"Batman, wait!"
Damn.
Sneaking out of the conference room unheard had been too good to be true. Batman was barely ten steps away from the zeta transport when the boy scout rushed to catch up with him.
"Where are you going? You never skip out on League debriefings."
"I have things to do, Wonder Boy." Batman barked, hoping this would be the end of the conversation. "Unlike you, I can't miss a full day of work when sent on an unplanned rescue mission."
Superman let out an exasperated laugh. "Sorry Vandal Savage didn't leave us his weekly schedule."
"You know what I mean." Batman said through clenched teeth.
He should have been home by now. He should have been home twenty-eight hours ago, in bed, waiting to take his son to the clinic the next morning, or in this case, eight o' clock this morning. But where had he been? Washington DC, hours away, while his four-month-old son was home with a cold.
"You're the CEO of your own company, I'm sure no one would question you taking a day off."
"I'm busy, Clark." If I leave now, I might be home in time to put him to sleep.
"I know. You've been under the radar for over a month." Superman moved to stand in front of the Dark Knight, hoping to get some answers. "You've been asking other members to cover your shifts, skipping meetings. Hell, I would've thought you were missing if it weren't for Alfred answering my calls."
"You do know what the word 'busy' means, don't you Clark?"
Superman rolled his eyes. "Of course, but Batman-"
"Then I don't need to explain myself." Pushing past the hero, Batman quickly typed in the code to the cave. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a city to patrol."
Superman watched as the other League founder was transported out of their headquarters. While Batman's secretive personality always seemed to help him with his nightly persona, it never failed to make him the least approachable man Clark had ever met.
"Just promise me you'll call if you need help."
Bruce didn't respond
"You're sure he's going to be fine?"
Alfred gave a tired smile. "As I've been telling you, Master Bruce, Children don't die from colds."
Bruce watched as his son quietly mumbled to himself, sluggishly moving his legs as he lay on his back on the floor.
"If you'll excuse me," Alfred pulled Bruce's attention away from the wriggling bundle in the next room. "I believe I'm in desperate need of a good night's rest."
"And a day off if I remember correctly."
"What shall I do with myself?" Alfred chuckled as he walked up the stairs.
"Something out of the house, hopefully." Bruce answered.
"Do not worry yourself Master Bruce, Dr. Thompkins agreed to take the day off to join me."
Bruce raised a brow, but decided to respond with a "good night" instead of questioning further.
Once Alfred was out of sight, Bruce put his full focus on the baby gurgling to himself. He walked further into the room and sat beside the small, blue blanket on the floor. Being one of the few objects left behind by the boy's absent mother, Bruce liked to keep it close for his son's sake. Decorated with dancing elephants and jumping tigers, the cloth held a circus-like aura. When Bruce had first found it, he remembered Victoria making a blanket for her niece, meaning she most likely made the one left in Richard's duffle bag. And that, in turn, meant Bruce didn't have the heart to throw it out.
Reaching down to palm plump cheeks, Bruce was glad to see Dick's fever had gone down.
Dick, seeing his father for the first time in over a day, nuzzled softly into Bruce's hand.
"Hey there, chum. Feeling a little better?" Bruce gently pulled the infant off the floor and into his arms.
Blinking tiredly, Dick hummed in response, his eyelids drooping shut.
Bruce smiled softly. "Me too, kiddo."
As Bruce carried his sleeping son upstairs, he knew he should have been out patrolling after being absent for a day, that he had been scheduled for Watchtower duty an hour earlier, but those things didn't matter. All he cared about was seeing his son back to normal body temperature and sleeping until noon.
"I'm sorry Mister Kent, but Master Bruce is unavailable at the moment."
Alfred gave another generic reply to the Daily Planet reporter's probing questions. As Clark continued with his ramblings, the butler watched as his older charge exaggerated his facial expressions while feeding his five-month-old son. The baby laughed along with his father, graciously accepting whatever concoction that was being served to him.
Smiling, Alfred once again repeated, "I promise to inform Master Bruce that you called."
After hanging up, Alfred joined his charges at the dinner table.
"Clark again?" Bruce asked without taking his eyes off his apple sauce covered son.
"Yes, inquiring about your wellbeing."
Bruce made a noncommittal noise, whipping away the excess food from Dick's face.
"Do you think it wise to leave Mister Kent in the dark?"
"It's no business of the League's whether I have a child or not."
Dick let out an airy laugh as he finished off the rest of his lunch. Setting the empty bowel aside, Bruce lifted the boy from his chair, finally turning to look at the older man.
"He doesn't need to know."
"That may be true, but don't you think Mister Kent deserves to know?"
Bruce gave no response as he gently bounced the young boy who was currently mumbling gibberish to his father. He knew that Clark was considered his friend, meaning news of a baby should be shared, but the thought of that league of idiots learning of his son made him pause. How could he be certain he could rely on them to keep him safe? Bruce's own identity was one thing, but the life of his defenseless son was another.
And then there was another, more selfish reason for his decision to keep his son from the league. Though idiots most of them were, he wasn't stupid enough to not realize they all held qualities of decent people. Clark, Barry, Diana, even J'on, all carried a quality that Bruce always had a lack of expressing. Kindness.
Bruce didn't consider himself an unkind person, he knew he wouldn't do the things he did if he didn't carry at least a little bit of common decency. But that didn't mean he was an expert of showing it to others. People like Clarke, on the other hand, don't have it in them to not wear their emotions of their sleeves. And if his son was like everyone else on the planet, then he'd fall in love with him the second he laid eyes on him.
Just the thought of it brought a frown on his face. What if he wasn't a good father because he wasn't as jolly as that boy scout. What if he couldn't love the boy enough?
He did love his son, loved him so much it terrified Bruce to his core. He never believed himself able to care for someone so much. And yet this little bundle of joy captured his heart in those chubby little hands. But he had loved his parents, hadn't he? Loved them as much as a young boy could love anything. And yet he had been unable to save them. So, what was stopping something from happening to Dick?
Presenting the baby to the league left too many questions and possibilities unanswered.
"Dick is none of Clark's concern." Bruce finally responded, deciding the weather was good enough to spend the afternoon in the garden.
"Barry, what are you doing here?"
Superman didn't know why he was surprised when he saw the red clad hero sitting in the chair that was supposed to be occupied by the increasingly absent dark knight.
Looking bored out of his mind, Barry slumped over the desk in front of him, his entire weight held up only by the fist under his chin.
"Watching." Barry mumbled.
"Uh, yes I can see that." Superman looked around hopefully, thinking maybe Bruce had just stepped out for a moment. "But wasn't Batman on duty today?"
Barry slowly stretched out his back as he grunted, "Said he was busy."
"Busy?"
"Yeah," Barry slumped back into previous position, his eyes looking up at Superman. "He called me last night and asked if I was going to be at the tower. Said he had some heavy-duty recon to do, and since I was going to be up here anyway, I told him I'd cover his shift."
"But the only reason he was scheduled today was because he was out of town last week, and he had asked Diana to switch with him!"
Barry just shrugged. "Maybe he's just in over his head. He has been talking about how busy he is."
"No, no." Superman shook his head. "This has gotten out of hand. How can he call himself one of the original seven if he can't even set an example for the rest of the league?"
Superman turned to make his way toward the transporter, with Barry yelling after him.
"Does this mean Batman has to cover everyone's shifts for a while?"
Clark Kent stared up at the large doors of Wayne Manor, doubting his sudden decision to confront the Dark Knight head on. Bruce did not appreciate anyone showing up unannounced, especially someone from the league. Only a few of the league members even knew about Batman's secret identity, and there has only ever been a handful of times that any of them had even tried to come to his home; and they never ended well.
But if Clark didn't confront Bruce, then no one would, because he was the only one crazy enough to think he could do it.
Knocking wasn't the hard part. Standing there, waiting the August heat, thinking of all the ways he could be thrown out once Alfred let him in the door, was excruciating. And long. Strangely long. Now Clark didn't think Alfred spent his days stationed by the door, waiting for the sparse company Bruce has to come knocking, but based on the little experience Clark has had in front of this door, he knew it wasn't normal for Alfred to take so long.
After what felt like an hour, the Butler opened the door, looking slightly disheveled.
"Ah, Mister Kent. I was not aware we would be receiving a visit from you this evening."
"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry I didn't call ahead, Alfred. But seeing as he never answers my phone calls, I though a house visit might be more rewarding."
The two men stared at one another for a moment, both seeming uncomfortable, but for different reasons.
And then there was a bloodcurdling scream.
Clark quickly looked around the butler, trying to see if someone was getting stabbed in the house.
"Alfred, what the-"
"Mister Kent," Alfred quickly shuffled the reporter into the house. "If you'll excuse me, I have an important matter to attend to. Master Bruce has yet to return from the office, so if you would like, you are welcome to wait in his study until he returns."
And with that, Alfred briskly mad his way back up the stairs and behind a corner.
What the . . .
Clark stood there in the doorway, staring at the spot where the butler had disappeared. Should he follow? He had never seen Alfred look so out of sorts, and maybe he could help if-
Then came another horrendous scream.
Clark nearly covered his ears and closed his eyes, if only to try and block out the high-pitched yell. Because of his sensitive hearing, Clark always finds the wails of babies to be the hardest to handle.
Clark paused. Baby?
Still waiting in the hallway, Clark held his breath until the scream sounded once again. This time, however, Clark listened with a more attuned ear. High-pitched, wobbly and breathy, as if trying to catch a breath between crying and wailing. Definitely, without a doubt, the cry of an infant.
What in God's name . . .
Clark quietly made his way to where the butler had turned the corner, following the constant cries and varying "shushes" that could now be heard by the older man.
And then, before he knew it, Clark was standing in the doorway of the biggest nursery he had ever seen. The double doors were wide open, letting in the light from the setting sun into the hallway. The walls were painted a light, baby blue, but looking up the ceiling was painted to look like the night sky. Constellations decorated the expanse of the drywall, something a small boy could look up at as he laid in bed, dreaming of all the adventures in space he could accomplish.
Toys were scattered all over the floor around a small circus themed blanket. Though there was probably every type of animal in the small room, it was the elephants, tigers, and horses were the ones littered closest to the blanket, as if those were the readily chosen favorites.
Beside the crib was a simple rocking chair, with a bookshelf filled with varying picture books. The children books were stacked neatly in the shelves, unlike the scattered toys, making it seem as if they had never been touched. There was, however, something sitting atop the shelves that did look like it had seen years of use. Contrasting to the bright shades of the tiny picture books, this thick, darkly bound novel was obviously not meant for the hands of an infant.
But, what was a nursery doing in Wayne Manor?
"Mister Kent. I see you chose to ignore my suggestion for taking up the study."
The butler didn't look at Clark as he spoke, instead choosing to focus on bouncing the crying baby in his arms.
Right. Baby.
"Alfred, what's going on?"
"Well, obviously I am currently trying to get Master Richard to calm down long enough to breathe."
Was Alfred being snarky with him?!
"I mean, yes, I can see that but what-"
Another wail.
"What is a baby doing in Bruce's house?" Clark raised his voice to be heard over the cries.
"That is not for me to disclose, Mister Kent."
"But Alfred-"
Scream.
And then there was a new sound. One of a slamming door. And hurried, heavy steps.
Clark was unceremoniously shoved to the side, and there was Bruce, tossing his coat and brief case onto the floor in favor of taking the small, screaming lump into his arms. As soon as the child was in his arms, Bruce's body seemed to unconsciously being to take on a rocking motion.
"I'm sorry I took so long, Alfred. Lucius asked me to stay longer to go over some decisions for the Japan deal coming up." Bruce looked nearly as disheveled as the butler did. His usually combed hair was falling in front of his face as he bent over the still crying baby. His shirt was slowly making its way out of his pants, and the top two buttons were already unbuttoned (Clark peeked at the coat on the ground to see a tie poking out of the front pocket).
"There's no need to apologize, Master Bruce. It is understandable that there were matters that needed your attention at work seeing as it was your first real day back on the job." Alfred said as he bent to pick up the coat and case.
"Has he been like this all day?"
"On and off, sir. It wasn't until lunch time that Master Richard seemed to notice your absence."
"Probably because I've been the one feeding him his lunch since he got here." Bruce muttered to himself, shifting to bring the boy face to face with him.
"Most likely, sir." Alfred walked past the stone still Clark, turning to address his charge as if the reporter wasn't even there. "If you'll excuse me, Master Bruce, I believe I should get started on dinner if we hope to be eating on time."
Bruce only nodded in response, not even bothering to watch the butler walk away.
"Hey there, Dickie. There's no need to keep crying, I'm back."
And then, Bruce did something that shocked Clark even more than finding a baby in the house of the least social man he knew. He smiled. A big, bright smile that caused the infant in his arms to reciprocate with his own toothless smile.
"There's my good boy."
Just when Clark was sure he had miraculously turned invisible, Bruce transformed back into the man he knew.
"What are you doing here, Clark?" The biting tone was directed at Clark, but Bruce's face was still smiling down at the now content child.
"Well, uh, I came because you weren't answering my calls." Clark replied lamely.
"That's usually code for 'leave me alone'."
"Well, yeah, but Barry said you asked him to take your shift and so I-"
"So, you took it upon yourself to come and bother me?"
Clark shuffled uncomfortably. "Well, you haven't been working your shifts at the tower, and you barely make it to the meetings anymore. And again, you haven't been answering my calls."
"Obviously I've been busy."
"Yeah," Clark's eyes turned to the baby who was currently taking Bruce's pointer finger into his mouth. "Yeah, I can see that now."
Silence.
"About that, actually-"
"He's my son. End of story."
"What? End of story? No, no, no, you've gotta give me more than that, Bruce."
Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, I do, do I?"
"Well, yeah."
"You come into my house," oh no. "Without any warning, demanding for me to tell you about my son," oh no. "Just who do you think-"
"Master Bruce."
Both men turned to see Alfred standing at the ready behind Clark, giving both men an almost reprimandable look.
"If you would both like to take this conversation down to the dining room, I've prepared a pot of tea for the two of you."
"But Alfred, he-"
"Master Bruce, did you really think you could have kept Master Richard a secret forever?"
Silence.
"Yes, so I once again suggest you move the conversation downstairs so Master Richard may enjoy his dinner."
And with that, Alfred left. Grumbling, Bruce shifted his son to his shoulder as he slowly made his way past Clark and towards the stairs. And that was that.
"Hey Bruce? Can I ask you a question?"
"I'm sure you will have many, so you might as well go ahead."
"Why do you have Alice in Wonderland in the nursery? I'm assuming your baby doesn't have super human brain power."
"Of course not, don't be an idiot." Bruce bit out before turning away in an almost embarrassed way. "It's what my mother used to read to me, and he seems to be enjoying it more than those stupid picture books."
"Oh," Clark watched the baby, Richard, softly babble to himself as he grabbed as his father's shirt, and was suddenly taken with just how alike this child looked like his friend. And he smiled. "That makes sense."
Well hey there, been awhile.
