Chapter Text
Two Months Ago
The Gotham city lights blurred past them as Clark rubbed circles with his thumb on the back of Dick’s hand. Dick sat between him and Lois in the backseat of Ms. Kersey’s car, eyes staring straight ahead, devoid of light. One of his little hands still had Zitka in a vice grip.
Lois’ gaze fell on Dick intermittently, her own palm resting on the boy’s shoulder. She wouldn’t meet Clark’s eyes.
Clark looked out the window into the darkness of the night. The colour palette of Gotham’s buildings already cast a dreary aura across the city, but there was something else about it that seemed off. Every last corner of the city was drenched in darkness, as if the night itself were an expanding, nebulous creature here. A fitting aesthetic for the protector of Gotham, Clark supposed.
His eyes strayed back to Dick. Still in the vibrant costume he’d been wearing since early in the day.
Clark knew why Lois was angry. She had every reason to be. Looking at Dick, he himself was filled with an unfamiliar sense of overwhelming anxiety and fear. He’d done what he’d had to do. All that was left now was doing right by this child. This child who deserved everything good the world had to offer and more. He couldn’t fail. Not now, not ever.
Dick didn’t budge when the car rolled to a stop in front of the station. Lois made to reach over to guide him out but stopped at the final moment, noticing Clark’s hold already on him. She stepped out of the car without a second glance.
Clark sighed and pulled Dick into his arms. “Come on, buddy.”
Dick stirred, wrapping his arms around Clark’s neck and resting his forehead against Clark’s cheek. He buried his face further into Clark’s neck as they followed Ms. Kersey into the station, the fluorescent lights and the smell of burnt coffee no doubt coming as another shock to his system.
Clark shook hands with a man named Captain Gordon before they were led into his office to give their statements. He didn’t understand the purpose of any of it — to make Dick relive everything even though they’d already caught the man who was behind it all. Tony Zucco had been arrested hours ago.
They emerged from the captain’s office half an hour later, taking a seat on hard plastic chairs beside a vending machine as they waited for Ms. Kersey and the caseworker. Clark tried to lower Dick into the chair between himself and Lois, but Dick only squirmed and tightened his arms around Clark’s neck.
“Alright, buddy,” Clark soothed, setting Dick onto his lap instead, smoothing back his hair, the back of his head resting on Clark’s chest.
Having procured a bar of chocolate from the vending machine, Lois crouched down in front of them, holding it out to Dick with a smile.
Dick accepted the offering silently, nodding in thanks. Lois took her seat beside them as Dick nibbled absently at the chocolate bar.
Clark turned his head towards Lois, trying to catch her eye. She simply shook her head and mouthed not now.
Clark sensed him before he saw him. The scent of expensive cologne drifted in over the smell of industrial cleaner and coffee, and the clicking of shiny loafers filled the hallway. A large man in a tailored suit worth the entirety of Clark’s monthly rent walked in briskly. His sharp jawline tensed as his eyes fell on them, fixating on Dick.
“Richard?” said Bruce Wayne, pulling to a stop before them.
Clark felt his hackles rising instantly. Lois uncrossed her legs and straightened in her seat.
“How are you, chum?” Bruce went on, heedless of the tension.
Dick for his part tensed, staring up at the man.
“Mr. Kent, Ms. Lane, I’m Bruce Wayne,” Bruce tried instead, holding out a hand. “I’ve already spoken to Captain Gordon. I’ll be covering the costs for Richard’s parents’ funeral.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Clark managed, shaking his hand from his seated position. Bruce’s hand was calloused — strange for a man of his standing.
“It’s the least I could do after seeing everything that happened today. We’ll follow all the customs of his people. Anything Richard needs.”
He bent down to a crouch in front of Dick, much like Lois had only minutes ago.
“Richard—” Bruce’s voice broke. “I know you must be going through the worst day of your life. I know it must be horrible. I lost my parents too when I was eight years old, right here in Gotham.”
Dick’s eyes widened at that, his hold on Zitka never faltering.
“I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. And I want you to know that you’re not alone.”
“He knows he’s not alone,” Lois said sharply. “He has us.”
Clark’s throat clogged with emotion.
“Ms. Lane, I only want to help,” Bruce said, straightening. “I can provide everything he needs to thrive. Stability, resources, the best trauma therapists. A home.” Something flickered across his features. “A safe home.”
“Dick has a home,” Clark said firmly, wrapping an arm around Dick’s middle.
“With all due respect Mr. Kent, you’re an unmarried man living off a journalist’s salary. You have a demanding career and might not have access to the resources he needs. Richard needs someone who can dedicate themselves fully to his care and recovery. Someone who understands what he’s lost.”
“Someone like you?” Lois stood, crossing her arms. “The CEO of Wayne Enterprises? Are you sure you have time for Richard? What with your own busy schedule and proclivity for merrymaking.”
Bruce’s face shuttered at that, and something like pride bloomed in Clark’s chest.
“For your information Ms. Lane, I’ve changed,” Bruce said, having recovered his dignity.
“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Wayne,” Clark said, tracing his thumb across the back of Dick’s hand. “But Dick will be fine with us.”
Bruce tracked the movement, his eyes boring into Clark’s with an unsettling intensity.
Dick yawned and tucked the side of his face against Clark’s arm.
Bruce continued to watch, his jaw tightening and yet, the look in his eyes was raw and filled with something like pain.
“I’ll be filing for custody,” he said finally, voice coming out flat. “My lawyers will be in touch.”
He turned to leave, then paused. His eyes strayed to Dick one more time. “Goodbye, chum.”
Lois stared at his retreating back in disbelief. “Did he really just challenge us for custody?”
Clark nodded, anxiety roiling in his gut.
By the time they reached the hotel, Lois seemed to have thawed a little. She’d helped him get Dick freshened up and changed into a blue Mickey Mouse t-shirt and soft grey sweatpants.
Clark had left him in the centre of the giant king-size bed, bundled up in his yellow fleece blanket to get him something to eat.
“Is it okay if he takes the master bedroom?” Clark asked from the kitchenette, scooping some white rice into a bowl of chicken soup. “I don’t want to leave him alone tonight.”
“Of course it is,” Lois said from the living room, as if it should be obvious. “Don’t fall asleep beside him though. You’re not allowed to co-sleep with foster kids.”
“That’s a shame,” Clark said, adjusting his glasses and stirring the rice into the soup.
Lois hummed in acknowledgment, toeing off her white sneakers and settling onto the couch with her phone, legs tucked underneath her.
“Lois, I’m sorry.”
Lois closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Not now, Clark,” she said through gritted teeth. “You need to make sure Dick’s okay first.”
“You’re right.”
“How is he now?”
“Still not talking.”
With that Clark picked up the bowl and made his way over to the master bedroom.
Dick was still in the position he’d left him in, sitting curled in the middle of the bed, eyes staring blankly into the distance. When he saw Clark though, his lower lip wobbled and he held out his arms, Zitka forgotten to the side.
Clark’s heart ached for the little one.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He set down the soup on the nightstand, adjusted the blanket around Dick’s shoulders and lifted him into his arms, situating them both on the large red armchair beside the bed. “There we go, buddy,” Clark cooed, his voice coming out high. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Dick burrowed face-first into the warmth of his chest, small body trembling with sobs. Clark pressed his lips to Dick’s hairline and enveloped him in a tight hug, gently swaying from side to side, the way Svetlana had a few hours ago.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, buddy,” Clark murmured against Dick’s hairline. Tears soaked through Clark’s shirt as Dick began wailing. “I’m so sorry.”
Lois appeared at the doorway, watching them, her face twisted in pain. She left when Dick’s sobs abated to hiccupping sniffles.
Clark rubbed his hand up and down Dick’s back, trying to ground him. “Are you hungry, buddy? Wanna try some chicken soup? I put some rice in it, just the way you like it.”
Dick sat stiff for a while before nodding once.
Clark turned him around in his lap and eased the bowl into one hand, feeding Dick a few bites. Dick shook his head after a few more spoonfuls and returned to burrowing his face in Clark’s chest.
Clark continued rubbing his back and rocking him, thinking he’d finally settled down for the night. Even the wet spot on his shirt had begun to dry. But Dick chose that moment to look up, his face blotchy and tear-stained.
“Where was Superman?”
Now, Clark had known from their first meeting that Superman was Dick’s favourite superhero. But knowing couldn’t have prepared him for the way his arms and legs filled with dread or the way his heart seized in his chest at the question.
Dick’s face contorted with anger as he beat his small fists against Clark’s chest. “Why didn’t he save them?” he hiccupped. “He saves everyone. Why didn’t he catch them?”
Clark’s throat closed up as he tried to form words. Dick was right to question him. Of course he was. Clark had been so preoccupied and distracted during the show that he hadn’t even given a second thought to the sound of movement near the rigging right before the Graysons’ performance.
He hadn’t even picked up on the individual sounds of John and Mary’s hearts or their panic after the cables snapped. Not to mention his reaction time afterwards. He shouldn’t have been even half as overstimulated as he was. He was used to dealing with hordes of people. More than used to. Shame curdled in his gut, and he felt like curling into a ball and disappearing. How could he have failed this little boy so spectacularly?
“I’m so sorry he wasn’t there to save your parents,” Clark managed, his voice coming out raw. “I’m sure he really wanted to save them, but sometimes even Superman can’t save everyone.”
“Why not?”
“Everyday there are hundreds of thousands of people who need his help at the same time. Even with super speed he can’t save everyone. So, he has to decide where to go first. And sometimes that means he doesn’t have enough time to get to everyone who needs his help.”
Dick scratched his chin, seeming to consider this.
“I bet he hears people all over the world screaming for help and hopes he could save them all,” Clark continued.
“But he can’t,” said Dick, his voice small.
“Yeah,” Clark replied, rubbing his hands up and down Dick’s arms. “I’m so sorry, buddy.”
“What about Batman? I heard he also saves people here in Gotham.”
“I don’t know, buddy. I wish he’d been there.”
Letting out a sigh, Dick tipped his head listlessly against Clark’s chest.
“Why?” he murmured against Clark’s shirt.
“Why, what?”
“Why did you decide to take me?”
“I wanted to help you, sweetheart. You knew me and you’re comfortable with me, and I thought that would be better than going to live with strangers.”
“Like Superman?” Dick’s fingers curled into his shirt.
“Just like Superman.”
Clark emerged from the master bedroom an hour and a half later, having finally put Dick to bed. The latter had fallen asleep curled on his side on the massive bed, one of Zitka’s front legs clutched in his hand.
Lois was still on the couch in the darkness of the living room, staring unblinkingly at the Persian rug underneath the coffee table.
Clark slowly made his way to her.
“You didn’t even look at me,” she said without glancing up.
He settled onto the other end of the couch. “I’m sorry—”
“You didn’t think to look at me when you unilaterally made the decision to change both of our lives forever.”
“I’m sorry Lois, but I had to,” Clark said, even as guilt speared through his chest.
“You had to?” Lois turned to look at him now, incredulous. “You’re not even a licensed foster parent yet. You’re still in training. You haven’t even had a home study. And you think you’re ready to raise a traumatised child?”
“You don’t think I can?” Clark said, brushing his curly black hair away from his face and finally taking his glasses off.
Lois turned bodily. “Do you think you can?”
“I think so. I’d been planning to foster anyway.”
“Not until months later!” Frustration coloured Lois’ voice. “This isn’t a game, Clark.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Lois stood, whirling on him.
“Lois, that’s not fair.” Clark’s own voice was rising now.
“Not fair,” huffed Lois mirthlessly. “What’s not fair is you deciding to raise this kid over your guilt of not being able to save his parents!”
“I’m not doing this out of guilt!” Clark stood up as well.
Lois sighed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know you’re attached to the kid, but you’ve met him twice, Clark. That doesn't make you the best option.”
“Then who is the best option?” Clark said, gesturing with his hands. “Some other foster family?”
“Yes,” Lois said with so much emphasis Clark was beginning to doubt himself. “Someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“So, you want me to tell Dick I don’t want him anymore?” Clark’s voice came out low and desperate. “Why would you help me with Bruce Wayne if you didn’t think I could do this?”
“That’s not—” Lois sighed again, cutting herself off. “What’s done is done. We can’t hurt Dick anymore than he already is. And as for Bruce, he needed to be put in his place.”
“Then what even is the whole point of this conversation?” Clark lowered his voice so as to not disturb Dick, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“The point is I don’t think you understand the magnitude of the decision you made today. Both in terms of how that affects us as a couple and how you now have to give your all to make sure that child doesn’t suffer anymore because of you. That you still have to show up for him even when your guilt runs thin.”
“Lois, how could you even say that?” His mouth fell open in outrage, vision blurring at the edges. “My guilt isn’t why I took him in, and I will never stop showing up for him.”
“Right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe in you, Clark, but only time will tell how you handle this.”
Clark covered his mouth with one hand and lowered his eyes to the rug, hiding his hurt. “I thought you were angry I made this decision without you. Not that you thought I couldn’t do it or was doing it for the wrong reasons.”
“It’s both,” Lois said, her voice softening. “I’m worried Clark. About both you and Dick. I can only hope it turns out for the best.” She paced to the window before turning back to him. “As for us, we’ve only been dating six months and you already have me playing house with you, without any input from my side whatsoever.”
“I’m sorry, Lois. I didn’t mean to spring this on you like this.”
“But you did,” she said crossing her arms.
“You don’t have to do this with me.”
“What?” Lois uncrossed her arms and regarded Clark with disbelief for the second time that day.
“Dick is my responsibility. You don’t have to play house with me.” Clark swallowed. “Or stay.”
It was Lois’ turn to throw her hands up. “Are you serious right now? You’re okay with breaking up with me? You’re going to do everything except ask me what I want? Unbelievable.”
Clark exhaled and took a step forward. “I’m sorry I haven’t asked yet. Lois, what do you want?”
“I don’t know yet,” Lois said quietly, her gold bangles clinking together as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “I need time to figure this out.”
She stepped back from him, slipping on her sneakers and made her way to the dining room, pulling on Clark’s tan trench jacket over her denim dress.
“Lois?”
“I need some air.”