalo Cross. He just blindly believed that once a couple became wed that life changed to having a full schedule that didn’t allow for much else. What an idiot.

Rebecca wasn’t even mad that he didn’t see the big picture. She, under the tutorship of her father, knew what to say, how to cover her mottled skin, and how to smother the truth before it could come out. But it wasn’t fair that he spent a decade ignoring her abuse when she saw through his lie in less than a day. 

Immediately after her father had ended the sermon, she came his way and asked. She asked if it was his dad and pointed out that Jon changed with his father in the room. He shrank under the watch of the older man. His voice quieted, his laugh died every time he might be heard. Rebecca was the one that hugged him and told him that disobeying his father wasn’t ever an excuse for getting a fist raised at him. But Dad wasn’t abusive, it was just a one off that she would never understand. Not without knowing the whole truth. 

He curled into the white plush dog that Rebecca had given him as a final goodbye. It was the only reminder he had of her being in his life. He didn’t even have any photos since the picture she took of him didn’t include her sitting beside him. Sure, she helped him set up an account where he could keep in touch, but there wasn’t any way to know the next time he’d actually see her again. Maybe he’d catch a moment with her if his ‘job’ took him wherever she was making a living for herself, but he hadn’t even looked at his work shirt since taking it off. It was a good thing that he had backups since that shirt was mangled beyond repair. The pants were in tatters as well with rips littered through the legs. 

Maybe not leaving alongside her was a bad idea. 

She offered a way out, but he didn’t have the same reasoning for running off. When she asked, he saw the hurt she carried through her still hopeful eyes. She was so optimistically cautious that he nearly said yes, but after a few seconds of thought, turned the idea down. When the flash of betrayal overtook her face for a split second and she cast her vision down at the floor, he wanted to go back on his word and just agree, if only to keep her safe.

 She could get robbed or mugged, some slimy business man could take advantage of her. She could get kidnapped, and no one would know where she was until it was too late. But Jon couldn’t make the hard decision to be able to leave with her. He couldn’t tell her, not without putting her in more danger. Natalia didn’t even know who he was beyond the alter ego, and she was still put in a position where she had to leave him behind. He couldn’t risk losing his best friend that way too. Jon had the option of quitting, but from what he learned going out to try and help, it would never stop and that would leave the world with one less person to try to make things right. It ran through his mind that he could just keep it hidden from her and live a double life, but he knew that she’d inevitably find out. She wasn’t stupid and all of the movies always showed that the other person always finds out. He couldn’t stomach lying to her through all of that time either, and then still losing her in the fallout. 

And there probably wasn’t a place on Earth where Dad couldn’t find them. The older man would definitely try to find Jon. Dad loved him, of course he’d try to find his only son, they were the only ones left of the whole family. And Dad would be so angry. If Jon thought he was mad when he had just gone to Gotham for a few hours, he didn’t want to see the man if Jon straight up ran away. And he didn’t know how Dad would react to Rebecca being with him either. Not only would it look entirely inappropriate, but he was so close with the Featheringhams that he may not understand just why she had to leave. There wasn’t a way that the man knew what had been going on in that house. If he had, Jon knew that he would’ve stepped in, would’ve done something, but then again, Jon wasn’t sure that he knew the man much at all anymore. 

Sigh. He would just have to wait until the man finally came home to know anything. This wasn’t the longest that Dad had been gone, but it certainly was the longest without Jon having a general idea of how long he’d be gone. Maybe Dad would come back, and he’d apologize and the two would come out closer than ever. He wasn’t going to just sit there and pretend to know what Dad was thinking, what he was feeling. After everything the man had done for him, Jon was almost positive that it was just a freaky one off. But that small part that said otherwise was so loud. What if Rebecca was right and Dad was just an abuser? What if he came back and the events of yesterday were just going to be his new normal? 

How did abuse even start, how did people find themselves in that situation? Rebecca just kind of implied that it was all that she knew, and with her sisters having escaped by their own means, it must’ve just been a thing they all had to endure from the get go. It didn’t seem as if she was too excited to talk about it, and Jon wasn’t even sure if something like that was even appropriate to ask. 

It wasn’t a topic that Jon was altogether unfamiliar with. He was never taught about it in church or through his schooling, but he saw it not infrequently outside of his social bubble. In just the month prior, a baby’s cry caught his attention from a cute, little suburban neighborhood. When he flew down to see what was going on, he saw a woman with an arm in a cast and said baby was strapped in a stroller, its little red face twisted in its shouts. The woman was on her knees, stuffing what looked like an overpacked bag in the storage under the stroller. Another bag hung over the handles above her head. The mother was cooing at the baby despite how tightly her brows were furrowed and how her heart was pounding so loudly it banged like a drum in Jon’s ears. He approached, and when the woman finally saw him, her look of stress turned to fear on a dime. She stood up, trying to explain it away as she was just taking the baby on a walk, she thought it was a good day for a picnic. When Jon had looked around at the snow covered ground, she shrunk into herself even further. It changed when Superboy asked if she needed any help- she turned hard and positioned herself between him and the stroller. She still had that scared look in her eyes as she told him that the two were just going for a walk and that he didn’t need to stick his nose into it. And despite what his gut told him, he still left her be. And until now, he didn’t give the two a second thought.

It didn’t take a lot to figure out that she was running away from someone. No one really wants to be stuffing all that they can into bags and running off with a baby that small. It really couldn’t have started out that way could it? All that fear? Did the other person start off with something physical or was it something smaller? Did the answer even matter when Jon just left her there on the sidewalk with her angry, probably cold baby? Did it matter when Dad already beat him so badly Rebecca said he looked like he looked like a swollen blob? 

Fourteen years ago, was that what it was like?

He guessed that it didn’t really matter. Dad did have to come home early from a mission to find his wife dead and immediately take off to go into hiding with a four year old in tow. That had to have changed him from who he used to be- the hero that Mom had written about. Maybe if he was able to have some kind of support, everything would’ve been so different. 

Jon sighed again. From his nightstand, his phone pinged. He stretched, grabbing the device and looking at it through blurred eyes. 

It was from Cheeper. Probably spam, but he had already learned that the celebrity worshippers that he followed through ‘Yvette’ loved tagging as many people as possible to get as much recognition. And they loved arguing over opinions. The post he made about Damian being the ugliest of the Waynes had not gone over well to say the least. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone was just messaging him about that. 

He opened the app with nothing better to do. When he saw who it was from, his eyes flew to his hairline. It was from the first Wayne account he ever followed, the one that was really huge in the little community. 

@waynefamilyadvenures: https://tinyurl.com/bdz4jdms 

He pursed his lips and knit his brows together. He wasn’t entirely sure whether or not to click on it, he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with spam, but it was a big account. He left the chat, looking to see if any unusual posts were up that signaled some sort of hacking, but it all looked normal. It even had a post from eleven minutes ago that was a new shot of Dick in his police uniform. He went back to the message and clicked the link. At the very worst, it might just be some video he hadn’t seen yet or some sort of virus that they already had a program to fight against.. 

A video filled the whole screen. The background was too dark to make much of anything, but front and center of the screen was a man dressed almost entirely red with his face covered by a smooth, black cowl. Not that it did much to preserve his identity, Jon already knew who it was, both in and out of the mask. Red Robin aka Tim Drake, the more techy member of the family from what Jon understood. Suddenly, he was grateful that his phone’s camera was re-covered from his hangout with Rebecca. He stared at the screen which suddenly wasn’t responding to any of his attempts to exit whatever tab he had opened. 

“Hey there, Superboy,” Drake began. Jon wished he could just reach through the screen and punch that smug smile off the other’s face. “Sorry that we didn’t get to chat when you were in Gotham yesterday, we were really looking forward to that. But we’ll get the chance to catch up when we go see you in Wyoming soon, so no rush. I do have to ask though, is it really as cold there as everyone says?” 

Jon held his breath through the whole video. He really didn’t know if it was a live video call or just something prerecorded, and with his screen acting up, he had no way of finding out. There was a pause before Drake continued, “No answer? Cute, I’ll just look it up.” 

Then the screen cleared, and the app crashed. Jon reopened Cheeper and went to go back to the chat, but it was gone. He tried looking up the account, but it vanished too. He checked again. And again. But the profile was just gone entirely with only a few posts that had tagged it remaining up. He sat up at last and sighed. His body still felt as if it weighed a million pounds. The phone sat in his hand. That family… 

It was the piece he was overlooking. If they were just kinder, if they didn’t do what they did, his life wouldn't be like this. Mom would be alive, Dad would’ve been stronger, Jon would’ve been in a place where he could help Rebecca, not fail Natalia. And after all that, they still were on his ass? 

The phone flew through the air. It crashed into the drywall cross from him leaving a hole right beside his closet. Jon hadn’t even realized that he had thrown it in his rage. But whatever, he’d fix that later. 

He grabbed the first CD in the pile that had been growing beside his stereo. Within a minute, he was in his truck again, the engine roaring to life in the cold as he backed out of the driveway. 

The clouds hung heavy and low in the sky. It still hadn’t snowed again, but it seemed as if it was going to soon. Jon wasn’t sure how he was going to find his way back home from wherever it was that he had wound up. Once he had left the driveway, he just drove on and on not caring whatsoever where he was going. But he must’ve been driving for about an hour with the final Radiohead song nearing its end already. Everything around him was flat and brown. The town looked so dead with no one out and about, but it was later in the evening with only a couple of days before Christmas. He supposed it made sense. 

The final notes petered out as he pulled into a parking lot. A large red stone temple sat before him. It wasn’t the same as the small wooden church he had grown accustomed to, it wasn’t much larger, but it stood taller than any of the churches he had seen in his own town. Two statues were in the front alongside a bell, two things unfamiliar with Jon. He took a glance at the sign, it was a Catholic church named after St. Joseph. It took a moment to remember which one that was until it hit him that they were talking about the Joseph, and he felt like an idiot. A few other cars were in the parking lot, so he didn’t think twice before leaving his own vehicle and going towards the door. He had second thoughts as he approached though, heart skipping a beat and wondering what he was doing. But he needed peace of some kind, peace that he knew he wouldn’t be able to find back at the Church of Christ, not anymore. 

He knocked anyway, at least to make sure that he wasn’t deserting any possible avenue. He heard steps through the glass door before an older man came into view, concern clear on his face as he opened the door and welcomed the young man in. 

“Hello there, sir, is there anything you need help with?” The man smiled though it was obvious that he was apprehensive. Jon knew he must’ve been a sight with disheveled hair and bruises still littering his form, but he still appreciated the kind words though. 

He shook his head and told the man he just needed some space to try and think. He was left to himself where he took the view of the interior in. It wasn’t at all like what he was used to, the room was well lit and what little light there was outside streaming in through the stained glass windows. A crucifix was dead center of the back wall behind the pulpit. Unlike his home church, it was bright and warm. There wasn’t a draft that came in through the roof that sent chills into everyone that entered. Decorations lined the wall telling the story of Christ’s life through the Bible, but what caught Jon’s eye was the bright green bowl in the center of the floor. He approached it, ignoring the greying man who was watching him, and looked into it. It was half filled with water and surrounded by small bouquets of flowers. 

He thought it was odd. He was used to everything being much plainer. Pastor Featheringham had explained that their love of God should shine through their actions instead of showing off to the world the way the philistines of the past did. But as he looked around at the church with its bright colors and warmth built into every inch, he still just felt detached. 

He sat on the pew, the wood of the bench pressing against his still sore hips and back. He bent his head forward and shut his eyes, reaching out for a connection that would remind him that he isn’t alone. 

But he was alone. 

In the past few months, he had drifted away from the others who were already forging their own lives whether it was planning on college or moving on to more ‘adult’ activities and trying to establish a family. Neither he or Dad had even heard from Clara since October when she met a different man from a different church. And now Dad had been gone for more than twenty-four hours while Rebecca was planning to run off at the drop of a hat. Who else did he have left? Luke and Clayton who were still in high school and were already paired off together in their own friend group?

He thought back to the message. Even if everyone left, Jon would still have the Bats ready to jump out from behind the corner. A part of him wondered how long they had really been watching him and Dad, if the man’s tactics of isolation even worked in holding them back. He also thought about the possibilities that a man would adopt and have so many kids that all inevitably become vigilantes of their own. It wasn’t even just Bruce Wayne’s children that did it, there were a few others that stretched from a former foster child to his son’s ex-girlfriend. Was there something going on behind the scenes that turned them all into such manipulative, jaded folks? Most of them had all started quite young, Richard having been the youngest at nine or something like that. When Jon was that age, Dad still had him training and didn’t expect any powers to have even come in. They mostly all came about from rough upbringings before the Bat swooped in and took them under his wing only for them to take off to the streets with a mask of their own not long after.  

The longer he sat in the pew dwelling on it, the longer it felt off in some way. People don’t turn out that sort of way where they prey upon the mentally ill and the poor without having something severely wrong with them. And maybe Bruce just pushed his own issues onto his children the way Pastor Featheringham did with his daughters. 

That wasn’t even a topic Jon knew how to address. Even after Rebecca left, there was still Esther and Leah that would be under the holy man’s watch. And maybe the abuse had already started with them. Tears sprung to his eyes, and that’s when he felt something make contact with his soul. Once Rebecca was gone, he’d talk to the older man and set things right. He can’t let them down, not the two girls who he was raised with like family. Not when he already failed their sister. 

And if something was really going on with the Wayne’s, he couldn’t fail them either. Under his breath he spoke a prayer before looking up and seeing that he hadn’t noticed the crew of people in the church setting up their Christmas decorations. Poinsettias lined the front with a lit tree at each side while ornaments were strung among the branches. The man who had let him in was off to the side dusting the decor that was already up. 

Jon approached the man who immediately turned to face him. “Did you find the peace you were seeking today?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ve found as much as I can have at the moment, sir,” Jon said. “Can I ask you a couple of questions before I head out though? If you don’t want to or can’t, I totally understand.”

The man smiled and nodded before gesturing to Jon to sit with him at a pew. “Of course, I may not be a man of the cloth, but I have lived plenty of life. What’s going on today, sir?” 

Jon took another look around the unfamiliar building. It truly was the antithesis of what he knew of a church. It was open and airy and warm and lively. Not once while he sat did he get a chill that left his skin with goosebumps. He looked at the man’s expectant face. “Why would a godly man treat people that he’s supposed to love so badly? What would cause a preacher to be so violent behind closed doors?”

“Hmm,” the man hummed and he took a moment to ponder what he was just asked. “That’s a tough one that can depend a lot on the situation. Some people carry a darkness within them that can lead them astray from God’s light. That then in turn can leave them blind to their own hypocrisy as they move through life not recognizing the trail of hurt they’re leaving in their wake.” 

A darkness within them. Huh. It didn’t seem like a very good reason. But he nodded. “Can getting abused make someone turn out that way too?” 

Otherwise it just wouldn’t make sense why Robin and Red Robin were the ones trying to get to Jon instead of Batman himself. He was the one with an axe to grind, he was the one who had something to do with Mom, he was the one who sent Dad into hiding, he was the one that made it to where Jon didn’t have a family and couldn’t live a normal life like everyone else. 

The grey haired man put a hand on Jon's knee. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, son, but I know that each man has the ability to forge his own path. Some people may follow in the footsteps of their fathers, but that never is an absolute. I’ll keep you in my prayers for you to find the path that the Lord has set out for you. I do have something to ask you in return however,” There was a pause as they both sat in silence. “Is everything safe where you’re at? We have a few programs that will help-” 

The man stopped when Jon stood up. “It’s okay, sir. I’m okay. Just stuff with people I know right now. Thank you for letting me in and for talking to me.” 

He gave Jon a soft smile, “It’s what we’re here for.” 

That rang through his mind as he exited the church and got into his truck. That is what the church was supposed to be. He had even learned about it in history, but he never felt safe to try and talk to anyone about the struggles he went through. Dad wasn’t even there to help navigate it, he’d just remind Jon just to not hold onto his pain and let it turn into anger, but talking about something like Mom or how he spent so much time just feeling alone was off limits. Dad would shut down each time Jon would bring it up until one day, he just stopped and shoved it to the back of his mind. But it was all coming to the forefront now. 

A culmination of emotions that Jon couldn’t name began to brew in him. It made his blood hot and head fuzzy, but for the first time since Robin had taken up kidnapping, his head felt clear. Dad wasn’t as safe of a person as he once was, but that wasn’t his fault. He had a chance to get better, return to how life used to be, how it should be. Jon simply hadn’t been doing enough, and what he did do, he had done so embarrassingly wrong. The lashing he had received was justified and wasn’t something meant to be enjoyed, it was a tool to teach him what to do. Rebecca was wrong, it wasn’t like what her father did. All he needed to do was focus and not be stupid to make things right. Then he’d be able to free Dad and the Bats from whatever had been done to them, as far as he knew, they, aside from Robin and Batman, hadn’t crossed a line that had turned them into a perpetuator of the tragedies that they had experienced. 

Back at home, with supplies to patch the drywall in hand, he set off to do just that. It took a bit of feeling around to find his nearly forgotten phone. He was shocked that it not only still worked, but turned on as soon as he lifted to view its screen. Just a minute ago, he had gotten a message on the very account that he had created on PicPool that day, though by now it had been a few hours. The account was blank, no followers or following and not even a username that made any sense. 

He read over the message though. Once, twice, even three times.

 The Bats weren’t going to make it easy on him to forgive- Nightwing even joined in to act innocent as if he didn’t know damn well that it wasn’t Dad who hurt Mom. 

Jon wasn’t adverse to talking these confusions up, but he couldn’t imagine trying to if he was around. If he saw that smug little man’s face again, all Jon would see would be the images of that look on Natalia's face as she sobbed in the desert and the fluorescent green that pulsed throughout Dad’s body.  Just the text brought his feelings from that night back to the surface that hurt worse knowing that both people were absent from his life now. 

All because of what Robin did. 

He didn’t even know what he had sent back. Wasn’t focusing as he blocked the account and checked the box to block their IP address as well. His phone landed with a thud somewhere within his room, he didn’t care where. The reality of the situation set in when his gaze landed on the hole in his wall. 

Two messages in one day, one saying the Bats knew where he and Dad lived, the other insisting on ‘talking.’ They were on their way. There wasn’t anything left that he could do. 

And Dad still wasn’t home. 

Chapter Text

What a hero he was. He thought up a plan and knew that he’d need to be at peak strength to carry it through just in case things turned south, but it had been a full day since Jon returned home from his little drive, and he still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He fed the animals and made sure to replace their frozen water and adjusted their blankets and heat lamps, but anything outside of keeping them alive… He just couldn’t do any of it. He didn’t have it in him. His stomach gnawed away inside of him, but eating would require going to the kitchen. It would require getting out of bed and cooking, and all he wanted was to just fade away into his bed. There wasn’t anyone to come check on him this time, to urge him to move his muscles and get some sunshine on his skin.

But now it was Christmas Eve, a day that Jon looked forward to every year. It meant baking cookies with Dad and watching movies with a fire going in the den. Going to church for the holiday party where they all loved each other and everyone was happy. None of that happened this year though. 

He doubted Dad had even stopped by the house in the past twenty-four hours, still off wherever he was. The slate grey phone still sat on the coffee table, and Jon didn’t hear anyone prowling along the property. And the idea of stepping back into that church made Jon feel sick. He didn't even have a reason to go back, Rebecca already left. He didn’t know when she slipped away, but he did hear Mr. Featheringham calling out for her this morning, which was followed by a call to the Kent household. Jon just hummed and told the man that he had no idea what had happened before hanging up. He just ignored the second call and just let the phone ring until the man inevitably gave up. Hearing that she stole the pastor’s truck didn’t even spark any sort of feeling in him. 

Jon sighed. He really was the worst hero in the world. The twinges of pain still lingered from his healing injuries, probably not helped by the fact that the Kryptonian had gotten minimal sun in the past couple of days. Instead of training or researching or going out to make sure that people were still doing okay out in the world, he just laid in bed, too lazy to eat or move. 

The little white dog plush stared at him from his nightstand. He gave it a twinge of a smile. He had no idea how Rebecca ever found something like it at the thrift store or what show the character even came from, but he really did love it. The white dog had such a confused look on its face with raised eyebrows and its ears flopping back. He loved the red cape that it was wearing for some reason. It was so cute and oddly familiar that he didn’t even care about how ripped up the collar was. Jon would have to fix it up soon  though if he wanted his little super dog to keep its cape. 

He snatched it from the end table, holding it close to his chest to try and remind himself that he wasn’t truly alone. It shouldn’t even hurt as much as it did, it’s not like it was the first Christmas Eve that he spent without Dad. 

He didn’t know where he was. Daddy had dropped him off in the empty beige room with a stack of books and a blanket. 

Daddy gave him a kiss on the forehead and wrapped him up tight. “I’ll be back before bedtime, Sammy, I promise. Daddy has to go help people have a good Christmas.” 

He just snuggled further in the blanket. The room was so cold and he just wanted the blanket to work. “Where are we going to sleep? Is there a bed hiding in the wall like in Shang Eye?” 

“It was Shanghai, buddy,  and no, I’m sorry. I’ll find us something though.” Daddy ruffled the boy’s hair which made him squirm and frown. “I’ll get us loads of blankets though, and we can make a nest and we can sleep like birds! Does that sound like a fun way to wake up for Christmas?”

“Yeah, that’s fun I guess.” Daddy went to stand but was stopped by a pair of thin arms wrapping his legs up in a hug. “Please don’t go, Daddy.” 

The tall man sighed and stepped out of his son’s reach. “You know I have to work, Sam. I can’t stay right now, but if you just read your books, I’ll be back before you know it.” 

The little boy teared up, but the man disappeared before the boy could say anything else. Daddy wasn’t fun anymore, not like how he used to be. He tried to listen, bundled up in the thin blanket with a book in front of him, but he couldn’t read a lot of the words. He flipped through the other books, but there weren’t many pictures in any of them. They were boring. 

He stood up with the blanket around his shoulders like a cape that concealed his body. He shuffled over to the big window that Daddy made him climb through. Cars sped by so fast on the big road right by wherever his new home. The city was dark and the sun was hidden behind a mountain of clouds. He watched all the cars to see if any would be his favorite color, but all of them were boring. Just a lot of grey and black and he didn’t like any of it. 

He stood on his tippy toes. Maybe something else would be cool. Everything else about the city was boring. He shivered when his nose touched the cold window, wishing that Daddy decided to live in a prettier place. They already stayed in a few places that he had loved and made friends in, but Daddy always said they had to move and keep moving. He didn’t even get to say bye to his friends. 

He saw a few big signs, but they weren’t bright like the ones he liked. They just had serious looking men on them. The boy frowned and turned to see if he just had a bad angle. The wall hid a huge building that had billions of twinkling lights all over it. It had a big Christmas tree with a huge star and ornaments so shiny that even astronauts in space had to be able to see them! A bajillion people were walking around the building too!

It took all of his strength to slide the window up, but it was pretty fun to throw himself over the wall. He stood and thought about whether he should take the blanket with him, but he didn’t want to look like a baby when he got to whatever that big building was. 

Outside of the room was even colder than it was inside. The wind felt like ice on his face. His teeth chattered as he crossed the big busy street. Even though he looked both ways and ran, he still heard the squeal of the cars stopping and some people even yelled at him which only made him run faster as his face warmed up. He just wanted to cry. He ran and ran until he was right by that huge tree that he saw. It instantly made all of his tears stop. 

It was so tall, even taller than Daddy, and it was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Even prettier than Mommy. But the building was even taller. He joined the crowd that was funneling in, and as soon as he stepped through its fancy sliding doors, a gust of warm air greeted him. It was so warm that he shivered even harder for a second, but he didn’t know why. After a few seconds though, the cold he felt all over didn’t bother him. 

It had to be the biggest building in the entire world! He couldn’t even see where the room ended. If it was less crowded it would’ve been so much fun to run around and jump and climb over everything. Everything was so bright and colorful. The ceiling was red and green and awesome. There were a lot of smaller rooms going off from the huge hall he was in. He stood and watched as people entered and left each of the small little rooms and everyone had at least one huge bag. Suddenly he fell as something hit him, but he didn’t care. He stood back up and started following the tasty smell that lingered in the air. It smelled super sweet, and he was so hungry. 

That didn’t matter anymore though. In one of the huge, big windows, he saw his puppy. Daddy lied when he said that he couldn’t have Puppy anymore and that the little stuffy had flown back home. Because there he was! The boy ran in and climbed onto the little platform where the dog was. Having Puppy back felt so good, he gave it a hug. He slid off the wood block, ready to continue his quest to find where the sweet smell was coming from, but when he ran out of the door, he heard a loud blaring noise that hurt his ears. 

He dropped Puppy and covered his ears. Suddenly, all of the people walking around him weren’t cool and fun, they were just a lot. He closed his eyes and right when he was about to cry, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes again to see a lady kneeling down in front of him. For a second, he thought it was Mommy. She had dark hair and wore a lot of purple just like Mommy when she had to go to work, but it wasn’t her. The lady had a different face, and her eyes weren’t a pretty  purple that reminded him of flowers. 

He was about to cry again when the lady picked Puppy off the floor and offered it back. “Hello, little one. I think you forgot to purchase your friend here.” She smiled and wiped a tear off his cheek. 

The boy cocked his head. Purchased? But he followed the tall lady when she went back into the store. 

“Is your mommy or daddy here to pay for your friend?” 

He shook his head. He hugged Puppy again. He missed him almost as much as Mommy. 

“Where are your parents?” 

A little piece of paper dug into his arms, and he frowned when he saw the annoying tag that was hanging off Puppy’s ear. “Daddy’s at work right now. He says mommy died and isn’t going to come back home, but I’m gonna find her one day. I can’t tell Daddy though, because it makes him really sad.” He looked back up at the tall lady. She was frowning now too. “What does pay mean?”

She just smiled at him and stuck her hand out. “Do not worry about that right now. Let’s go find my friend, and we’ll be able to leave with your little dog.” He just blinked at her hand. He looked back up at her. “Can you hold my hand? I’m scared that I will get lost here. The mall is so big, isn’t it?”

He nodded. It was big. And loud. Her hand was soft and warm in his. He followed her as she walked further into the store to a scary looking man who was looking at some sort of puzzle that made the boy frown. He hated puzzles. 

He heard the woman start to speak, but something caught his eye. There was a whole shelf full of puppies. There was also an orange kitty and a purple dog and a scary looking black dog too. He looked at all of them with glistening eyes. Too bad they were too high up for him to grab any of them. 

“Hey, buddy,” He turned around to see the scary man was smiling at him. He swallowed and wanted to run away, but the man continued speaking. “What’s your name?” 

“I’m Jon, but my daddy calls me Sammy so that could be my new name. I don’t like it as much though.” 

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Jon. I’m Mr. Steve, and this is my friend Ms. Diana. Do you know where your daddy is?” 

Jon shook his head. Mr. Steve pursed his lips, but held his hand out the same way Ms. Diana did. Jon grabbed the man’s hand and hugged Puppy closer. The man was way less scary looking when he smiled. Once they got to the big tall counter, Ms. Diana took Puppy away, but she promised that Jon would get him right back. And Jon did. He let go of Mr. Steve’s hand to hold onto Ms. Diana’s as they left the room. They were walking down the big hall, and Jon couldn’t stop looking at all of the different stores. One was bright white and looked empty except for all of the people inside. One looked scary and dark until he saw his favorite cartoon characters inside. 

“Steve, what should we do? I haven’t seen anyone who might be looking for him…” 

“I know, angel. We’ll make sure that he’s safe though, I promise.”

“He is so bruised. He isn’t even dressed for winter, and he’s so thin. I haven’t seen a child like this in, in years, Steve.”

Even though they were talking in quiet voices, Jon still heard them. Mr. Steve sighed and stopped off right beside the tall bright white wall of the hallway. He squatted down until he was at Jon’s height. 

“Hey, Jon. Who took you to the mall today?” Jon just stared at him. “How did you get here, buddy?” 

He clutched Ms. Diana’s hand harder and brought Puppy closer to his chest. “I ran. The road was scary and people yelled at me.” Both Mr. Steve and Ms. Diana frowned again causing Jon to frown too. “Did I do something bad?”

Ms. Diana pulled him closer until she was giving him a hug. “No, Jon, not at all. We just want to make sure that someone is taking care of you properly.” 

Jon nodded even though he didn’t understand. The adults talked to each other again, but Jon just tuned it out. The smell from earlier was stronger… His stomach grumbled. It tickled in his belly in a way that didn’t feel good. He really hated how sometimes Daddy forgot about lunch. 

Ms. Diana squeezed his hand. “Are you hungry, Jon?” 

He nodded and smiled. Maybe she’d get him whatever smelled so good! The last time he had candy was… He couldn’t remember. It was something Mommy had given him and told him not to tell Daddy when they went to the park. 

Mr. Steve sighed again, but he was smiling too. “Oh, here we go. If you want some ice cream, Diana here is the person to ask.” 

In an instant, Ms. Diana was running and Jon followed, laughing with each step. It had been even longer since he had ice cream! They stopped in an even larger room and when Jon turned around, he saw that they were on the second story with even more little stores and people below them. That was cool until he looked back around where they were standing. There was so much food. There was a ton of food everywhere, some Jon recognized like burgers and chicken nuggets, but he was sick of those. The smell of McDonald’s even made him feel less hungry. And they didn’t even have toys that Jon could collect anymore. 

Mr. Steve caught up with them and asked if Jon wanted to go up and order with him. But Jon saw how big the crowd was at the counter where all of the food was coming from and shook his head. He also asked Jon if he wanted anything other than ice cream for dinner, but Jon said no to that too. Mr. Steve walked up to the long counter while Ms. Diana led him over to a table. 

“Is ice cream your favorite food, Jon?” 

He took the chair next to her and thought. There was a lot of really good food out there. He didn’t know the names of all the new foods that Daddy had made him try though. He had a really good soup in a jungle, but that wasn’t as fun.  “I don’t think so. But Mommy and Daddy used to take me to get it. Mommy used to even take me to this ice cream place.” He turned to point at the red and white sign that was on the wall. 

“Oh. Did you ever come here with your mommy?” The pretty lady smiled. Jon still hadn't let go of her hand. 

“I don’t think so. I’ve never been to the biggest building in the world before now. What’s your favorite food, Ms. Diana?” 

Mr. Steve was finally back, and he sat on the opposite side of Jon before sliding over a sundae. Jon didn’t wait before he dropped Ms. Diana’s hand and ate the cherry on top, stem and all. Both of the adults laughed. 

“I can tell you that one, bud. Ms. Diana loves cake and ice cream and everything sweet. Honestly, I don’t think she’s encountered a food she hasn’t liked.” 

Ms. Diana reached across the table and punched his shoulder, but she was laughing too. “That is not true, Jon. I am not partial to chili.” She took a lick of her strawberry ice cream. “Do you live near here, Jon?”

“Yeah, we moved in across the street today, but I dunno if Daddy is going to make us move again.”

“Does anyone else live with you two? Was anyone watching you before you left?” Jon noticed that Mr. Steve didn’t have any ice cream so he slid the cup over to the man. Mr. Steve shook his head and slid it back. “Can you answer one of the questions for me please, Jon?” 

The boy just shook his head. They ask if he goes to school, but that was a no too. Finally, they asked him how old he was, and he dropped his spoon to proudly say that he’s five and a quarter years old. Ms. Diana looked sad again. But Jon knew what would cheer her up! 

“Ms Diana, did you know Puppy can fly?” He zoomed the plush through the air which did make her laugh again. 

Even Jon could see how both of their eyebrows raised at the same time. He looked between the two, white dog still in the air. “Hey, Jon, do you like watching Krypto on T.V.?”

“What’s T.V.?” 

No one answered his question. Instead, Ms. Diana just squeezed his hand. “My friend used to have a dog very much like your puppy. Have you ever had a white dog?”

“Yeah, Puppy,” Jon stuck the stuffie in her face, “was my puppy before we had to move. And Puppy flies, and Daddy would fly with Puppy!” How did they not understand? 

Ms. Diana looked really sad again. Mr. Steve leaned on the table and looked into Jon’s eyes. “Jon, did your dad really fly? Or is it just a story?” 

“No!” Jon tried climbing off the seat, but Ms. Diana was still holding his hand. And like a big baby, he just started crying. “I’m not lying! Daddy flies, and one time Puppy turned a tree into ice because he wanted a kitty that got stuck there! They’re not stories!” 

Ms. Diana pulled him closer to her. He shouldn’t have cried. Now she was going to pull him where other people couldn’t see him, and she was going to be mad. But she didn’t grab his arms and dig in, she wrapped him up in a warm hug. “We know you aren’t lying, Jonathan. I am sorry we’ve hurt you.” She pulled away, her hand still rubbing Jon’s back. With her other hand, she wiped his tears away. “I have to go make a quick phone call. Can you stay here with Mr. Steve? I’ll be back shortly.” 

“I’m sorry for crying, Ms. Diana. I’ll stay with Mr. Steve.” She smiled again which made him smile too.

 He sat back down across from Mr. Steve who didn’t look happy. He watched as Ms. Diana walked away and disappeared around a corner. Jon bit his lip, trying not to cry again. “Am I in trouble?”

The man shook his head and finally smiled again.. “No, Diana is just always working. She’s a busy lady. You still hungry, Jon? We can get some pizza, make a full meal out of it?” 

“No, I’m all done. Thank you.” 

Mr. Steve looked just as uncomfortable as Jon felt. “Well, let’s go throw our trash away, and once Ms. Diana comes back, we’ll get you some new clothes so you can be nice and warm. How does that sound?”

He took a hold of Jon’s hand as the boy nodded. With one hand, Mr. Steve picked up the trash, and the two left the table to go throw it in the bin. Jon was staring off at all of the different places he didn’t notice earlier while Mr. Steve was talking about something that Jon just wasn’t listening to. He was looking at a store that had a red and blue man swinging from a web on its window when he was pulled away from Mr. Steve. 

The blonde man was quick to grab Jon’s hand again. Jon looked up at who grabbed him to see a man with black hair and light purply blue eyes. 

“Daddy!” 

Mr. Steve still held on to Jon’s hand and moved closer, but Daddy pulled Jon away completely out of the other man’s grasp. The hold was really making his shoulder hurt. 

“Who the hell are you, and what do you think you’re doing with my son?” 

Mr. Steve got mad. He stepped forward, and Daddy pushed Jon behind his back. “Sir, I really recommend that you stop holding onto him like that.” 

“Or what? You were the strange man holding onto a little boy. I’m the one who’s just protecting his son.” His hold on Jon did get gentler though. 

The little boy reached up to tap on his dad’s arm. “Mr. Steve is really nice. He and Ms. Diana bought me ice cream!” 

“Stay out of it, Sammy! He’s a bad man who could’ve hurt you.” 

Mr. Steve frowned even more. It looked like he was going to start yelling and then Daddy would start yelling too. Jon was grateful when the other man didn’t though. “I could’ve hurt him? He said you left him in an apartment alone. He’s a little boy who crossed the highway by himself because you weren’t there to watch him. He doesn’t even have a coat on for fuck’s sake.” 

Daddy’s hold tightened on him again. Jon winced but neither men seemed to notice. “Sam lost his jacket when we got here, and he has a very big imagination. He loves telling stories, don’t you Sammy?” He nudged the boy forward so that he wasn’t hidden by Daddy’s back anymore. 

Jon nodded at Mr. Steve and hung his head. “I’m sorry for making up stories, sir.” He just stared at the tile under his feet. He couldn’t look up to see Mr. Steve’s disappointed face or look back to see how mad Daddy was. Everything just felt so angry around him. 

The sound of heels clacking on the ground made all of them look for the source. Ms. Diana looked less sad than before, but she wasn’t very happy. “Steve, Bruce says he wants to see the boy as soon as possible…” She slowed as she looked at the two men and Jon. She looked between Jon and Daddy and Jon saw how she tensed up, changing her stance to be wider. At the same time, Daddy was tightening his grip to where Jon just wanted to cry but that never stopped Daddy. 

Before Jon could blink, he was over Dad’s shoulder, and the two were running. Ms. Diana was following them, and she kept getting closer and closer to catching up. She looked mad. Probably because Jon told stories. He hugged his dad’s shoulder tighter. “I’m scared.” 

Then, the two jumped down to the next floor that was under them. Jon couldn’t see through the crowd of people. They crashed through a bright red door. Jon was cold again. He wished Daddy was wearing his cape so he could use it as a blanket, but he wasn’t, so Jon stayed shivering as the two left the ground. 

Jon opened his eyes from sleep to see the plush dog looking right back at him. The same dog with its wonky ears and silly face. That was a day he had buried long ago in the recesses of his memory. It wasn’t very fun as Christmas Eves go. The sick uneasy feeling from the dream lingered in his hazy state. Who the hell were that man and that woman? Must’ve said or done something that he had forgotten for Dad to have reacted that way. The man was never happy per say whenever Jon snuck off, but most places they went to before settling down never really cared about some child walking around by themselves. Plus Dad was always keeping an ear out. 

In the background, he heard the hum of a motor- probably the sound that had caused him to wake up. It had to be a few miles out, but Jon could be off. It was quieter than any plane or car that came into the area, and Jon seemed to be wrong most of the time anyways. He sighed and pulled himself out of bed. At least his muscles weren’t throbbing anymore. It was still dark out the windows, probably barely edging into Christmas Day itself. There still wasn’t any other heartbeat in the house. 

The attic stairs groaned as they unfolded, and Jon narrowly dodged it hitting his head. His stomach turned, and every part of him was twitching at what he knew was going to happen. It was just a group of humans versus him. Should be easy to make an escape, try to talk at least one of them down from whatever messed up plan they had in store for his family. While he was at it, maybe he’d convince them all to come in and sit by the fire while they ate cookies together. Ha.

He pulled the stairs back up, hoping the dust wouldn’t give away his location too soon. What a laughable thought that he could do this on his own. He floated above the wooden beams running along the attic floors, folding in on himself until everything went dark around him. Their motor’s purr just kept creeping closer. The meager shred of confidence that had carried him through the past minute was already fading away. He swallowed down all of his apprehension, all of his fear, just the way Dad taught him to do. 

Deep breath in- at the very least, he’d be able to get away and go back into hiding. 

He exhaled. He was a dead man. 

Chapter Text

Somehow, much to Damian’s astonishment, those stupid hicks had more protective barriers than either Dick or he could have ever expected. After hours of decrypting coding and backtracking a web of IP hopping distractions, they were right where they started. They had a town to pinpoint the Supers’ location, but anything further was miss after miss. 

The duo was forced to pull up Jon’s account on Damian’s phone, being careful not to interact with anything as to alert the boy of another account to block. Dick was grateful that Jon hadn’t set the account to private while they harvested as much of the metadata as they could.  The data analysis was more than a bitch to comb through; the coding itself was unlike anything Damian had ever seen, outside of what he had to deal with whenever his mother was involved, but in this instance, he didn’t have her to turn to for guidance. It made no sense for a duo that had nothing to hide, even with their secret identities. Whatever program they had used was made to mimic a regular photo’s metadata while it was actually hiding a nasty web of contradictory information that the two brothers had to pool over together to decipher. As they did that, they went over Superboy’s previous sightings again to make sure that the western states aligned with the possible location. They were just wasting time though- hours had passed since they got those messages, and the supe could have just taken off to who knows where to disappear again. There hadn’t been any noted sightings of the false Superman either, so maybe the two were already planning on a move anyway that Damian had just accelerated. He bit his lip, muscles itching to get some sort of movement in. 

In an ideal world, this would’ve been able to do all of this from Dick’s phone as he had the fancy software that would have had the job done already so they could prioritize other things, but no. Since the Superboy had to go and block Dick’s IP, they had to start over from scratch as to not jeopardize the various other honeypots and surveillance accounts the man already had set up, both for his work in the mask and the badge. The damn maniac had some set up on PicPool too, something about a group of misanthropes that dreamed of a world with no humans. After enough hours of looking at the numbers, Damian had enough of that method. Buffalo Cross wasn’t a big town by any means. Its population wasn’t even past a thousand, and he was halfway positive that cows outnumbered the humans greatly. There was no way that investigating through that route would not be more fruitful than the Sisyphean task they were attempting now. 

Their real estate market was available to public knowledge and the state property tax didn’t take much information to access either. Over Damian’s lifetime, Buffalo Cross had not had many sales in its real estate market, really just three in total that could fit in the estimated timeline. Unless the imposter had bought whatever dump they lived in thirty-three years ago with a hefty long term plan in place, Damian thought it was safe to exclude the nineties and beyond from his narrowing list of hide outs. In the end, he was left with three addresses, none with the decency to be somewhat close together. 

He broke down the firewalls of the state’s department of revenue, but received a dead end there as well. None of the properties had any relation to the name Kent which either meant the two men were squatting, renting, and committing identity theft. One address caught his attention though- all records of the state tax being paid was all in cash, each and every year. He cross referenced it to the purchase history of the three homes: one of them was paid for in cash as well.

“Richard, are there any coordinates that you’ve deciphered from his socials?” 

The older man nodded. “It’s nothing exact, since there’s not a lot of broadband in the area, the radius too wide to pinpoint, but we got lucky since the lots are so big. It’s not like we’re trying to pinpoint which apartment in a giant complex they’re squatting in.”

“Mind if I see?” Dick nodded and leaned back so Damian could get a better look at the screen. The other was right- it was a larger radius than either of them had encountered in years, but they had worked with less before. It only overlapped with a few properties. He referenced the radius with the three addresses he had pinned on the laptop he had been using prior. Only one matched, just northwest of the center. It was the sale that caught his eye with next to no paper trail. A simple two-story 2100 square foot home on a sixty-five acre lot. Bingo. 

Dick was eyeing the two screens himself. He hummed and stayed silent as Damian held his breath, waiting for the other to speak. Only one of them had the authority to actually go out and do anything, despite the context suggesting that the case had gone from top priority to downright pressing. Whoever had reached out prior to the two brothers might have scared the Kryptonian duo off leaving the address they had stressed over was now worthless. Plus, now they had to wonder where all the cash was coming from and how dirty all of it was.

Finally, after a long stint of silence, Dick snorted, “So we know Tim is the one who reached out first, right?”

Damian pursed his lips. He hadn’t really given it much thought until now. He really was the only person who made sense. While the Justice League knew of the case- naturally, they all worked with the original Superman and most of them had helped in the investigation in search to some degree- the more recent developments had been kept under wraps to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control or managing to make their way back to the men. Jason was too impulsive and unstable, plus he rarely made any appearances to begin with, so of course that had ruled him out. Damian didn’t doubt the man’s ability to rush into things half cocked, but there was no way he was further along than Damian when he had started with more information. Selena, Helena, and Stephanie, while trusted (mostly) by Father, were also left out of the loop for this one until something more concrete had come into their hands or that extra back up was needed. Damian was mostly positive that Dick had not been the first one to reach out, and he knew without a doubt he hadn’t himself. Cassandra had been too busy as of late with her part in The Nutcracker to even worry about cases not relevant to the there and now within Gotham. Duke didn’t have a mean enough bone in his body to unleash the anger that Jon had sent their way even if he had reached out. And with Father and Alfred both more terrified of social media and what it has done to the world than they are of the Joker, it was safe to say that they were eliminated as well. 

So the only member that was left in any realistic possibility was Tim. The one that Damian had been competing against from day one, a feud that had cooled over the years but never died completely. The one who had initially spotted Superman’s existence as well. And the one who jumped before thinking anything through. Damian gripped the table so hard that it hurt his fingertips.

The gravity seemed to have set in on Dick as well, and in tandem the two took off to find the middle brother. “There’s no way he could have left already, right Richard?” Damian’s mind was going a mile a minute. They needed a way to ensure that they’d get to Wyoming before Tim could, and he kept thinking about how they’d handle the situation, how close everything was to becoming volatile, what they’d need to carry in case talking was already off the table. 

Damian bust open the door to Tim’s room. The piles of garbage and dirty laundry littered every surface possible, but there was no trace of the man. 

He sprinted down to the kitchen and peeked in the dining room that Tim occasionally used as a makeshift office, but he wasn’t there either. Dick met back up with him in the hallway; he hadn’t seen Tim in the living room or office or any sign that he had been there in the past hour. And the cherry on top of it all was that he couldn’t find Father either. 

Damian cursed, phone already in hand and dialing the older man. It went straight to voicemail. He tried Tim right after knowing that there was only one reason why he wouldn’t pick up. It didn’t even go through.

The two burst into the study, but his older brother wasn’t anywhere to be seen. While he was busy looking for any sign of the two detectives, Dick was entering the code into the clock. It slid open with the acrobat on the pole sliding down without a shred of hesitation. Damian was quick to follow. The main part of the cave was barren. As Dick checked the uniform storage closet to see if their suits were missing, Damian took inventory on what had disappeared from the armory. He also grabbed whatever could be helpful in how  ever the showdown was going to turn out. A few tasers in case Nightwing lost grip of his escrima sticks, a dose of adrenaline for a quick pick-me-up, a lead box containing a small crystal of Kryptonite. The usual stuff for going toe to toe with an alien species that could decimate the Earth if they so pleased. 

Then, a shimmer caught his eye. Hidden under a thick moving blanket was a small square silver apparatus with an adjustable strap attached underneath. He couldn’t make out what exactly it was or even where a button or sensor may have been hidden until the rounded top reacted against his palm. A screen of some kind slid open along the front revealing a laser projection in just the shade of green he was looking for. Putting his hand on the top seemed to deactivate it again, though he wasn’t certain what it was responding to. He sincerely hoped that it wasn’t his body heat or his palm print, but still Damian smiled. That should level the playing field adequately if he were to be the judge of things. And in this very moment, he was. 

“Damian, Red Robin and Batman’s suits are gone along with all of the drives Red uses to store his data.” He turned to see Dick already in his uniform with his mask secured over his eyes. 

“Not even in his regular hiding spots that he thinks we don’t know about?” Damian shoved all the weapons in a small bag, closing it with a loud zip. 

“First, suit up.” The grey and red Kevlar suit was thrown his way before the other hero continued, “Second, never assume that Tim doesn’t know something unless it’s related to picking up after himself. The drives are probably hidden in that pig sty he calls a bedroom, and I don’t think you’re up to digging through that wasteland?” Damian shuddered at the thought, already working to change into the uniform. “I didn’t think so. The plane is also gone, so we need to get a move on right now.”

Before Robin could even ask what Nightwing’s plan was, he was taking off to the third stage set upon the western wall of the cave. Neither bothered to take the stairs, instead swinging up the railing to land at the platform that held the Batcopter. The rotorcraft’s age was showing with the black paint being chipped in certain places and dull in others. The seats cracked under them as they sat, Nightwing already punching in the coordinates as the engine whined to life and the propeller slowly began to move. The wind blew throughout the cave, and Damian watched as several stacks of papers went flying over the floor, some falling into the chasm that ran through to separate the main area of the Batcave from the storage facilities and interrogation chambers. Hopefully, nothing was pertinent to any of the ongoing cases. Though, anything of note would've already been filed away both electronically and physically, so if any important data was lost… It wasn’t on Robin and Nightwing’s shoulders to bear. Especially if Spoiler had clocked out before finishing her closing duties. 

As the tunnel door opened above them, Nightwing raised the radio to his mouth. “Alfred, come in, Alfred.” 

The speaker cracked before a dry voice came in. The man sounded worn down. As the years had gone by and the support system grew, Alfred had come to prefer taking a more back seat approach to Bruce’s mission. Alfred was still the spirited man that Damian had always taken comfort in, but his disinterest was obvious through the comms. “Yes, Master Dick?” 

“When was the last time you laid eyes on Bruce and Tim?” 

The radio crackled as they continued ascending before the man spoke again. “Approximately half an hour ago. Both had an urgent mission that they needed to tend to.” 

Dick slammed the radio down in his clip before turning his attention back to the helicopter. The man didn’t even notice as Damian grabbed it to thank Alfred for his assistance before he was left to think over everything. 

They had missed the others’ departure by a hair. The wind howled over the bowled windscreen made only louder by the propeller whirring above them. Even with as much as they knew, they were going in blind. The unknown man that had been seen alongside Jon very well could have been the one that had removed Clark and Lois Kent from the greater equation of the world. He was after all the man responsible for the cracked ribs and missing tooth that Damian had suffered through. If not for the brass knuckles, Damian dreaded to think of what the man could have accomplished if he couldn’t fight back. The pit that had emerged within Robin’s stomach made him want to retch. It was not Father’s first time taking down a Kryptonian. More than a few weapons and tools had been missing from the armory, thus they had to be in the man’s inventory. No matter how it went down, Father, and thus Tim, would be safe.

The trip was done in record time despite how the temperature gauge seemed to be edging ever closer to the red zone the harder Nightwing pushed it. Through the darkness, Robin spotted herds of livestock, mostly just cows and goats each separated into their own pens. A coop glistened under the moonlight reflecting off the snow that had crusted over everything in sight. With the owners being gone so often, or at least often enough to be flying around in their masquerades, Damian couldn’t help but mull over the status of the animals that had been subjected to this kind of life. Jon seemed dumber than a bag of rocks, how could he have the proper knowledge to tend to all the different species properly in such an extreme environment if he couldn’t even dress himself to not look like the imbecile he most likely was? 

The faint glimmer of the Batwing that was stationed a hundred yards away from the other side of the house sent him careening back to the Robin mindset. He cursed himself internally. Before medical school taking up so much of his life, he had never struggled on distancing Damian and Robin. The two were separate entities that couldn’t be wrapped up in each other, he couldn’t afford it and neither could anyone that worked alongside him. He needed to get his head back on straight and focus, at least if he wanted to keep it. 

He scoped the area closer. There weren’t any movements that signaled that Superboy or the imposter were outside though being sure would require technology that neither he nor Nightwing had access to at the moment. The house had a few possible entry points, though if Superboy and the imposter were in fact home, there was only one that Damian could see that had the necessary discretion. 

Nightwing punched the button to turn the Batcopter’s stealth mode on. The white of his domino mask met Robin’s, and they both understood each other without saying a word. The glamour would only buy them a couple extra minutes before Batman discovered them, if he hadn’t already. 

“Drop me over the roof.” Nightwing seemed to hesitate for a second before nodding and steering the vehicle over the snowy roof. 

The drop was short, but Robin still slid against the snow, struggling to catch a grip before catching himself on a loose shingle. He braced himself into position and crawled back up until he was perpendicular to a vent that led directly into the attic. He tethered his grappling hook to the satellite dish and let the rope go just enough for him to work. Luckily the screws of the vent came loose easily before the cover fell, crashing to the ground and disappearing into the snow. Robin swung into the tight space, minding the insulation that padded the roof. He had enough going on without having the hassle of feeling fiberglass clinging to his skin. It was fortunate that the joists were in such great condition, there wasn’t any give under his hands or news as he situated himself along the boards. The only light that streamed into the cramped enclosure was what was coming off the moon. Robin crept along, feeling for any duct or ladder that would give him access to the rest of the home. The only goal was just to get in and do some reconnaissance of his own, see more of what their lives entailed, if this even was their residence. 

First, it would do him good to discover if the two were even home, if it even was their home. From there, he would plan on how to either approach the men or dig further into the details of their lives. And if this was just a temporary base that they had taken up, Robin was back at square one. 

The dust was just settling into his lungs when he saw it, the outline of a collapsed ladder that would get him out of the dust bunny hell he found himself in. He was just grateful that it wasn’t a sewer he had to crawl through this time, but that was truly the only benefit he could find. He edged closer, moving slowly so as to not risk the drywall falling from under him. Even with the beams in seemingly great condition, it wouldn’t do much for discretion if he crashed into the home with a bang. The ladder was only a few feet away when the soft sound of fabric draping made his ears perk up. Robin looked up, and through the dust that was fluttering through the air, he saw a set of glowing blue eyes looking back at him. The same shade of blue that had haunted him since he was ten. 

The man’s weight came flying down at him faster than Robin could roll away, but it was met by Robin grabbing the Kryptonian’s elbow and using what little leverage he had to get the taller man off to the side rather than landing directly on top of him. Superboy blended into the darkness, and Robin struggled to even make out the man’s silhouette to know where to strike to subdue him. Then the other man must have turned, those glowing eyes meeting his own again before a kick landed into his side. Robin threw a left hook, desperate to get back to the ladder and take the fight somewhere with more lighting, but the other just caught his wrist in a strong grip and pushed until Robin’s fist was near his head.

A kick to the stomach made Superboy let go though, but it also made Robin’s head open to taking a hit that made him lose his balance, landing on the drywall that constructed the ceiling. Superboy’s eyes were above him again, and he felt the man grab the collar of his suit. The two grappled, each roll making Robin ram his chest or legs into the joists. Somehow, he managed to get the alien under him and he reached for his belt, but just a second later, his knees lost contact with the beams and the insulation began to graze the top of his head. Superboy threw his weight, causing the two men to switch positions before Robin felt himself pushed down and the ceiling gave way underneath their weights. Robin saw the other’s eyes widen as they collapsed on the bed that had caught their fall. 

The fall must’ve thrown Superboy off, because as they landed, he quickly rolled off to the side like a disregarded plush. Robin had ricocheted off the bed as well, landing on the floor with Superboy out of sight. He brushed the dust off of his suit and used the moment to take in a few lungfuls of relatively clean air. The room they had landed in was some sort of bedroom, but it was bare of nearly everything aside from the basic bed, end table and dresser set up. No decorations or photographs decorated the room, nor was there any sign that someone had recently used it. The bed which was now dirtied with the remnants of the ceiling was freshly made up with tightly pressed, military style corners. And aside from a book that was just a few feet away on the nightstand, he couldn’t see anything he could use as a makeshift weapon. He checked under the bed, but only saw Superboy’s splayed body on the floor. The home had three bedrooms, at least it did at its last point of sale, so Damian pondered what it could be. Maybe a guest room? That would explain its lack of decor, no one was to stay in it long term. He bit his lip, thinking over who would even have stayed with the two men. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the other man sighing and the creak of the floorboard as he stood up. Robin jumped to his feet and looked up at the man who towered over him, fists up and ready to go for whatever the man was about to do. But Superboy didn’t even seem prepared for it to continue. He was standing up straight, but Robin saw how his shoulders weren’t squared and the man was carrying himself too heavy on his feet. Just as he was about to speak, the other man beat him to it, “Damian, you guys don’t have to do this. You can just leave, and if you’re scared of what Bruce might do, we can help you. You don’t have to hurt people anymore.”

Robin snickered. The idea of being scared of Father was almost illogical- no matter what any of his kids could do, he’d always welcome them back with open arms, nor had the man ever threatened any of them. In the brighter light of the room though, he could make out that the bruises that were in Jon’s post were still there leaving dark marks over the man’s face. “Are you really one to talk about fathers right now? I bet it was either yours or Luthor’s brat that gave you those injuries, wasn’t it?” He flipped over the bed, catching Superboy’s head between his thighs to toss the man across the room into a door. “No, not Luthor. The fact that they’re still there shows that they’re more recent than that skirmish you had. Was Superman upset that you gave yourself up so easily in Gotham?” 

In a flash, Robin was back on the bed, flakes of white plaster flying in the air as the drywall crushed underneath him. Superboy was on top of him, hints of red bleeding into his cerulean eyes that let Robin know that the man was getting too mad to think properly. The fact it was him instead of Nightwing probably exacerbated the other’s rage, and Damian saw during that interview traces that Jonathan wasn’t able to keep his cool. The man’s hands dug into his shoulders, but he knew that the other man was holding back by the fact his bones weren’t breaking. At worst, all he would have were bruises thus far and most would be from the fall that admittedly did make his recovering ribs ache. 

Slowly though, the red began to disappear and it became evident that though the man was angry, his heart wasn’t in it. His breathing was heavy, and he was focused on Robin and Robin alone. He couldn’t find it in him to look away either. 

“I don’t want to fight, Jon,” he said, just loud enough that he knew the man could hear. “We just want to talk.” 

The grip tightened for a fraction of a second. “Is that why four of you bats showed up in the middle of the night? Just to talk?” 

“Not just talk, no.” He took another look around the room. The home had three bedrooms, at least it did at its last point of sale, so Damian pondered what portion of the home they were in. Maybe a guest room? That would explain its lack of decor, no one was to stay in it long term. He bit his lip, thinking over who would even have stayed with the two men. It meant that someone else may be involved with whatever conspiracy was afoot in the pseudo-Kent household. Robin tried to slip out from under the other man through his legs, but was stopped by the man putting more weight on his legs. 

Something glimmered in Superboy’s eyes that Robin couldn’t quite place. That’s when he noticed that the other wasn’t even in the poor attempt he called a suit. He was only in a tee shirt and loose pants. He didn’t even have any shoes on. By how tangled his waves were, they may have even caught him off guard as he slept. Superboy pursed his lips. “Wasn’t what Bruce did enough?”

“Whatever Batman did obviously wasn’t enough to let it get to this point.” Robin went for it and kneed the man’s groin. At the very least, the man wouldn’t be expecting a move so uncouth. Superboy’s weight shifted in response, and Robin jabbed the bigger man in the neck followed by a shot to the ear that sent the man rolling back off the bed. Robin pulled the bo staff off his back, and in one motion extended it as he stood above the man. The metal was pointed at the other man’s neck which didn’t seem to even make him squirm. “But we will happily leave if you did us all a favor and answered a few questions. Starting with where Superman is.” 

Superboy laughed, “Oh, now you want him, but got me? That’s hilarious.” The staff was pushed forward before Robin could see it coming. It hit just to the left of his sternum and knocked him back. Robin stumbled, but the other man’s grip on the staff kept him standing. He saw the metal beginning to bend under Superboy’s strength. The game was finally starting. “This is between us though, at least until I make your dad answer a few questions of my own." 

Superboy pushed against the staff again sending Robin sliding across the floor. Though the man didn’t take his eyes off of Robin, his ears twitched, reacting to something the man must’ve heard in the distance. Damian swallowed down the anxiety that it was something that tipped off Superboy to where the rest of his family was. Or that Superman had finally made his appearance. “I can answer all the questions for you, Jon.” 

The other man froze, whether it was because of what Robin had said or something else his ears had picked up on. Superboy didn’t even attempt to block the bo staff’s strike towards his head. He fell to the floor, hand going to rub at the area, giving Robin the time he needed to run to the window. He was already halfway out when the other began to stand.  

Robin landed with a roll on the snow covered ground. A shiver ran down his spine, and once again he was regretting not dressing more equipped for the weather. It didn’t take long to discover what Superboy had reacted to: Batman was a couple dozen yards away, Nightwing by his side as they argued about something for the umpteenth time. 

By how his brother was acting, he knew Nightwing was just misunderstanding Father, probably seeing him as unnecessarily angry, but Damian saw something different. He saw the curve of the man’s frown. He saw the flare of his nostrils. Batman was struggling to keep his emotions from taking the reins. The other man needed to get it under wraps quick though, because as soon as Damian was back to standing, Superboy was already above them in the skies. 

As soon as the caped crusader took notice, he was taking off to meet Robin with Nightwing right behind him. Nightwing yelled out to Superboy that they weren't there to fight, but he wasn’t too certain that the other man was paying much attention. Superboy was laser focused on Batman, and for a millisecond, Damian was worried that the Kryptonian would take him down with heat vision.

It felt as if the world stood still as the dynamic duo approached. Both were tense, but neither were tenser than Superboy who looked one second away from falling. He didn’t look like he was planning on backing down though with his hands curled into fists and one of his eyes twitching. Robin made out the hidden batarang Father already had in hand, and watched as Nightwing whipped out his escrima sticks which crackled in the dry air. 

The three just stared at each other. His mask was starting to slip and fear began to bleed into his mind, showing him images of just what Superboy could do, but he breathed taking in the scene in front of him and thought about it logically. With what he knew, he was the one that Superboy detested the most, and even then the man held back as evidenced by the fact that Robin was up and walking. None of them noticed as he snuck around the corner of the home, making his way to the unguarded front door. He kept an eye out, looking for the other brother’s scarlet costume or any flash of the imposter, but neither men seemed to be around. 

The air cracked behind him. When he turned he saw that Batman was now in the air being held up at least thirty feet by Superman who was using his other hand to batter the man in the face. A red drone flew near the two that Batman gripped and used to escape Superboy’s hold. It also meant that Red Robin had arrived on the scene. With the two there to help Father get things in order, Robin relaxed. He turned the doorknob, shocked that it didn’t give any resistance. He crossed the threshold and immediately stepped foot into the living room.  

Robin was shocked to see that the lights were on, but grateful that they lit the room well enough for him to get a proper look at everything. The couch looked well worn and sun faded. In front of it was an equally worn down coffee table with a cheap burner phone aet on top beside a coaster. As Robin packed it away for later analysis, he looked further at the room. The old media center was the same from Jon’s social media post, including the same variety of movies. And somehow in the huge collection, Damian couldn’t find one that was very good. Whoever was the real occupant of the home had a cheesier taste than anyone else on Earth. Atop the fireplace mantle was only one photo frame that immediately caught Robin’s eye. In the frame was a picture of Lois Lane from years ago when she received her first Pulitzer. Robin had no way of knowing whether it was pulled from the Hamilton home before the fire, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t. It was an impersonal photo that could be easily found on the internet which led him to asking: why? 

It was very unlikely that she had survived the attack, the chance going down dramatically as the years crawled by, no matter how many times General Lane had argued the opposite with Father. It wouldn’t be the first murder to happen over some sort of obsession if Lois had been part of the killer’s motive, and that’s why the photo was held so prominently in the home. But if that was the case, why keep her son around? It also didn’t answer who could have done the crime regardless. Another possibility entered his mind; what if the photos were merely props that the criminal was using to maintain his cover? He had already taken the mantle of Superman, it wouldn’t be too far off base to assume that his civilian identity would be Clark Kent as well. And poor naive Jon wouldn’t notice any difference. 

He continued moving into the next room, which by the large table and chairs, he had to guess was the dining room. Even though the room was overall tidy, there was a layer of dust that covered all but two of the chairs and in the crevices of the table’s engravings. It must not have been used very often. He thought back to the room that he and Jon had fallen into earlier: if they had a guest room set up, that carried some sort of implication that they regularly had a guest or two staying over. But that wasn’t what he was seeing in front of him. Maybe the room wasn’t for guests after all. Maybe it was a sign that the imposter was smart enough to cover all of his tracks, even going as far to leave his room void of any personality or quirks that bled into most people’s surroundings. The lack of evidence at the Hamilton house backed that theory up. It was either that or the man was actually a robot that simply was void of any interests and had high standards for general tidiness. Maybe that room wasn’t even the imposter’s and instead Jon’s who was a little off. 

Just past the dining room was a kitchen that was much smaller than Robin was accustomed to; it wasn’t much more than a stove and a few square feet of counter space along with a sink and fridge. A knife block and coffee pot sat beside the stove. Nothing stood out within the cabinets either, aside from, much to Damian’s dismay, a lack of anything in the way of seasonings. Even herbs seemed to be an unknown substance to the aliens. He slammed the cabinet door shut before moving onto the pantry. Rows and rows of canned goods greeted him; none seemed to be store bought and were in mason jars that were put away with the rings off. It ranged from things like produce to meat to jellies. Robin hummed. It seems as part of how they stayed under the radar of the Justice League seemed to be remaining entirely self sufficient. 

As he left the room, he heard how the fight had continued. Superboy yelled something muffled by the walls of the house and he was certain that he heard Red Robin yell out too, but there weren’t any crashes or screams, at least not yet. So Robin continued through the home and crept up the stairs, checking each step for stability. He wouldn’t put it past the imposter to have created a false step for hidden storage. All seemed to have been properly secured however. 

The first room off the hallways was spacious with a large desk in the center. Atop it sat several stacks of books and folders as well as a laptop and another cell phone. All of the books seemed to be some sort of educational: dictionaries, atlases, encyclopedias with the occasional Bible in the mix. He counted five of those in total throughout the collection that stretched into a filled bookshelf as well. There were textbooks ranging from calculus and the very textbook he used for his anatomy class all the way back to sixth level world history. 

The contents of the manilla folders were a total surprise though. When he flipped it open and saw his own face sans mask looking back at him, his jaw dropped. He didn’t even know that there was any access to that picture left on the internet. Father had been quite efficient at scrubbing any photographic evidence of his stint at the zoo, but there it was. Handwritten notes surrounded it. His weaknesses, weapons, history that was more in depth than he was comfortable. Damian bit his lip. He should’ve looked over Jon’s handwriting when he had the chance, because as he read on, the more in depth it became. There was a detailed account of his fighting style and techniques he regularly used, what villains had overpowered him. A few pages later detailed his mother as well. 

The other folders had similar profiles on the rest of the family. Father had the thickest folder of all with a bright red warning of how he wasn’t to be approached. Attached to the first page was a sticky note in a different handwriting than the rest. It was smaller and more cramped and had a slight downward lean to it with a heavy draw on the curves. A chill settled into his bones seeing that it was about Father’s previous friendship with Lois Lane. The next folder was about Father again with continued notes in the same handwriting. Sentences began and ended abruptly like the writer couldn’t finish what he was writing. A few pocked marks showed that a drop of moisture had hit the sheet before drying. He glanced at the other folders, Dick, Jason, Cassandra, and even Stephanie had one. There weren’t any about other League members however- it was just centered on Batman and the others he worked with. Even Wayne Enterprises had its own folder that detailed each and every business move and public meeting that was held. 

Robin nearly dropped the files but quickly caught himself. He stacked them all back neatly, trying to put them back into their original position. The idea that his family was being hunted made him feel ill. They knew where they all went to school, what station Dick worked at, they even knew about Father’s secondary homes he only used as safehouses or in case of emergency. Maybe the strange man did have some connection to the original Superman, some of that was only information the family and Clark had. No matter what though, this was all evidence he’d need to pack up later. 

The adjacent room was a simple bathroom that was rather paltry. The cabinet lacked anything aside from toothpaste and a brush, but given Jon’s Kryptonian biology that made sense. He continued down the hall. 

There were only two doors left with one being the room that Robin had fallen in. He entered through the door to see a room with much more personality than the rest of the home. A shelf hung on the wall was lined with CDs with another stack on the nightstand beside a player that Robin was shocked to see holding on after so many years. Clothes laid in several small piles on the floor. Damian picked up one of them. He recognized the shade of blue as Superboy’s shirt, but it was almost in complete tatters. Dirt was stained throughout it with a huge rip going down the back and one of the sleeves was coming undone at the bottom seams. He looked at the pants underneath and they were in a similar condition. Whoever had attacked Jon had meant serious damage. Suddenly, he found himself hoping that it wasn’t the unknown man who had done it, but he had a gut feeling that spoke tot he contrary. The man did have stress related destruction in his DNA sequencing. Robin opened the closet door seeing only a glimpse of the crimson boots before The room disappeared in front of him. A heavy weight sent him flying, his body going clear through the glass window pane. 

He looked above him to see the new Superman holding on to him by the cape, dangling him above the rest of his family who was still going at it with Superboy. All were still standing, but Damian could see the sweat beginning to drip down their skin despite the freezing temperatures. It seemed as if Superboy was still holding back and not using any of his powers, instead using his skills alone to take on all three of the other men. He was too busy swinging his body upward toward his assailant to be impressed though. 

The other man gave a cold smile. “You won’t get free that easily, Robin. Not this time.”

Then the man threw him into the brick wall. His body slammed into the stone before he even had the chance to reach for his grappling hook. His ears were ringing, but through that he was sure that he could hear Father yelling for him. Before he could process what the man might have said, he was punched in the back. He fell with a groan, his landing cushioned only by a snowbank. He was grateful that none of his teeth had come loose this time. He reached for the lead lined box as he watched the other man look at him with that same detached expression.  Superman had moved to be on the ground as well, and kicked some of the loose snow over Damian, using his freeze breath to harden it into ice. Robin’s skin burned underneath it, but he had to focus past it. He saw the shape of the man come closer, and he scrambled trying to get his wrist apparatus to work. He could move his head to see whether it was reacting to his gloved hand or not though, but his heart sunk as the man was now overtop him without any trace of fear on his face. Robin felt his arm become held down. He saw the other man lift his foot and thrashed, trying to break out of the ice, trying to break out of the man’s hold, but the foot came down first. 

The world went dark for a moment as soon as he heard the crack. White hot pain flooded his senses to the point that he didn’t even notice the leg going up again until it was too late. He heard a second crack and felt as if his arm was about to fall off. His body fought against the pain and finally cracked the ice that had encased him. He might have screamed if his lungs weren't burning already from the lack of oxygen he just underwent. All he could sense was the pain radiating through his body and the frozen earth under him. 

A cracked voice cut through the darkness, ““Dad! Dad, he’s down, just stop!” 

The dark boot came down on his sternum. Above him Superman asked, “And if I could do this in two minutes, why are they still breathing?”

The man was so emotionless, and as the force dug deeper against Damian’s chest, his working hand crept closer to his belt. Robin couldn’t reach the Kryptonite like this, but he still had something that might work. He didn’t get the chance however as Batman sent the man down with a simple flashbang. He didn’t stay down for long though.

Robin sat up right on time to see that Superman had caught a hold of Batman that was used to throw him aside as if he was a piece of trash. Jon flew to the imposter, but was stopped by the man taking hold of his collar, twisting him until he was facing Batman. 

“Don’t you see how weak he is, Bruce? He couldn’t even take one of you down, and you still held back?” Superman pushed Jon whose face was beginning to turn red. “Go make me proud.” 

Robin stood on shaky legs, watching as Jon just shook his head. Superman had just tuned him out though , pushing past him to advance Batman’s way. Father looked up from his comms, looking more relaxed than he should’ve in that situation. Robin couldn’t see Nightwing anywhere, but Red Robin was approaching Jon who seemed to be frozen in place. Red wasn’t going in for a fight, Damian couldn’t hear what he was saying, but none of it seemed to be sticking. The man just kept shaking his head like he couldn’t believe anything that was going on around him. He saw Jon’s jaw tense and Superman get too close to father for comfort. In a moment of desperation, he yelled out, “Hey, Superboy, your dad’s a loser!” 

It wasn’t his goal to make Superboy angry, it just needed to be enough to catch his ‘dad’s’ attention. Nothing more clever popped into his mind and with the blood that was spilling out of his left arm, it was hard to think at all, no matter how much he struggled to focus. It stopped the older hero though. Superman just turned his head to look squarely at Damian. The red eyes were the only warning he got before he crumpled to the ground. 

The world was fading fast around him. He breathed in and out, trying to remain conscious. He looked at his surroundings, counting the trees, but when that didn’t work he turned his attention to his own body. He just had to remember what he learned in school, get his brain going so that he wouldn’t slip away. He had a major burn covering a solid portion of his chest stretching up to his left shoulder, but it still felt hot and taunt so it was merely a second degree burn and nothing to worry about. Stark white bone peeked out through the dark grey of his suit. The arm was nearly mangled. From the point of the compound fracture, the bone went in a different direction. Damian swallowed down his vomit. The bone had segmented. It was just a compound fracture with segmentation, nothing fatal, even if it was his humerus. His sternum also ached, but he doubted it was anything more than a hairline fracture. His ribs throbbed as well, but given that he was still able to breath, Damian made a rational guess that they were less damaged than his last run in with Superman. But he would live and it would be okay, only if he kept the darkness away that kept creeping into his vision. It was fine. 

For a moment, his vision was clear again. He sat up with a grunt just in time to see the grey cloud of a smoke bomb. That’s when his vision vanished and he fell back into the snow. 

Chapter Text

 Jon just didn’t know where he was supposed to look. He tried looking back and forth but every time he turned, his eyes became glued to the scenes that surrounded him. 

Behind him, Robin was bleeding on the ground, turning the snow into a snow cone from hell. Even though Jon wasn’t in medical school himself, he was pretty sure that arms weren’t meant to bend in more than two directions. Especially if that white bit that was poking out through the sleeve was exactly what Jon thought it was. 

Ahead of him though, Dad was going hand to hand with Batman. The Dark Knight was skilled in combat in ways that Jon could only imagine, and Dad never moved in any way similar to the other man. But he knew that Dad was holding back. He was putting only the amount of strength each punch needed to bruise, but not a touch more. He saw Dad’s mouth moving, saying something that Jon couldn’t hear though the blood in his ears. And he still couldn’t move; he just stared at the two men’s duel. He watched the two continue to fight, the dread in his stomach growing and growing. Why would Dad hold back with Batman- the man that took away Mom from them forever- and not Jon? Batman was still standing, not even bleeding. The other shoe had to be dropping, and soon. 

That was when he noticed that neither Nightwing or Red Robin had continued to fight him. He didn’t feel the sensation of their strikes or kicks. Nightwing wasn’t even by his side anymore, he had already turned to Robin’s side. He was digging through all of the man’s utility belt compartments, searching for what Jon didn’t know, but he was praying that it wasn’t the Kryptonite stuff Damian had used on dad before. A tug pulled at Jon’s wrist that finally made him crash land back to reality. Dad must’ve had a plan up his sleeve, but Batman sure as shit had one too. He would have needed one if he felt confident enough to come onto their property head on. And Red Robin had finally shut up long enough to take some kind of action himself. The shorter man went down easily with just Jon using his own grip against him to pull him forward right into Jon’s knee. 

He saw Nightwing somersault back to standing, but he could deal with later too. Right now, all he needed to do was help Dad. Superman parried one of Batman’s strikes, giving him the chance to take hold of the other man’s arms and throw him down at the Earth at startling speeds. Superboy ran to get in between the two men, but the glare that Dad sent him made him stumble. 

What gave him the right to step in and try to help? He did this. All of it. If he had just listened to Dad and kept his head down and didn’t stick his neck out, maybe the Bats wouldn’t have come. Maybe then Robin wouldn’t be dying slowly from a fate too cruel even for someone like him. And any other injuries that happened, any deaths, would be on him too. Maybe if he just didn’t hold back as much earlier when he was fighting Batman and his former sidekicks, Dad would’ve been less angry. Jon could have just escaped by himself so that Dad never felt like he needed to return. 

From underneath Dad, he saw Batman reaching for a compartment as Dad pulled back for another punch. Jon couldn’t see through it, he could see everything else but for some reason, this was just an impenetrable box of black. Even with blood splattering out of his nose onto Superman, he was too calm, too collected. And Dad had too much red in his vision to notice. 

“Dad! Move!” Jon choked through tears as he yelled across the yard. Periwinkle and blue eyes both turned to look at him. “Fly away, get out of here!”

Dad used Batman’s moment of shock as an opportunity to heave his opponent up, barreling straight for the moon in the sky. It was only when it was too late when he and Jon noticed the cable that had been wrapped around Superman’s neck that sent him upward as well. Dad lifted off, quickly catching up to the man in black, before flying them both through the walls of the house. Jon didn’t know which was worse, the idea that Dad was eager to kill Batman or how possible it was for Batman to kill him instead. 

Jon swallowed down the lump in his throat. The punishment Dad gave him hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t even over yet, but if Dad died then Jon deserved every second of pain and an infinite amount more. And that still wouldn’t touch what he knew he had earned with that idiotic mission he took. He shouldn’t have gone easy. He shouldn’t have clammed up when all Dad had asked was to make him proud. He should’ve thrown Batman into the stratosphere if he knew that Dad had the chance of dying. But he did know that, and he was still an idiot who froze still as a statue and wouldn’t have even moved if he saw Batman just flat out kill Dad while he just watched. Useless. That’s what he was: stupid and useless.  

The very least he could do now was make sure Dad just escaped. He already lived through enough, he didn’t need to be the one to carry the guilt of killing someone when it wasn’t even his choice to get caught in the crossfires. Superboy leapt, ready to fly into the building and take over for the older hero. He couldn’t hold back anymore, he couldn’t let them win. They couldn’t take away the one family member he had left. 

Unfortunately, that’s when white hot electricity raced through all of his nerve endings. He dropped like a stone, Blue and black leggings letting him know that he had just been zapped by Nightwing. 

“Damn it, Jon. Just stay calm, please. We don’t want to hurt you.” These people were such liars. Robin had tried saying that too, after he had already initiated the fight. Superboy thrashed, almost slipping out of the other’s clutch when he seized again. 

His vision came back right as he saw the glide of dark wings swooping down from the roof. Superman was close in chase and landed on the vigilante, tossing the man around like a ragdoll. Superman sacked Batman in the jaw before taking hold of the man’s neck, handing him up in a strangle. Dad’s eyes were glowing, his jaw was clenched so much harder and his forehead creased more than even the other day when he confronted Jon. He couldn’t let this happen, he couldn’t let Dad ruin his life. Jon slipped out of Nightwing's grasp, fast enough that the man couldn’t keep up to tase him again. He cleared the field and when he was just about to get Dad to leave, the man disappeared into thin air, leaving Superboy just a foot away from Batman who took the moment to restrain him.

The man’s blood felt warm on Jon’s skin. It made him cringe in disgust, but he couldn’t force his way out of the man’s grip. Batman forced him down, his face pushed into the cold snow. Both arms were shoved behind his back, but no matter how much he fought back, it wasn’t stopping Batman. Heavy metal dug into Jon’s wrist. The cuffs clicked as they locked into place, just tight enough that they dug into his skin. No matter how much he pulled at them, the chain didn’t even creak as he put as much force as possible on the metal. Instead all that it did was make Jon just feel tired. He was turned over onto his back to see Batman staring down at him. He couldn’t see anything through the white covering the other man’s eyes. Batman’s lips were pursed, and somehow the man’s broken nose had been tended to since Jon went down. Jon watched as he called Red Robin over before giving Jon a glance. He looked ready to say something before shaking his head and standing to speak to Red Robin. 

Jon fought against the handcuffs again. The metal burned where it touched his skin, and none of it gave way no matter how much Jon twisted and pulled at it. He still couldn’t see where Dad had run off to either. The idea that the man had left almost made him feel better. It’s what Jon wanted anyways, Dad flees to safety while Jon just let the Bats do whatever they wanted. He’d answer all their questions, try to get more information out of them, and hopefully one day escape, but as long as Dad was safe, he’d take anything. His stomach turned at the thought though. He really had no idea what Batman even had planned. Neither dying or torture sounded very appealing. 

Out of nowhere, a blue blur crashed into the ground a couple dozen yards away from him. Jon squinted to see what had fallen through the powdery snow. Scarlet emerged from underneath only to be quickly taken down again by a woman

 Red and black covered arms tried to pin him down, but Superboy just mowed them down as he ran. The woman, whoever she was, was beating Dad. Each move he tried to make was quickly countered, even when he used his powers. She didn’t even make an attempt to block or dodge his heat vision. She just punched him in the teeth. 

A sudden bout of nausea stopped Jon in his tracks as he doubled over trying to swallow everything back down. They turned to where Dad’s back was to Jon, the woman on his other side, but Jon could still hear the words she was yelling at Dad. 

“You took the last good thing I had left!’ Punch. “You’re nothing.” Kick. “Just some low grade murderer who thought he’d never get caught.” The final strike sent Dad collapsing back to the ground. Blood flew in the air splattering over the wall behind the two. He fell and Jon finally got to see who she was, the first person who ever not only had the sheer strength to beat Dad, but even more than the Superman himself. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders with the same blue eyes as Jon. The kind of blue that he had been commented on his whole life that he had never seen on another person before. He gasped. The suit she was wearing wasn’t anything like his or Dad’s for the most part. Hers wasn’t a makeshift screen printed tee shirt nor was it in the dark palette that both men sported. It was bright with a brilliant cerulean body and a candy apple red skirt finished with a canary yellow belt. And on her suit, was the same symbol that he and Dad both wore. The S Shield that supposedly meant hope that they were supposed to inspire in others. Dad had just said it was a family crest though, and if all of his family was dead, who was this woman?

He didn’t realize how much he was squinting until his head began to ache. Red Robin asked the blonde woman something which made it pound, but when he approached Jon couldn’t find it in him to fight back. “Dad, what’s going on?” 

Dad was bleeding from somewhere, the liquid already drying in his hairline, but his eyes were still focused on the woman who was wearing their symbol. He didn’t even glance back at Jon as he stood. “You’ve gotten stronger, kara. I thought all those pity parties would have left you soft. So which part did you play in finally tracking us down, getting too drunk to stand or stealing their stuff to buy more booze?” 

She and Dad knew each other. If he knew her name, and her drinking activities, they had to have been close at some point. Her face turned red and she finally broke the glare she was giving Dad. It trailed over and for a second, Jon could’ve sworn that jut for a second, her eyes met his and they seemed to water. It wasn’t anything big and it wasn’t for very long that her anger had melted, but that had to mean something. If she knew Dad and had some sort of fondness, she had to have known them, maybe even being in his life before Mom died. But she was also working with Batman. 

She turned and nodded at the Dark Knight. Jon saw her mouth moving but he couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly, his headache was worse and another bout of nausea swept him off his feet. The cuffs seemed to be growing heavier somehow. He fell to his knees before he was caught too off balance to keep himself upright. The snow was so cold on his skin. It was seeping through his pajamas and his feet were already numb. He tried looking up, but everything was a blur. He could only tell each person apart by their coloring, the bright blue of kara’s suit pinning Dad down. He could see her fist coming down on dad’s skull again. He had to get closer, he had to just get her to talk and understand. If she knew them before and was still working with Batman, she just had to misunderstand what happened. She must’ve believed whatever lies he told her and maybe Batman even did something to her before that made Dad think she was dead. Hearing that your brother or maybe cousin or uncle or whatever she was had killed his wife really would have sent anyone into a dark spiral. As he inched closer, his body just seemed to be going out more and more. He was struggling to see in the dark now, the colorful blurs lessening and lessening along with his hearing. 

Until his vision went white. Every inch of his skin burned and every muscle tightened as he was tased for a third time. 

“Jon, please just stay still. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Jon was about to respond, but his body thought that would be the time to release the contents of his stomach. He heaved, the sting of the cold now settling into his bones which began to throb from within. Voices kept shouting, but he couldn’t even place whose voice belonged to who. Another wave hit him and he vomited again, the acrid smell of bile making him want to hurl again. Suddenly, the world seemed to move around him and the snow was under his back now. 

Two heavy weights fell close by sending more snow over him. “You can’t have him! He’s all I have left!”  He couldn’t tell who said that, but the two disappeared as quick as they came.

A very dark blur was above him with two pointed horns like the devil on its head. Must be Batman. Two fingers pressed into his skin, and Jon had to fight against leaning into their warmth. Instead, he raised a shaky hand to rest on the man’s black glove. He begged the man to let Dad go. Just to let them leave and the Waynes would never have to worry about them again. He just wanted it all to end. He didn’t even recognize the voice that came out- it was too hoarse and small to be his, but he was thinking those words. He could barely even see the man shake his head. Then Jon tasted bile again. He choked on it before rolling to his side. His shoulder blade was digging into his back at a painful angle, only adding to the agony that was his aching skeleton. That only seemed to get worse with each second. Every minute movement felt like it splintered the bone more. Everything burned. His second heave seemed like it was eating into his esophagus and for a second, he thought he saw that the snow had turned red. 

Jon shut his eyes, just trying to breath and keep calm, but his mouth tasted like copper and acid. Where was he? What was going on? Why was everything so loud, and it was so dark and cold and he just hurt so much. Where was Dad? He needed his Dad. 

His brain seemed to swirl when he was lifted and warmth seeped into half of his body. He wanted to vomit again, but nothing could come up. He swallowed a heave down. All of his organs burned like they were being melted by whatever was trying to come up. Fingers ran through his hair, grazing his scalp in a way that Dad used to do when he was really young and something had scared him. Something pressed into his neck again. 

“Get the cuffs off! Now!” 

The voice was so loud. Where was Dad? He was the one person he had left. The one person who loved him and knew him. He couldn’t let the last thing he did be something that pulled Dad into danger, he couldn’t die knowing that Dad was angry at him. 

Jon sobbed. He peeled his eyelids open, the action feeling like it was taking the last bit of energy he had left. He saw black hair and blue eyes over him. Everything else about the face was a pale blur. 

Dad was there for him. He was cradling Jon. The man who had already lost everything. Dad who taught him to drive when he was fourteen and kept tensing up against the passenger window made Jon scared to put his foot on the pedal at all. Dad who always made Jon break away from schoolwork when he could tell that the boy was getting overwhelmed. He remembered how Dad woke him up with a huge smile and a baby goat on Jon’s twelfth birthday apparently giving Jon the gift of a best friend. 

“Dad?” he croaked. “Are you… Okay?” He was grateful that Dad had superhearing. Jon’s voice sounded so far away, so garbled through all of the fluid that was in his ears. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, Jon. I’m taking off the cuffs right now, then you’re going to start feeling better. It won’t be too much longer, chum.” A careful hand wiped something off his face. Tears or puke, Jon didn’t care. Dad was safe. He was okay, and he had Jon, just the same way he did that day Jon landed back on Earth scared out of his mind. Jon was sat up, most of the strength coming from Dad’s strong hand that was supporting him. Another wave of nausea hit him, but Dad didn’t pull away. He cradled Jon closer, rubbing his back. Jon heard the click of the cuffs being unlocked. “Get it all out, it’s okay. Red, go prepare the plane immediately. We’ll need to leave ASAP. Supergirl has it from here.”

That wasn’t Dad’s voice. 

Jon opened his eyes and saw black where it should have been blue. He recoiled. The snow was cold and wet under his hands, and his shirt clung to him as he crawled backwards, face up at the sky searching for any sign of where Dad could be. The man wasn’t far away, he saw him and the woman still tussling. Their fighting was making the shingles fly off the roof as they slid across, probably gouging it with their strength. Perched on the ground underneath them, he saw Damian, somehow standing up again with an eerie green light illuminated at his wrist. He was using one hand to prop up his mangled arm, the grey now stained darker with coagulated blood. Right as that arm was lifted and aimed, he heard a laugh and Dad was flipped over the roof’s ledge, just in line with that neon light. 

“No!” Jon sobbed. Even though he couldn’t see what was hiding under Damian’s mask, he knew the man didn’t have any expression in his dead eyes that were a near perfect shade match for what he was using to kill Dad. The man had already tried to once, and this time Jon had a sinking feeling that Robin would succeed. And with every part of him screaming with each movement, all Jon could do was watch. Despite that, he crawled closer, his hands and feet already nothing more than pins and needles that were spreading up his limbs. The pressure from each stone under him and the throb within his bones almost made him stop, but he had to do something. In the time it took for Kara to fly Dad down, the green was already flashing in his eyes. Soon it would spread, running through his veins and leaving the man lifeless. Jon cried again, stumbling over his own weight. The world faded in and out around him. The hand that was stretched in front of him was battered, bruises coming together to form a dark blotch with a deep ring centered around his wrists. And that same shade of green flashed from under his skin, not even disappearing completely before brightening again to where it hurt Jon’s eyes through the darkness. He shut his eyes and just gave up.

He was stupid. Careless. Hopeless. Culpable. 

And now he was dying because of it. 

Batman lied when he said that he was going to feel better. The cuffs and whatever were in them were off, but the burst of energy was gone. As he saw Dad fall limp, he fell too. Jon couldn’t feel the beat of his own heart, couldn’t feel his rib cage expanding as he took a a breath. Everything in him just felt like hot sludge sloshing around in him. He blinked, expecting to still see the hellish scene going on around him, but it was dark with only faint lights floating around. It was all gone. His life, his family, his friends. He wouldn’t get to grow up and see what he wanted out of life. He’d never be able to get married and have a kid himself. He couldn’t ever make the choice to leave it all behind and join Rebecca. He should’ve jumped at the chance. If he did, Batman wouldn’t have poisoned him, Dad wouldn’t have come rushing home. He wouldn’t have been poisoned. Batman wouldn’t have gotten the chance to finish off what was left of the Kents. 

The light grew brighter and bigger in his vision. Everything began to feel like less of a struggle. It was coming. He’d see Mom again, and soon see Dad too. They’d get to see each other, and maybe, just maybe, they’d get the chance to be happy again, just the three of them. Jon wouldn’t ever let them down again, he would never disappoint them. Cold settled around him, so different than it just once was. It wasn’t pressing and wet. It glided over his skin and felt freeing, but still was enough to make him shiver. Soon though, he’d have his mother’s arms around him again and they’d get to catch up on the fourteen years that Jon owed her. He could almost imagine it, her warmth spreading around him, replacing the void in him with love and joy and happiness. 

Jon saw her, in the same dress that she wore when she got her Pulitzer- the same one Jon couldn’t bring himself to look at most days that looked at him from above the fireplace. He ran, getting closer and closer until he blinked, and it was all gone. 

Golden light was all around, and it was warm. So warm. Jon blinked again, shaky hands going to rub the crusties out of his eyes. Everything around him was white and gold. He didn’t expect his muscles to still be sore in heaven though. Or for it to feel so empty still. He wanted his mom back. Honestly, aside from the drama of the whole dying thing, it all felt relatively underwhelming. There wasn’t even so much of a hum let alone a song. Nor were there any clouds but Jon was never sure why those were always there anyways. 

To his right, he heard a squeak. Jon took a moment just to let it process and roll his stiff shoulders, but then it happened again. This time it definitely was a whine though. Like a dog’s whine, not anything mechanical. Or human if he had to guess. He sat up, the movement making his head pound until his brain felt like his brain was going to squeeze its way past his eardrums. Jon groaned, but found it in him to sit up. The golden glow that surrounded him turned out not to be the light of god, but instead a series of lamps that were pointed directly over him. He was laying on a table, and not even a comfortable one now that he saw its smooth metal surface. Another whine sent him looking around more. Wherever he was was all white, just cold and sterile with various robots scattered about. The memories came back. He didn’t expect Batman's cave to look anything like this, but it made more sense than it being heaven. 

Then a dog jumped in his lap. It was a good sized labrador with sleek white fur. It had big brown eyes that sparkled with happiness that made Jon smile, at least just a bit. He pet it behind the ear, hand catching at the collar. 

“Who are you, buddy? It’s nice to meet you.” The dog gave him a lick in return. Jon felt around the collar for a tag. He leaned back. The collar was bright yellow, just like the plush that Rebecca just gave him for Christmas. Jon’s eyebrows drew together when he saw the name. Krypto. 

He knew that name from somewhere. Maybe the old show? He didn’t remember ever watching it, but the pooch was striking a lot of chords in him. He flipped the tag back over. It was diamond shaped with red running through the gold. It was the same symbol that he wore, that dad wore. Or had worn. Jon bit his lip. He ran his hand down the dog’s back only to meet a sprawl of fabric. It was red, just like the stuffed dog’s. Said dog cocked its head, ears perking up to just the right position. It was the same dog. 

Jon didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but the plush dog was obviously based off of this dog. Or that the dog was based off of the plush for some reason. 

Jon began hyperventilating. 

Everything about this situation and what had happened earlier and seeing Dad glowing again and seeing himself glow the same way and straight up dying- it was all too much. So far past the realm of too much. And now he wasn’t even sure if he died. 

Was he in hell? Did he do something that sent him here where he was just being haunted by the idea of reuniting with Mom and the last memento of his runaway best friend? The walls seemed to be closing in, the lamps suddenly burning too hot. The dog gave him another lick and whine as he spiraled until he was pulled out by a forced chipper voice quipping, “Oh! You’re up now!”