Chapter Text
“So you’re grounded?” Tim looked up to his brother, lazing on the couch in the playroom, wondering if Dick got in trouble or not for everything.
Dick sighed, putting the coding manual aside as he looked over to the kid. “From the batcomputer. Still can go into the cave and do anything else, but because I went behind his back, I no longer have my own access codes. And don’t try to make a new one for me, Tim. If he learns you got me in, you’ll be grounded too, and really grounded. I just lost one privilege. Got off easy this time.”
“Because you were right?” The story of what Bruce did couldn’t be kept secret for long. Uncle Clark dropped back in after their return to make sure everyone was okay and accidentally spilled the beans. Course, Tim and Cass were putting it together on their own before his appearance, and Alfred knew them so well he didn’t have to be told, but the confirmation was there. He also let slip how Dick helped the League out for the past few weeks, which made Bruce remember to ground him.
The teen nodded. “Yeah. Because I was right. Real heroes don’t kill people, even when we know they deserve it. We have to let the system work, or it’s just revenge and not justice. Isn’t that what Bruce taught us?”
His brother smiled, nodding. “Before you start the journey of revenge, dig two graves.”
“Exactly.” A pang of guilt hit Dick as he thought of his search for justice as a kid and always questioned if he actually took revenge instead, but he pushed it aside to focus on the kid before him. “Anyway, wanna check out this book? It’s aaaaaaall about computers.”
Tim giggled and got onto his lap, ready to read with him. “Why are you reading this anyway? I thought Dad -”
“Just because I’m not allowed on the batcomputer doesn’t mean I have to not learn anything about computers… and hacking…” It was a devious idea he came up with for the future. His skills weren’t up to every task the League wanted during his stint as ‘R’, but one day Bruce would give him access again, and he’d be better prepared. “Gotta learn computer languages at least so I’m not twiddling my thumbs.”
“Is it going to be hard like French or Russian?” Dick wondered if teaching the kid what he learned in class or on his own to help him study was a good idea for a moment, then gave up. Tim absorbed everything around him, and they said the earlier people learned languages, the better. So he shrugged.
“I dunno. Let’s just try it and see who’s better at it later.”
“Come on. You can do it.” Bruce gently guided Jason from the chair to the parallel bars meant to help him with his physical therapy. Casts all off and strength returning, it was time to move on to the boy’s next steps: walking. Obedient and emotionless, his father hoped the boy would light up a little at no longer being confined to a bed or chair, maybe get some energy in him. Day two of therapy, and Jason just did as he was told mechanically. Leslie Thompkins stood nearby with a recommended physical therapist, making sure everything went smoothly. So far, the kid was doing well.
Jason gripped the bars on either side of him, taking careful steps forward while his father stayed just behind him in case he fell again. When he tried being the goal Jason walked to the other day, he fell into another panic attack, curling up on the floor and covering his head. He also looked uncomfortable when the therapist stood next to him, so they hoped this would work better overall. Seemed to be working well so far.
Eventually, they made it to the end of the polls and started turning back. “Do you want to keep going? This is only your second day, and -”
“Stop babying him!” Bruce stopped, jerking around to where Cassandra lay on a balance beam, glaring slightly at him. She barely spoke over the past month, largely because of the feds and then his behavior, so her voice calling out across the room so strongly surprised everyone. Kicking her feet up, she glared at the man in annoyance. “Jason’s fine. He needs to push through this, and that’s just ten feet! He can do twenty, easy. His bathroom is further away.”
“Cassandra!” The glares she received from the adults made her roll her eyes and push herself up, going into a handstand and slowly flipping herself right side up. “Physical therapy and recovery takes time and is different for everyone! You can’t just -”
“Fine, don’t listen to me. Not like I know what I’m talking about.” Cass turned away, performed a cartwheel off the beam, and grabbed her water, ignoring the adults. Her time was almost up anyway. Bruce didn’t understand why she spoke up like that, but had a hunch, getting him to look at Jason again, really look at him.
Jason’s shoulders tensed up, an edge to them he almost didn’t recognize. Without any orders or coaching, he took his own step forward. Though his face didn’t change much, there was some determination in his body, and his sister had recognized it from across the room.
When he made it to the end of the bars, he didn’t collapse to the floor, despite shaking like he wanted to. His father gave him a hug and a smile. “Good job. I’m so proud of you, Jason.”
He felt more than saw the boy relax against him, hugging him back and leaning against him for support. The man hoped to see that familiar spark in his son’s face when he released him, but his expression remained the same, blank and downtrodden. Bruce contained his pain and just accepted the little improvements. “Do you want to go again? Or… Are stretches next?”
“Stretches are best,” the lean therapist insisted, with Leslie agreeing. “He shouldn’t overexert himself right after getting the casts off. Some stretches, a little weight training, and we can try the walk again. Does that sound good, Jason? You can rest if you want.”
Jason looked at the young man blankly for a moment, then his father, then went to the bars for a third round. The sight of Jason being a little disobedient made Bruce smile. He looked over to his daughter leaving the room and nodded to her in thanks. Maybe they had taken things a little too slowly for him.
Bruce went over to Leslie’s side as the physical therapist assisted Jason through his third walk, a bit slower than the other two. They had something to talk about, and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass by. “So, have you finished checking out the child psychologists I found?”
“Three of them look promising,” he admitted. “I just don’t know if now is the right time. He’s still…”
“I understand your hesitancy,” Leslie agreed. “Three months ago, everyone was in a much better place. Now… has he done anything of his own accord?”
Bruce waved a hand to his son walking without him, getting a begrudging nod for the woman. “He reads on his own sometimes. I think. He’s not just staring at pages and flipping them slowly at least. I think he’s gotten through most of his assigned English reading list. Now that he’s starting to walk… I… just hope he doesn’t pretend to be a zombie again to throw us off.”
“How was Thanksgiving?”
He cringed to himself. “We… barely had it. The food was there, and it was delicious. But… Jason isn’t the only one who…”
“Oh, I’m aware.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Are you willing to see a therapist to address this? From where I’m standing, you regressed a lot. This isn’t healthy, for you or for them.”
“Not right now.” He glared off into space, thinking of the work that still needed to be done. “I need my mind focused on the lawsuits and fixing things with my… associates.”
“Right.” Leslie rolled her eyes slightly, giving up. “Well, I hope you make an example out of them. Entrapping law-abiding citizens for the protection of a murderer and using it as an excuse to spy on them should… Any news of an impeachment?”
“Sadly, no.” Despite the president clearing Joker’s slate and keeping the Waynes under lock and key until after the summit, there appeared to be no moves to kick him out of office. He threw one of his advisers under the bus for the imprisonment and doubled down on the absolution as a political move to keep Rhapastan out of their hair. Though Bruce could send lawyers after everyone for what happened, in the world of global politics, it was the right move and not an impeachable offense. Just because people didn’t like it didn’t make it illegal. The man, though, was not being supported by his party any longer and would not be eligible for re-election.
The good news from this fiasco was the UN agreeing to financially support the Justice League. They even set up a private, confidential donation system if citizens across the world wanted to contribute. There was no obligation to any one country with this system, and no donations could be exposed or used as leverage against them. It was a surprise to nearly everyone involved, though the caveat was to stay out of existing political situations. They were not permitted to pick sides in international conflicts, save Aquaman and Wonder Woman should their respective countries join the UN, and even then, the rest of the League had to stay out of it. Any other disasters deemed needing humanitarian aid were free game across the globe.
The best part about this was Bruce had nothing to do with it. There were calls for UN oversight of the League, but it was tricky to determine who would have authority over them. Maybe he should offer himself. The idea was laughable, but he had to make certain it wasn’t this Amanda Waller or any of her allies. ‘Who watches the watchmen?’ was always a conundrum when establishing order. “But I doubt his career in politics will continue.”
“Hm…” Leslie seemed to look at him for a moment before bringing up a different topic. “Oh, I heard that man was attacked in his cell shortly after being arrested. Beaten pretty badly.”
“Is that so?” Bruce tried not to sound pleased.
“He was beaten the next day as well.” That wasn’t him. If he ever found out who did it, though, he might send a gift basket. “And the next. And the next. He’s currently in Arkham’s medical ward in a body cast. No sedation, but his mouth was wired shut.”
“Hm! That must be pleasant for the staff.” Jason made it to the end of the rails again, and the PT helped him turn around for the return trip. His eyes were almost focused, certainly thinking of the task at hand instead of his trauma. What was keeping him there?
“It is,” she agreed. Leslie looked at her watch and frowned. “I need to get back to the clinic. Think Jared can handle Jason on his own, or do you still want a witness to everything?”
“He’s cleared. Thank you for bringing him.” His son was shaking from exhaustion. It was time to step in, and even the therapist knew it. “I’ll see you later, Leslie.”
The two parted, one to the gym doors and the other to help the boy get to the mats to rest and stretch. The road to recovery was a long one, but at least they were on it.
When the first snow fell, and Jason didn’t run into Bruce’s room to bully him into a snow fight, he truly didn’t know what to do. Tim tried to pull the guy outside to play with them, but he dragged his feet to the covered patio and just watched as everyone else played. It was Damian’s first snowfall, so they took it easy this time around, despite Tim trying to throw a snowball in Jason’s face more than once.
“Why are you even trying to hit him?” His father demanded after blocking three different balls and deciding that was enough. He sat the kid down, demanding answers. Tim just glared to the side, pouting. “Timmy, you know better. Jason isn’t -”
“He threw them at my face last time,” Tim insisted, getting exasperated groans from his father and eldest brother. “I wanted to get even.”
“Timmy,” Bruce explained, “he’s not well. You can’t go around hurting sick people. It isn’t right. Now go inside. I think you’re done playing in the snow today.”
The eight-year-old groaned and stomped back inside, shedding his winter gear near the door. He was the only one who spotted his sister also pouting and dropping the snow she grabbed for some other reason. They both knew, this close to Christmas, if they did the wrong thing, their dad would ground them, so their plan had to go back on the shelf for now.
“Are you sure you don’t want to visit my folks?” Superman floated into the kitchen with a Santa hat and a box of small gifts, a couple days before Christmas. Bruce could give his kids anything they wanted at any time of the year, but the small things the Kents gave last year were treasured by the kids most of all. Bruce hoped, after talking to one of the psychologists Leslie recommended, that having a normal holiday might open up Jason’s heart a little more. His physical therapy was going well, but even though he moved on his own more, he still didn’t interact with people much. Before all of this, they planned on going to the Kent Farm this year, but until Jason recovered, they couldn’t change environments all of a sudden.
Bruce gave him a sad smile and nod. “If… when things change, we’ll come by. But right now…”
“Hey, I get it.” Clark put a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him comfort. Though for a while there, B made bad calls and cut them off in anger, after Joker’s… ah… beating… he got his head back to where it needed to be. His friend was returning to them. “It’s hard being a parent. They’re lucky to have you, and you’re lucky to have them.
“Do you want to get a drink and hang out for a bit?” He pointed to the covered porch outside, despite the snowy night. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he wanted to talk about. They did this on the farm a time or two, but not there. He looked to Alfred, taking the food items out of the box, and received a nod.
“Sure,” he agreed. “Let me get some coats first.”
“Coffee, hot chocolate, wassail, or eggnog, sir?”
“What? Beer’s not an option?” Bruce ignored Clark’s preference, finding two of his snow coats and a water-resistant blanket for the steps. All the kids were asleep, hopefully, so they weren’t likely to interrupt whatever the farm boy wanted to bring up. By the time he returned to the two, two mugs of hot wassail were ready, likely reheated by laser vision. Bruce passed Clark a coat in case the place was being watched, but it hardly helped since the second they were outside, the alien decided to laser off a section of snow on the steps.
He shook his head in amusement, laying the blanket down for them to sit. “You remind me of a meme Dick showed me.”
“What happened?” Clark sat down on the blanket, mug in hand, and very amused.
“Someone decided to use a flamethrower to clear his snow-covered driveway. Remarkably effective.” Sitting down, Bruce took a sip, glad it was just warm enough to not scald his tongue this time. “Have you -”
“I thaw off the machines whenever Pa asks.” He grinned at a memory. “When I got my laser vision, I melted the snow every chance I got instead of shoveling. Thankfully, I got my hearing first so no one ever saw. When Pa caught me, he nearly gave me a lecture, but I think he was trying not to laugh while teaching me the value of hard work.”
“It’s hard finding a balance.” Bruce stared into his cup, remembering what Dick did nearly a month ago, a small smile on his face. “Dick did the right thing. With Joker, the League, me… But I had to punish him for breaking rules and endangering himself. If parents aren’t consistent, kids don’t learn.”
“How long are you going to keep him from all of this?” It was the question the entire League wondered. How long could he keep Dick away from their way of life? He was more than willing to run into this life, and three of them had proteges already. Diana was even talking about taking a young Amazon from the island to take on ‘man’s world’ as well. “He did a fairly good job with what he had. And Barry said he directed them pretty well.”
An almost crippling fear returned to the father’s chest at the thought of it all. If he had any way in the matter, Dick would never become a vigilante. It didn’t matter if the kid was fearless or could handle what he did every other night. He didn’t want anything to happen to his kids. The memory of Jason’s broken body, and Dick’s so long ago, just made his convictions stronger. None of them would be like him.
But Dick… he was growing up. It was getting harder to keep him away. For a while, a small while, he thought maybe he could trust Dick to take care of a few small things in the safety of the cave. Now… “He needs to focus on school.”
“Bruce -”
“As long as I can,” he finally admitted. Once Dick was eighteen, he couldn’t stop him. Not really. But while he was still a child, he would do everything he could to keep him safe. “Clark, please, just… just let me protect him for as long as I can. I… I know he’s likely to… but please… don’t make me think about it.
“He’s only fifteen,” he pleaded, looking to his friend. “I want him to have the childhood I never had. When I was his age, I was so obsessed with fighting crime in the future, I trained and studied relentlessly and missed out on so many things. I missed out on school, friends… I’m still learning what I missed all those years. I want Dick to have that. I want all of them to have a life not ruled by… I just… I want them to be happy. And… I don’t believe they will be if they’re running around on rooftops fighting crime.
“Any time they tried to be a hero, they got hurt.” The statement threw Clark for a loop, but it was something Bruce didn’t want to think about. Dick tried to go against Dent two times in the past and was beaten badly. Jason kept apologizing for not saving his mother. Dick was convinced he killed Zucco after they apprehended him. Thankfully, Cassandra and Timmy didn’t try to be heroes except to defend each other, but how long until they tried? He had to keep the idea far from them, far from Damian, too, when he showed more interest in everything. “I don’t want to see that happen ever again.”
His friend was silent for a while before responding. “They want to be like you.”
“That’s why I quit.” Batman wasn’t a mistake, but he couldn’t be a father. Bruce slowly sipped his drink, letting the warmth of it attempt to melt away the fear in him. He let out a long breath, watching the air leave him slowly. He didn’t fully quit, and a person’s true nature always came out. That was what the kids emulated, the part he feared they’d follow because of how shiny and exciting it looked. “I can’t lose them, Clark. I really can’t. You saw how I became when Jason… If I lose them, there’s nothing left but that. And there won’t be anyone to stop me.”
Clark watched him for a while, letting him look out into the snowy night. He warmed up his mug again and drank a little more before trying something. “I’d stop you.”
“Clark -”
“Course I’ll always be around to protect the kids too,” he went on, “so you don’t have to worry so much. Besides, with all that training you do, it’s hard to believe you aren’t preparing them for a disaster or two. Who knows. They’ll probably just stick to computers and direct us in the right direction like you do. Wouldn’t that be okay?”
Bruce watched the man trying to be clever and couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Is this your Christmas present to Dick? To get him back on the computer?”
“Well, maybe?” The kid didn’t ask for it, but everyone agreed he did a good job and deserved a second chance.
He shook his head, amused. “I’ll think about it. Going behind my back like that is not allowed.”
“You let them go around your back to steal cookies.” The alien knew the games the kids played, and taking from the cookie jar without getting caught was the nicer ones.
“That is stealth training. You never know when you’ll need to sneak out of a dangerous situation.”
“Uh huh…” It was Clark’s turn to shake his head with a smile. Sipping the drink, he looked back to the sky and sighed. They let the night take them in, and their thoughts wander. Looking at the outline of the moon through the clouds, Clark let one of his random thoughts out by accident. “Don’t you ever wish you could just talk to Santa Claus?”
“What?” Bruce snapped his head around so fast, something popped in his neck. He rubbed it carefully as his friend looked at him, worried about the injury. “Why’d you ask something like that?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, more the innocent farm boy than ever before. “I just thought… If we could talk to Santa, maybe he could do some kind of Christmas miracle and make everything better. Like magic!”
“How old are you?”
“Oh come on! There’s nothing wrong in believing in Santa Claus when you’re 34!” Now the man of steel was just being silly.
Bruce rolled his eyes and took a long drink from his cup. “I’ll put a stocking out for you.”
“So you don’t believe in Santa Claus?” Clark practically dared his friend to prove or disprove the legend’s existence, mostly as a joke. His friend was starting to wonder if wassail had the same effect as alcohol on Kryptonians.
“As a father of young children, I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Santa Claus. And even if I could, do you think you would be running around in your mother’s homemade pajamas, saving kittens and fighting robots if Santa could make the entire world right with a single wish? Clearly, his abilities don’t work like that.” Bruce shook his head, questioning the intelligence of the man next to him.
The farm boy pouted sourly. “It was just an idea.”
“A terrible one.” Having made his point, he tried to figure out why he even asked. “Is Lois asking you if you’d love her if she were a worm?”
“Aaaahhhhh….” Awkwardly red Clark just stared at him, looking like he would rather be anywhere but there. As if his crush wasn’t so painfully obvious. “No? She doesn’t ask me many questions…”
“Have you even tried asking her out yet?” Finding a new subject to talk about, the two kept going, just chatting without any emergency to take them away from their company.