When Conner opened his eyes it was still dark out. Moonlight filtered into the room through a tall window. He could see the silhouette of a tree outside the glass but hardly more. No stars shone above Gotham, even on clear nights. Conner sighed. His phone blinked at him, the battery nearly drained.

4:30 AM.

He got up. It was cold in Wayne manor. The old colonial style rooms while cozy in the aesthetic sense were freezing at this hour of the morning. He fumbled in the dark for the bathroom and once he finished there, stumbled into the hall. He took another few moments to find the light switch. It was eerie, the way the manor looked. Completely empty in the wee hours of the morning with brassy yellow light making everything look older than it probably was. He passed a vaguely familiar grandfather clock, some doors, and by some small miracle managed to find himself in the small family kitchen from his last visit to the house.

He dug around for a glass and found a pitcher of water in the fridge full of lemon slices. He sat down, downing half the glass in a single gulp and took a closer look around the kitchen.

It still felt quaint. Everything was just as it had been last time he visited, including the small family portrait hanging in the middle of the back wall. Knowing that it had been Tim who'd likely taken the photo, he stepped up to the brick wall on the far side of the counter and took a closer look.

The Waynes were a photogenic bunch. Despite their obvious physical differences, the matching dark hair made the family appear somewhat unified in the black and white image. It had to have been taken a while ago. Jason was a full head shorter than Dick and Damian looked less regal and more baby faced than Conner recalled him being.

Tim had a knack for taking pictures that didn't feel posed. It was hard to say whether the family had been aware of the camera or not. On the one hand, no one but Tim seemed to be looking directly at it. The smiles seemed real; even Bruce's, who was laughing with one arm slung over Dick's shoulder, seemed genuine. On the other hand, every face could be seen clearly. There was no motion blur, and the image had been captured seemingly at the perfect moment, right as the Wayne's were standing up from what appeared to be a picnic. They had been caught on camera in the midst of packing up, and beyond the grassy hill they had been sitting on was a sparkling lake. It seemed impossible that Tim could have taken the picture at all and yet Conner had the feeling it was somehow his handiwork.

"Oh, you're up."

Conner turned. Tim and Bruce were standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Bruce still hadn't changed and Conner couldn't stop the exasperated sigh that left his mouth.

"Did you sleep at all?" he said, but he already knew the answer.

He moved to grab another glass of water, while Tim slipped across the kitchen to check on the coffee machine in the corner.

"No wonder you're never at school," Conner said so that he didn't have to sit in silence. He set a glass of iced lemon water down in front of Tim on the counter, even as Tim was pouring himself a cold cup of coffee. Conner sighed again.

"I can go to school today." Tim said.

"Oh, hell no."

Tim looked up, and if Conner had to guess, a few weeks ago Tim wouldn't have taken so well to Conner trying to boss him around. But instead he just smiled, and let Conner manhandle him onto a kitchen stool and steal his coffee so he could reheat it. As he popped it in the microwave for 30 seconds, he caught sight of Bruce.

Bruce sat on the other side of the kitchen counter, watching them intently. He looked neither upset nor particularly happy. Conner shrugged.

"Clark goes through a lot of coffee," he offered by way of explanation. When he set the mug down and took his own seat across from Tim, he added, "You should just go to bed."

"I think if I miss too many days they automatically fail me. They sent a letter about it once."

"Nah. Not you. Not with your grades."

They fell into silence again and this time Conner didn't break it. Bruce seemed to be watching them for something. Conner tried not to pay attention to it.

"I'm probably going to stop by home before school. Pick up some fresh clothes. Do you maybe want to call me when…?"

He looked over to see Bruce still watching.

"You can just borrow some of Jason's stuff, if you want," Tim said. "I'm sure he won't mind. He stole your clothes that one time, he probably still has them lying around somewhere."

Bruce cleared his throat. "I am going to, ahem, leave and go see to a few meetings at Wayne Enterprises today. Tim, take the day off. And Mr. Kent if you need anything, please just ring Alfred."

He sent a meaningful look towards Tim before rising and sweeping out of the room. Conner waited until he had disappeared deeper into the house to turn to Tim, only to catch the other boy looking away quickly.

"I don't hear Jason throwing a temper tantrum so I assume it went well?"

Tim laughed and looked down at his coffee. "Yeah. Yeah I think so."

He sounded good. Lighter, at least. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Aren't you tired?" Tim said, looking amused still, but more away now that he was a quarter of the way through his coffee.

"I don't sleep well anyways."

Tim smiled. "Well the good news is I have not been forbidden from ever speaking with you again and I will be allowed to continue at Edward Elliot High School until I graduate."

Conner felt cold all of a sudden. He regretted not dragging a blanket with him when he'd left his room. He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. "Was that an option? Would he have really done that?"

"Not likely. I mean maybe. I've never really had friends before so I wasn't sure what he would do."

"Really?" Conner asked, and hated the way there was a little part of him that preened at the thought of being Tim's first real friend. The first person he trusted.

"Yeah I mean. There was Stephanie but she hated the way I'd um, you know. Never tell her what was going on." Tim suddenly smiled like he had thought of a joke no one else would get. "You've been remarkably patient on that front. Though I do almost keep getting you killed so maybe friends isn't really something I should be doing after all."

Even though it was a joke Conner pouted. "It was one lousy monster attack."

"And a mugger, and a van, and that one other monster attack. And Jason's driving."

"Ok I'll let you take the blame for letting Jason drive but the rest of those are definitely on me."

"Maybe. Or maybe bad things happen to people who get involved with us."

"Don't be like that."

"I'm not I," Tim paused for a moment to search for the right words. "He didn't say I couldn't see you again. He did say that from now on there would be some stricter rules around us going out."

"I'm guessing I was uninvited from any future monster hunts?" Conner asked. He preferred this topic to the more dangerous road Tim had been going down. If Tim tried to pin every bad thing that happened to Conner on himself then they would very quickly be headed down a dark path when Tim realized Conner was a walking ball of bad luck himself.

"Yeah, he was pretty firm about that one."

"I was pretty shitty at it, to be fair," Conner said.

Tim laughed.

They fell into silence as Conner ran out of funny things to say and Tim seemed to be unwilling or unaware of the other topics looming at the forefront of Conner's mind. Part of him wanted to keep it this way forever. Never ask so that he'd never have to know. But eventually his morbid curiosity won out and even though he had a hunch how it had gone, he had to ask anyway.

"Kirkland?"

Tim paused mid drink, and his finger thrummed against the side of the mug once, twice, while he appeared to consider carefully what he was going to say. Conner waited, not sure how much he actually wanted to know.

"Still out there. What you did today-"

"I know. I'm stupid. Is he gone?" Conner leaned forward.

"No of course not." Tim sounded offended. "You're not stupid and Bruce would never."

That was funny, but explained Bruce's odd reluctance to carry anything more lethal than a taser. His idea of the man as tall, dark, protector of the night softened a little.

"So what happens now?"

Tim sighed. "Bruce is trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to magic."

"Like Zatanna?"

"Exactly like Zatanna. That thing you saw the other night, that's what can happen when magic doesn't go so great. Or when you can't pay up."

Zatanna was the closest Conner had come to something in broad daylight that truly felt unexplainable and he mulled that over. She had seemed nice, if odd. Not like the witches from fairytales who went around turning people into frogs. Or vampires, in this case?

"That's...that's kind of shitty, honestly. Is it always this dangerous?"

"It'll be better now that we can help. And once this is over it won't be so dramatic around here. Bruce wanted me to focus on my school again if that's- If that's really what I want to do." Tim trailed off, obviously still somewhat unforgettable with talking about the future.

"Right. The MIT thing." Conner tried to keep any conflicted feelings about it out of his voice.

"Met U," Tim said. "You know they aren't all the same right?"

Tim was still smiling a little, but he took the time to pause again and Conner could see him trying to compose an explanation. He stared at a spot above Conner's head so he didn't have to look him in the eye and he took a long sip of his coffee before he spoke.

"I guess it's not something we really talk about much. In this family. It's kind of assumed that, well I guess what I'm trying to say is that Bruce didn't just randomly pick us. Most of us, we have our reasons for wanting to fight the things that go bump in the night. Bruce, he took in Dick to protect him from the Court. Jason, he...had a very bad run in with magic a long time ago. Everyone here wants to spend their lives protecting Gotham. Fighting the monsters so that other people don't have to."

Conner waited as Tim paused, and gave the boy time to think.

"I'm not like them. What happened to me wasn't the same. I had a normal life and I just kept poking my nose where it didn't belong. I kept chasing Bruce's monsters because I wanted to be like them but you can't do that without someone noticing. Eventually something followed me home and-"

Tim stopped abruptly. His gaze had locked in place and he looked like he was struggling to stay still. Conner leapt up, ready to shake Tim from whatever this was but Tim seemed to come back to himself before he could move.

"Bruce has a lot of rules. About hunting monsters and not playing with magic. And also about not involving normal people. And those rules are there for a reason. And he's right. And after what happened to my parents, I thought that those rules were for me too."

"But everything has been so different since, well. This year has been different. And I've been thinking about a lot of things and I don't think I want this. I don't think I want to do this forever. Maybe I have to. Maybe once you're in you can't get out and maybe the choice isn't really mine to make. But if there's a chance, I want to try."

Conner had never felt such a bittersweet mixture of emotions. He sat back down, abandoning his aborted attempt to comfort Tim.

"So Bruce and I had a long talk. About my future and about what I wanted to be. And he's going to let me try. It'll be different but he promised he'd try."

"I'm sorry," he said because it felt right. "Look if anyone I know could do this it's you. I think you might be able to do anything, ya know? With that crazy brain of yours."

Tim smiled softly. Conner was just beginning to rethink, or rather overthink, the logistics of actually trying to give Tim a real, proper hug, when the sound of footsteps and Jason Todd parading into the room interrupted those poorly laid out thoughts.

Jason was in a maniacally spectacular mood. He was still his usual assholish self of course, but he seemed over enthusiastic about everything, including the prospect of driving Conner to school.

"I'm fine, Alfred. I can drive."

"You will not, young master Todd. There's been quite enough chaos for one night."

Alfred did not look amused. Still Jason helped Conner find some fresh clothes, and Conner stayed with the Waynes long enough for a breakfast of sublime french toast before he was eventually forced to leave or risk running late. The last he saw of Tim, he had been wandering around the house with his coffee, looking dead on his feet but refusing to go to bed no matter how much Dick pestered him. He waited on the porch with Bruce while Alfred loaded all the Wayne kids plus Conner into the swanky Waynetech car.

Conner sat up front, and Damian, Cassandra, and Duke sat in the back seat. As Alfred pulled away from the house, Conner watched Tim disappear back into the Manor and reached for his phone.

He felt just a tiny bit stupid but-

Conner: Text me when you wake up?

He got a response almost immediately.

Tim: Of Course.

"Who are you texting?"

Conner yelped and snatched his phone away from Damian Wayne's line of site. Damian narrowed his eyes. Damian had all the mannerisms and facial expressions of a cat. He looked constantly angry, and like he was passing judgement on everything around him. He may very well have been, Conner didn't know him well enough to say.

He was the youngest of the Waynes though, and still ever so slightly on the short side, which put him a good head below Conner in terms of height.

"Tch, you know just because Drake and Todd let you hang around does not mean you have earned a place here, Kent."

Damian sat back in his seat and started glaring at the passing cars. Cassandra's hands came up and in a flurry of movement she said something that was beyond Conner's comprehension.

"She wants to know if it was Tim," Duke said. He sat in the backseat, with his headphones in. He didn't look up from where he appeared to be playing some kind of game on his phone.

"Maybe," Conner said, looking between the three. Damian simply rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion and continued to stare out the window.

Cassandra continued. There was something charming about sign language, Conner decided. He couldn't tell what she was saying, but her enthusiasm was clear enough and the fact that her entire family appeared to have learned it as well was also charming.

"She wants to know if you like him." Duke still hadn't looked up but Conner could swear he was smirking.

Conner hated Waynetech cars. They were too small and there was nowhere for him to hide. He turned around so he didn't have to look at them.

"Of course. He's my friend."

He heard Damian snort in the back seat and decided not to turn back around for the rest of the drive. Alfred was decidedly better company, and didn't say a word as they pulled onto the main through-street and headed towards school.

Conner felt like everyone was staring. Everyone was staring, actually. It was unsettling when he arrived at the school, stepped out into the parking lot, only to be met with gaggles of students surreptitiously on their phones. Or less so. In some cases people openly watched as he and the Waynes crossed the parking lot and Alfred pulled away from the school.

"Relax," Duke said quietly, stepping up beside him as they made their way through the front entrance. "People have a lot more to worry about than you. And they aren't staring as much as you think."

Conner frowned. He looked down at himself. His clothes, borrowed from Jason, were decidedly more punk rock than he was used to wearing. And nicer. And tighter. His wardrobe had been pathetically small when he departed Hawaii and the only new additions to it had been hand me down flannels and hoodies from Clark. He had to admit he liked Jason's clothes, who's taste in accessories in general was pretty in line with Conner's, but he still felt embarrassed to be walking around in them.

"You look fine," Duke said, when he noticed Conner messing with one of the many "accent" zippers on his jeans.

"Right. Sorry."

"Listen. I promise you're not going to end up plastered on the front of the newspaper because of this." Duke said. They were now standing in the halls, waiting for the first bell to ring.

"Maybe not. But I don't think trending on twitter is much better."

"You won't. Not this time," Infuriatingly, as nice as Duke was, he shared the same tendency as the rest of the Waynes to smirk like he knew some joke no one else did.

"I-"

"Conner!" Stephanie jogged up to them. Cassandra was trailing behind her. They were holding hands, which was cute, and Stephanie was wearing a beanie and her old worn purple sweater to keep out the late fall chill. "You weren't at school yesterday."

She didn't ask anything else but Conner could see the way she looked him up and down. Perhaps not now, but there would be questions later. He was sure of it.

The homeroom bell sounded.

"Well, this has been lovely. Stephanie, I'll see you in English."

Mrs. Bruner helpfully spent the day going through expectations for next quarter. For once in his life, Conner tried to pay attention. There would be three more books expected over the rest of the year, one of which needed to be finished before Christmas, and the last of which could be a free pick from a list she provided.

He scanned through the titles. When he thought he could get away with it, he snuck out his phone beneath his desk and snapped a picture. He sent it to Tim.

Something hit him gently on the back of the head.

He looked down to catch a paper football fluttering to the floor and when he turned to the rows behind him, saw Stephanie, Cissie, and Cassie all sitting there looking straight ahead as Mrs. Bruner went through some of the common mistakes she had seen in people's essays. He leaned down and unfolded the paper.

Do you like me?

[_] Yes

[_] YES

Hilarious. His phone buzzed.

Stephanie: So like, are you wearing Jason Todd's pants?

Conner tried not to be disappointed.

Pay attention in class.

Stephanie: Tell me whose pants you're wearing.

Conner considered for a moment how much he could actually tell Stephanie. He didn't think she thought anything weird was going on. Well, beyond Conner's clothing choices and relationship with Jason, but he supposed he couldn't blame her for assuming. Despite Tim's apparent desire to leave behind his life of supernatural monster slaying, he suspected it would not be ok to tell Stephanie what was actually happening.

And suddenly he thought he understood why it was that Tim had never been able to make friends.

In the end, Conner grit his teeth and lied. There was nothing else he could do. When Stephanie teased him endlessly about the pants he half heartedly admitted that yes, they were Jason's, and yes, Tim knew, and no, they hadn't attempted to induct him into their vampire sex cult. The entire time Cassandra trailed behind her, doe-eyed in her obvious affection and Conner felt a stab of jealousy.

It was so easy for them, seemingly. He watched at lunch as Stephanie slid into the chair beside the other Waynes. She laughed and talked, and even Damian seemed pleasant toward her, talking and smirking and actually engaging with her and Cass, who was quieter than the others, speech notwithstanding. She seemed happy to listen, only contributing occasionally when prodded by Steph.

Conner watched and turned over in his head what he knew about the Waynes, and Cass, and Steph. It bothered him. And it continued to bother him through chemistry and gym class and he didn't know why.

"You'd best have a good excuse Kent," Coach Scott didn't raise his voice, but he didn't mince words either.

Conner resisted the urge to shrug. "Sorry Coach Scott. Family emergency."

Coach narrowed his eyes, and then sighed. "You've been conditioning with the team but I can't put my neck out for you on that alone. Show up or call in, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Out on the field the junior team was gearing up for a scrimmage.

Scott watched him go and Conner suspected he wasn't remotely off the hook. He tried not to care. After all, football was just one more thing on a long list of problems. As he scanned the anonymous faces of his classmates lining up the field he tried not to think about it. About the fact he didn't know their names. Barely knew the rules of the game. He was just some big muscle bound idiot that could be pointed in the right direction.

Football wasn't his. Not the way reporting was Clark's, or photography was Tim's.

Stephanie waited for him after practice. She sat on the bleachers glued to her phone, and waited patiently outside the locker room for Conner to change and make himself presentable to the rest of the human race. When he emerged she offered him a pretty, All American Girl smile.

"What do you want, woman?" He asked as they started towards the bus stop.

"Is that any way to treat a lady?" Steph said. They approached a familiar, beat up public bench.

"I apologize. How may I be of service, your majesty?" He gave a mock bow and slung his bag over his shoulder as they waited for the bus. Steph usually took the bus in the opposite direction Conner had to walk but he had a feeling today was more about catching up, and let Stephanie take the lead.

"Better. Your form could use some work but you'll have time to practice."

This late after school there were no longer any kids waiting for the bus. They took their seats alone and Steph pulled out a ziploc bag full of leftover tater tots from the cafeteria and grinned at him when he wrinkled his nose at it. Gotham public school food was not very high up on his list after being fed constantly by Clark, and now Alfred. Leftovers even less so.

"Are they really Jason's pants?" Stephanie asked, popping a tater tot and changing the subject.

Conner rolled his eyes. "Why do you care so much whose pants I'm wearing?"

"It's less that I care about whose pants you're wearing, more that I care whose pants you were in."

"That was pretty bad even for you. And I'll have you know I wasn't in anyone's pants."

"So then you were not wearing Jason's pants today?"

"I — why are you like this? — I was wearing his pants, but I was not in them. Hand to God."

"Were you in Tim's?"

"No!" But he had responded too fast. Stephanie's eyes glinted. She tossed aside the rest of her tater tots and leaned forward.

"Well how did he feel about you being in Jason's pants?"

"It was his idea!"

"Really now?"

Conner wanted to scream.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry." Stephanie laughed unapologetically. "You make it really easy, you know, with the way you look at him. And talk about him. No offense."

"None taken. Especially since I know you saw the appeal once too."

Stephanie grimaced. "Please, the less said about that the better."

Conner nodded and almost let it be. Almost.

There was this thing about his Gotham friends that he had noticed once but that suddenly bothered him more now. They didn't pry. Whether good or bad they minded their own business. Beyond superficial gossip they didn't dig into each other's issues. And Conner had liked that. Liked the lack of questions, the ease with which he had been able to slip into their little friend group. The ease with which they had accepted him and Cissie and even the Waynes.

And what had that really earned them? None of them had realized how close Bart was to going pro in track. None of them knew what happened to Greta. Hell Bart and Jaime hadn't even been on the same page about dating and they were glued to each other. As much as prying meant pulling something back that could be painful, it didn't seem like not prying had done them much good. So he turned to Stephanie.

"What happened between you and Tim? Like really?"

The fall air was cold and traffic was light, the after school rush having long dispersed. Dead leaves detritus lined the sidewalk outside their school and Conner spotted the bus as it rounded the corner, headlights on in the dimming light of the early evening. Clark would be upset if he walked home after dark.

"God I don't even know anymore." Stephanie sat back. As she looked up to the sky as she recounted. "I must have been just fifteen I think? When I was a freshman, this is going to sound so terrible, I dated this guy. And I had sex with him because I just figured that was what you were supposed to do, right? He was garbage."

"And it sounds like such a teen drama but of course the one time I had sex of course there's a fucking baby. I mean— Sorry I'm getting ahead of myself."

The bus pulled up. The driver opened the door but neither Conner nor Stephanie made any move to get up. Eventually the doors closed with a hiss and the bus pulled away.

"I met Tim late freshman year in art. He was quiet but sweet. And we kind of clicked? I thought we did, anyway. I liked him because he was everything my first boyfriend wasn't. Sweet. Kind. And he took things super slowly. I don't think we kissed for weeks."

"I found out I was pregnant a few weeks into it and after that it wasn't like we were dating anymore. Don't get me wrong, Tim's a good person. He helped me with the doctors visits and all that stuff. But mainly he helped me hide it as best we could. And pay for things. He actually broke up with me."

"You mentioned," Conner said.

"Walked up to me out of the blue one day and was like 'I'm sorry Stephanie but I don't think we should see each other anymore. I think it's best if we don't consider each other romantically involved.'"

Conner laughed. "That sounds like him. I mean him being an asshole but still. Did he ever tell you why?"

"Please, have you met him? The entire time we were dating I never even met half his family. He was always hedging about all those trips they take and stuff. I don't know what his deal is but he obviously likes you."

Now Conner had his own opinions and feelings on that matter but he kept his mouth shut. It was nearly dark now and it would be at least another ten minutes before another bus came by.

"You know Cass never takes me to the manor either." Stephanie said. Her tone was too casual to actually be casual. Conner didn't look at her.

"Huh," he said.

"Yeah," Stephanie said.

She didn't speak again except to awkwardly say goodbye when the next bus pulled up. Conner could tell her heart wasn't in it. But he didn't know what he could say to make her feel better. He'd already lied so much.

Instead he stood and watched the bus move in the opposite direction of his home.

Clark wasn't mad because Clark didn't get mad. Instead he wrapped Conner up in a hug when he stepped through the door and tried to hide how disappointed he was. Which was somehow worse.

He avoided all questions with vague non answers and apologies and excused himself to bed as soon as possible. His appetite had left him early on in the evening and he only managed to choke down a packet of saltines before he had to cower in his room.

He could still hear Clark doing the dishes as he laid in bed, with the lights off, staring at the ceiling.

Running through the list now Conner knew it was hopeless. Roxy was at university, Bart was leaving, Tim would be leaving to MIT or some equally fancy far away school. Conner had nothing. No plans. Not even a hobby. Even if he could by some miracle find a job out of high school it wouldn't be forever. Clark would find out about his real family eventually and want Conner to grow up and move out. And he couldn't go back to Roxy, not when she was so close to achieving her dream.

Conner's life was ending in slow motion before his eyes and he couldn't seem to stop it. He closed his eyes against his own thoughts and tried to think of anything to take his mind off of his situation.

But all he could think about was Tim and how Tim seemed so happy to be able to see Connor, and yet would still be gone in a year. What was the point of getting Bruce's permission to see Conner if that was the case? What did it mat-

Conner's phone buzzed.

Tim: You're going to like Lord of the Flies

Conner hesitated. If it was all going to end anyways though, he may as well enjoy it.

Conner: I don't know. I think I might need a good tutor to convince me.