Note: This is a prequel to my Batman Begins/Dark Knight fic "Strays". It'll make sense, I guess, even if you haven't read that.

But!

It gives maaaaaajor spoilers for "Strays" and really, I'd recommend you read this after, not before.

Just a friendly suggestion. :)

"Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father
are to be laid upon the children;
therefore, I promise you, I fear you."

- The Merchant of Venice, Act III Scene V

Richard White was having one of those days where nothing went right.

Clearing out his office at the Daily Planet had been bad enough, but then the goodbye party – where he'd had to listen to everyone mouthing "good luck in New York" and "won't be the same" when he knew they were just there to gossip and stare… Jesus. It was worse than the war zone the bullpen had turned into lately: Lois' friends versus his. She had more, of course, including his uncle Perry. How was that for family loyalty?

Richard had never been so happy to leave a place in his life.

But then he'd discovered a flat tire in the parking garage, and had gotten grease all over his clothes while fixing it. Which wouldn't have been a problem in itself except that Lois called mid-tire change.

"I need you to pick up Jason early," she'd said.

"Why? Got a hot date?" he'd asked, hating the sarcasm, hating the bitterness, and yet powerless to stop himself from baiting her.

It wasn't a divorce – you had to be married in order to get one of those, not just engaged for five minutes short of forever – but damn if it didn't feel like one.

"I'm on a story." Flat. Hurt. No elaboration before she'd moved on. "He's at Kevin Johnson's birthday party – I'll give you the address and let them know you're coming. You need to get him by six."

The address she gave him was on the other side of the city; he wouldn't have time to drive home and change into clean clothes first. He hated the thought of turning up on the Johnsons' doorstep sweaty and spattered with car dirt, looking "unfit", looking like the court should grant sole custody to the mother.

But he didn't have much choice. And anyway, extra time with Jason was worth it. A weekend, an overnight here and there, wasn't enough. He missed his son.

It was a suburban neighborhood, one of the ones that put two thousand square feet of house on a lot the size of a postage stamp. The Johnsons' house looked expensively bland, just like every other house on their block. They had, at least, merry clusters of balloons bobbling along the walk, as well as a small fleet of SUVs and minivans lining the curb on both sides of the street.

He pulled up to the curb six cars down from the door and hiked up the curving sidewalk to the door. The balloons bumped and swayed in the breeze around him. Happy shrieks and little voices were coming from the fenced-in backyard.

Feeling almost like an intruder, he rang the bell and waited. After a few moments a woman came to the door and eyed him with wary welcome. "Yes?"

"Hi," he said, smiling, trying to forget that he had black grease smeared down his left pant leg. "I'm Richard White, I'm here to pick up my son, Jason. His mother called -"

"Oh, hi," the woman said. Her smile became more real. "Sure. Lois said you'd be coming. I'll go get Jason – he's out back."

Richard let his smile fade as she closed the door on him. Don't try to come in, the unspoken message went. You're just a glorified shuttle service, not a real parent. You're not really responsible for Jason.

But he was. He was, dammit. Biology was only one part of-

The door opened again and a small person shot out and wrapped themselves around his legs with a joyful cry of, "Daddy!"

"Hey, kiddo," he said, grinning easily now. He loved his son – loved him so much that he could ignore that tiny corner of his mind that whispered He's not really yours. Loved him so much that the whole day seemed better and brighter just because Jason was there, happy to see him.

He swung Jason up into his arms and gave him a hug and a kiss, then set him back down and ruffled his hair. "Thanks," he told the woman, taking the backpack and overnight bag she handed through the door. "Say thank you," he prompted Jason.

"Thank you," Jason echoed, then immediately turned to more important matters. "Look what I got!"

He held out his bag of party favors for Richard's inspection and approval as they walked back to the car. Behind them, the woman called out, "Goodbye!" and shut the door again.

"Wow," Richard said, looking over the cheap plastic baubles and inedible bubblegum. "I'd say you made out like a bandit."

Jason giggled. "This is my favorite," he announced, pulling out a ring with the Superman 'S' in bright red and yellow. Of course. "It was on the cupcake."

"You didn't eat the cupcake, did you?" Richard asked automatically, stopping to unlock the car. He doubted Mrs. Johnson had served gluten-free cupcakes at her darling Kevin's party.

He kept his voice light for Jason's sake, despite the raw spike of bitterness twisting inside him at the thought of Superman. This entire clusterfuck pivoted on Jason, but none of it was the kid's fault.

Jason shook his head and Richard noted, irritated, that Lois had let him go too long without a haircut again. What was with her and the haircuts? Was it honestly that hard to keep their son looking presentable?

"I only ate the icing."

"Close enough," he said, tweaking Jason's nose as he got into the booster seat. Jason made a big fuss out of fastening his own seatbelt these days… but Richard always checked to be sure it was on correctly. "You had fun, right?"

"Yup," Jason said, swinging his feet. "We had a lot of fun. Kevin is really cool. He's got a mega gigantic TV in his bedroom. He showed us."

Richard shut the door and got into the driver's seat, tossing the backpack and little duffel bag onto the passenger side. "What was the best part?"

Jason lit up and started a long, mostly sensical story about Kevin and some game they'd played at the party. Richard listened, amused, while he drove. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see Jason a little better.

That was a mistake; it meant that he never saw the black SUV pull away from the Johnsons' curb and follow his car at a careful, professional distance. It wouldn't have mattered if he did, ultimately, but it might have stopped him from thinking that his day had finally improved.