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“You can’t tell anyone about this.”
Clark swallowed his long suffering sigh and nodded instead. “I’ve always kept your secrets, Bruce.” As much as the constant secrecy and paranoia weighed on him at first, he was used to it now. Almost. Accepting that some things would always be locked behind a wall was simply part of being Bruce’s friend. Though over the years Clark did manage to weedle bits and pieces out of him.
But instead of continuing with explaining why Superman was urgently summoned to Gotham on a seemingly normal Thursday evening, Bruce stopped working on the computer, staring up at Clark with that scowling mask. He stood suddenly and pulled down his cowl, revealing the pain-filled eyes it hid.
Clark took an automatic step towards his friend. “Bruce–”
“I need you to swear it. Swear to me, Kal, that you will never mention this again. No one can know about this.”
No, this wasn’t anything remotely close to an ordinary mission. Bruce was scared and struggling to hide it. His heart rate might be forced into a steady rhythm through sheer willpower and meditative breathing but his eyes…they hadn’t been so open and vulnerable in a long time. “I swear it on Krypton. I won’t breathe a word.”
Satisfied at last, Bruce wearily sank back into his chair and pulled up a video. “I received this several hours ago. It’s a ransom demand.”
“For who?” The video was of a lab of some sort; tables and tubes and wires everywhere. In the center was a towering cylinder, filled with a clear liquid. And inside, thrashing wildly, was a person. No, a creature.
Clark sucked in a quick breath. “Is that…is that a mermaid?” Bruce didn’t respond, an angry glower sharpening his features as he watched. The mermaid–no, merman– was beating at the glass walls, twisting as gracefully as possible in the narrow space in search of an escape. A tail of magnificent shades of blue with an iridescent black stripe cutting down the back, churned the water.
“It’s–”
“He.” Bruce snapped.
“He’s beautiful. But, again, who is–” The words died in Clark’s mouth as the mer violently twisted once more and a familiar face came into view. “Dick?” As if in response, Dick snarled and punched the glass, tail smacking angrily below him. Each hit was powerful, making the camera shudder. Yet no cracks appeared in the glass. “How? What happened to him?”
“He’s always been a mer.” Bruce shut off the video, eyes averted as if he couldn’t stand to watch any longer. “One of the few left. They must’ve captured him when he was out in the bay early this morning.”
“He swims in that water?” Honestly, given the situation, it really was the least baffling thing Clark just learned. How had he befriended this sweet, daring child, watched him grow into his own, and never really known him after all these years? If anyone understood being different, wouldn’t it be an alien?
The comment earned him a withering look as Bruce marched off to a workbench. Clark drifted after him. “I need your help getting him back. I doubt even if I paid the ransom that Dick would be returned. He’s too valuable. Alive…or in parts.”
Nausea rose in Clark. “He looked unharmed in the video.”
His reassurance fell flat. “A lot can happen in an hour.” Bruce muttered darkly.
“Why haven’t you gone then? Why wait for me to arrive, why not take Robin? Or Red Hood even?”
“They begged me to let them help. But I…” Bruce stopped packing supplies into his utility belt, eyes falling closed. He looked tired, so utterly tired, in a way Clark hadn’t seen since Bruce told him in a broken whisper that he’d lost Jason. “I can’t risk them falling into those monsters’ hands too.”
“Why…” Clark blinked, everything he knew suddenly realigning yet again. “Oh.”
“You swore. On Kry–”
“Yes, I know! Have a little faith in me, haven’t I earned that after all these years? This is a lot to take in, that’s all.” Clark clapped his friend on the shoulder, feeling how tense Bruce was even under the layers of armor. “Where are we headed?”
---
It was worse than they anticipated. This wasn’t just some warehouse gang hoping to make a quick buck. Both of their scans revealed a whole compound buried below an unassuming office building. The anticipation grew worse the deeper in they went, passing room after room, left wondering what atrocities happened there. Or if this place was good once, maybe helped people, only to be twisted now.
It was mostly abandoned, except for a few heavily armed guards scattered throughout. But when they found the room from the video, the cylinder was completely drained with no sign of Dick.
Clark could almost hear the frantic thoughts coming from Bruce, most likely the same ones were ringing in his own mind. They must’ve moved him. Did they hear them coming despite their stealth? When was the video actually taken? Were they too late? Was this a trap of their own?
As Bruce quickly shuffled through papers on the desk, searching for clues, Clark methodically scanned the building around them. “There’s too many lead-lined rooms, I have huge blind spots. Find anything, Bruce?” No response. Clark tried again. “Bruce?”
His friend looked up at him, chest heaving. “I was right.” Papers with diagrams of a human and mer body were clutched in Bruce’s trembling hands. Ominous red x’s slashed through the diagrams. “They’re cutting him apart. They were never going to return him.”
Clark took a step towards Bruce but a distant agonized scream pulled his attention away. He snapped his head around, listening intently. It was muffled but there—a familiar heartbeat.
“No, they’re not.” Clark growled before he slammed straight down through five floors. Scientists and armed guards fell back, covering their heads as debris came raining down into yet another sterile white room. In a burst of red and blue, Clark shot around the room, rounding up all the weapons and twisting them into a lump of metal, before tying the scientists up in one big huddle. The guards he left for Batman, who was swooping in through the hole like a demon from hell. Instead he went to the glowing exam table.
“Guess the cat is out of the bag,” Dick panted, grimacing up at Clark, “Or the fish is out of the net.”
It was astonishing that he could sound even remotely cheerful while strapped down to a glorified butcher’s block. Bruises were spreading across his left cheek and jaw and beneath that, Dick’s face was feverishly red. The rest of his skin looked abnormally pallid compared to the bright blood splatters on his chest. And his tail, that stunning tail, now bore horrible bloody patches where scales were sliced away. Crimson streams stained the rest of the dry, dull scales.
Fury swelled in Clark. But he forced himself to return the smile, trying to comfort his friend as he carefully removed the IV from Dick’s arm. Next he broke the metal bands securing Dick’s arms, waist, and tail to the table. They were so tight the metal left deep red imprints behind as they peeled away.
“I’m sorry.” He said when Dick whimpered. The one across his abdomen was tight enough to cut through the blue-tinted skin tapering off from his tail. “Let’s get you back to that green bay water of yours.”
Dick forced another tight-lipped smile. Trembling and bruised arms reached for Clark as he gently scooped the merman off the table, trying not to agitate his wounds or the burns dotted across on his sides. Despite looking painfully dry, Dick’s tail was cool to the touch and smooth like a snake’s skin. Dick slumped against Clark, bravado gone.
“Stay with me, Dickie.”
“’m here.” Dick mumbled, dark head rolling to rest against Clark’s chest. “Mostly.”
“Dick!” Bruce appeared in a ripple of black, cupping his son’s face as he took in the damage. “What did they do to you?”
“Everyone else safe?” Dick asked instead, pressing his cheek into Bruce’s palm.
“Yes, they’re waiting at the bay. We need to get you to saltwater.”
“I’ll handle it,” said Clark, “Destroy whatever samples they took then meet up with us at the bay.”
Bruce opened his mouth then shockingly closed it and nodded. He pressed his forehead to his son's then stepped back. “Go.”
Covering Dick’s head, Clark smashed a new hole through the compound, reorienting himself once they were in the sky. Dick tried in vain to hide his sounds of pain as they rocketed towards Gotham Bay. There was no way to avoid it, not with how his tail draped over Clark’s arm, bent right at one of the worst wounds. His fingers dug into Clark’s arm like hooks.
“We’re almost there, not much longer now.” Clark said, “No one can hear us up here. You can cry if you need to.” Because his friend always held himself together in situations that would make even Superman crack. For a few minutes, maybe this could be a bastion of safety.
“I don’t think you’re ready for how ugly I cry,” Dick joked, face tucked against Clark’s chest to hide from the wind. He used to do that back when he was Robin too, screaming with excitement when Clark would dive or barrel roll through clouds. He held the acrobat a little closer. “I’m glad Bruce called you. I...hope you’re not upset I never told you.”
“I’m an alien, Dick. I get it. People can...react poorly. I’m more disappointed in myself for not figuring it out sooner. We’ve been friends for how long?”
Dick laughed, such a reliving sound to hear even if it was strained. “Don’t be. Bruce didn’t figure it out after having me around for three months!”
---
Jason and Tim were waiting on the rocky shore Dick directed Clark to and were running over before his feet even touched the ground.
“I’m okay.” Dick reassured his brothers as they took him from Clark. “I just need to-”
“No, don’t shift, we’ll carry you-” Tim protested but it was too late. With a violent shudder and cry of pain, Dick’s tail split up the middle. He groaned through the transformation, gripping his brothers’ arms as his scales rippled away, replaced by human legs and feet. The brutal cuts remained as long bloody patches on his legs, one partly covered by the swim shorts he must’ve been wearing that morning.
“It’s not normally painful.” Dick tried to reassure Clark, who couldn’t hide his horrified look, right before his brutalized legs crumpled beneath him.
Jason caught his brother, tossing one arm over his shoulders. “Jesus, blue. You look terrible.” Wincing, Dick leaned his other arm on Tim’s shoulder. “Stink too.”
“What happened?” asked Tim as they picked their way over rocks to the gently lapping waves, Clark following close behind in case he was needed. But the siblings seemed to have it covered, pausing ever few steps for Dick to catch his breath.
“They had electric nets and stun rods. I messed up. Swam in the same spot too many nights in a row.”
“Oh, you mean the thing you lecture me about not doing literally every week?”
“Do as I say, Timbo.” Dick tugged a lock of Tim’s hair with his trembling hand. When they finally stepped into the water, Dick let out a long sigh, head tipping back in relief. Only when they were chest deep did his brothers carefully release him. He wobbled and all three of them took a step towards him.
But Dick quickly found his footing and for several minutes he simply stood there, waves lapping against his tortured chest, gradually washing away the scribbled notations and dotted incision lines. It caught Clark off guard when Dick suddenly flashed a smile over his shoulder. “You wanna see something cool, Uncle Clark?”
“Yes, but maybe–” Clark started, as Dick dove into the water with new found energy, “–you should rest first.”
“He’s such a showboat,” Jason muttered, “even half-dead.”
Tim snickered. “You’re just jealous.”
“Can it, dipshit! I’m just as fast and anything he can do–”
The spat was interrupted by Dick breaching out in deeper water, his tail flashing in the moonlight as he arched through the air. With his fins spread in their full glory, they reminded Clark of a butterfly’s wings, translucent but powerful. Dick executed a flip before slipping back beneath the surface with barely a splash.
“Okay, I can’t do that.” Jason conceded.
“That’s what probably got him spotted in the first place.” Bruce joined Clark in the thigh deep surf, wearing his typical frown.
“Is he healing?” He noticed fresh pink skin already replacing the open wounds on Dick’s tail.
“It’s the salt water. It’s not instant but it certainly helps stop the bleeding and speed up the initial closing of the wound. The scales will grow back in a month or so.”
“And he’s not in pain?”
“No, he very much is,” Bruce said with overwhelming displeasure, “His cuts have closed but they can easily reopen again and probably will the way he’s going. But they tell me hurting in the water feels better than hurting on dry land.”
Dick breached again and this time Tim let out a whoop, yanking off his soaked shirt and chucking it carelessly in the general direction of the shore. As a wave carried it by them, Bruce plucked it from the water and wrung it out.
“Boys…” he called and Tim and Jason froze, the latter pulling something on. What was it? A jacket? A wet suit? “Be careful. Please. And make sure Dick doesn’t over do it.”
“You got it, boss.” Jason saluted as Tim dove into the water, vanishing under the dark waves. A heartbeat later he breached alongside Dick, his green tail with red and yellow-tipped fins shining.
“Oh wow.” Clark breathed as the brothers crashed back into the water together.
“You know I hate it when you call me that.” Bruce said. Confused Clark glanced over to see Bruce speaking to a massive spotted seal floating by his knees. There was an uncommon and affectionate smile on Bruce’s face as he stroked the seal’s forehead. Its large eyes closed contentedly, head tucking in. “Go on. If the three of you want to make a scene at least go to deeper waters. I’ll see you all later tonight.”
The seal opened its eyes and blinked as if in acknowledgment. Then it shot behind them, purposefully knocking into the back of Clark’s knees and almost sending him sprawling in the waves. Bruce steadied him as the seal jumped from the water. It wasn’t nearly as high as Dick and Tim’s leaps but the playfulness of it made Clark laugh.
“Jason?”
“What gave it away?” A wry smile twisted Bruce’s lips. “Yes, he’s a selkie. He can take his seal skin on and off.” In the distance two heads popped up, excitedly circling the seal that just caught up to them. And then they were gone under the water. “Wait for it.” Bruce said, as if Clark was in any rush to leave. Moments later Dick and Tim burst from the water, Jason held between them. “He can’t leap as high on his own but they like to include him.”
Clark waved at the boys before they disappeared again. “And how exactly did you end up with three supposedly mythical water shifters as children?”
Much to his surprise, Bruce answered. “Dick was an accident.” He explained as they made their way out of the waves and sat on the rocks. “His parents thought the safest place to hide was somewhere as lavish and odd as a traveling circus. And apparently swimming and flying feel almost the same.”
Clark nudged him. “Dick said you never figured it out.”
“He hid it well.” There was hint of pride in his friend’s voice. “It took months for him to feel safe enough to show me.”
Barely visibly on the horizon there was a splash and a flash of something bright. Clark could just make out peals of laughter. “Jason was an accident too. How was I supposed to know that the tire thief I adopted loved his hoodie so much because it was actually his seal skin? It took Dick coming home and showing who he was for Jason to share his own secret. He’s incredibly protective of it because if you take a selkie’s skin, you control them.”
“Poor kid. Has that happened before?”
A shadow darkened Bruce’s face. “I don’t know for sure.” He admitted.
“Two kids might be a coincidence, but three?” Clark chuckled, trying to steer them back to hopefully a happier tone. “That feels like a pattern. Admit it, you went looking for Tim.”
Bruce let out a huff of amusement. “Tim sought us out after seeing Dick both in the air and in the water. He was eleven when he figured out all our identities.”
“Remarkable.”
“Dick was born to mer parents but Tim was not. His parents took him on an archaeological dig when he was a child and as best as we’ve pieced together, he wandered off and came in contact with some ancient magic that changed him. He’d been hiding it from them for years.”
“And no one else knows? Just me?”
Bruce’s mouth twisted. “Obviously Alfred. I believe Donna and Kon-El know. Perhaps Roy, I’m not sure who Dick might have told when he was with the Titans. But that’s it and it’s more than I’d like.”
“You look like you’re in pain, just from listing names! Is it so bad they told people who love them?”
“It’s not safe for more to know.” Bruce insisted. “They’re so rare and if word got out there might be more incidents like tonight. Besides, it’s not my secret to tell. I know Dick trusts you, that’s the only reason I called. But it’s up to them to decide who gets to know. Jason hasn’t told anyone outside the family, he’s too afraid of someone getting their hands on his seal skin. You’re the first, actually.”
The weight of that trust sunk deep into Clark, along with sympathy for that sweet, mischievous seal he met tonight. “He doesn’t need to worry about me. I’ll guard his secret–all their secrets–with my life. As I always have." He looked at Bruce who was still staring at the waves, his heartbeat truly at ease. What an odd little friendship they've built over the years. Odd but so precious. "Thank you for sharing them with me."
"This isn’t entirely me.” said Bruce even as he accepted the thanks with a nod, “They're the ones who started calling you ‘uncle’ on their own. I never would have encouraged that."
"Trust me, I wasn’t under the impression you did." Clark laughed and Bruce joined in under his breath.
"Still. You and your family are important to them. I should thank you, Clark."
"And will you?"
"I...thought it was implied."
"For you, I suppose that counts." Still chuckling, Clark climbed to his feet, holding down a hand for Bruce. "So what do I buy the boys for Christmas now? Seashells? Or are they too boring?"
"Assuming you're actually purchasing Christmas gifts in August," Bruce grasped his hand and stood with a quiet grunt. Clark resisted the urge to ask about how the fracture he got on their last JL mission was healing. Clearly it must be aggravating him right now. "then yes, plain ones are boring. The shinier and more unique the better. Although none of them need more, they have plenty."
"Really?"
"Buckets and buckets.” Bruce responded wearily, trudging back to the Batmobile as Clark began steadily rising into the air. “When they were younger, Alfred would find them stuffed in their pockets like playground gravel. Scattered all over their floors like legos. And the fights they would have over them!"
“No shells for the sake of your sanity, got it.” At this height Clark could make out three dark shapes in the distance darting through the water, one noticeably slower now.
But he wasn't high enough to miss when Bruce looked up with a smile and said, "Thank you, Clark. For everything."