Work Text:
The train station where Clark had landed with Bruce was deserted. There were barely two lights on, which added to the ghostly feel of the place.
It was windy, but he wasn't affected by the low temperatures, unlike Bruce, who was wearing a heavy jacket and had a duffel bag with him.
“Bruce, there's no one here.”
“The train is coming,” the man said, shaking slightly. Clark wasn't sure if it was the cold or something else.
“Can I at least know why we are in Toronto?”
“It's the most logical destination.”
“More logic for who?”
Bruce didn't respond, keeping his secrets to himself.
Clark hated it when he did that.
He hated it more that Bruce asked him for help.
Because it meant that he was desperate, and that this was so important to him that he had to put his pride aside.
Whoever was on the train that was supposed to arrive had Bruce's heart in their hands.
“It has to be Talia al Ghoul. He always becomes irrational when she's involved.”
The woman was nothing if not bad news. But Bruce had an extraordinary talent for choosing who hurt him.
“You're brooding,” Bruce croaked.
“I'm not brooding! I'm just curious."
“Keep your curiosity at bay until the train arrives.”
“Bruce, it's late.”
"I saw the timetables. It will arrive."
Clark he clenched his fists. What had Talia al Ghoul done to deserve so much devotion?
“If you wanted to find her, I could transport you on the moving train. She seems to enjoy seeing you suddenly swoop in,” he huffed contritely.
Bruce shook his head, looking amused, “He's already very skittish. He would have been capable of throwing himself off a moving train to avoid getting caught."
"He?"
Bruce opened his mouth, but what he said was, "The train is here."
I was right, it was implied.
Clark rolled his eyes, biting his lip. If it was a man the person on the train, important for Bruce, maybe it was Harvey Dent.
Bruce had visited the ex lawyer more often in Arkham, and it seemed that the relationship between the two had improved very much...at least, that's what Vicky Vale had written on the Gotham's Gazzette. Clark hadn't given it any thought.
Vale wrote without ethics, just for the sake of gossip. But now he was wondering if there hadn't been a bit of truth...
But it wasn't a man who got off the train.
It was a child.
The kid wore a dark blue jacket and a Robin cap. He only had a backpack and a camera with him.
No other people got out.
As soon as the kid saw them he blurted out, “Crap.”
A child. Bruce had asked him to track down a child. Jealousy was quickly put aside, and Superman felt foolish.
Bruce had asked him to help with a missing persons case, which was unusual, all right, but Clark had jumped to conclusions.
Bruce approached the child, with caution so as not to scare him but with the confidence of someone who didn't want to let the kid slip, "Timothy, you made us worry."
"Who?" the boy asked, fixing his icy blue eyes on them.
“For starters, Dick couldn't stop telling me I was an emotionally stunted ass for not trying to talk to you more clearly, for which I apologize. Jason and Alfred said the same thing.”
Timothy looked down, wringing his hands, “I didn't want to scare them. It wasn't in my plan.”
“And what was in your plans?”
"I would have disappeared and no one would have looked for me.”
Bruce's expression broke. Clark rarely saw him so open with his emotions, except with his family.
“Oh, Timothy…”
“You were a variable. – the boy continued, ignoring Bruce's subdued tone. – I had already planned everything. The emails, the alibi for my parents, even a fake nanny who would turn out to actually be a former minion of Penguin who needed money because she was being blackmailed by the mafia. A plausible story for the audience.”
Clark frowned. He knew that Gotham was a mad city, but he had never thought that the madness extended to literal children.
He had seen such a level of preparation a few times, and all from the person in front of him.
Is it possible that…
“Superman, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no.”
“I didn't even say anything!” Clark defended himself.
“I know you well enough to know what conclusion your mind has reached.”
He coughed awkwardly, "Mr. Wayne, I don't understand what..."
“Cut it short, Superman. He knows.”
“He knows what?”
" He knows I'm Batman.”
Clark widened his eyes comically. He looked at Timothy with the awe he usually reserved for threats to planetary security.
"How old are you?" Clarl blurted out.
“Why, does it matter, Mr. Kent?”
Vicious. Definitely related in some way to Bruce, if not actually his biological son. He didn't care what his friend told him: Clark knew him well too, and in that boy there was too much of Bruce.
“Timothy is nine years old…”
"Ten!"
“In two months,” Bruce added.
Timothy pouted almost adorably, “I'm almost ten.”
“How did he…”
“It doesn't matter how he found out. We need to get back to Gotham."
"No."
Timothy's voice was calm as he said this, but firm. He would not have moved from that station, even if it meant freezing to death.
Bruce looked like he was expecting it, “Timothy, why don't you want to come back?”
“What would be the point? My parents don't want me. We might as well remove the trouble."
“Timothy, I want you.”
The kid grimaced, “You don't even know me. You only got interested because Jason suspected dad was involved in something shady.”
“Timothy, I'm happy we've been watching you these weeks. You are a wonderful child. And I'm sorry that your parents can't see what an amazing boy they have.”
The child's eyes were shining. He sniffed at him, “You'll get tired of me and leave. They did it.”
"I won't"
“You can't know!”
“I know it, though. I'm here, aren't I?”
Timothy bit his lip, “Yes, you are.”
“I called my lawyers. They are already dealing with the case.”
"The case?" Timothy said, confused.
Bruce hesitated before saying, “Timothy, I would like to adopt you. As a son. It had already been decided but I didn't know... I didn't know how to tell you without scaring you. But then you ran away and I didn't know what to do."
“You called Superman.”
“Yes, he…he's always there...for me.”
Clark looked away, blushing at the tone the other man used. Rao, did Bruce have any idea of the effect he had on him?
Did he know that if he asked him, Clark would move the Earth's trajectory for him?
Timothy cocked his head like a little bird (irony!), “I didn't know you and Superman were a thing.”
“No, we…we're just friends,” they said almost in sync.
Timothy frowned, but Bruce spoke before the boy could ask any more questions, "I know we haven't known each other long, but I would like you to trust me, Timothy..."
“Tim.”
Bruce's eyes widened. Timothy - Tim , Clark mentally corrected himself. - continued, “I prefer to be called Tim. It's for the family."
Now it looked like Bruce was on the verge of crying, "Tim, I..."
“But if one day you too decide that I'm not worth your time, I will run away and you won't be able to find me. Otherwise I will tell Lex Luthor where the Batcave is!”
Bruce nodded like it was normal, “Mhm, I'll try to prevent such an eventuality then. “
“Good. So…how do we get home?”
Both Bruce and Tim looked at Superman with the exact same look.
He got the hint, “Uber Superman at your service. Next stop, Wayne Manor.”