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Clark subtly looks at his watch, hoping irrationally that more than two minutes have passed since the last time he checked. When time hasn’t done him the favour of speeding up and ending his misery early he turns back to the group of rich people surrounding him and joins into their polite laughter at some anecdote one of them has just finished.
He doesn’t usually dislike going to one of Bruce’s many charity events. The food is always excellent, Perry is thrilled with every article Clark could produce about the insides of high society life and Bruce is grateful most of the time to have a friend present to use as a buffer from his guests when being “Brucie Wayne” got too tiresome. But today Clark has a hard time blending in and making appropriate small talk. He had just returned from an exhausting weeklong deep space mission with the Justice League and truthfully all he wants to do is go home and sleep.
After listening to another frightfully boring story about skiing in Aspen that was clearly only a thinly veiled excuse to mention all the important and famous people the woman telling the story had met there, Clark finally has enough and starts to unobtrusively make his way towards the exit. He knows it isn’t polite to leave this early or without really talking to Bruce as the host, but he thinks even he can be excused for exhibiting less than perfect manners sometimes. Not like Bruce would really care anyway, he knows where Clark had spent the last week and would understand. He might tease him about telling his Ma, but Clark can live with that.
He is nearly at the door when he picks up a sound from one of the rooms in the Manor, something that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the party. His superhearing lets him register sounds from all around the property, even all of Gotham and further at all times of course, but he has trained himself to tune most of it out. He wouldn’t be able to stand the noise otherwise. But there are certain sounds that instantly alert him, sounds of distress, pain or violence, cries for help.
He stands stock-still for a moment and hones in on the sound he just heard. It was the voice of a boy yelling at someone to stop and now that he listens for it, he can hear that same voice speak in a high tone that is trying and failing to hide the fear the speaker is feeling.
“Please, I don’t want to-“
The voice is cut off and Clark hears the telltale sound of a slap ring out, followed by the boy crying out in pain and falling to his knees, judging by the dull thump that follows. And now that Clark is actively listening he recognizes that voice as Jason, the boy Bruce had taken in a few months ago. Clark has only met him a handful of times, but he is certain it is him.
It takes every ounce of willpower he possesses to walk towards the door of the ballroom with human speed, every instinct he has telling him to get to Jason and stop whatever is happening. He makes it to the hallway and what he hears from that room he is now completely focused on nearly makes him sick.
“Just because Wayne pulled you from the gutter doesn’t mean you are now something better. I’ll even pay your old rate so open your mouth, you little bitch.”
He hears Jason whimper and Clark doesn’t care anymore, he makes his way towards the room in the other wing of the building in seconds, only distantly hoping that no one sees him.
When he throws open the door the scene he finds is even more nauseating than the words he heard. Jason is on his knees, a middle aged man standing in front of him, one hand gripping Jason’s hair painfully. Jason’s own hands are futilely trying to pry him off, while the man’s other hand is already opening his belt in front of Jason’s face.
Clark doesn’t consciously control what happens next, the only thing he knows is that he suddenly stands in front of Jason, his outstretched fist occupying the space where the man’s face was before. When he looks down he sees him lying on the floor, unconscious. He only spares the briefest moment to listen for a heartbeat and when he finds one he dismisses that piece of human garbage from his mind and slowly turns around, crouching down to face Jason.
The boy is staring with wide eyes at the man lying behind Clark, his expression shocked, and it takes him a few seconds to look up at Clark.
He gives him a friendly and reassuring look, the one he has perfected rescuing people over the years, careful not to come too close or make any sudden movements that Jason might interpret as threatening. The boy might know him, might know that he is Superman, but that doesn’t negate instinctive responses after a situation such as the one he was just exposed to.
“Are you okay, Jason?” Clark asks in a deliberately calm voice even though he is not feeling calm at all. Looking at Jason he can tell that he is physically fine except for a split lip and a red cheek from the slap, but that isn’t what he is asking about.
It takes Jason a few seconds to process his words, but he seems to come back to himself after that, nodding at Clark.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, voice still higher than normal. “Why did you do that?”
Clark can’t help his brow from wrinkling in confusion. “Jason, that man was about to assault you, I would never let anyone do that.”
Jason shakes his head and Clark can see him get agitated, hear his heartbeat pick up in panic. “No, you don’t understand. When he wakes up he will tell everyone and then...”
Jason’s words break off as he starts to breathe too fast and Clark has to calm him down before he starts to hyperventilate.
“Hey, Jason, look at me. Everything is okay. He will go to prison, he can’t hurt you anymore.”
Jason’s breathing gets a little better but he still seems distressed so Clark decides the first thing he needs to do is get him out of the room and away from that man. After taking in the slightly trembling form in front of him he isn’t sure if Jason can stand on his own so he decides the easiest way will be to carry him out.
“Jason, I am going to pick you up,” he states, making sure to get the boy's attention before he goes on, “is that okay for you?”
There is a moment of hesitation but Jason nods, so Clark gently grabs him under the arms and stands up, pulling Jason with him. The second Jason is high enough his arms come around Clark’s shoulders and his legs around his waist, the boy now clinging to him. He can feel the puffs of air caused by Jason’s exhalations against his neck where he has pressed his face into his shoulder and Clark feels an immense sense of protectiveness swell up inside him.
He makes his way out of the room briskly, careful not to jostle Jason in any way, locking the door behind them. The man will likely be unconscious for a long time after the punch Clark delivered, but he won’t risk him getting away.
He is making his way back towards the ballroom, intending to find Bruce, but as the music and voices get louder he can feel Jason tense against him, his hands gripping Clark’s jacket hard enough to tear the seam.
“Shh,” Clark murmurs soothingly, letting his hand run lightly up and down Jason’s back, “we’re just getting Bruce, we won’t stay long in there.”
That doesn’t get the boy to relax, instead he goes even more rigid.
“Please don’t tell Bruce,” is whispered into Clark’s neck and he slows his steps.
Before he can ask why he shouldn’t tell Bruce a figure comes in their direction and Clark instinctively tightens his hold on Jason before he registers that it is Dick.
The young man is walking fast, one hand tugging off the tie around his neck in sharp movements and the scowl on his face tells Clark that he had another row with his father. Once he sees them however a smile appears on his face and his whole demeanour becomes friendly.
“Clark,” Dick greets, coming closer and giving Jason’s form a curious look. Clark knows that even if Dick and Bruce are on bad terms right now, they are both trying to keep the boy out of it, even though Dick had been less than pleased about the new addition to the Wayne household in the beginning. Or more accurately Bruce’s failure to tell him about Jason in person, instead of letting him find out about his new baby brother from the news.
“Wish I could still pull the cute and tired card to get out of these things,” Dick says, nodding his head at Jason.
“Dick, go and get Bruce,” Clark tells him and the smile instantly falls from his face.
“Clark, you know-“
Yes, Clark knows and normally he doesn’t pick sides in their ongoing dispute, but today there are bigger problems and Dick will just have to live with it.
“Dick, now!” he orders and he knows from Dick’s momentary wide eyed stare that he just used his Superman dresses down the Justice League voice instead of mild mannered Clark Kent at a charity gala, but it does the trick and Dick turns around to hurry back to the ballroom without further protest.
Clark stays in the empty hallway, continuing to stroke Jason’s back, and it doesn’t take long until Bruce and Dick are practically running towards them.
“Clark,” Bruce calls out when he is still several feet away, voice filled with worry. “What happened? Is Jason okay?”
He comes to a stop right in front of Clark, laying his hand softly on Jason’s head. It is a gesture intended for comfort, one he has seen Bruce use on Dick countless times, but after that man grabbing Jason’s hair earlier it is the wrong thing to do and Jason flinches away from the contact.
Bruce pulls his hand back as if he's been burned.
“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbles into Clark’s neck and he can feel him tense up again.
“You did nothing wrong, kiddo,” Clark assures him, meeting Bruce’s eyes. His old friend is looking at him with an intensity that is usually reserved for world ending disasters as if he can figure out what happened just by looking at them.
“Is he okay?” Dick asks from the side, sounding young and frightened in a way Clark hasn’t heard in a long time.
“He’s alright,” Clark says and sees both of them relax slightly in relief. “But something happened and we need to talk about it. Somewhere private.”
Bruce furrows his brow but nods, leading them down a side corridor and into one of the lesser used sitting rooms of the Manor. When he closes the door he also opens a panel on the wall and presses a few buttons and Clark can tell from the low buzzing that now envelops the room that Bruce has activated whatever anti-listening devices he has installed. That isn’t really the level of privacy Clark had in mind, but it can’t hurt.
He crosses the room to one of the enormous sofas, intending to put Jason down, but the boy is still holding onto him with a death grip.
“Jason, can I put you down on the sofa? I’m staying right here, I promise.”
Clark has seen this behaviour before in people he has rescued and he hopes his reassurance to stay will help Jason feel more comfortable. His presence shouldn’t be the most important to the boy, not when his adoptive father and brother are also in the room, hovering anxiously behind them, but reactions to trauma are rarely rational.
He feels the limbs wrapped around him loosen slowly and carefully sets Jason down, taking the seat right next to him without hesitation. Bruce stays standing in front of them for a moment, taking in Jason’s appearance, eyes going dark and his mouth turning into a grim line when he sees the split lip his son is now sporting.
Dick, ever the contact-seeker, sits on Jason’s other side, although he leaves a deliberate amount of space between them, making sure not to crowd the younger boy. His expression also turns serious once he sees Jason’s injury and Clark can’t help but see the similarity between Bruce and Dick in that moment. They might seem like completely different types of men at first, one brooding and silent, the other excitable and outgoing, but the deep care for other people is something they share.
Bruce sits down in front of them on the coffee table, and from the way he is deliberately folding his large frame in he is clearly trying to loom less over Jason. No one says anything for several moments and Clark contemplates if it really is a good idea to have Jason and Dick present for the conversation he has to have with Bruce, but dismisses the thought immediately. Jason has a right to be present, and Dick would most likely be informed later anyway. Better to let Jason see his family’s reactions, because Clark is certain his apprehension about telling them stems from a fear of rejection. Which is ridiculous, of course, but telling him and showing him are two very different things.
“Jaylad,” Bruce starts eventually, voice soft and coaxing, “what happened? Did someone hit you?”
Clark can see Bruce’s fist clench at the second question, but he keeps his voice steady, obviously trying not to alarm Jason. He is also trying to catch his son’s eyes, but Jason is hunched over himself, resolutely staring at the floor. When no answer is forthcoming Bruce shoots Clark a short, questioning glance and then turns back to Jason.
“You’re not in trouble, Jay. If you got in a fight with one of the other kids or...” Bruce trails off, brow furrowing as Jason only curls up tighter, obviously uncomfortable.
Clark decides to intervene. Making Jason talk about this might become necessary, especially if his suspicions based on what he heard earlier are true, but he can at least describe his part in today’s events.
“I heard a man hit Jason,” Clark begins and both Bruce and Dick instantly look furious. “When I came into the room he had Jason on his knees and was about to-“ Clark casts about for the best term to describe what would have happened; he doesn’t want to even say it but he has to, at least to spare Jason from having to do it, “-sexually assault Jason.”
He knows his own rage is clearly discernible from the way he spits those words but even putting it into the most clinical terms possible doesn’t make it any less repulsive.
Dick lets out a choked little gasp, eyes wide and shocked, while Bruce just looks murderous.
“Where is that man?” he growls.
“Locked in and unconscious. I punched him and he went out like a light, although I might have used super speed...it’s kind of a blur.”
Normally he would get lectured about situational awareness after such an admission but in this instance Bruce only looks viciously pleased before he focuses back on Jason, smoothing his expression out into one of reassurance and calm.
“Jay, did anything else happen before Clark arrived? Did he do something else to you?”
Jason just shakes his head but still won’t look at any of them.
“It’s okay now, Little Wing,” Dick says soothingly. He lays his hand gently on Jason’s back and when he doesn’t pull away starts to run it up and down just like Clark did earlier. Jason leans slightly back into the contact but he doesn’t relax, his hands now twisting anxiously in his lap.
Clark notices Bruce and Dick share a worried look and is immensely relieved that the two of them seem to have forgotten their recent disagreement in light of Jason. But he can guess what has both of them worried, because even Clark knows after only meeting Jason a few times that the boy isn’t usually this silent or shy. They most likely figure there is more to the story and as usual they are right.
“Jaylad, you know you can tell us anything, right?”
There is a heavy silence and Clark is sure he could hear Jason’s pounding heartbeat even if he wasn’t kryptonian. He can practically see the boy steel himself, back going straight and jaw tensing before he finally speaks.
“I knew him from before. From the streets. He was a...customer.”
Jason doesn’t explain further but he doesn’t have to, the pained expressions on Bruce and Dick’s faces making clear that they understand. Clark can feel something twist deep inside him at the confirmation of what he basically already knew, but hearing it from a twelve-year-old is still horrifying. For a brief moment he feels the overwhelming urge to go back to that room and do a lot worse than punch that vile man unconscious.
It obviously takes them too long to respond in any way to this confession, because Jason’s head comes up, finally looking at Bruce and Clark can see tears in his eyes.
“I didn’t want to do it again, B, you have to believe me.”
“I do, Jay,” Bruce immediately reassures him, leaning forward and taking Jason into his arms. The boy practically melts into the embrace, clinging to Bruce like he had earlier to Clark.
Bruce rocks him slightly, shushing him and murmuring soft words of comfort while Jason sniffles, obviously crying. It takes a few minutes, but he finally calms down and Bruce reluctantly lets him sit back on the couch. Dick’s arm immediately comes around Jason’s shoulders, pulling the younger boy against him and Clark can’t help a fond smile from forming on his lips.
If Jason was really worried about their reactions, Bruce and Dick have now thoroughly proven that it was unfounded.
“We’ll have to call the police,” Bruce says but Jason shakes his head.
“You can’t, he said if I told anyone he’d make sure my name would go to the press. And then the rumours about why you adopted me will only get worse, B. People will think you are a paedophile and you don’t deserve that. I don’t want that to happen because of me.”
“Jason, I don’t care what people think about me.” Bruce’s voice is resolute as he leans forward, meeting Jason’s eyes firmly. ”I care that someone hurt you and I will make sure that he is punished for it. Make sure that he will never hurt you or anyone else like this again. Nothing is more important to me than your wellbeing, Jason.”
It takes a few seconds but then Jason nods, giving Bruce a small smile.
“Is that how he got you away from the party?” Dick asks, voicing something Clark had also been thinking about. “By threatening to tell people about your past?”
Jason nods and Clark can feel his expression twist. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore what some people do to get what they want, especially those who would abuse kids like this, but exploiting Jason’s love for his new family and threatening his new life is just despicable.
“I thought he wanted money,” Jason mumbles, “you know, just extort me now that I’ve been adopted by someone rich. I didn’t think he’d try something like that here in the Manor.”
That a child like Jason, who has experienced so much hardship and abuse in his short life, can still be this naive is simultaneously a relief and heartbreaking to Clark.
“That still wouldn’t have been okay, Jay,” Dick says, squeezing his brother’s shoulder.
“If anyone ever tries to make you do something against your will, no matter what, you can come to me, Jaylad.”
There is a brief hesitation before Jason nods and Clark can practically see Bruce’s resolve to drive that point home again in the future until Jason truly accepts it, but for now it seems to be enough.
“Clark and I are going to get the police to arrest that man. Will you be okay here with Dick?”
Clark can hear Bruce’s reluctance to leave his son, but they really have to get this sorted. He is sure Bruce wants that man as far away from Jason as possible and Clark feels the same way. Getting him out of the house and into a prison cell (or prison hospital ward) will at least give them some amount of closure. Although he is sure that the next weeks will be hard for the Wayne household. Now that Jason’s past has come to light they will have to deal with it and the trauma no doubt still following the boy.
Jason nods in answer to Bruce’s question and Dick smiles at his father, for the first time in a long while as far as Clark can tell.
“Don’t worry, B. He’ll be fine with me. I was looking forward to some brotherly cuddle time anyway.” As he says this Dick uses his free hand to ruffle Jason’s hair, pulling the boy closer to him.
“Get off, Dickface,” Jason protests, but there is a smile on his face as his arms fly blindly around to dislodge Dick.
“Never. I demand my cuddle time, as is my right as your older brother.”
They quickly dissolve into an impromptu wrestling match and Clark gets up from the couch to escape their flailing limbs. He can tell that Dick makes sure never to pin Jason down or box him in too much and he once again has to marvel at the pure goodness that is Dick Grayson. Both boys are laughing and Bruce only stares at them for a few seconds with such an obvious expression of deep love until Dick shoots him a pointed look to get them going.
Once they are out in the hallway Clark automatically falls into step with Bruce, following him back to the ballroom. He briefly wonders why they would return to the party but that is made clear when they step into the lively room and Bruce immediately heads for a small group of people off to the side, one of whom Clark recognizes as Commissioner Gordon.
After Bruce pulls the Commissioner away from the other guests and explains the situation to him, Clark also already giving his (slightly amended) statement, the arrest goes over without a problem. The paramedics that had necessarily been called had pronounced the man unconscious but otherwise fine and Clark could admit to himself that he was slightly disappointed about that. He would at least have one hell of a shiner and a headache for days.
Bruce is unbelievably tense until the ambulance leaves the property with the mandatory police escort and Clark is sure he isn’t the only one who wanted to hurt the man who dared touch Jason even more. The Commissioner and Bruce agree that Jason doesn’t have to give his statement this evening and then Gordon also leaves, intending to oversee the rest of the booking process himself.
The party is still going somehow, but they don’t return to the ballroom. They make their way down the dark hallways towards the sitting room where Clark can now hear Dick and Jason argue about the proper sequence to watch the Star Wars movies in.
Letting victims feel at ease had always been a particular talent of Dick’s and it makes Clark glad that he can’t detect any of the fear or anxiety in Jason’s voice anymore that had been there only an hour ago.
Before they make it to the boys though Bruce stops suddenly, one hand going out to steady himself against the wall, the other pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. Clark waits patiently a few steps ahead. He’s known Bruce long enough to expect what is coming next and he’s not disappointed.
“I should have known.”
“Bruce how could you have known? Jason would never have told you,” Clark says.
Bruce scoffs and pins him with a look filled with self-loathing.
“He displayed all the textbook signs. Wariness of adults, trust issues, fear of being touched. Hell, he locked his bedroom door at night for weeks and I didn’t figure it out. Some kind of detective I am.”
“You took him in from the streets, Bruce. That would have been normal for any child coming to live in a new home with virtual strangers.”
“He was nearly assaulted here, in his new home where he was supposed to be safe and I didn’t even notice.”
“Bruce,” Clark says, stepping closer and laying a hand on his shoulder, “it didn’t happen, so don’t torture yourself with could-have-beens.”
“Only because you were there.” Bruce meets Clark’s eyes firmly before he says empathetically “Thank you.”
“I’ll always look out for your boys, Bruce.” It feels like a vow and Clark never intends to break it.
Bruce nods, taking it as seriously as Clark.
“Now go be with your sons, I can practically see you yearn to keep an eye on them.”
That pulls a wry smile from Bruce. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Only with super vision,” Clark says with a smirk, making Bruce snort. Truthfully it is obvious to anyone with eyes how much Bruce loves his kids, but Clark just wants to brighten his mood. He’s going to brood about this later enough.
He lets go of his friend's shoulder with a squeeze and then they continue down the hallway. When they enter the sitting room they are immediately bombarded with opinions on Star Wars, Dick and Jason talking over each other in order to get their points across and Clark looks on with a smile as Bruce sits down on the couch with his sons.
Jason is sandwiched between Dick and Bruce, but he looks happy, as if he always belonged there. Bruce is smiling fondly at his boys, laying an arm around Jason’s shoulder and nodding along to the argument his youngest is now explaining in detail while Dick scoffs in mock offense.
Yes, the Wayne household will have to face some challenging topics in the next days and weeks, but for tonight they are okay, Clark thinks.