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Chapter Text

The Gotham Country Club golf course was overgrown with man-eating plants. 

Venus Fly Traps, the size of cars, sprouted up all over the green. 

Men in polo shirts and women in visors and white skirts ran around screaming and did their best to avoid becoming plant food. 

Robin crouched on top of the outdoor bar. He dumped the glycol fluid from the batarangs that normally produced a smoke screen when they hit their target. A gruesome scream pierced the air but he focused on his task. 

He filled the batarangs with the makeshift weed-killer he mixed from vinegar, vodka, salt, and soap. 

He jumped off the bar and into the fray. 

He, with a flick of his wrist, sent three batarangs flying toward the snapping mouths of the plants closest to him. Each sharp edge sliced through their target, going off like weed killing bombs. The plants shriveled up and died, leaving nothing but brown, gooey organic material behind. 

He sprinted further into the chaos, sending another batarang toward a plant that was chewing through a golf cart to get to the caddy trapped inside. A vine attacked him, but he avoided ensnarement with a flip and sent three more batarang flying in a perfect, precise arch that hit each of their marks. 

Without warning, every remaining plant shriveled up and died. 

Tim was suddenly standing in shadow. 

He turned. Batman was behind him, blocking out the sun. 

“Ivy has been dealt with. Good work, Robin.” 

Batman looked out of place standing under a perfect blue sky. His tone sounded off too, a little too fond to be coming from someone with such a stoic expression. He must be proud of his work. 

“I told you I could do it alone, and I did. Don’t you think I’m ready now?” 

The pull at the side of his mouth gave Tim his answer and it wasn’t the one he wanted. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” 

Robin raised his bo staff just in time, blocking the arc of the umbrella. 

There was the haze of knock out gas filling the air around the room, but he’d already slipped on his rebreather. They fought, matching each other blow for blow. Each time Robin swung his staff, it cut through the haze and left a path of clean air.

“Can someone control this brat?” Penguin shouted. It was unclear if he complaining to Batman or the dozen henchmen Batman was fighting off. Either way, Robin used the second he was distracted to his advantage. He pulled out his grappling hook and aimed low. 

“Nope.” 

When Penguin lunged toward him, he tripped over the wire. Tim wrapped him up by the ankles until, pissed off and wobbly, he crashed to the floor. 

Another successful mission. Basically, a solo mission. 

Batman waited silently in the batmobile. He didn’t start the car until he heard the click of Tim’s seatbelt. 

“I did good, right?” Tim prompted. “I took out Penguin. Without you.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” said Batman.

Bruce opened up his Sunday paper. 

It had been tampered with. 

He wasn’t sure when Tim struck. 

He might’ve had it custom printed ahead of time, but the front page seemed accurate, with the Gotham Gazette heading and a Penguin Arrested headline. He likely broke into the Gotham Gazette and printed a single, edited copy for himself with their industry standard printer.

Inside the paper, every other news story had been replaced with articles that acted as a highlight reel for the Teen Titans. Their famous, heroic battles with Psimon, Gizmo, Shimmer, and more. There was an editorial piece on Robin, Kid Flash, and Aquadlad— the three founding members— which included the fact that Dick was 14 (underlined, bolded, and italicized) when they began. 

Bruce went to Selena’s to get a copy of the real paper, but on his way he stopped by the cave to leave a sticky note on Robin’s bo staff. 

We’ll talk about it later.  

Dick called Tim’s parents. 

The reception was terrible, but that was to be expected when they were in the middle of an archeological dig somewhere in the Sahara. Unfortunately, Dick hadn’t known that before the call, because he’d been under the impression that they were in Gotham. Easy mistake to make, when Tim had told him exactly that.

He knew there was something off about Tim’s parents. Bruce knew it, too— had mentioned it once or twice before. They were never home. It wasn’t normal. 

Maybe he shouldn’t judge people’s parenting styles. 

He’d lost his parents when he was nine. He was only 20 and he spent last weekend going intergalactic wine tasting with his ex-girlfriend. He’d been raised by a British butler and trauma in the shape of a man. So, he wasn’t exactly fit to write the book on parenting, not even a paragraph. 

But Tim’s parents didn’t have a style to judge. They were never there. And if Tim had started lying to make it seem like they were, he knew something was wrong, too. 

Dick pulled into the Gotham Academy parking lot. The campus seemed so much smaller than it used to. He was pretty sure Tim would spot his mustang, but since this was as spontaneous hang-out / kidnapping he decided to catch him as he left his last class. 

He checked in with the office— Ms. Plein there remembered him fondly, especially when he flashed the right smiles— and walked onto campus. The final bell rang, a piercing shrill that made him cringe. He could be nostalgic, but not about this place. 

Kids poured out of class. He didn’t remember high schoolers being this small, either. He spotted Tim leaving biology with a group of friends. 

As he got closer, he realized they weren’t friends at all. 

“My mom’s gonna kill me for getting a B,” said a bully. He knew Tim was a capable fighter, but the optics made him want to intervene. The kid was a full head taller than him and played lacrosse, which would’ve been obvious even without the maroon and white lacrosse team sweatshirt and douchey spiked hair. 

“Then stop copying me, Randy,” said Tim. 

Randy body checked him as he pushed past. 

“Thanks for nothing, Drake. A nerd with bad grades? You’re fucking useless,” said Randy. He greeted two of his teammates, doing the bro handshake and starting a new conversation.  

Tim stood there, frozen as kids left the classroom on either side of him. His expression was hard to read. Dick wanted to go to him, but before he could a high school girl with long black braids stepped into his line of sight. 

“Um, sorry. Are you Dick Grayson? My, um, my sister’s Hannah Nyberg.” 

Dick remembered her, the way he remembered everyone in his small graduating class. They were faded polaroids from four years that felt like four lifetimes ago. He wanted to get Tim and get out of there, but he didn’t want to be rude. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a smile. “Hannah, right. How is she?”

Tim was standing in front of the door, totally in the way. 

His two best friends, Sebastian Ives and Bernard Dowd, came around the corner so he snapped out of it and met them halfway. 

“Hey,” he said, holding the straps of his black Fjällräven backpack. 

“Hey,” Ives said, looking at something over Tim’s shoulder.  

“Hold up. Didn’t Dick Grayson used to be your babysitter?” Bernard asked, equally distracted.  

An icy feeling creeped up his spine. 

He turned around, and there was Dick, cheerfully talking to a group of kids while a few others discretely took pictures of him from a safe distance. 

He turned back to his friends. 

The babysitter lie was a relic from elementary school. His parents were never home, sometimes his friends asked about it, and he used to look for any excuse to talk about Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons. It was a perfect lie. He’d even considered making it a real suggestion to his parents. They lived so close, after all. But once he figured out Batman, it seemed like a bad idea to get closer to the Waynes without the cover of night and the buffer of his camera.

“Yeah,” Tim said. 

On one hand, it was probably still a bad idea to connect himself to the Waynes, for secret identity purposes. But on the other hand, Dick was the one randomly showing up at his school. And he wasn’t about to admit to Bernard and Ives that he weirdly and pathetically lied about his babysitter— technically no better than the social climbers who lied and dropped the Wayne name. Gross. 

Dick graciously broke away from his fans, but they trailed after him as he walked up to Tim. 

“Hey. I thought you might need a ride.” 

If there was an emergency, he wouldn’t have stopped to talk to random people. Still, something in Tim coiled like a spring about to snap. 

“Isn’t he Tim’s babysitter?” Ainsley asked. He wasn’t sure if she overheard Bernard, or maybe remembered from elementary school. Either way, there was a wave of laughs, Ainsley’s huffy snickers the most grating of all. 

Randy and his friends joined the group. 

“Wait, you have a babysitter?” Randy asked, amused. 

Tim didn’t walk out of his biology class expecting his life to end, yet here he was. Seconds away from dying of embarrassment, or based on the heat in his cheeks— spontaneously combusting. 

“No. We’re family friends,” Dick clarified, but Tim didn’t want him poking holes in the old lie. He still didn’t even know what the hell he was doing on campus. He grabbed Dick’s jacket and pulled him toward the parking lot. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” Tim said, mostly to Ives and Bernard. 

He waited until he and Dick were in the car to really talk. 

“What’s the situation?” Tim asked, shifting into Robin mode. 

“Randy seems like a real piece of work.” 

“Dick.” 

“Take a breath. Nothing’s wrong. I had a free afternoon. I figured you were tired of the bus. And I talked to Bruce.” 

“You talked to him?!” Tim turned fully in his seat. 

He’d been bothering Dick about it for weeks. He knew if anyone could change Bruce’s mind, it was Dick— even if Dick wasn’t as confident in his own abilities. 

“I did.” Dick said, starting the car. “He said no.” 

Three words, and his heart shattered. He pulled himself together, barely missing a beat. It was one of the things he liked most about himself; he knew how to move forward. He reminded himself of this useful skill every time imposter syndrome made him question whether or not he deserved to wear the cape. 

“Talk to him again,” said Tim. 

“I’m sorry, Timmy,” Dick said, twisting to look back as he pulled out of his parking spot. “I just don’t think he’ll change his mind on this one. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he doesn’t trust the rest of the world. If you’re out on the field, he wants to be there, too.” 

He drove out of the parking lot. The trees and buildings started to pass them in a blur, right as Tim realized what was really going on. 

“You don’t think it’s a good idea either,” Tim said, slowly as he put together the betrayal. 

“No, I do. Come on. Of course I do.” 

Tim wasn’t buying it. 

“This is so unfair. It’s just as risky as patrol— maybe even safer, because it wouldn’t be every night and there’s a buddy system. You should know, you started the Titans.”

“Point,” Dick said, flicking on his blinker to switch lanes. 

The truth was, something had changed since Dick started the Titans. 

Jason had been alive and now he wasn’t. 

It was the same reason Bruce didn’t want a Robin, why Dick constantly tried to connect with him, why Alfred got misty eyed when he set a plate for Tim at the table. 

“I know how frustrated you must feel. I used to be in your shoes. Bruce didn’t approve of the Titans at first. The three of us had to stand up to him and the rest of the League. We told them we would go on missions together with or without their supervision. But then again, I’d known KF and Kal already. And they were older than I was. You know, Impulse is younger than you. Technically— way younger. But maybe in a few years…” 

It was cloudy but it didn’t look like it would stay that way. As the clouds blew by they revealed patches of perfect blue sky. 

Tim stared out the window and remembered being a little kid, in the back of a car with his parents. They made conversation, but he had ignored them in favor of staring out the window. He’d imagine a friend running along side their car. It was the closest thing he could remember to having an imaginary friend. The friend was vaguely man-shaped, glowing like he ate a star from Super Mario, running over the cars they’d pass or jumping over buildings. He could defy the laws of physics any way he needed to so he could keep up and stay by Tim’s side. 

“I want to meet Impulse and Wonder Girl,” Tim said. He didn’t want Dick to think he was a brat, or some spoiled rich kid making demands. But he had to meet them, so he could finally have friends who got him in a way no one ever had before. The desire echoed in his chest like someone screaming in a cave. He wanted it so badly, and it was so within reach, he didn’t get why Dick and Bruce were so determined to stop it from happening. 

“I know but—”

“— maybe if I had friends, I wouldn’t run off alone to another continent.” 

Like Jason.

The day he died. 

All the air was sucked out of the car like Tim cracked a window in space. 

Maybe it was a cruel thing to say. 

But maybe Dick needed a wake up call. Tim wasn’t going to sit on his green gloved hands forever. He wanted to— at the very least— meet the other teenage heroes, and did Dick really think he hadn’t already figured out their identities? It wasn’t a leap to get from Dick to Wally, from Wally to his mysterious younger cousin Bart Allen. Cassie Sandsmark had been even easier. Diana volunteered at the Gateway City museum, where the number of teenagers she could potentially know was limited to the blonde Cassie and some stoner girl with a shaved head. 

“You don’t have friends at school?” Dick asked, quietly concerned in a way that made Tim’s stomach twist. 

“Of course I do, but you know what I mean. I want my own Wally.” 

Dick was actually surprised. 

“Are you kidding?” Tim asked, relishing in the chance to impress him. “It was too easy. Kid Flash had that hair. And have you noticed the way Wally eats enough for a small army? It’s the advanced metabolism.” 

Dick sighed. 

“Have you figured the identity of the arsonist from the 4th street case?” 

“No,” Tim said, defensively. “But I’m close. I’ll work on it tonight. I’m always going to prioritize my cases.”

“I know,” Dick said, glancing at him like he wasn’t expecting Tim to have such a serious reaction. 

“So if my work isn’t going to be effected, I really don’t see any other reason I can’t start my own team. Or at least meet them. I’ve met Wally.”  

“Not as the Flash,” Dick said, like it even mattered. 

“So then I’ll meet them as Bart and Cassie. With or without your supervision,” Tim said. It always felt good to win an argument by quoting his opponent. 

Dick was quiet. 

“I’ll talk to Bruce again,” he finally said, reluctantly. “And I’ll try to make it happen. But— if he says no, he says no. And if you’re going to go behind his back…” 

Dick thought for a moment, hesitating, before he eventually sighed. 

“Call me and I’ll help you. You can always call me and I’ll always help you.” 

Dick sounded sincere. Tim narrowed his eyes and studied him. 

“What if I start World War III?” 

He smiled dryly. 

“International incidents, you’re on your own.”

They pulled up to the manor. 

“You can just take me home. I’ll come back for patrol.” Dick kept his foot on the brake, so Tim continued, “I think my parents said something about dinner.” 

Dick put the car into park and turned to him. 

“You said they got in last week, right?” 

“Yeah,” Tim didn’t falter in the slightest. He’d always been a gifted liar, but becoming Robin was like a masterclass. Sometimes when he was bored, he’d try to trick lie detectors. 

“But I want to spend as much time with them as I can. They’re planning a big expedition in October to the North Pole. They’ve talked about it forever, but I think this time they’re committed.” 

“If you start your own team, you’re going to spend a lot of weekends away from Gotham.” 

“That’s fine. They won’t mind.”

They won’t even notice, Tim thought. 

“In fact, they’re always encouraging me to travel so I can broaden my horizons. Or I could tell them I got a job, something like house-sitting, to explain why I don’t come home. I swear, Dick, it won’t be a problem.” 

“I want them to know you’re safe. I figured they might start asking questions. So I called them today.” 

Shit, Tim thought. 

“Oh,” Tim said. “You shouldn’t have done that. They’re my parents. I can handle them.” 

“Tim… I looked into the flight records—”

“Oh my god,” Tim said. He got out of the car. 

It was August and the normal cloud cover Gotham usually provided had burned away. The sun shone bright, and the sky was bright blue. It was wrong. It was all wrong. 

Dick followed him. 

Tim walked a few paces before facing him once again, with a cool exterior. 

“I lied because I knew that you’d waste your time worrying over something that isn’t a big deal. We don’t have a conventional family routine— so what? It works for us. They’re still my parents. They have to travel for work. It’s fine.” 

“You’ve been living alone for two months.” 

A lot longer than that, Tim thought, bitterly proud but with rising panic. 

“I like living alone. And don’t say I’m too young; I’m very mature for my age.” Dick’s answering eye roll was infuriating. “I am,” Tim insisted. “Stop it.” 

Dick’s gaze softened. He walked toward him. 

“You’re right; you are. You’ve been doing a great job taking care of yourself. But the point is, you shouldn’t have to. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come over for dinner, then patrol. I’ll burn some popcorn and we’ll watch a movie, then spend the night. And in the morning, Alfred will make you breakfast and I’ll drive you to school. Does that sound like a plan?” 

It sounded like a dream. 

But it would upset Bruce. He’d already survived more trauma than most people experience in a lifetime. Tim was supposed to help him, not conjure up memories of past movie nights and family dinners. He’d been roped into it before and he couldn’t figure out if it was worse when he sat in Jason’s spot, or when he created a painful centerpiece out of an empty chair. 

It just wouldn’t be right. 

Tim was his crime-fighting partner, not his son. 

He swore it to himself on the day he decided to confront Dick. He was already the guy secretly taking photos of them, he couldn’t also be the guy that forced himself into their family. The last thing he wanted was to become another burden they had to bear, or a problem they had to solve. He loved them. He loved their family. 

And when you really loved something, you sacrificed the things you wanted if it meant they’d be happy. 

I’m so mature for my age, Tim thought. In your freaking face, Dick. 

“I should go home,” he said. 

Dick gave him a steady look.  

“If you at least come for dinner, I’ll talk to him about Bart and Cassie tonight.” 

Tim picked at the sleeve of his uniform sweater. 

If he was stronger, he’d do the right thing. But it was just too enticing a compromise. He just had to meet them. And Alfred’s food was the best. He was tired of take-out. 

“And you’ll really try to convince him?” 

“I promise.” 

“Not just about meeting them— about starting a team?” 

“You should meet them first,” Dick evaded the question. Tim grabbed the straps of his backpack as they walked toward the manor. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll hate them. Have you ever had a younger sibling before?” 

“I’ve always wanted one.” 

“Sure, you think that now. But they’re super annoying.” Dick ruffled his hair until Tim ducked out of the way. 

“You’re annoying,” Tim shot back, the happiest he’d been all day.  

~

Bart Allen hated school. 

A lot of things seemed slow to him. But Algebra 2? He knew all about time dilation and when he stepped into Mr. Kasun’s dark and dingy classroom, he swore the clock moved at half-speed. 

He already received a math and science education that was more advanced than anyone in Manchester Junior High could imagine, and he’d done it from the comfort of his home. What was the point of going to a building full of old-fashioned kids and harsh fluorescent lighting, just to learn things he either knew were wrong, or didn’t care about? 

“So you can make friends your own age,” said Grandma Iris when he’d asked. 

His age. Complicated stuff. He was from the future, so he hadn’t been born yet. He’d aged at super-speed until Wally figured out how to fix him. He was 13, but barely. Plus, he didn’t want to be friends with people who had all these old-timey ideas and when he tried to be funny at lunch they just looked at him like he was weird and said, “um okay.” 

He was sitting in Algebra 2, squirming in his seat and tapping his pencil against his desk. It felt like he’d been stuck in this uncomfortable chair for hours. 

“Could you stop that? It’s annoying,” whispered Carol, the girl who sat next to him. 

Bart stopped tapping his pencil, but the need to move was going to make explode. Maybe that was a Flash thing he hadn’t learned about yet. He should probably go talk to Wally about that immediately. 

Bart stood, making all eyes turn toward him. He headed for the door.  

Mr. Kasun, who looked like a barnyard ghost, looked up sharply from his lesson. 

“Mr. Allen, take your seat.” 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” 

“You need to ask first,” he glared. 

He vaguely remembered learning schools used to be run like this, but actually having to live though it was the worst. This wasn’t a place designed for education. He was basically a captive. 

“Um okay,” he said, mimicking the cool attitudes of the people at lunch. 

That was a mistake. Mr. Kasun seemed more upset. Some of the kids whispered among themselves. 

“I will not tolerate backtalk, Mr. Allen. Detention.” 

“Look, I really gotta pee, but—“

“Mr.—”

“We’ll figure out the detention thing later!” Bart promised, before leaving. 

“Mr. Allen!” was the last thing he heard before the door finally shut behind him. If Mr. Kasun came after him, he wasn’t going to stick around to see it. 

Bart ran to the bathroom. 

In Wally’s apartment. 

“Bart. We talked about this,” Wally asked, looking up from his textbook. He was sitting cross legged on his comfy leather couch in shorts and a Gotham Knights baseball t-shirt. 

“What? I’m so not ditching,” Bart said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “I’m just taking a break. Iris said I could.” 

“You know she meant at school,” Wally said, setting his textbook aside. 

Frustration clawed at Bart’s throat. 

“I didn’t know that. I never know what anyone means because no one does anything that makes sense. Did you know I have to ask to go to the bathroom? I thought the reason people have been asking was to see if anyone else wanted to go with them, for fun. And also, I have an important Flash question to ask you.” 

Wally finally started looking sympathetic. 

“What’s up?” 

“Is it possible that I could sit still for so long that I explode?” 

“I’ll look into it,” said Wally, until he saw the way Bart’s eyes went wide. “But no,” Wally clarified. “It’s not related to the Speed Force. And you definitely won’t explode. You’re going to be okay.” 

“What’s it related to?” 

“I don’t know, bud. It might be, um, well— let’s talk to Aunt Iris about it.” 

Bart slumped. Another thing he had to wait for. 

“I know it’s hard for you to pay attention and sit still— which is mostly what school is—” 

“Yeah, plus all the other kids can just tell that I’m different.” Bart crossed his arms and said mostly to himself, “I know they can.” 

“Don’t give up yet,” Wally said, optimistically. “Your future best friend might be in one of your classes, and you just haven’t talked to them yet. It’s only your third day.” 

“Yeah, I guess… How many more days until I’m done?” 

Wally’s smile looked a bit like a wince. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll come to dinner tonight and we can talk to Aunt Iris together. School’s important but we don’t want you to be miserab—oof.”

One second Bart was standing by the door, the next he was on the couch, knocking Wally back with a hug. 

“You’re my best friend, Wally.” 

Wally patted his back. 

“Right back at you, buddy.” 

Bart zoomed back to the doorway, then paused. 

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Bart said, waving so fast his hand blurred. Then he was gone. 

Wally tapped his fingers against his textbook. 

When Bart returned from the ‘bathroom’, Mr. Kasun was still angry. Maybe even angrier. He sent him to the principal’s office and Bart got his first ever detention. He’d never gotten into trouble at school back home. Sure, it’d been through a headset and all of his teachers and classmates were AI, but he’d never gotten in trouble.

He didn’t want to be a bad kid. 

He left the principal’s office, dejected. Bart did a double take when he rounded the corner and saw Wally standing in front of Mrs. Shin’s desk. Mrs. Shin was the school secretary. She had black hair twisted up into a clip and glasses that perched at the edge of her nose. She was nodding sympathetically at Wally, pausing only when she noticed Bart. 

“Mr. Allen, I’m sorry. Your cousin is here to pick you up. There’s been a death in the family.” 

“Really?” Bart said, grinning ear to ear. 

Mrs. Shin was taken back. She looked at Wally. 

Wally maintained a very somber expression. 

“Really,” Wally said, deathly serious. 

The secretary looked suspicious. 

“Everyone expresses grief differently,” Wally told her off. 

He put an arm around Bart, to stop him from the way he was excitedly bouncing, and led him out the door. 

At the ice cream shop, Wally ordered chocolate and a pint of chocolate to-go. Bart ordered banana and bubblegum. 

“We gotta work on your poker face,” Wally said, still amused from the look on Mrs. Shin’s face. 

“What’s poker?” Bart asked, happily. 

~ 

The tent was decorated for Cassie’s 14th birthday. All of the decorations were things found around the dig site— bandanas of every color tied together into makeshift streamers, a step stool as a place to hold snacks, a lantern to provide a warm, orange glow. There were purple pillows and fuzzy blankets spread out on the floor. Someone used duct tape to hang headlamps like they were fairy lights. 

Cassie spent most of the day with her mom, but after dinner a few hours away in Venice, her mom insisted she go hang out with all her friends. 

Her friends were great: Dove, June, Charlotte, and Morgan. 

They were the daughters of the other archeologist. If they weren’t the only other teenage girls within 40 miles, she wasn’t sure if they would’ve become friends. Still, they were great. 

“Never have I ever had a three-way,” said June. All the girls squealed. June eagerly looked around but no one put a finger down. June rolled her eyes. 

“Never have I ever asked someone out,” said Charlotte. Giggles, but no fingers. 

“Oh my god, Morgan, what about Instagram Zach?” Dove pointed out. 

“DMs don’t count,” Morgan argued. 

“They totally do,” Cassie said. “And I’m the birthday girl so I get to be right.” 

“Whatever,” Morgan laughed and put down a finger, leaving her down to one hand. 

Cassie still had all ten fingers. 

“Okay, birthday girl,” Dove poked her side and Cassie squealed and twisted out of the way. 

“Okay!” Cassie said, then thought. She was so bad at this game. She hadn’t even wanted to play in the first place. 

“Um… never have I ever gone to public school.” 

Three girls put a finger down. 

“That’s so boring,” June exclaimed. 

Cassie tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Actually, it’s called strategy. I got three people out.” 

“Why does that matter? You’re going to win. You’re so innocent.” 

“No I’m not,” Cassie said, then put her hands down. 

“You’re the most innocent one here,” June argued. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Cass,” Charlotte said, supportively. “I haven’t dated anyone either.” 

“She haven’t even had her first kiss yet,” said June. 

Cassie’s stomach twisted. 

“She’s younger than us,” Morgan defended her. She smiled like they were sharing a joke. “This is your year, girl.” 

“Yeah, I had my first kiss when I was fourteen,” said Charlotte. 

“I don’t even want to kiss anyone,” Cassie said, casual and chill, like none of this bothered her. She regretted it as soon as she said it. Maybe she should want to kiss someone by now. 

“Aw,” June, who was also fourteen, said. “I remember those days.” 

Cassie just didn’t get it. 

She didn’t get why everyone made such a huge deal out of having a crush on someone. 

She’d had crushes on boys before, but every time one of her friends said she liked him too, Cassie dropped the crush and let her go for him instead. It was easy for her. A crush was just something fun, someone to talk to the other girls about, someone to write about in her diary. She’d never told a boy she liked him before. 

Now she began to wonder if she was screwing up her life. 

She wasn’t putting herself out there. If she wanted to kiss a boy, she just needed to go for it. 

Once that dig ended, her mom returned to the Gateway City museum, which meant Cassie would be reenrolled in school. 

This time, Cassie was determined to try. 

She gathered all her nerve and asked Brayden Bowers by the lockers. 

“Do you want to go to the eighth grade dance with me?” 

He was taller than her, skinny but with broad shoulders like a swimmer. He sat in her group for English. They’d grown close during the few weeks she’d been back in class. 

“I’ll think about it.” he said, with a shrug. Then he walked away. 

She was shocked. 

She had friends to turn to, but like all of her friends, she passed in and out of their lives. She didn’t even feel close enough to cry in front of them, even though she felt like she really needed to cry. All through pre-calc, her eyes stung and her throat burned. 

Her friends must’ve cared about her though, because they confronted Brayden after school and demanded an answer and reminded him how lucky he was that Cassie asked him in the first place. She was embarrassed, but pleased. 

“Okay, I guess,” he said. 

Her spirit soared. 

They went with her friends, who were all going in a big group together. Being the only couple was a bit awkward, but her friends pulled her into all the girl group pictures and they had fun laughing and striking silly poses. 

She was pretty sure she was getting her first kiss tonight. At the dance, which was a smelly school gym transformed into dimly lit dance floor, she and Brayden met up with some guys Brayden knew from swim. All those guys had dates. They were girls Cassie didn’t know that well, but they seemed nice. 

Until they looked Brayden up and down and whispered among themselves. She recognized those looks and caught a few words of their gossip. She knew they were making fun of Brayden, not her, but it still made her feel bad. It wasn’t fair to Brayden, but she felt embarrassed to be seen with him. 

Still, she was happy she had him when the lights went low and the slow dance started. He put his hands on her shoulders and they swayed. 

They had plenty of chances to kiss. On the walk out of the gym, cutting through the pool area alone. Waiting for Cassie’s mom to pick them up in a shadowy corner of the parking lot. Even when they dropped him off, and Cassie walked him to the door. 

He just said goodnight and closed the door in her face. 

She got back in the car. 

“You look so beautiful tonight, honey.” 

She should’ve asked one of the other boys from swim. Or better yet, they should’ve asked her. Why didn’t anyone ask her? 

She reminded herself that none of her friends were asked either, and they were beautiful, funny, smart girls. 

But for some reason, when it came to herself, insecurity cut down any attempts at logical thinking. 

No one liked her, so she was doing something wrong. 

“Thanks, mom,” she said, clicking her seatbelt. 

“Did you feel beautiful?” Her mom asked tentatively. 

“Mom—”

“Because that’s the most important thing!” 

“I know,” she said, annoyed. 

“Alright, then. Good,” Her mom kept her hands at ten and two, blonde hair escaping from her bun. “And, you had a good time with Brenden? He seems sweet. Kinda quiet, maybe. I always pictured you with—” 

“First of all, it’s Brayden,” she snapped, tensely. “And yeah, he's awesome. But it’s not like we’re dating or anything. It was just a dance. Can you chill out?” 

They drove in silence for a beat. 

“I used to know how to talk to you,” said her mom, mostly to herself.

She knew she wasn’t trying to be annoying, but she couldn’t stop feeling annoyed. It seemed like everything her mom said grated against her, poking at bruises she hadn’t even noticed. She loved her mom. All she had was her mom. They were supposed to be a team. She felt like a jerk. 

“I don’t want to go to Egypt in October,” she said. 

The row of trees they drove by casted flickering shadows against her mom’s face. 

“Okay, sweetheart. That’s okay. We can figure something out together. You want to put down some roots. I completely understand.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” she said, soft but sincere. “And… I was thinking. Maybe I could meet those other kids Diana mentioned.” 

Her mom sighed. 

But it wasn’t a no. 

~ 

Robin fell into step at Batman’s side. They walked into the Hall of Justice, the base of operations for the Justice League as well as a tourist designation for anyone visiting Washington DC. 

The sky was an icy blue. His yellow cape fluttered behind him; his domino glued in place. He actually wore two. He was about to meet two teenagers— truth or dare was always a possibility. He liked to be prepared. 

“Remember Robin; you’re only introducing yourself,” Batman said in his gravest tone. 

He must’ve noticed Tim’s smile. 

“I remember,” Tim hummed. The smile remained. 

The white eyes of the cowl narrowed, but he didn’t say anything else. 

They walked through the back entrance, catching glimpses of tourists who quickly became paparazzi, raising their cameras when they noticed them. Batman and Robin went through a sliding metal door, deeper into the building. 

Here, everything became more of an office space. The walls were chrome. Their steps echoed on the marble floor, which reflected the white light of the hallway harshly. 

They eventually came to a similar door. Batman typed in a code that Tim tried to memorize, and the door whooshed opened. 

The room was large, with windows on the ceiling that opened up to the museum, with all it’s natural light. The floor was dark green. There were bookshelves with impressive leather bound volumes. At a heavy wooden coffee table, there were a few sleek black leather chairs where his new friends sat.  

His breath hitched when he saw Impulse and Wonder Girl. They both snapped their eyes to him as soon as they heard the door. 

Impulse sat up, bouncing one knee. Wonder Girl remained sitting casually, with her legs stretched out. 

Nightwing, the Flash, and Diana stood near by, around the mahogany desk with a desktop, a globe, and writing materials. It looked like a set piece from a play about a business man. 

“Look who’s late,” Nightwing said. 

“It’s exactly 3 pm,” Batman replied. 

Tim couldn’t stop staring at Bart and Cassie. It was one thing to collect a case file on them, an entirely different thing to exist in the same room. He was already learning so much more from their body language alone. He could hardly believe it was finally happening. 

“Yeah, the rest of us were just early because we didn’t have anything better to do,” joked Wally. 

Diana’s stoic face was like a Grecian statue, unmoved and unamused. 

Batman just stared, like he had more in common with the shadows of the bookshelves than the Flash. 

Tim hid a wince. It was a stupid joke, but it didn’t seem fair that he offended both people with that one.  

Dick squeezed Wally’s shoulder. 

“Now that we’re all here, let’s do some intros,” said Dick. 

“Great idea,” Wally said, relieved. He speed over to the kids, making Cassie’s eyes go wide. 

“Hi! I’m the Flash. This is my protege, Impulse.” 

Bart had red hair that flowed to his shoulders but poofed like he just stuck his finger in an outlet. He was shorter than Tim, which was rare. His costume had a tight fit. It was white spandex with a huge red stripe down the center and a pair of yellow googles that had lightning details on the side. You could definitely tell he was a speedster. 

“And his best friend,” said Impulse. 

“Right,” the Flash said, only sounding a little bit embarrassed. 

Batman shifted. Tim could tell it was a shift of disapproval. Diana smiled. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Impulse. You will achieve great things with young Wally as your mentor.” Diana said as sincere as always. 

“Thanks, Di,” Wally said. 

Tim couldn’t imagine he liked the young comment, though. 

“I only speak the truth. I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce Wonder Girl, a mighty young warrior who will now be pursuing hero work full time.” 

“Right, well, on the weekends. And after school,” said Cassie. 

Wonder Girl wore red pants with white stars down the sides. Her black tank top zipped up to her neck and had the golden Wonder Woman symbol across the chest. She had long blonde hair held back by a black headband. She reminded Tim of Alice in Wonderland, except with muscular arms and silver bracers. 

“Am I allowed to say where I go to school?” she whispered to Diana. 

“Of course. I see no need for such deceptions of identity when among friends,” said Diana. 

“Perfect segue,” Nightwing spoke up. “Everyone, meet Robin. He’s kind of a mighty young warrior himself.” 

“Secret Identities make everyone safer,” Batman said to Diana. She gave him a nod, acknowledging his paranoia but choosing not to fix him at the present moment. 

Wonder Girl studied Robin like he was under a microscope. He knew all about body language, so he forced himself to stand in an open posture, unafraid and unflinching from the heat of her curious gaze. 

Impulse ran over to him, stopping just inches from his face. He just barely managed to stop himself from flinching. Freaking speedsters. 

“Wow! Robin! So crash. I like your cape. Can I try it on? Do you think it would disintegrate if I ran with it? I won’t try. Unlessyouthinkitwouldn’t—” 

“Whoa-kay,” said the Flash, speeding over and putting an arm around Bart. “You’re speed speaking. You gotta slow down for slow ears.” He patted down Bart’s hair. 

“Sorry,” Bart said, lightly bouncing. 

“Don’t worry, after enough exposure, you learn how to decipher it,” Nightwing said to Cassie and Tim. 

“I don’t think it would disintegrate,” said Tim, but what he really wanted to ask was, How fast can you run? Faster than the Flash? 

“Cool,” said Bart. “I should get a cape. Wait— should we all get capes?” 

“We’re being summoned to a League meeting. Talk amongst yourselves,” Batman said, though of course in his voice it sounded like an order.

“Now?” Cassie jumped a little. “Here?” 

Tim glanced around this room. 

He realized then, later than he should’ve: 

This couldn’t be where the Justice League actually met. 

There weren’t even enough seats. They must be in a faux office space, especially with the windows into the museum. Way too exposed for Batman’s standards. In fact, if he was thinking of creating a base of operations the way Batman would… it likely wasn’t even in this building. Maybe not even in the city. Gotham? Tim would’ve noticed it by now. But what other city would Bruce pick? 

The bottom of the ocean? No, not with Aquaman’s kingdom so close.  

Outer-space? That seemed extreme. That seemed like Batman. 

“The meeting is in the inter-sanctum. We’ll return when we’re done,” said Batman. 

“Can we come with you?” Cassie said, eyes bright. 

“No,” said Batman. She flinched away. He forgot Batman could be intimidating to someone who wasn’t used to him. 

“You lack the clearance of a fully fledged Justice League Member,” Diana said, kinder but just as blunt. “Don’t worry. Today is your first step toward that membership. Stay here, befriend your fellow heroes.” 

“A meeting on a Thursday?” Nightwing titled his head. 

“It doesn’t concern you.” said Batman. 

That was the type of answer that pissed Dick off, even though by now he should’ve been used to it. 

“But, I mean, it’s just a short call with the Supes,” said the Flash. “And honestly, I don’t think he would mind if Nightwing—”

“Don’t discuss League business in a compromised setting,” Batman interrupted him. While Dick’s anger was fiery hot, Bruce’s was as cold as the dead. “If you’d like to remain behind with Nightwing, you’re more than welcome.” 

Wally looked at Dick, clearly conflicted, even through his cowl. 

Dick nodded his chin and Wally seemed to, reluctantly, understand. 

Wally, Diana, and Bruce left, getting DNA scanned and approved before disappearing through another sliding metal door. 

“So it ‘concerns me’ when they need help scrubbing starfish off the planet, but not for a Skype sesh with Superman,” Nightwing said, bitterly, still staring at the door. Cassie and Bart shared a look and Tim worried for a moment. What if during the few minutes they’d been here without him, they already became good friends? What if he was going to be a perpetual third wheel to their best friendship? His worries were quieted when Cassie and Bart both turned to him, waiting for him to do something. 

He had more hero experience than they did— and he definitely knew more about navigating Batman, Nightwing, and the bottomless pit of issues between them. He was like the world’s leading expert in that particular field. 

Nightwing turned toward the kids with a wry smile. 

“Probably shouldn’t talk shit in the HQ, right? That might hurt my application.” 

“This isn’t the real Justice League headquarters, is it?” Tim asked. 

Nightwing walked toward them. 

“Where else would it be?” 

“On the moon,” Tim guessed. 

“What? But then they’d need a rocket to get there,” said Cassie. 

“There’s a teleport. To get to the teleport, they use something called a Zeta tube,” Nightwing sat at one of the chairs, making himself comfortable. “And it’s an orbiting satellite they call the Watchtower.” He kicked his legs onto the coffee table and added, “I, for one, see no need for such deceptions among friends.” 

Tim’s mind whirled, devouring the new information like a dog with a steak dinner. 

The Watchtower. He should’ve guessed this years ago. He knew a little about Zeta tubes from what he read in the caves, but he still hadn’t seen one in person. 

“What!” Bart exclaimed. “Wally didn’t tell me you guys had Zeta tubes. Why do you use cars all the time?” 

“I’ve never heard of these things. Where did you use them?” Cassie asked. 

“Bart’s from the future,” said Tim. 

Cassie died. 

“No way.” 

“Yeah way,” said Bart. “So, sometimes I might forget what you guys know about compared to me. Like Zeta tubes. Sooo much better than cars.” 

“I can’t believe you’re a time traveler,” she said, awed.

“You’re a God,” Tim reminded her. 

She instantly looked weirded out. 

“How did you know that?” 

“Wasn’t hard to guess,” He said, even though he hadn’t guessed, he’d read both of their case files. Probably not a super casual thing to tell a virtual stranger. 

“Um, okay, anyway— I’m only half,” she said, dismissively. “Technically— half of a half. Do you know who I get married to?” 

“Bart isn’t supposed to talk about it. Don’t bother with questions like that, anyway. He’s from a future that our timeline is no longer headed toward,” said Nightwing. 

“Hopefully,” Bart made a screwed up face. 

Tim wondered exactly how terrible the world was where Bart grew up. Hopefully. Like he really hoped everything he ever knew, the version of everyone he ever loved, would no longer exist. It must’ve been pretty terrible, but Bart didn’t seem like someone who had experienced something terrible. He ran to Cassie and examined her headband. 

“Wanna trade?” He asked, pulling off his goggles. 

“Um, sure,” she pulled off her headband and they made the switch. They laughed at their new looks, especially the way the headband made Bart’s hair reach new heights. They seemed to really get along. 

Dick caught Tim’s eye. He subtly gestured to the other two like, go talk to them. 

Tim approached them. 

“So, I—” he started. 

“Robin! Can I try onyourmask?” Bart asked, skidding to a stop inches from his face once again. 

Tim pushed him without thinking.  

Bart, short, scrawny, and unprepared, hit the floor. 

“Oof—!” 

Cassie knelt beside him. 

“Are you okay?” She asked. He sat up. 

Tim froze, with his hands still out in front of him. 

“I’m crash,” Bart said, reassuringly, so Tim assumed it meant something good. He got to his feet, sheepishly. “Sorry, Robin. I promise, I wasn’t going to take your mask without asking.” 

“Yeah, he was just asking,” she said. 

Tim felt terrible. 

“Well, I keep my mask on for a reason,” he said, speaking matter-of-factly so he wouldn’t do something embarrassing like stutter out a panicked apology. 

“Yeah, got the message,” she muttered.  

The doors opened. Bruce, Diana, and Wally entered. Bruce and Diana were hard to read, but Wally shot Dick a quick smile. 

“The League is needed off world,” said Batman. “The three of you will stay here. Nightwing will order lunch. We should be back before dinner.” 

“We don’t need a babysitter,” said Robin. 

“Yeah, I have things to do. Besides, babysitters are paid.” 

“You’ll be escorted home, or you’ll stay here with Nightwing. End of discussion,” Batman said. “And I’d be happy to arrange a salary—”

“Forget it,” Nightwing cut him off and folded his arms, “This isn’t what we talked about.” 

“We talked about compromise. This is the compromise.” 

“This is you getting what you want.”

Batman didn’t respond. He tuned to Wally. 

“Flash— you have your orders.” 

“Yes, definitely,” Wally said. “For sure.” 

Batman stared at him for an extra beat, before following Wonder Woman through the doors. 

“So,” Wally said, one second by the door, the next at Dick’s side. “They’re dealing with a space emergency, and I’m supposed to follow up with you-know-what in Florida.” 

“Another sighting?” Nightwing asked. 

“Potentially. I could use another set of eyes. And you know I’d prefer yours.” 

“You should go,” Robin said, sneaking up behind Wally and making him jump. 

Nightwing tilted his head, hair flopping with the movement. 

“You guys are good here?” 

“Wing. You’re better than this.” 

“Do you know how much trouble I’d be in, if he gets back and you’re gone? Even if you’re trying on sunglasses at the museum gift shop— I’m beyond benched. And he might actually bubblewrap you.” 

“Where would we go?” Tim asked, lackadaisically. “All we want is a place to hang out without a bunch of old people around.” 

Nightwing stepped closer, looking between the three. 

“I know you want a team, but believe me— this is the first test. Don’t push him on this. Don’t go looking for a mission so you can prove something— like the immature kids he’s afraid you are. Your only mission is to show you can follow instructions.” 

“Yes, sir,” Cassie said, because that’s the kind of response a serious Nightwing inspired. 

“Sir…yes,” Bart glanced at Cassie, to see what she was doing, before turning back to Nightwing and straightening his posture like hers. 

“You sound like Batman,” Tim said, knowing that no matter however the others would take it, Dick would recognize the dig. 

He bent down so he could look Tim in the face. 

“Do I need to stay?” 

“No. I promise, we won’t leave this room,” Robin said sincerely. Then he rolled his eyes. “Now, are you really gonna make Wally work alone?” 

“If you need to—” Wally started. 

“Shut up,” said Nightwing, light-heartedly. He gave Robin one last serious look and the two left. 

Bart and Cassie stood on either side of him. 

“I can’t believe you talk to Nightwing like that,” she said. 

“We go way back,” said Tim, which was technically true.

“Sooo what do you guys want to do now?” Bart asked. 

Robin looked over his shoulder with a dangerous smile.

“Go looking for a mission.” 

They couldn’t figure out a way around the DNA locked door so Robin used the desktop to hack into the system. It was the same Bruce ran through the Bat Cave. Too easy. He sorted the case files by date and then scrolled. 

The others acted like they were on board, but Tim could sense hesitation. He told them about Nightwing and the Teen Titans, how they’d pulled something similar and gotten a team out of it. 

“Here’s something,” Tim said, doubling clicking on something called STARRO. 

Cassie and Bart watched the screen eagerly. Tim scrolled through information on mind-controlling aliens that looked very similar to starfish. This must be what Dick mentioned earlier. This was probably why he and Wally were headed to Florida, too. Tim went back to all the cases. He kinda wanted to read them all, but then they might not have enough time to get back before Bruce or Dick returned. 

“We should just pick something,” Bart said, tapping the desk. 

“What’s that one?” Cassie pointed to a file called CADMUS. 

Tim clicked it. 

It actually seemed pretty manageable. Not too far. Not too dangerous. A guaranteed success.  

Apparently, earlier this afternoon a private for-profit lab called Cadmus had a major fire, but the government passed the report on to the Justice League due to “potential involvement of extraterrestrial material.” 

Extraterrestrial material. The could mean anything from meteorite dust to Kryptonite. 

“So, what? We’d go and pick up some debris? Like— community service?” Cassie asked, incredulous. 

“The Justice League isn’t always glamorous,” said Tim. “They’re public servants. Sometimes you have to go and help with inventory, sign off on paperwork. Maybe put out some fires.” 

It seemed like a perfect first mission. Cassie and Bart certainly didn’t seem as field-ready as he was, but he was still excited to work with them, watch their dynamic and figure out how to be friends. And eventually, their team leader, helping both of them become the best heroes they could be. 

Tim uploaded the file to his phone. Cassie glanced at the address. 

“I can fly you. I’ve flown a ton of people. You can jump on my back, or I can hold you by the arm pits. Don’t worry, I’m super strong, too.” 

“No, wait— run with me! It’ll be so fun and wayfaster. MaybeIcouldevenrunbothof—”

Tim held up a hand to cut him off. 

“I’ll go with Cassie.” 

He’d flown in the Bat-helicopter and he’d grappled from building to building, so he was pretty confident he knew what to expect when it came to flying. A part of him wanted to go with Bart just to see what traveling via speedster was like. Dick did it often enough, but based on initial impressions, it didn’t seem like Bart had the same level of control over his powers that Wally did. Or any control. He didn’t want to be the test subject. 

Bart barely took the time to look disappointed. He bounced back almost immediately. 

Cassie smiled. She flicked her long, golden hair behind her shoulder. 

“Great. So, how should I… um…” 

Right. 

A piggy-back ride sounded like the safest option. But the idea of basically hugging her for an extended period of time was just too awkward. It wasn’t that he liked her or anything, but when it came to girls there was this automatic tension, like everyone assumed he had a crush. Cassie was cute, but there was no room for that kind of thinking between teammates. It was best to avoid awkward moments at all costs. 

“Let’s do armpits,” said Tim. 

She looked amused. 

“Let’s do armpits,” she agreed. 

“I’ll race you!” Bart said, eagerly. The next second, he was gone. In the blink of an eye he reappeared. 

“What’s the address?” 

He thought he was prepared to fly. 

He wasn’t. 

It was as beautiful as a movie. So different from a helicopter. His legs were dangling over the forests of Virginia. Cassie flew them between clouds. It looked like he could reach out and touch them, like ripping off a chunk of cotton candy. His heart was racing, in the best way. He was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Part of the thrill came from the fact he was trusting a girl he met twenty minutes ago with his life. Sure, he had his emergency parachute in his utility belt, but landing among the trees would be difficult. He wouldn’t die, but he’d be greatly inconvenienced and mildly injured. 

The air seemed fresher up here. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t help smiling, even though it wasn’t really professional. 

“I bet Bart’s already there,” she said. 

The thought did not hit him well. He should’ve insisted they stay together. 

“Can you fly a little faster?” He asked. 

She took that as a challenge. He grabbed her hands like the straps of his backpack, holding on for his dear life. 

The laboratory was still smoking. It was dark grey, angry smoke that smelled like burning plastic and ashes. The building was large, about four stories tall, though it was hard to be certain with the amount of ceiling collapse and smoke coverage. 

He and Cassie landed at Cadmus, just in time to see Bart scale the side of the building by running so fast he defied gravity. 

Tim was impressed, even more so as Bart saved the man who’d been shouting from the window. The building was still being evacuated. Tim hadn’t expected that, but he quickly made a plan. 

Bart lightly dropped the guy and ran up to them. 

“Did you see that?” He asked, excitedly. 

“That was awesome,” she said. 

“Impulse, run to every floor and make sure there’s no one left,” Tim instructed. “Wonder Girl, fly to the roof. If there’s debris you can remove, it will make the smoke clear faster.” 

“Okay!” Imp took off. 

“No, I’m gonna go with Impulse,” she said. “I should help find people, too.” 

“But—” Tim started. Cassie flew away, using the super speed Tim remembered from her file. 

He was left, standing alone, just as the police and emergency team approached. 

A bad feeling bloomed in his gut. Like maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a leader. Like no one would ever listen to him. Like maybe he shouldn’t even have sent them into the building at all, it wasn’t stable, they might get hurt. He’d been trained. They’d been blessed with superhuman powers that didn’t mean anything if a beam fell and crushed their heads. 

“Are you with the Justice League?” A police officer with the name tag Daniels asked. 

Tim dealt with the emergency team. Cadmus hadn’t even reported the fire, a jogger noticed the smoke while running through the woods. The conversation continued, but Bart and Cassie still weren’t back. 

He really wished they were wearing comms. 

He didn’t even have their cell numbers saved. 

“We’re in touch with Cadmus,” Tim lied. “Everything’s under control. I can take it from here.” 

He walked calmly into the building, and once he was sure he was out of sight, he started running. 

“Impulse?” He whisper-shouted, stepping over rubble and checking every corner. “Wonder Girl?” 

The building was like a melted fun house. It was still hot inside. He had no idea how a laboratory could be so flammable. Most of the rooms were melted tar pool of plastic and black charred pieces of furniture. The fire must’ve been burning for a long time. As much as he wanted to find his—  not quite team. Not quite friends. As much as he wanted to find Bart and Cassie, he couldn’t stop thinking that this simple clean up mission seemed more and more complicated. Why didn’t anyone from Cadmus report it? If Bart had just saved a scientist, where the hell had that scientist been during the fire? The building was ash. 

Maybe there was a basement.  

Someone grabbed his arm and he almost jumped out of his skin. 

It was Bart. 

“Robin,” he said. “We found something.” 

Tim’s thinking had been on the right track. There was a basement. 

Bart and Cassie showed him the elevator they’d discovered, completely untouched by the flames. Inside, it was white, the same smooth material from wall to floor to ceiling. There were 30 buttons, but no matter how many times Bart pushed them, nothing happened. They needed a key card. Tim pulled out his mini screwdriver and took a look at the control panel. 

“Do you think we should call Diana?” Cassie asked. 

“No,” Tim said firmly. “We’ll call them when we have something to report. We’re still in reconnaissance.” 

“But if we find something worth reporting, won’t we be in trouble for not tellingthemsooner?” Bart glanced around the elevator while still pushing a button. 

“Yeah, I have a bad feeling about this place,” she said. “Maybe we should—”

Tim pulled a wire to get a better look, but accidentally pulled too hard. The elevator plummeted. 

Cassie and Bart screamed. Tim hit the emergency stop button and they came to a sudden halt on floor thirteen. Cassie and Bart were breathing hard. Even Tim seemed a little shaken. 

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. 

In front of them was a long empty corridor, sterile and metal, with a row of lights that left gaps of shadows between them. 

Tim walked forward to investigate. 

Cassie and Bart shared a look in the elevator. 

“It might drop again,” Tim said, without turning around. 

They scrambled into the hallway. Bart grabbed Cassie’s hand and she gave his a reassuring squeeze. The three walked down the hall, the only sound their footsteps and a low buzz from the lights. 

Tim was getting excited. Cassie was right, this place had a bad vibe. That meant there might be something really worth reporting. He might uncover a major case— unethical animal testing? Illegal recreation of alien technology for profit? Both reasons they might not report the fire from their fake above ground lab. And 30 secret basement floors? They were making a lot of money. Maybe the crime was simply tax fraud and improper zoning permits. Still, there might be a real opportunity to help people, and Tim could prove once and for all that he could handle himself. 

Further down the hall, a door slid open. 

Tim froze, Cassie and Bart right behind him. 

A man briskly walked into the hallway. He definitely looked alien. Tim only knew two aliens, Clark and Kori, but this one looked straight out of a classic alien horror movie. He had a large oval head, no hair, with four black bug-like eyes that blinked as one. He wore a crisp navy blue uniform, like he was a solider or a guard. 

Tim tapped Bart’s arm and tried to point subtly to the door. 

If Bart could run through before it closed, Tim and Cassie could attempt to hide and then he could open it for them later. 

Bart didn’t get the message. He grabbed Tim and Cassie by the arm and sprinted back into the elevator. 

Tim’s head spun. Cassie slid to the floor, also dizzy from getting pulled at a speed of a million mph. 

Bart mashed the 30th button. 

The alien noticed them. 

Stop! Who goes there? 

Tim heard echoed in his mind. He was sure Bart and Cassie did too, judging by their shock. The alien hurried toward them. The doors finally closed, and the elevator went down. 

“What the heck was that thing?” Cassie said, sitting with her back against the wall. 

“You guys heard that, too, right?” Bart said. 

“A telepath,” Tim said. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the CADMUS information he’d downloaded. He hadn’t expected to see an alien walking around, especially one in uniform. The lab was secretly run by aliens? He was confident that the Justice League didn’t know that— but he wasn’t sure if they’d even recognize the species. 

There was also the STARRO mission he’d glanced through. A recent invasion of mind-controlling aliens. The telepathic alien guard might be related. Though if he was capable of mind-control, the three of them wouldn’t have escaped so easily. 

Still, a telepathic enemy was bad. The whole place must know there were three invaders. 

Cassie crawled toward the buttons and reached up to hit the top floor. 

“We can’t leave now,” said Robin. 

“Are you crazy?” She said. “We need to tell the Justice League about that thing and I don’t have service down here.” 

“When the door opens, they’re going to be waiting for us. We’ll have to fight our way out.” 

They passed the 18th floor. The descent counted down to the moment they’d confront their fate. 

Cassie stood up. 

“How am I supposed to use my lasso in such a confined space? And what’s he going to do— run circles around them? No offense, Bart.” 

“Hey,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t underestimate the power of running circles.” 

20th floor. 

“I have a plan.” Tim said and explained it as quickly as he could. 

The elevator doors opened with a gentle ding. 

A dozen alien guards stood, posed to attack with swords drawn. 

Cassie and Bart executed the plan exactly the way Tim pictured it. 

Bart went first, zooming past the hoard and disarming those he could. Cassie was next, a natural tank, knocking them down like pins and avoiding stray blasts from the guns Bart couldn’t reach. Tim walked out of the elevator, using tranq darts on the remaining adversaries. The door calmly closed behind him. 

He felt such a rush. Cassie and Bart smiled at him from further down the hall. They did it. Tim did it. They made an amazing team, just like Tim knew they would. 

He basked in that good feeling until the second round of guards came. 

The trio ran for their lives, trapped on the lowest floor of the evil laboratory. They ran from the hail of blaster fire and security, Tim leading them through the hallways. He was trying to lead them to another elevator, but they ended up at a dead end. It was a huge vault. 

Tim cracked the locks and the three ran inside, slamming the reenforced door behind them. 

Tim caught his breath, one hand on the steel. This was high quality stuff; strong enough to survive something nuclear. 

Bart and Cassie walked forward. When Tim turned, he realize why they were so quiet. They were in awe. 

The lights of the lab were dim. The hum of equipment filled the air. In the center of the room was a giant cylinder filled with liquid. It might’ve been the lights inside the glass or it might’ve been the liquid itself that was artificially teal like an ocean so beautiful it couldn’t have been real. 

The true star of the lab was the guy floating inside the water. 

He was naked except for a pair of black compression pants. He was curled up and with his closed eyes. It was as if he was sleeping. He had a beautiful face and black hair that floated up in the water, sort of floppy. A tube connected his stomach to the bottom of the tank. He was muscular, but he couldn’t have been older than sixteen. Inside the water were three fluffy creatures the size of footballs. Aliens. This guy might’ve been an alien, too— even though he looked fully human. So did Clark. Tim’s thoughts kept spinning.  

He forced his eyes away from the science experiment, to gauge Cassie and Bart’s reactions. 

Cassie was wide-eyed, shocked and scared. Bart had a different sort of light in his eyes. Recognition. And the beginning of a smile.  

A loud bang on the other side of the door made all three of them jump. 

They needed an escape plan. 

“Shit,” said Cassie. “I can’t believe I listened to you. I’m such an idiot. Now we’re going to die down here and no one even knows where we are! Do any of these computers send emails?” She started investigating the screens around the lab. 

“Do you know him?” Tim asked Bart. 

The question surprised him, but he just tensed up. 

“I’m not supposed to say anything about the future.” 

“So you know him in the future?” 

Bart looked upset by Tim’s conclusion. 

Cassie messed around, hitting keys on a key board, growing more and more frantic. 

“Can I get a little help saving our lives? Robin, can’t you send a bat signal or something?”

The three aliens, that were so weird and furby-like that Tim decided to refer to them as such, glowed, then stopped just as quickly. 

Tim examined them closer. The guy didn’t react, but the glow must’ve meant something. 

“Robin!” 

He glanced at her before going to a computer of his own. 

“We still have time before they get back. There’s no need to contact them.”

  “Oh my god. You’re crazy.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” 

“Do you know how bad it will be if we get captured in a freaky lab? We’ll be experimented on. You don’t get it because you’re just a human—” 

Robin was so focused on his screen that Cassie changed direction mid-rant. 

“Did you figure out how to send a message?” 

She and Bart crowded behind him. 

“His name is Superboy,” Tim said, scrolling through the most recently updated files on the guy in the water.

“That’s it!” Cassie said. She cupped her hands together and screamed, “Superman! Help!” 

“Something tells me that the alien scientists knew how to soundproof the place,” Tim said clicking into different folders, trying to find information on the Furbies. Maybe they were the same species, and the guy was just the next evolution like in Pokemon. 

“Well I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas.” 

The pounding at the door was replaced by drilling. 

Bart grimaced. Cassie, stressed, pulled out her lasso. 

Tim left his screen and approached the tank. 

The teal light hit his face.

“He’s my idea.” 

Cassie smiled, with a hysterical twist. 

“You want to release him? So we can what, die quicker?” 

“Bart knows him,” Tim said, examining the controls that were on the tank. A green button. A red button. Seemed simple enough. 

“Maybe I don’t!” Bart insisted. 

“Yeah, or maybe in the future everyone knows Superboy, destroyer of worlds,” said Cassie. 

“We want to leave, and I bet he does, too. Did you see the security on the door? The subterranean secret lab is to keep people out; the indestructible door is to keep him in.” 

BANG. 

The banging on the door return, but this time the impact sounded more severe. 

“What do you think, Bart?” Cassie asked. 

BANG. 

“I— I think we should call Wall—” Bart started. 

Tim slammed a hand on the green button. 

The tank opened. The gooey slime-like liquid poured out, flooding down the platform. 

It didn’t affect the Furies or Superboy, who remained floating in the exact position. Even his hair. His eyes remained closed. Freaky. 

The other two slowly approached the tank, as Tim stepped onto the platform to get face to face with Superboy. The Furbies glowed, catching his attention. Tim knew the glowing had to mean something. 

Superboy opened his eyes. 

They were blue. 

He and Robin stared at each other. 

“Hi,” said Robin. 

Superboy unfurled until he stood at full height, still floating off the ground. He studied Robin carefully. His eyes were human, but the way they scanned him was mechanical. He couldn’t be a robot though. Tim could practically feel his body heat. He looked like a Kryptonian. He strained to remember the Kryptonian words that Clark had dropped here and there. Didn’t Dick teach him how to say hello once? 

“We’re here to save you,” Robin said.

The look in his eyes changed, into something much more human than before. So he could understand him. Tim felt a shiver down his spine and a swing in his stomach. This was going to work. 

The Furbies glowed, and the light in Superboy’s eyes died like someone blew out a candle. 

It all happened so fast after that. 

“Those things are—” Tim managed to say, before he was rudely cut off by a punch to the face that sent him flying. 

He hit the wall and thumped to the floor. 

That punch was definitely not human. An unseen force had flown him to the wall. With the telepathic alien around, it wasn’t hard to figure out. The guy must be telekinetic. 

His nose was bleeding, probably broken, and he couldn’t even sit up his head was ringing so bad. Through the feeling of cotton in his ears, he could barely make out the sounds of a fight. When he managed to pull himself up, he was just in time to see Cassie successfully lasso him. She channeled the power of lighting. Superboy gritted his teeth through the pain, slipped to his knees, but remained conscious. 

The Furbies. 

“Those things are mind controlling him,” Tim shouted, pointing them out. 

Bart ran up and snatched them out of the air. Though Superboy was still trapped, he flew and used the momentum to fling Cassie into the wall. 

Bart skidded to a stop in the center of the lab, holding the Furbies like an armful of stuffed animals. 

“Wait, should I kill them?” Bart panicked. The Furbies glowed again, and Bart’s eyes rolled back. He dropped, unconscious. 

“Wonder Girl!” Tim said, just as Superboy escaped the rope. She dusted herself off, flicked her lasso up, and then aimed for the Furbies instead. She got two of them, and electrocuted them until their creepy eyes closed, but the third Furby escaped, floating into the air. 

Tim ran into the fight, but he and Cassie weren’t quite in sync. He threw a batarang that ended up hitting her. She shouted at him to duck, but he lunged instead, doing what he thought was best. 

Tim got his hands on the final furby. His tranquilizer dart had it’s desired effect, but even when the mind control aliens were finally gone, Superboy continued the fight. 

“Superboy, stop! We don’t want to hurt you,” said Robin. 

Superboy hurt him anyway, another brutal punch that left him swimming. The locks on the door clicked open. A new swarm of furbies flew into the room. They glowed just before everything went black. 

~ 

Bart opened his eyes. 

Things were bad. 

He was trapped with his arms up, handcuffed over his head, inside weird metal holding cell. He tried to wiggle his hands free, but it was impossible. Grandpa used to be able to vibrate so fast, he could phase through solids, but when Bart attempted to do the same he just banged up his wrists against the restraints. 

He strained his neck. He could see Robin and Wonder Girl on either side of him. 

“Hey,” Bart whispered and then shouted, “Hey! You guys, wake up!” 

His voice echoed. They didn’t wake up. 

They weren’t in the room they were captured in, but it was probably the same lab because it was just as metallic and cold as before. 

The door slid open and Bart panicked, until he realized it was just Superboy. 

“Oh, crash! You gotta get us out of here before anyone creepy comes in.” 

Superboy glared, sharp like ice. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Impulse, dude, keep up.” 

His glare didn’t waver. 

“Are you a hero? I’ve never heard of you.” 

“Yeahyeahyeah— I’m a hero. Can we do introductions after you break us out of here?” 

He picked up a retro looking remote with a touch screen. With the press of a button a jolt of electricity snapped at Bart through the handcuffs, like the bite of a cat. 

“Ow! What was that for?” 

Superboy looked at him like he was an idiot. 

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re criminals.” 

“I am not! What’s my crime?” 

“Breaking and entering.” 

Bart rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did that stuff to stop crime. It’s called moral relativism. These Cadmus jerks are the criminals for keeping you locked up in here, experimenting on you, like you don’t deserve to live a real life.” 

“They gave me life.” 

“Yeah, okay, great— but they gave it to you. Now it’s yours. Don’t you want to live it?” 

Superboy looked down, giving the idea the consideration it deserved. 

At some point in their conversation, Robin and Wonder Girl woke up. Wonder Girl blinked into consciousness, while Robin kept his eyes closed and breathing steady. He slipped a pick out of his gloves. 

Robin dropped out of his constraints and Superboy’s head snapped up. 

“Hey—” Superboy snapped. 

Robin attacked. 

“Wait!” Bart said, but Robin didn’t listen. They locked into combat, fighting their way around the room. Robin dodged blows and used sharp weapons that didn’t even leave a scratch on the guy. 

“What about us?” Cassie shouted, pushing against her handcuffs. 

Robin spared them a glance. He threw a batarang that hit it’s mark, in the center of Cassie’s cuffs, before blowing up and setting her free. 

“Jesus!” she said, running over to help Bart. “That could’ve blown off my hand.” 

“But it didn’t,” said Robin, wrapping his line around Superboy’s neck and pulling. Superboy choked and hit the ground. 

Once Bart was free, he sped over, pulling Superboy to safety. 

Superboy caught his breath, taking a knee. Bart kept a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Bart asked, wide eyed and concerned. Superboy looked into his eyes and seemed to decide something. 

“He didn’t attack us because he was mind controlled.” Robin said, “He’s working for them.” 

Superboy flew up to full height and folded his arms. 

“Don’t talk about me like you know,” he said. “You don’t know anything. I actually recently quit.” 

Robin didn’t buy it. 

“Really?” 

“Really,” said Superboy, mocking his tone. 

The door slid open once again. This time, a human scientist and a small fleet of telepathic alien guards entered the room. 

“Experiment 13?!” Said the human scientist, reeling, “You should be in your chambers.” 

Superboy glanced at his three new friends. 

“Okay, I’m about to quit.” 

He turned to his creator. 

“Thanks for everything, but I’m outta here.” 

“Seize him!” The scientist cried. “Kill the others! We got what we needed.” 

Impulse, Superboy, Robin, and Wonder Girl fought for their lives. They battled aliens, avoided blasts, scraped and crawled their way to the elevators. The telepaths stayed below ground, but the human scientist took some crazy drugs and transformed into a mindless monster, twelve feet tall. Above ground, the fight continued. Robin shouted out orders to Bart and Cassie— somehow he’d deduced which pillars to break to send the whole building crashing down on top of the ripped scientist. Robin escaped, but Bart had to run faster than he’d ever run before to pull Superboy and Cassie out in time. In the end, they were left standing among smoldering rubble. 

It was terrifying. 

It was also the most fun Bart had ever had. 

The four stood, back to back, catching their breath. Bart grinned. 

“We did it!” Superboy said. 

Wonder Girl laughed. “Yeah. I guess we did.” 

“I knew we could,” said Robin. But he was smiling, too. 

“We make a great team,” Bart said. 

Though Bart didn’t know it, he was right. 

They were the founding members of a team called Young Justice. One day, they’d be as famous as the Teen Titans, going on adventures and stopping villains in their tracks. Throughout the years, they’d face new, terrifying opponents. They’d gain and lose teammates, they’d be heralded as heroes and face public backlash. But no matter what, the four of them would share a unique bond of friendship, which would be tested but never broken. Together, there was no challenge too difficult to face. 

But today, it didn’t feel that way. 

The Justice League arrived. 

And they weren’t happy.

Chapter Text

Bart unlocked a new fear. 

Batman.  

He wouldn’t have been as afraid if the four of them could’ve been disciplined together, but Batman wanted to lecture each of them individually. He didn’t know a lot about Batman, but he’d heard Wally refer to Robin as the one who “keeps him in check.” 

They were in an interrogation room, where the Justice League normally dealt with criminals on Earth. It was pitch black except a white light as bright as a star. There was no furniture in the room except a cold metal table that had a pair of handcuffs attached. For a moment, he was genuinely afraid Batman was going to cuff him. The room alone freaked him out. It only got worse when Batman began his angry lecture. He didn’t scream or anything, but the relentless tirade was worse than yelling. He got chills down his spine as he outlined how disappointed he was by his actions. He blinked too fast and started actually tearing up. 

“Can Robin come in now?” Bart blurted out, when he couldn’t take it anymore. “I mean, if you want. Wally says he keeps you in check.” 

A part of him just wanted a friend. A part of him wanted a witness. And a part of him was truly trying to be helpful. He didn’t want Batman to get so caught up in how angry he was that he did something he’d later regret. Bart knew a lot about poor impulse control. 

The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees colder. Batman’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted down a few degrees, but it was so terrifying that Bart’s shoulders jerked up in fight. 

“I’m sorry!” Bart blurted. “That’s just what he says. I don’t know anything, I swear. But I’ll tell you everything!” 

Bart had broken. 

Batman sighed. 

~ 

Cassie tried to keep her cool. Diana insisted on being in the room, as her “representation”, which would’ve been comforting if she looked less angry. She also insisted they turn all the lights on, which was good because the bright interrogation light was blinding. 

“It wasn’t merely reckless; it was deadly. You are no where near ready to go out on a mission alone, much less a mission that has been assigned for the entire Justice League. You could’ve gotten one of your teammates killed; a death your arrogant actions might’ve caused.” 

Cassie’s breaths became a bit shallow. She was one more angry Batman line away from a panic attack. 

Diana put a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. 

“While I agree it was a dangerous mistake, I understand why the children acted the way they did. They wanted to prove themselves— a feeling I’m sure we’re all familiar with.” 

Batman stared. Diana seemed unperturbed.  

“I would also add that Cassie did not act alone.” 

But I should’ve stopped it sooner, Cassie thought to herself, grimly. 

“The others will be dealt with. However, she should have alerted you or I to the situation.” 

“Excellent point,” Diana conceded. She turned to Cassie. “I would have hoped after our period of mentorship, you would know that I am always willing to give you opportunities to prove yourself. I’m very disappointed that you didn’t call me once you realized how dangerous the situation was.” 

“I wanted to, I swear. Robin said we shouldn’t. He said this is how Nightwing did it,” Cassie said. She felt bad for throwing him under the bus, but she hated the angry, let down look on Di’s face. 

Batman clenched his jaw.

~ 

Superman refused to meet him. That was the only thing Superboy wanted in the entire world, so yeah, it was a bit of a bummer. They were basically the same person. They shared genetic code, at least. Not that anyone in the Justice League knew that yet. Superboy wasn’t about to tell them. 

He wasn’t sure what Superman thought when the Justice League descended on the ruins of the lab, but as soon as they all got back to the hero headquarters, he flew off to wherever he went when he wasn’t being super. Probably the Fortress of Solitutude. He knew a lot about the man of steel. It was necessary to prepare him for the mission he’d been made for. Even then, he used to daydream about breaking out of the lab and meeting Superman in person.  

But instead of the enthusiastic meeting he’d been dreaming of, he was taken to another freaking lab, this time owned by the Justice League. Who cared whose name was on the lease? It was still the smell of chemicals and test tubes of fluids and electrodes taped to his chest. 

Batman asked him a million questions that all had the same answer. 

Who created you? 

Why did they create you? 

When did they create you? 

How did they create you? 

Eventually, Superboy floated off the table. His wired electrodes were pulled off his chest and fell back to the examination table.

“For the millionth time, dude, I don’t know. Why don’t we just assume that I don’t know anything, okay?” 

Maybe it was the shadows of the room, but it almost looked like Batman’s eye twitched. 

Superboy put his hands behind his head, the picture of mid-flight chill. 

“I don’t think you get what this should be— a sales pitch. Why should I stick around another boring lab? I just ditched one.” 

“You’re not being asked to stay.” 

Superboy lowered a few inches but tried not to let the dismissal sting. 

“Psph,” he said, like he didn’t care. “Good. Great. Sorry your questions sucked— I’m going to the beach.” 

“You’re not being asked to stay,” Batman repeated, but this time, he pulled out the kryptonite. 

~

Robin’s jaw dropped. 

He sat through the lecture of a lifetime, but this was the first time one of Batman’s lectures had a twist ending. The news made it so worth it. He could hardly believe his own ears. 

“What?” He said. He ran through possible explanations, but the only one that made sense was that this was a dream, and he was stilled knocked unconscious 300 feet below. 

Batman repeated himself, and it started to sink in: 

“Effective immediately, you’ll lead a team I’ve tentatively titled Young Justice. Nightwing and Wonder Woman will be your direct supervisors.” 

His slack jaw twitched into a smile. 

He wanted to hug him. He wanted to say thank you Bruce! But of course, the latter was inappropriate while in uniform and the former was just plain inappropriate. 

Tim stood tall and beamed. 

“Thank you, Batman. I know I let you down— and I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise. You won’t regret this.” 

“Hm.” 

“Can I tell Bart, Cassie, and Superboy myself? I’d like to personally invite them as a —” 

“— Superboy is not on the team.” 

Tim was surprised, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him he should’ve asked about Superboy a lot sooner. His first misstep as a leader, a minute into the gig. Of course Batman wasn’t going to trust Superboy. Ten years in, and he still barely trusted Superman. He had kryptonite too, he’d seen it in the cave. 

“Can I talk to him?” Tim asked. 

Bruce took him to the lab and it was worse than he thought. 

Superboy was behind a panel of glass, in a newly added holding cell. He was pacing the ground instead of flying, so there must be some sort of power dampener. He was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, but from the fury burning in his eyes they might as well have been an orange jumpsuit. 

Bart and Cassie were there, too, talking to him through the glass. The Flash stood awkwardly nearby, perhaps the only reason Cassie didn’t punch through the glass herself. 

When Batman and Robin entered the room, everyone turned toward them. 

Bart zoomed over and grabbed a fistful of Robin’s cape, pleadingly. 

“Robin, finally! You can fix this. Superboy shouldn’t be locked up. He—”

Batman stepped up and Bart dropped Robin’s cape, shrinking away. Cassie watched tersely and Superboy leaned against his cage.

“I told you— he and Batman are in on it. This whole thing was probably his idea because I messed with his face.” 

“You fractured his nose,” Batman said, at near lethal levels of scary. Even Wally got chills but Superboy, perhaps feeling protected by the glass, just scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, whatever. If I knew they were right about the Justice League, I would’ve done more than fracture.” 

“What did they say about the Justice League?” Batman asked. 

“That you’re a bunch of—” Superboy threw himself forward and hit the glass as hard as he could, “cowards!” 

Cassie and Bart flinched from the impact. 

“Who is they?” Batman asked. 

“I. Don’t. Know.” 

“There’s no reason he should be locked up. Why can’t we all just talk about this, without cages?” Cassie pleaded. 

“Yeah,” said Bart, finding his bravery through her. “Please, Mr. Batman? I promise, Superboy is a good person.” 

“Either way, you don’t have a right to lock him up. He’s a person. I don’t see a trial. I don’t see lawyers.” said Cassie. “Right, Robin? Come on. Tell him.” 

Robin met Superboy’s glare through the glass. The light in his eyes burned like magma, the beginnings of a fiery hot hatred. 

Robin turned around and left without saying anything at all. He didn’t get a chance to see how disappointed Cassie and Bart were. 

Superboy scoffed with a mean smile. 

“I told you,” he said, to Cassie and to the world. 

“You both have a lot to learn,” Batman said to Bart and Cassie. To Wally he said, “Escort them home and return to your post.” 

Batman followed Robin to an empty interrogation room. 

Tim had his back to him, until he heard the door click shut. 

He turned around. 

“I know you don’t trust him, but you’re letting emotion cloud your judgement. You’re just angry he hurt me— which wasn’t even his fault. I told you about the mind control. And later, I attacked him first. This isn’t fair and you know it.” 

“He’s Superman’s clone.” 

Tim was surprised, but not that surprised. He’d been theorizing somewhere along the lines of a long lost nephew from Krypton. He didn’t let the news distract him from his righteous anger. 

“No matter what he is, he didn’t do anything wrong. You can test and interrogate and even secretly stalk, but you can’t lock him up like he belongs in a beaker. This is exactly what I wanted to save him from. I’m supposed to stop you from going too far. This is too far, Bruce!” 

Batman inhaled, looming over him. 

Tim subtly flinched— not because he was afraid of Batman, but because he realized his mistake and it was like a stab in the stomach. He called him Bruce, here, masked. It was perhaps the biggest mistake he’d ever made. 

Batman froze. It must’ve been because of the flinch, small but definitely noticed. Tim couldn’t be sure of what he was thinking, which he hated. He wished he could see the look in his eyes. 

Without another word, Batman walked away. 

That night, Superboy was released. 

Tim couldn’t be sure what changed Bruce mind, if it was their confrontation or an argument from Wonder Woman and Nightwing, who were firm believers in not locking up teenagers. One thing was for certain: it wasn’t the first time he challenged Bruce, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

He couldn’t help but worry about the day he’d push his luck an inch too far, and say something that made Bruce kick him out forever. 

Dick should feel honored. 

The Justice League was asking him for assistance. 

It would mean a lot more if he hadn’t spent the last year as their unpaid intern. 

Not that he cared about the money, because he didn’t— though at least monetary appreciation would be some form of appreciation. A sincere thank you from Clark was always nice but he smiled just as sincerely when Dick complimented his tie so it wasn’t exactly hard to come by. A high five from Green Arrow tired out even quicker. 

Bruce probably popped the nicest champagne he had when the Teen Titans retired. That must’ve been on his last several vision boards. The team had slowly lost touch. Wally was promoted. Donna, Roy, Raven and Garfield left to do their own thing, Kori was off-planet more often than not, and Aquadlad was back in the ocean. After the death in the family, a part of Dick was relieved he didn’t have a team that expected him back and the quick to laugh leader he used to be. 

But now he was stuck doing grunt work for Bruce, and after years of experience leading a team it sort of felt like he ran a marathon just to end up at a new starting line.  

At least this JL assignment was going to be a real challenge. 

Talk Superboy into joining Young Justice. 

He was already going to be under close watch. That was non-negotiable and Bruce knew how to be discrete; the kid wouldn’t notice, until it was too late. The second he slipped up and Bruce had a reason to lock him up, he’d be back in the cell. But for now, he was a free agent. He could do what he wanted, and the Justice League wanted him as close as possible. 

Well, not everyone in the Justice League. 

He couldn’t blame Clark for being uncomfortable. Maybe things would be better after they figured out who got their hands on his DNA in the first place. 

“Hey, SB. Can we talk for a second?” 

A wrinkle of confusion appeared in his brow. Dick had to take a moment— this kid wore his heart on his sleeve. It was refreshingly sweet, especially in the circles he traveled in. 

“S.B,” Dick explained. “Like… Superboy.” 

The kid lit up. Just like that, he made a friend for life. Apparently a nickname was the best gift he’d ever been given, though Dick supposed he should’ve anticipated a reaction like this. It was probably the only gift he’d ever been given. 

SB tried to play it cool, but his face was too expressive for it to be even a little believable. He had the kind of earnest that tugged on the heartstrings. He’d been planning to talk to him here, but instead he took him to lunch at his favorite burger place in Gotham, Bat Burger. And if Bruce had a problem with it he could make some other employee do his emotional labor. 

He had to cancel pre-existing lunch plans with Tim, but he sent a quick text and Tim sent back a thumbs up.  

Bat Burger smelled like the fry grease that stained the bottom of every brown paper take out bag. The employees were forced to wear dark purple aprons and black paper hats. Some of them were in high school, some of them were high. The lights inside were artificially bright and reflected off the shiny chrome look of the place that was somehow all at once futuristic and nostalgic. 

Superboy tried not to look excited, but his eyes bounced around the fast food place, taking everything in like it was his first day on Earth. And it kind of was. 

Nightwing and Superboy got their food and sat outside, under the light of the neon sign. It was a moon with the sloppy cursive logo. It glowed brighter than the actual moon as they watched the sun slowly set behind the cars of the parking lot. 

If they’d been friends before, they were best friends now. 

“At Cadmus they implanted knowledge of everything straight into my head with the G-Gnomes— those are  little furry, psychic aliens— but even though I know everything, it feels so different to actually experience it.” 

He ate a fry and almost died from happiness. 

Dick was going to report everything back to Bruce, and it was going to feel so good to rub in the fact that he got more out of the kid in an hour with fries than Bruce had with kryptonite. 

“Try dipping it in your shake,” Dick said, showing him how it was done. SB tried it too, and his eyes lit up. 

“Wow!” He said. 

“I know.” 

SB dipped the corner of his burger into the vanilla ice cream next, but when he tried a bite of that he sputtered and coughed. 

Dick could be just as paranoid as the worst of them (Bruce), but this kid was not a spy or a threat or whatever the old bat was so worried about. 

“Yeah, not as good.” 

“Whatever. I’m glad I tried it.” 

Dick pulled his fries through his shake. 

“You’re right. It’s good to try new things, no matter what pre-conceived notions you already have. It might end up being totally different from what you thought, but for better or worse, at least you know.” 

“Like sex,” Superboy nodded thoughtfully. 

Dick kept his poker face and choked back a laugh. 

“What pre-conceived notions do you have about that?” 

“Well, I know it’s supposed to be for human reproductive purposes, but I bet it’s fun too. I mean, people do it for fun. Have you had it?” 

This was officially more than he signed up for.  

“Yeah,” said Dick, leaving it at that. “But… you probably shouldn’t think about that now. It’s not something you should rush into. You’ll have time for things like that after you get adjusted to life on Earth.” 

He was basically two days old, but he knew how well that argument would go over with someone who thought he was a teenager. 

“Yeah,” Superboy agreed easily. “I think I’ll move to Hawaii and get adjusted there.” 

“Not a bad idea. The Justice League can help you find a place to live. We could help in other ways, too. I’m sure you have amazing powers that you haven’t had a chance to explore outside the lab.” 

He tensed. 

“You want to study me.” 

“No,” Dick said. “But there’s things about being a hero, practical real-world things, that I could teach you. I don’t know a single hero who hasn’t received training. I trained for years.” 

“Who trained you?” 

This was were he might lose him. 

“Batman.” 

Superboy screwed up his face, disgusted. “That guy? He sucks.” 

“I won’t argue with you there. He was wrong to lock you up the way he did. I told him to let you go.” 

“Oh. It was you,” Superboy said, slowly. 

“Yeah. Batman taught me a lot, and I’m grateful, but you don’t have to become exactly like your teacher. Some things, you figure out for yourself. I’d love to help you become the hero I know you can be.” 

Superboy thought for a moment, then held out his hand. 

“Deal,” he said. 

They shook on it. 

~

That night, Superboy moved to Hawaii. 

Nightwing helped with the paperwork stuff. He looked like he wanted to stay, but then he got a text. Superboy flew closer and caught a glimpse— Robin— but Nightwing put his phone away too quickly for him to see anything else. No matter what the text said, it was enough for him to say goodbye and get back into the bat plane. SB walked around his new apartment. It was so much better than the lab, though it was weird to be alone. In the lab, he’d never been alone. 

He caught a few shoplifters, he prevented a helicopter crash, and he delivered a mugger with a switchblade to the local police. His journey to hero was an instant success and he began to wonder how much of Nightwing’s help he really needed. He was kind of crushing it. 

Then he met Tana Moon and decided that not only was he an awesome hero, he was perfectly adjusted to life on Earth. 

~

Bart’s neighborhood was lined with huge trees, with trunks you could hug and massive branches that attempted to reach each other across the asphalt. As August faded into fall, the leaves burned orange and red. 

He thought he was gonna be busy officially starting Young Justice, but trouble in Gotham delayed them and then delayed them again. September brought a chill to the air. He was starting to see his breath puffed out in front of him. He’d never experienced that before, so that kept him entertained for a few seconds. 

He wasn’t supposed to run out here, especially not in his civilian clothes, so he entertained himself by finding dry leaves to crunch under his bright red converse. 

Bart loved Wally but when your best friend was a 24 year old grad student and full time Flash, there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out. 

“I’m sorry Bart, I have to work on this paper.” 

“But you worked on it yesterday.” 

“I know,” Wally said, with a tired smile. “When something really matters, it usually takes more than a day.” 

Bart collapsed onto the couch, shoving his face as hard as he could into a pillow. 

He couldn’t wait around the living room for Wally to be fun again. Being bored and listening to a keyboard— he might as well be spending his Saturday at school. 

Wally and Iris had talked with him about the sitting-still-feels-like-I’ll-explode symptom, and they talked about ADHD and what that might mean, how he might manage it. They wanted him to see someone. It was just hard because he couldn’t see regular doctors. They wouldn’t understand his brain or biology. Bart didn’t even understand it. No one did. 

He flipped onto his back and threw a pillow into the air, caught it, and repeated. 

The fifth throw, Wally looked up from his screen. 

“Why don’t you message Robin? Maybe he’d want to hang out. I know he’s a cool kid.” 

“I thought everyone in Gotham was busy with Red Riding Hood.” 

“I think Robin’s benched until his injuries clear up,” Wally said. “And it’s the Red Hood. Little Red Riding Hood is a fairytale.” 

“What’s he injured from?” Bart asked dashing to the kitchen and returning with four baggies of goldfish crackers. 

Wally accepted a snack pack. 

“From when you guys found Superboy. Remember, he’s human, so he heals like one.” 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Robin after all, especially not if he was still injured. He’d probably be mad at him, because he shouldn’t have let them know that he knew who Superboy was. Honestly, Bart was a little upset too, by the way Robin hadn’t cared when Superboy was locked up unjustly. But Wally’s suggestion gave him another exciting idea. 

“I’mgonnagoseeSuperboyseeyalatergoodluckonyourhomework!” 

And he was gone. 

Islands didn’t take long to search at all. 

He found Superboy’s house and simply walked through the unlocked and ajar front door. 

Bart was messy but Superboy’s house made him look like the cleanest minimalist in the world. Take out trash was crumpled all over the floor and flattened pink boxes that said Leonard’s Bakery. There were different electronics: a working TV and another that was smashed into tiny pieces, three standing fans that someone had left on, and a fancy laptop. There was a brief case and discarded high heel shoes. Books and magazines were haphazardly strewn around the room. 

He found a cardboard box filled with black t-shirts. He picked one up and it had the red superman logo printed on it. 

The kitchen was almost empty, except for a fridge full of sodas and vodka in the freezer. 

There was a yellow legal pad on the kitchen counter. 

Bart flipped through it, but it was all written in cursive which he could barely read. He could make out the title of the first page: The Superboy Strategy. 

Superboy flew into the kitchen, ready for a fight, but stopped short when he recognized Bart. 

Bart grinned. 

“Hi!” 

Superboy smiled back and landed lightly on his feet. 

“Hey. Impulse, right?” 

“Yeah! You can call me Bart, though. Do you want to hang out?” 

Before he could answer, Bart ran away and then reappeared with one of the flattened pink boxes. 

“What’s Leonards? You go there a lot. This is the messiest house I’ve ever seen. If Grandma Iris was here she’d make you do chores. She makes me do chores.” 

“No one can make me doing anything,” Superboy said, dangerously. 

Bart thought that was the coolest thing he’d ever heard someone say in real life. To be fair, all he’d heard the past week was Wally mumbling to himself about nucleic acids. 

They went to Leonard’s, which was a bakery that made Malasadas. Malasadas were a sugary, fried, icing filled puffy piece of heaven. Bart had eight. 

Afterwards he challenged Superboy to a race, and they learned that Superboy wasn’t able to run fast enough to walk on water the way Bart could. Bart laughed. Superboy laughed and used his TTK to splash Bart and then flew up to drag him into the ocean, too. 

Though some might be more excited to be in Hawaii than the suburbs, Bart wasn’t that kind of guy. He appreciated the nature in his neighbor the exact same way he appreciated the saturated purple and orange of a Hawaiian sunset. Even framed by palm trees, the sky seemed to stretch into infinity. The waves crashed against the sand of their private stretch of the beach while they dried off. He could practically feel the tickle as each water drop on his legs evaporated. 

“Yeah, so I’m only on season seven, but it’s definitely my favorite TV show,” said Superboy, casually. 

Bart’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. 

“How could you watch seven seasons of something? I’m used to TV that’s like 30 seconds long.” 

Bart looked stressed when he realized another mistake. 

“Don’t tell anyone I said that.” 

“Dude,” Superboy waved him off. “Why are you even worried about telling people about the future?”

“Dude,” Bart repeated, “I don’t know. Wally told me not to do it.” 

“If he’d seen season six of Wendy the Werewolf Stalker, maybe he’d know more about the time space continuum.” 

“Wally knows a lot. And he said I shouldn’t talk about it, so I won’t.” 

Superboy looked him up and down and laughed once, like a scoff. 

“You do everything Wally tells you to?” 

Bart made a pile in the sand and happily said, “Yeah, of course. If you met Wally, you’d get it. He’s the best.” 

“Yeah, I met him. He guarded my prison cell.” 

Bart turned a shade sheepish, using a finger to draw a moat around his sand pile. 

“He was just listening to Batman. He has to.” 

“Whatever.” Superboy furrowed his brow. “What’s the deal with this Young Justice stuff anyway? I thought Nightwing was supposed to train us. Not that I need it, but still. He said he would.” 

“Oh, no one told you? There’s a big problem in Gotham. There’s this new gang leader called Red Hood, and I guess Robin is still injured from when you guys fought—”

“Are you kidding me? The dude is so milking it. I barely used, like, ten percent of my strength.” 

“Crash,” said Bart, impressed. 

“Yeah,” he puffed up. “So, he’s probably just faking it for attention. So lame.” 

“Yeah,” Bart copied his scoff, “Lame.” He perked up and grinned like a shark. “Okay, let’s race again but this time, I’ll use ten percent of my speed. READYSET—”

“Wait—!” 

“GO!” 

Bart sprinted away and Superboy flew after him, yelling about how they didn’t pick a finish line. 

~ 

The Harvest Dance was coming up at Cassie’s school. 

Cassie was a realist. She knew that no guy at school was going to ask her to Harvest, and while she had four girl friends who were all going together in a big fun platonic group, she wanted to bring a boy. And she wanted to post a picture on her instagram and caption it Harvest with a pumpkin emoji and a sparkle emoji. 

The dance was at the end of the October and while the deadline loomed in the distance, this weekend she had different things to worry about. 

They were finally having their first meeting as Young Justice. 

It had taken longer than she thought, but after getting chewed out by Batman and disappointing Diana, she needed a break to decompress. After six weeks of public school, homework, and staring at boys in her classes to pick someone to have a crush on, she was ready for the stress of hero work to provide a nice little distraction. 

The Young Justice base of operations were located in Mount Justice, the old Justice League headquarters. Mount Justice was located off the coast of Rhode Island. To the rest of the world it was an iconic natural landmark, often featured on postcards and magnets. To those in the know, there was a secret entrance which lead to the hollowed out inside with bedrooms, showers, training rooms, a kitchen, a media room, and anything else a bright eyed young hero might need. 

It had a more rustic interior design than the Watch Tower. Many of the walls were wooden, like the inside of a cabin. The dining room off the kitchen had long wooden tables, like a camp mess hall. The training rooms had a more modern vibe, with a black dojo mats and a floor to ceiling mirror. 

Bart ran around the whole place thirty times before Robin asked him to stop. 

The three of them were in the largest training room, standing around while Nightwing walked on his hands. 

“Crash!” Bart said and tried to copy him, but fell to a crumpled heap on the floor. Nightwing flipped to his feet and helped him up. 

“Whoa. Okay, new rule. No one should attempt any new move without instructions.” 

“Can I have the instructions?” Bart bounced back, putting his hands on the floor, eager to kick his feet up. “Do you think I couldrunasfastonmyhandsif—?!”

“Maybe we should just get started,” Robin said. He seemed to notice his own harsh tone and say, a little kinder, “I don’t think he’s coming.” 

“He’s coming,” Bart insisted. “When we talked about it he was super excited.” 

“You two hung out?” Robin questioned, with an even tone of voice that revealed nothing. 

“Wow, thanks for the invite,” Cassie said. Bart tried to mimic Nightwing’s move again. Though the sarcasm went over his head, his feet did not. He landed with an —oof once again, though this time less painfully. 

“Bart, we’ll cover handstands later,” said Nightwing. “If you injure yourself you’ll have to wait even longer.” 

Bart made a face and jumped to his feet. 

Cassie was still annoyed and turned to Robin with her arms crossed. 

“Geez, Robin, you and I should hang out some time.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea without uh, everyone—”

She smirked, “I was joking.” 

“Oh—  right.” 

She hadn’t been joking. She just wanted to save face after his firm and frankly unfairly harsh rejection. She thought joining Young Justice meant she could get superhero friends in a side of her life that had always left her a little lonely. Friends who knew the full capacity of her coolness. But now it seemed like two of them were best bros and the other wanted nothing to do with her. 

It was so unfair. Diana had a women warrior tribe behind her, and Cassie got stuck with three boys? She needed to talk to Di about recruitment practices. 

“I think we should start,” Robin said to Nightwing. 

“Wait,” Bart insisted. “I’ll go get him!” 

“No,” Robin said, to empty air. Impulse was long gone. 

The three were left in a terse silence.  

“You’re just going to let him run off?” Robin asked Nightwing, quiet and calm but Cassie was pretty sure annoyed. 

“Hey, someone should get SB. It’s hard to have a team meeting without a team,” said Nightwing. 

Cassie laughed a little, relieved to have the tension broken, but Robin seemed to grow more tense. Nightwing caught her eye and they shared a smile. She felt a flood of reassurance that this whole team thing was going to work out.

Bart returned, alone. 

“He’s coming!” Bart said, bouncing in place. “He insistedonflyinghimself.” 

“What?” Cassie said. 

“He’s flying,” Bart exclaimed then zoomed over to Cassie, “But he’s soooo slow.”

“Don’t you think everyone is sooo slow?”

“No, everyone’s soooooooooo slow.” He extended the word out even longer, flopping his arms out like he was annoyed. 

She smiled and huffed out her nose like a laugh. She liked Bart. He was pretty immature but in a sweet way. He was a little brother (cute), not a little brother (evil). 

Robin checked his utility belt. His back was to them, but she could see his face in the mirror. He looked perfectly serious, with his lips pressed into a straight line. He had black hair with long-ish bangs that fell in front of his mask as he looked down. He was shorter than her, but taller than Bart. 

Robin reminded her of the kid in class who shushed others. She didn’t dislike him, but he was so unnecessarily serious that it felt like it would be preferable to him (and her) if he wasn’t invited to the party. 

Nightwing asked about their favorite books, then Disney movies, and then the conversation turned into Cassie and Nightwing giving Bart a full reenactment of Brother Bear. 

“And then one of the moose says, ‘I spy something… green’,” Cassie said with her hands on her head like antlers. 

“Tree,” Nightwing finished the quote, with antlers of his own. “I spy something tall.” 

“Tree,” she quoted back. 

Finally— their fourth teammate arrived. 

He made quite the entrance. 

Superboy looked totally different than the last time she’d seen him. 

He had sunglasses. His skin looked healthier, with a golden tan, and perfectly smooth. He practically glowed, especially as he floated into the room. He basked in their attention as if it was sunlight. His hair was curly now and she felt this swoop in her stomach when she imagined running her hands through it. In the weeks following his escape from Cadmus, he’d found a shirt. It was tight and black with a red “S” logo on the front. It made him perfectly look the part of the cool, rebel teenaged Superman. 

She realized she was still had her antlers up, and quickly lowered her hands. 

He was hot. There was no other way to put it. Bright eyes, a square jaw, and wide shoulders. When he finally touched down, she almost gasped. He was taller than her. He was perfect.  

“I’m here,” said Superboy, lowering his shades, “Are we doing this or what?” 

“Glad you could make it, SB,” said Nightwing, folding his arms. 

“You took forever,” Bart said. He had a huge grin, like he was too excited to commit to the complaint. 

“Ten minutes is not forever.” 

“Thirty six,” said Robin. 

“What?” 

“You took thirty six minutes,” Robin quietly remarked. 

Superboy’s whole demeanor prickled. 

“Sorry. I stopped to save, like, ten people.” 

“From what?” 

“From— stuff.”

Robin stared. Superboy returned the shades to his face. 

“It’s top secret superhero stuff, okay? It’s too confidential for sidekicks to know about.” 

Robin seemed completely unbothered, with a slight, dry smile. Nightwing, on the other hand, turned defensive. 

“We’re not heroes and sidekicks around here. Young Justice is a team, and that’s what you guys will be. Teammates. Equals. Friends. So I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.” 

“Or what?” Superboy lazily smirked. “You’ll kick me off the team that you begged me to join?” 

Cassie knew he was sort of being a jerk. He was like the kid in class who heckled people during their presentation, just to be funny at the expense of others. But something was coming over her. She felt flush. She wanted him to look at her, while also being terrified of the very possibility. 

“I’m not sure we want a teammate who’s perpetually 36 minutes late,” said Robin. 

“Robin,” Nightwing started, as a reprimand. 

“Who made you the boss?” Superboy asked, childishly. 

“Batman,” Robin answered, with a raised eyebrow. 

Superboy put his hands on his hips. 

“I should be the boss. How fast can you fly from Hawaii? Oh that’s right— you can’t.” 

“Superman can do it in seconds.”

Hi anger was as plain as day, despite his sunglasses. It was in the angle of his eyebrows and the pressed fury of his mouth. 

“I’m just as fast as him! Faster, even. I’m the new and improved model.” 

Robin scoffed, an incredulous dismal. Superboy glared and gave his costume a once over. 

“Shouldn’t you be hanging above an intersection, directing traffic?”

“That’s enough,” Nightwing ordered. He could be scary when he wanted to, and SB actually shut his mouth. 

“Shouldn’t you be returning your Superman merch?” Robin said under his breath. 

“It’s my merch,” said Superboy. “And I’ve got super hearing.” 

“It’s not merch if you made it yourself.” 

“Robin, enough with the cute comments. If you two can’t behave, I’m calling Batman and this whole team thing is over before it can start.” 

“I’m done,” Robin promised with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. 

“For your information, I didn’t make this shirt. I submitted the design online and a factory made a bunch of them,” Superboy said. 

Robin grinned. The smile looked out of place and transformed his face into one that was younger, softer. Far more amused than she’d ever seen him before. 

“That’s how merch works. I order it, then other people buy it. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of doing it first. And you’re probably jealous your costume’s not red and black— it’s ketchup, mustard, and barf.” 

Robin was on the verge of a laugh. Superboy looked pissed about it; but not as pissed as Nightwing.  

“Shut up. Robin’s costume is strategic. It’s designed to be the perfect distraction. The bright colors catch the eye of the aggressor, but he’s moving too fast for them to touch him. The green is not barf, it’s jade which actually symbolizes protection. And the red…” 

Nightwing went off for another five minutes. Superboy reluctantly listened. Bart was long gone, exploring the supply closet. Robin listened with a strange amusement. The whole time Cassie could only think to herself, I had no idea Nightwing was this passionate about costume design. 

Nightwing had plenty in store for them. It was only their first day, but training began immediately. 

He walked them through stretches, push-ups, high knees, planks, and more. 

“It’s important to warm up,” Nightwing said from several feet above them. He was kicking back in the observation deck. 

All four were planking. After about ten seconds, Bart’s arms began to shake with exhaustion. He collapsed to the floor, his face breaking his fall. He rolled over to his back and looked up at Nightwing. 

“This is just a warm up?!” 

Cassie had enhanced strength and even she agreed with Bart. She was tired. This was way more than she’d ever done in P.E. They’d only been at this for forty minutes but it felt like hours. Diana had trained her, but that was with her weapon not her body. 

Robin hit the floor and Cassie couldn’t say she was surprised. She was pretty sure he was just a regular human. If she was tired and feeling the burn, she could only imagine how destroyed he must be. She glanced at him, but Robin had already pulled himself up and was glaring at Superboy. 

“You shoved me.”

“Yeah right. I’ve been holding my plank, actually.” 

“You used your tactile telekinesis.” 

Superboy showed off by putting one hand behind his back. He gave him a once over. 

“How do you know I can do that?” 

“I read your file. I’ve seen you do it before. And you talk about it on instagram.” 

“You follow my instagram?” 

Robin kicked, faster than her whip. He aimed for SB’s wrist and whether or not it actually hurt him, he inhaled sharply and pulled his hand away. Despite the fact that no hands were on the floor, he remained in a perfect plank form. He glanced up at the observation deck, caught in his superpower-ed cheating. 

“Uh…” 

“Impressive core strength,” Nightwing remarked, with one eyebrow raised. 

SB looked annoyed. He flew up and hovered next to Nightwing. 

“I thought you were going to teach me how to be on the Justice League.” 

“The Justice League,” Robin repeated, with a tone like if he wasn’t so annoyed he would’ve laughed.  

“I have better things to do than warm ups. Like actually saving people.” 

Nightwing put his hands on his hips. 

“If you can’t last an hour in Young Justice, I’m not sure the League is gonna work out.” 

“I can last just fine,” he said, incredulously. “I’m just bored because all this warm up stuff is too easy.” 

“Warm ups might be boring, but they’re necessary.” 

Nightwing paused for a moment, shook his shoulders like he got a chill, then continued, “They’ll improve your form. And you shouldn’t rely on your powers, because you might not always be able to. Alright, let’s finish this set and then we can move on to some basics of self defense.” 

SB flew a bit higher so his condescending look would really land. 

“Self defense is for people who don’t know how to win fights.” 

“You sound pretty confident,” Nightwing said. He sounded friendly, but there was something hard behind his words. Cassie looked between them like it was a game of tennis. 

“Uh, yeah, dude.” 

“Okay, dude. Do you want to fight me?” 

SB chuckled, good-naturedly and glanced at the criss-crossed sticks on his back. “As fun as that sounds, I wouldn’t want to snap your sticks.” 

“Don’t worry about my sticks. We should spar. I promise, it won’t be boring.” 

Superboy thought it over and Cassie looked at Robin. 

He had the slightest smirk, which convinced her this wouldn’t be boring at all. 

Superboy agreed and they got ready to spar. 

Cassie, Bart, and Robin stood around Superboy, who floated just a few inches off the rubber floor. 

“You should pretend to go for his left and then bam bam bam!” Bart suggested, acting out punches in the air. 

“I don’t need any tips,” Superboy said, amused by Bart’s performance. 

“Wow,” Bart bounced, “You’re really brave. Nightwing is scary good.” 

“He’s not good enough to get on the Justice League— and I could beat all those guys easily, too.” 

Robin shook his head with a wry smile. 

“How do you even get off the ground with such a big ego?” 

He furrowed his brow like he wasn’t totally sure how to take that comment. He settled on, “I’m just that strong.” 

Even Cassie rolled her eyes at that one. 

“It’s not too late to call this off,” she said, even though now she was curious how it would all play out. 

“You should tell him that,” Superboy said. 

Nightwing was on the other side of the room, closest to the mirror wall. He stretched, going through some of the warm ups they’d done that day. He dove down to touch his toes, with a buttery ease she found impressive. He moved almost like a dancer. His butt was up in the air, on perfect display in his spandex suit. She stared maybe a second too long. 

It was time to spar. 

Nightwing set the ground rules— the fight lasted until someone had to tap out. All powers, all weapons, were fair game. No one else could interfere, but they could scream and hoot and holler to their heart’s content. 

“Do you want to make the first move?” Nightwing offered as they circled each other. 

“I was just trying to give you a fair chance,” said Superboy, floating along, “But if you insist.” 

He flew at Nightwing fast— but Nightwing was faster. 

He twisted to the floor, sliding his escrima sticks into his hands in the blink of an eye. He jabbed one straight up, and Superboy was totally caught off guard. He took a sparking, electric jolt to the stomach and basically keeled over. Nightwing was on him in the blink of an eye. He sat on his back, forced his arms behind his legs and got them locked behind his knees. He locked an arm around his neck too, holding the lit up end of an escrima stick at the base of his throat. 

Superboy choked up and after a few frantic beats, had no choice but to tap the floor in defeat. 

She glanced at Robin, curious if she’d finally hear him laugh, but it was Bart who broke the silence. 

“Holy grife!” Bart exclaimed. “That took like 5 freezing seconds! You gotta teach me how to do that! Is this what warm ups are for?!” 

Superboy flew up. Nightwing jumped off his back and landed lightly on his feet. Superboy, feet finally on the floor, glared at Nightwing. 

“You cheated,” he accused. 

Nightwing seemed to soften, but Bart talked before he could. 

“What? How?” 

“There was probably kryptonite in those stupid sticks or something. I already know Batman has it— he probably got it from him.” He whirled around to face Robin, rose a few inches, and said, “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything. But you probably couldn’t fly if there was kryptonite around. Right?”

Superboy dropped to the floor again. He looked at each of them, too frustrated to speak, and then stormed out of the room. 

“He’s probably never lost before,” Cassie said, feeling a little bad. 

“I beat him in the labs,” Robin said, matter-of-factly. 

“No you didn’t.” 

“Yes I did. Bart interrupted, but I still—”

“Robin, finish warm ups,” Nightwing ordered. He nodded once. 

“I’m ready,” Bart said, happily. “Warm me up!” 

Cassie watched Nightwing follow after Superboy, door sliding closed behind him. 

Superboy was a little annoying, and super full of himself, but she still hoped he didn’t quit the team. Robin robotically explained their next stretch, some twisted up yoga pose, and Bart failed so hard he ended up falling onto his back, left hand grabbing the wrong foot, twisted like a pretzel. 

She liked Robin and Bart well enough, but three people didn’t feel like a team. Plus, in a group of three there were always going to be two people who were closer, and a forever third wheel. Robin walked over to Bart and gingerly pointed to the arm he needed to readjust. If it was just two boys and her, she knew how it was going to go. Bart’s arm flopped out of it’s hold, nearly smacking Robin across the legs. 

She glanced toward the door and felt the burn in her calves. 

~ 

Superboy thought he’d experienced everything in Hawaii. 

He’d certainly experienced a lot. 

But this awful, too warm, too big feeling was new. 

He was embarrassed. 

He stood outside the main doors, and looked up at the blue sky. He could be back on the beach, with babes in bikinis, in less than an hour. Superman can do it in seconds. He scowled. 

He’d been waiting for this moment for so long though. At one point, he’d been excited about working with Nightwing, about getting a chance to learn without an extraterrestrial telepath implanting the information straight into his mind. 

The door opened behind him. 

“Hey,” Nightwing said, kindly. “Thanks for the spar.” 

He glared at him. “Do most spars last 5 freaking seconds?” 

“Most of mine do, yeah,” Nightwing said with an easy grin. He got a little most serious when SB didn’t even crack a smile. “Listen. I’ve been in the hero game for a long time. Like, waaay before you were born.” 

Superboy scoffingly laughed at that. Nightwing seemed to take it as a good sign. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You lost. It happens. I’ve definitely lost my fair share of fights. The only thing that matters is what you do after you lose. Do you fly away, too bitter to ever try again? Or do you stick around, do the work— even the boring stuff— until you get so good, I’m the one tapping out?” 

Superboy thought about it. He glanced over. 

“Can’t we skip the boring stuff?” 

“The boring stuff is important to know before you get to the kickass cool stuff. I swear. But hey— the choice is yours. So, SB. What do you want to do?” 

Superboy could look at the sky for hours. He knew that sunlight was supposedly important to Kryptonian health, but it wasn’t just that. He’d spent more than half his life trapped underground. The endless blue above him was more comforting than a blanket, more calming than a cup of tea. The choice was his. He took a deep breath. 

He went inside. 

Nightwing used the rest of their training session well. By the end, Bart was so exhausted he walked to the kitchen at a reasonable pace to find a post-practice snack. Cassie had a FaceTime session planned with her mom, so she left pretty quickly. Both forgot to return their supplies to the supply closet. 

Nightwing grabbed their balance boards. He stopped underneath Superboy, who was midair on his balance board like a zero gravity skater. 

“Maybe I could use this in the field,” Superboy said, pretending to do a sick kick flip. 

“Skaterboy,” Nightwing said. 

Superboy lost it. 

“Dude! Yes. That’s my new name. You have to call me that.” His eyes lit up with pure joy, “And you can still call me SB.” 

“Avril Lavigne might sue,” said Robin. 

Superboy glared. “Literally no one asked for your opinion.” 

Robin remained as unreadable as ever, but Nightwing looked taken aback by his harsh words. 

“Whoa. Okay, I know you guys got off on the wrong foot, but there’s no need for a bad attitude.” 

“Nightwing, it’s fine,” Robin said, like a stiff warning. 

Superboy rolled his eyes, but the truth was Nightwing’s reprimand hurt. He’d been dimly aware that Nightwing and Robin were close, they both worked in Gotham after all, but before this he’d thought that Nightwing was someone who would take his side. He’d always been curious about the world, but now that he was actually in it, it kept falling short of his expectations. There were billions of people on Earth, but so far there was only one girl who really cared about him at all. 

“Maybe you guys need to—” Nightwing started to say. He was rudely cut off by the gust of wind that accompanied Wally, skidding to a stop in front of them.

“Where’s Bart?” Wally said, walking forward. Nightwing fell into step right by his side. 

“Cleaning out the fridge.” 

Wally smiled. “I can’t believe I missed it. How did he do?” 

“He was great. And you?” 

Wally shook his head. Nightwing made a big show of rolling his eyes. 

“So, an A minus?” 

“More like A huge failure. I’m serious. Potentially, my first F.” 

Superboy floated to the floor as he watched them. He hadn’t seen them interact much before, but it was like they picked up in the middle of a conversation in a language that no one else could understand. Sometimes he’d witness a concept he only ever learned about in the lab in real life, and it gave him the same spark of satisfaction as putting a name to a face. They were best friends. They had to be. It must be really cool to have someone like that, who just understood you like you were easy to understand. 

He glanced at Robin, who was messing around with his phone. He was probably texting Batman. Superboy sucks, let’s lock him up again. 

“We can put it on the fridge next to my D in art.” 

That made Wally laugh. 

Nightwing kept walking, but turned around and pointed at Robin. 

“Hey,” he said, almost like a question. 

Somehow, Robin seemed to understand. He waved him off and said, “Yeah, don’t worry about it.” 

Nightwing turned to him next. 

“Skaterboy—” 

Wally looked confused but Nightwing kept going, unbothered. 

“Dinner, Tuesday?” 

“Cool,” he said, in a way that he desperately hoped came across as chill.

The doors slid open and closed, and then there were two. 

Robin cleared his throat. Superboy kicked up his balance board then slung it on his shoulder. This ought to be good. 

“Look, we met in a really high-pressure situation. I think we both made a bad first impression. We’re going to be working together frequently. Why don’t we start over? Hi. I’m Robin.” 

He held out a hand. 

SB glanced from his hand to his hopeful expression. Even he, with his limited time in the world, knew this was cheesy in a very dorky way. 

“Hi,” he said, wary. He shook his hand even though dorky really wasn’t his style. 

Robin continue on, seemingly sincere. 

“We’re happy to have you on the team.” 

We. Nightwing, Robin, Cassie, Bart— and everyone else who was apart of ‘we’. Frankly, everyone else who was apart of the world, who had belonged in the world from the moment they were born. Robin’s use of ‘we’ was just a needling reminder that no matter how good SB got at sparing and fighting and Superman stuff, he would never belong the way the rest of them did. He was a late addition to the team, only invited because he was a perfect clone of one of their star players. Superman can do it in seconds. Maybe not so perfect. 

“Cool,” he said, like he was bored.

Superboy dropped his hand. He wiped Robin’s sweat off on his jeans. Maybe it was rude, but maybe he didn’t really care. 

Robin’s mouth twisted, like the beginnings of a smirk. It was a twist that said this is exactly what I expected and it pissed him off. 

“If you’d rather apply for the Justice League, don’t let us stop you,” Robin said, back to his typical quiet, sarcastic shit. 

“Don’t act like that’s stupid. I’m a clone of their strongest member. Who’s going to turn down a Kryptonian?” 

Robin was quiet for a beat, but his smirk grew. 

“So apply,” he said, then walked away. 

He didn’t want him to have the last word so he shouted, “You apply.” 

The zinger didn’t really land. Robin didn’t even spare him another glance. 

God, he hated that guy. 

~ 

He and Nightwing started getting Bat Burger like twice a week. Not in Gotham, like the first time, but in Bludhaven which was like the ugliest city in the world. 

“Why would anyone live here when they could live in Hawaii?” He asked, stuffing a fallen piece of lettuce back into his burger. 

“Not everyone gets their rent paid for them.” 

“No, I know,” he said. He had technically known that, but maybe there was a difference between knowing something and having it really sink in. If there was a place for it to sink in, it was Bludhaven. The apartment buildings he’d seen were falling apart, in total disrepair. He’d seen rows of tents on the streets, entire homeless neighborhoods. He thought about all the free sponsorship deals he’d already struck with several restaurants in Hawaii, restaurant names he plugged in different interviews and posted about on instagram. 

“Maybe I should come by your place next time,” Nightwing said. 

“Yeah,” he said, even though he got a prickle on the back of his neck. Tana didn’t want anyone to know they were living together. Apparently, people would question her journalistic integrity— whatever that was— if they knew she was sleeping with and strategizing for her biggest story. She said if people found out about their relationship, she would lose her job. But maybe she would trust Nightwing. He certainly did. Maybe he should just tell him now. He hadn’t really had a chance to brag about her to anyone before. 

Nightwing’s phone buzzed. 

He pulled it out and read a text SB couldn’t see. 

He pocketed the phone with a sigh that SB was pretty familiar with by now. 

“Gotham thing?”

“Yep. That’s my cue. Sorry to dine and dash.” 

“It’s no big deal, dude. Are you gonna take your fries?” 

“They’re all yours,” Nightwing said with a smile. He stood but then hesitated. “Do you order a lot of take out?” 

“Well, I don’t have, like, a credit card, but I get free food anyway all the time,” he assured him. “I stopped a fight at a malasada place and it got on the news and they got a ton of business. Now everyone wants to give me stuff so I’ll talk about it on TV. It’s pretty sweet.” 

“That sounds pretty sweet,” Nightwing said slowly. “I’ll get you a debit card, though. And I can help you with a food budget, so you can get groceries, too.” To himself he muttered, “I can’t believe no one did that.” 

“It’s really no problem. I’m good, dude,” he said, pulling Nightwing’s fries closer. 

“I’m glad you’re good. I want to try those malasadas one day.” 

“Yeah, definitely! Anytime,” SB said happily as Nightwing walked away. Left alone, there was no reason to stick around. He took the fries and shake he hadn’t touched yet, and gave them to the first guy he saw holding up a cardboard sign asking for assistance. He knew the guy was actually asking for money, but that was one thing he didn’t actually have. He vowed to give his new grocery budget away. He didn’t need the money, but there were people who did. The resolution gave him the same satisfaction that saving the day did. There weren’t any microphones and cameras pointed at his face afterwards, but he still felt the same happiness. 

He was speed running this human thing and completely crushing it. 

He could’ve flown straight back to Hawaii, but he was feeling particularly confident and decided to make a pit stop in Metropolis. 

He’d tried to find the Fortress of Solitude like a hundred times, to no avail. It wasn’t related to his career, so Tana wasn’t really interested in helping him find it. Sometimes he flew by Metropolis, hoping to run into the man of steel and sure enough, at that moment he was rescuing an entire apartment building from a fire. He flew back and forth from the windows, fast enough to be efficient but not fast enough to blow anyone’s hair back. As soon as he noticed Superboy, his speed changed. He hurried through the rest of the inhabitants, super speed style. He dropped the last person, a tiny granny who’s glasses were askew and white hair blown straight back, on the sidewalk. 

Then he flew away, disappearing into the sky like a shooting star. 

Superboy chased after him. Superman can do it in seconds, obnoxiously echoed in his mind as he searched the clouds. It was no use. He was long gone and the truth was, Superboy just wasn’t fast enough to keep up. 

He got a notification on his phone from a number he didn’t have saved. 

“You’re forbidden from Metropolis. If you show up again, you’ll be removed from Young Justice.” 

He had a feeling the text was from Batman— maybe Superman called him— but it might’ve been Robin, too. He’d done some extensive research aka he’d Google some stuff and learned that Batman and Robin were a crime fighting duo that’d been together for a decade. Robin must be older than he looked. That creep and his mentor were so alike. He already admitted to stalking his instagram. Maybe he was tracking him. According to Nightwing, Robin was the team leader, even though it was obvious that Nightwing was the one they actually listened to. 

He started his long flight back, with nothing but time to convince himself if Superman didn’t want to hang out with him now, he’d come around once he proved himself. He’d become a hero so super, he couldn’t be ignored. 

~ 

Their next Young Justice practice was different. 

Robin wasn’t there, but more importantly, neither was Nightwing. 

Wonder Woman was there instead, standing proudly in front of the three teenagers with her hands on her hips. 

“Today, I will be responsible for your training,” she said. 

“Where’s Nightwing?” SB asked. 

“Where’s Robin?” Cassie asked. 

“There is pressing business in Gotham.” 

“Yeah, there’s always something wrong in Gotham,” SB loudly complained. “I mean, come on. Why can’t Batman just handle it himself?” 

“I am sure he would prefer that as well,” she said, with a level tone. “However, Nightwing and Robin know where they are needed most. I am happy to be here while they can not. It is about time I taught you some Themysciran stretches.” 

SB groaned. “More warm ups? Nightwing promised this week, we could punch.” 

“Themysciran stretches are not warm ups.” 

That made him curious, especially when he noticed the devious glint in her eyes. Bart was oddly quiet, though. 

“Are you okay?” Cassie asked him, before he could comment on it. 

“Yeah,” Bart said, a quiet one word answer that was frankly alarming. 

“You… seem upset,” She said. 

“I’m not!” Bart exclaimed, really upset. 

Wonder Woman seemed to know what to do, which was good because SB and Cassie definitely didn’t. She walked over and put a reassuring hand on Bart’s shoulder. 

“I know you’re worried about your friends. That is perfectly natural. But I promise, they’ll be okay. The best thing you could do now is work toward becoming a fierce warrior, so you’ll be prepared to one day answer their call.” 

Bart slowly nodded. 

Cassie glanced at SB. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” She whispered. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I got dinner with Nightwing last Thursday and he had to leave early for some ‘Gotham’ reason, but it didn’t seem particularly bad.” 

“Well, Bart obviously knows something. Maybe from the future.” 

“Maybe from Wally. Do you think he’ll tell us?” 

“If we can’t get Bart to give up information, we don’t deserve to be here,” Cassie said. For a moment she looked a little worried, like she was afraid the joke wouldn’t land, but then he smiled and she smiled back. 

The Themysciran stretches were killer. He was pretty sure he was invincible, but after holding the Backwards Arrow pose for four whole minutes, he had his doubts. 

Wonder Woman gave them a water break, which was when they could finally corner Bart without her noticing. 

“Bart, what’s happening in Gotham?” Cassie pounced. 

Bart shook his head. “I don’t know.” 

“You know something,” she said. “Come on. We just want to help. I know you do, too.” 

Bart speed ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up even sillier than normal. He looked at them, then sighed. Superboy was starting to get a little freaked out. He’d never seen Bart so serious before. 

“I don’t know what happened. But last night, I spent the night at Wally’s, and Nightwing showed up.” He swallowed. “He was really upset. Wally asked me to go back to my house, and I did, but before I left, I overheard them… and Robin got really hurt.” 

“That’s awful,” Cassie said. “If something big happened in Gotham, why didn’t I see anything about it on the news?” 

“Look at how secretive they are with us,” Superboy pointed out. “They’d probably kill some stupid reporter over a story they didn’t want out there.” 

“Batman doesn’t kill.” 

“How do we know Batman isn’t behind all of this, anyway? Maybe he’s the one who hurt Robin. Think about it. I bet he would’ve hurt me, if Nightwing hadn’t stopped him. And Nightwing went to Wally— not Batman. I think we should investigate. That’s what Superman would do.” 

“No,” Bart said, firmly. “Wally trusts Batman. And he said we all need to stay out of Gotham and let them handle it.” 

“God, Bart, sometimes you’re such a child,” Superboy said, and rolled his eyes. “Wally doesn’t always know best.”  

“Neither do you,” Bart said. “And he knows a lot more about being a hero.” 

“Not as much as Superman.” 

“You’re not Superman.” 

“Well, I know what he’d do.” 

“No you don’t. Wally said he doesn’t even talk to you.” 

Superboy shoved him. At least, he tried. Bart zoomed away, untouchable, and he had to catch himself with flight before he hit the floor. There was a terrible pause. 

“Guys,” Cassie said, slowly. “We’re all worried about Robin. We’re on the same side here. There’s literally no reason to fight.”  

“Plus, I would win,” Superboy said. 

“I would win.”

Superboy flew at him again, and the fight was on. Nightwing’s previous promise came true. Superboy did get to punch. 

Bart was scrappier than he expected. They fought until they ended up wrestling each other across the floor. Superboy grappled him and tried to get him in the hold Nightwing had used on him. Bart kept slipping out of his grasp, kicking him in the face at superspeed. 

Wonder Woman broke up the fight before there was a clear victor. 

She lectured them on the importance of teamwork, but didn’t stop there. 

“Is this the standard punishment in Themyscira?” Cassie asked. She and Wonder Woman enjoyed a nice apple and peanut butter snack in the kitchen, while the boys worked on their hands and knees, taking a tooth brush, soap, and water to the kitchen floors. 

“Ah, no. In Themyscira they would be killed.” 

Bart and Superboy shared a glance. Just like that, they were friends again. Their fight— forgiven and forgotten. 

They freaked out, especially at Diana’s conversational tone, and returned to scrubbing the floor with frantic vigor. 

~ 

Nightwing was back next weekend, but not Robin. 

“He’s recovering from an injury,” Nightwing explained. 

“What happened?” Cassie asked. 

“It’s classified.” 

“When will he be back?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Will he ever be back?” Superboy asked. He expected Nightwing to brush it off or roll his eyes a little, but instead he answered quietly. 

“I don’t know.” 

He couldn’t believe it. Gone forever? He knew humans were fragile, but to be honest Robin had never seemed particularly human. He felt bad, but he pushed past it and focused on what was right in front of him. 

“So who’s our team leader then?” 

Nightwing grabbed his ankle to stretch, and the other three followed him. 

“Bart can be the leader,” Nightwing said, casually. 

Bart broke into a sunny grin. “Crash! Today we’re doing cardio! Just cardio!” 

“Hey, don’t pick him just because you’re best friends with Wally. I want to be leader. Superman’s the leader of the Justice League.” 

Nightwing switched ankles and everyone followed. 

“Batman’s the leader,” Bart said hopping on one foot. 

“No he’s not. Superman could kick his sorry butt into outer space.” 

“I think Wonder Woman is the actual leader,” Cassie argued. “And she’d totally beat Superman.” 

“Yeah, right,” said SB. 

“Yeah, right,” Cassie glared. 

“How about no one’s the leader,” Nightwing interrupted them and lead them in a toe touch. “Let’s get a little communist.” 

“Wait can I do one more thing as leader?” Bart begged. “Matching t-shirts with our last names on the back!” 

“I have a secret identity, Bart.” 

“And I don’t even have a last name.” 

Bart puffed out his cheeks. “Being leader is harder than I thought.” 

Nightwing taught the basics of offense. Turned out, there was a proper way to throw a punch. Humans could break a finger off if they did it the wrong way. Even the foot you put your weight on mattered. His punches in the air already felt more powerful. This was what he’d been waiting for. 

After their lesson, they usually sparred for a while. Cassie and Superboy paired up. Bart seemed happy to work with Nightwing, even though the first time Nightwing took a swing, Bart zoomed away. 

“We’re not doing cardio,” Nightwing shouted, and ran after him. 

Cassie and Kon circled each other. 

“Do you go to school?” Cassie asked, before taking her first swing. 

“No way,” he said, dodging her easily. He even did the two-steps back thing from their self defense lesson. “I’m already really smart. They implanted like, everything I need to know in the lab.” 

“Oh. Cool,” she said, before going for a fury of blows. “My school is throwing a dance this weekend. It’s the Harvest Dance. It’s kind of stupid.” 

“Yeah, that sounds stupid,” he casually agreed, and suddenly her flow messed up. He grabbed her arm and forced it behind her back, another hold Nightwing had showed them. She tapped out and they went back to circling each other. This time, it was Superboy’s turn to attack. 

“Are you dancing to make it rain or something?” He asked, taking his first punch. 

“What?” She ducked and lunged.

“You said it’s about the harvest—” 

“Oh— no. It’s just called the Harvest Dance because it’s in October. Like, it’s decorated with an autumn theme.”  

“Oh.” He realized it must be like prom on Wendy the Werewolf Stalker. That always seemed to be a big deal to the characters. It was usually the season finale. “Are you gonna go?” 

“Well, all my friends are going. But you’re supposed to bring a date.” 

He took another swing, but this time accidentally made contact and nailed her in the face. 

“Oh fuck,” he said, as she folded over, grabbing at her nose. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she said brightly, “No, yeah. That was totally my bad.” When she straightened up, she wasn’t bleeding or anything, but still. He felt awful. 

“Should I go get something?” he asked, unsure. Maybe ice or a bandaid or Nightwing. 

“No! No. I’m fine,” she insisted, shaking out her hands and stretching her neck. They jumped back into practice, all talk of the Harvest Dance forgotten. Although he didn’t know it yet, she was far from done with the topic. 

After practice, Bart made everyone get a snack with him in the kitchen. Nightwing wanted to leave, but apparently they weren’t allowed at Mount Justice without supervision. He hung around by the kitchen entrance, glancing at his phone every few seconds. 

“Have you guys tried these?” Bart asked, mid-chew, holding out a red and white striped box.

“Animal Crackers,” Cassie took the box and studied it fondly, “Yeah. The coolest snack in pre-school.”

“Pre-school?” Bart asked, horrified. 

Cassie explained the concept, and that he was in no danger of being forced to go, while Superboy opened up every cabinet with his TTK to look for a more mature option. He decided on a bag of bbq Lays. Cassie watched him close the cabinets and float the bag to himself. 

“What’s the biggest thing you’ve moved with your TTK?” She asked. 

He thought as he popped open the bag. “A car.” 

“Could you move something bigger?” 

“Probably, yeah. Like what?” 

“Like a mountain.” 

He let out a surprised laugh. “Probably.” 

“Don’t you want to try?” She asked, eyes bright. 

He tried with the mountain they were currently on. He could feel every ridge and cranny of the island with a phantom touch, but when he tried to move it like he’d moved the bag of chips, his powers seemed to evaporate. It was like dropping a pencil into a cloud of steam, and expecting the steam to hold it up. 

“Why should I?” He asked. He hoped his eyes didn’t glow or anything obvious when he used his TTK. They probably didn’t. Tana would’ve told him. “Superman doesn’t even have TTK and he’s the best there is.” 

“Why do you have a power he doesn’t have?” she asked. 

“Because I’m better,” he said, and floated a chip into his mouth. 

“But if they cloned his DNA, wouldn’t you be exactly the same?” 

He chewed. 

Bart added his two cents. “Yeah that’s the definition of a clone. So I guess you’re something else.” 

They both looked at him. 

“No, we’re exactly the same,” he said, grabbing the bag that was still mid-air and holding it like Superman would. “The extra power is just a software update, like Superman version 2.0. If I didn’t use it, we’d be identical.” They kept looking at him, and it was starting to get annoying. “Let’s talk about your DNA.” 

“That’s complicated,” Bart said, glancing to the side.  

“Same. We’re not judging you or anything. My grandpa is an ancient deity. Like, who knows what’s in these veins. Magic, I guess.” 

Bart flipped his own hand around to study it. “Yeah, I aged at hyperspeed until Wally fixed it.” 

“What does that mean?”

“When I was two, I was twelve.” 

She blinked. 

“Okay. I think Bart wins Most Likely to Freak Out a Pediatrician.” 

SB laughed. Bart started asking about other awards, and though Cassie tried to explain it was a joke eventually she got pulled into coming up with different potential awards Bart would also win. SB listened to them talk for bit, and realized that his search for a best friend was over. There were two perfect ones right in front of him. 

“What about Best Eater?” Bart happily theorized. 

“Or Most. Most Eater, for sure,” she joked. 

Wally came and Nightwing left. Wally and Bart usually ran home together, so Superboy got ready for his flight home. Cassie stopped him just before take-off. 

“Hey,” she said. “Wait. There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.” 

“What?” He asked. He had a feeling it was going to be another clone question. Not his favorite topic. 

“Well. I was wondering if you wanted to—” she hesitated for a split second before saying, “race.” 

“What?” He asked, this time just confused, until she flew straight up and he got the picture. 

He flew after her as fast as he could. 

He’d never flown with someone else before, unless he counted that time he’d tried to chase Superman down in Metropolis. 

Cassie had a few seconds head start, but he quickly caught up. They were neck and neck, flying with no destination but forward and faster. 

It was different than racing with Bart. 

For one thing, Bart always won. But he was also Earth bound. SB loved the sky. This high in the atmosphere felt like it’s own planet in a way, like a world that belonged to him and Tana alone. He’d taken Tana on many flights, with her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms wrapped around her. That was fun, even though she refused to do so much as kiss because she was too afraid he’d lose concentration and crash. A guy accidentally floats in a bed a few times, and suddenly he can’t control his powers well enough for a sky make out sesh.

It was so cool to burst through a cloud and see Cassie right beside him. 

He felt it in his gut. He wasn’t alone. It was similar to what he’d felt in the kitchen, when he finally thought of them as his best friends. Similar, but not quite the same. There was a different feeling mixed in too, one he was very familiar with. 

Cassie made eye contact. Her long, blonde hair flowed behind her. Her pink lips were slightly parted. He’d noticed her before, but noticing felt all encompassing when it was just the two of them above the clouds. Her whole body was extended, arms outstretched, and he got very distracted by how tightly her spandex clung. They flew threw another cloud and the water to the face was exactly what he needed. She was hot, but she wasn’t Tana. No one was hotter than her. 

Cassie stopped and did a few flips to slow her momentum. 

Superboy pulled himself back, too, looping back around to join her somewhere above Ottawa. 

They’d stopped somewhere particularly cloudy. He could only see bits and pieces of green treetops through the passing breaks in the clouds. His hair got curlier as water drops collected on the ends. It was freezing but his heart was racing in the best way. Cassie was actually sweating but she was grinning, too.

“Not bad,” she panted. 

“I won.” 

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a laugh and touched his arm. 

He laughed too, even though nothing was particularly funny. Maybe it was the thin air, which felt thinner with each passing second they floated there, close together, smiling. 

“That was really fun,” she said, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah. So, um. I actually have another question, too.” 

“You wanna race back?” He asked, sincerely. 

“No,” she laughed, and floated away. He watched her. “You know how I’m going to the Harvest Dance next weekend?” She didn’t wait for him to reply, “Well, I thought it would be fun if I invited you.”

Oh. Oh no. 

“We could go together as friends.”

Oh— that changed things. That changed everything. He started to get excited, and the hype only grew as she kept talking. 

“And I know that everyone at school would freak out if Superboy came to our dance. We could make up some reason that we know each other. Maybe through Diana. Everyone knows my mom works with her sometimes.” 

He flew closer. 

“We could tell them I saved you. A lot of the girls I save ask me out.” 

“Oh, really?” she said, lightly. 

“Yeah, really,” he said with a smile. 

“Well… yeah. Okay,” she said, agreeing with a smile. “We can say I was jay-walking and then just before I got hit by a car, you swooped me up and saved me.” 

“And then there was a bird attack, but I got them with my heat vision.” 

“Sure.” 

“And then there was a plane crash, headed right toward us, but I held it up with my super strength and put the plane down gently in the airport—”

“Great, we got our story,” she cut him off, then smiled. “I’ll give you my address. Be there at 6 so my aunt can take pictures, and then she can drive us to the dance.” 

“Or I could fly us there. That would really get people freaked.” 

She got a happy, far off look in her eyes, like she was already picturing their entrance. 

“Perfect.” 

~ 

Tana disagreed. 

They were at their spot, a private stretch of beach that belonged to a rich guy who was never at his island getaway. The white sand was pleasantly warm to the touch. They’d spread out on a blue beach towel, that like most things they had, belonged to Tana. Superman didn’t have a girlfriend, but he obviously didn’t know what he was missing. They hooked up and only got a little sandy. He cleaned himself up with the corner of the towel. Afterwards, he remembered what he’d wanted to tell her in the first place. He sprawled across the towel with his hands behind his head. She sat up next to him, gathering her hair into a ponytail. 

“This girl invited me to her Harvest Dance next weekend.”  

She whipped around, ponytail snapping behind her. 

“What?” 

“It’s not a farm superstition, it’s a decorating theme—”

“I’m not an idiot. I know what a Harvest Dance is,” she clarified. “What girl?” 

The ocean crashed against the shore. 

“This blonde girl I saved today. I think her name is Cassie.” 

“What did Cassie say when you said no?” 

He picked at his thumbnail with his pointer finger. 

“I said yes.” 

Her jaw actually dropped. Tana had the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen. He was completely transfixed by her lips. He really wanted to kiss her again, but when he sat up she put a hand on his chest. He stayed back.

“Is this a charity thing? Is she dying?” 

“No.” He shifted so he was sitting on his feet, but let her hand hold him in place. 

“So why on the Earth would you say yes?” 

“Tan,” he said, with a sly smile. “Are you jealous?” 

She pushed him, but he was unmovable. He saw it for a split second. She was freaked out in a bad way. He was too alien. 

He fell back against the blanket. There was an annoying mini hill of sand right underneath his lower back. He flattened it with his TTK. 

“I’m kind of a big deal, babe,” he said. “You can’t go crazy about every girl I take to a school dance. You’re still my girlfriend.” He caught her gaze. Tana was the smartest person he’d ever met. She found crimes for him to stop, then she reported on the news about how awesome he was. She dealt with his sponsorship stuff for him, too. He didn’t have a bank account or things like that, so she handled it through her own. That had to be a lot of work, on top of her demanding job, but she still made time for him. She was smart, but she sometimes got a little crazy about where he was or who he was doing it with. He didn’t need anyone telling him what to do. 

“I’m just trying to understand why you’d say yes to a high school dance. It’s a complete waste of time. They weren’t cool when I was in school, and there’s no way an amazing, intergalactic hero like you will have fun. They’re for boring teenagers who think staying out past 8 o’clock is exciting. And if it’s not for charity it won’t even help our career.” 

He didn’t like people telling him what to do— but Tana made it sound so cringey. He’d been thinking of the school dances from Wendy, but those had never been Harvest Dances. Maybe he was simply born too grown up for something like that. Would Superman go? Probably not. When he wasn’t saving people, he waited around in solitude probably doing something really cool and mature, maybe something like a Kryptonian meditation. 

“Well, I only said I’d go because she needs a date.” 

She scoffed. 

“Every girl who asks you out needs a date. Are you going to start saying yes to all of them? Because if you say yes to one, you’ll have to say yes to all.” 

He hadn’t even thought about how that would look. The girls he saved who asked him out would think he was turning them down cause they weren’t hot. Even though a lot of them were super, super hot. Maybe they’d stop asking entirely. That was part of how smart Tana was. She was so good at seeing the impact on the brand. 

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” he said. He definitely didn’t want to discourage hot girls from asking him out. 

“Maybe crashing a school to slow dance five feet apart from what’s-her-name is a bad idea? Yeah, I think so,” she said, crawling onto his lap. She was so hot when she was mean. They made out about it for a while. 

He decided to not think about it, but then suddenly it was Saturday night, and he was supposed to be at Cassie’s in twenty minutes. It got worse with each second he continued to procrastinate, so he forced himself to send something. 

Hey this is Superboy. I got too busy with hero stuff and I can’t go to the dance after all.  

He sent the text then thought about it for another second and send a follow up. 

I hope you still have a good time. 

She thumbs up-ed the message but didn’t reply. He felt a little bad about it. Especially that night, spending the night playing video games in the same living room as Tana but feeling completely alone. She was stressed out and focused on her laptop, writing tomorrow’s big story. Sometimes if there wasn’t enough crime for him to stop, she figured something out ahead of time by sending the right messages in the right forums. 

“Can you turn that down?” She asked, without looking away from her laptop. 

He paused the game. She was always trying to out-do herself. He liked that about her, but sometimes it wasn’t very fun to be around. When it stopped being fun, he was out of there. 

He flew to the nearest beach and sat on the sand with his knees pulled up. 

It was so dark the ocean seemed to blend into the inky night. It was high tide. The waves crashed against the sand, like always. He picked Hawaii on a whim because somewhere in his Cadmus brain dump, he knew it was the most popular travel destination in the country. It turned out, he loved the ocean. The tide was controlled by invisible forces and nobody thought that was weird and scary. He wondered if he was programed to love it— or if Superman loved it, and therefore he did, too. He wondered what Superman would’ve said about the dance. He wondered what Cassie was doing now. If it was already over… if it was too late to stop by… 

He didn’t have perfect control of his super-hearing— not that he’d ever admit that out loud— but an ear-spitting scream a few miles away was enough to get his attention. He flew toward the sound without another thought. 

That was the night he met Knock Out. 

Now she was someone who knew how to have fun. 

~ 

It was so over for Cassie. 

As soon as Superboy agreed to be her date, she’d told all of her friends that she was going to bring “someone special.” She’d even called her Mom, who’d been so excited for her she decided to come home for the weekend. What was going to happen now? It was 5:45 and all of her new friends were going to think she was a pathological liar. Thank Zeus she didn’t tell them it was Superboy because they’d think she was a delusional superhero stalker. All she’d wanted was to see the pure shock and jealousy on their faces when he floated into the school. 

What was she supposed to say now? Her mystery date canceled? If she wasn’t a liar, she was a loser. She couldn’t decide what was worse. 

The front door opened and her mom shouted, “Honey! I’m home. I’m so glad I made it just in time!” Her keys hit the entryway table. 

Cassie stood in her room with her blonde hair perfectly curled. Her Burgundy off the shoulder dress had ruffled sleeves and a slit in the side. She looked amazing but she’d never felt uglier in her life. Her mom had flown halfway across the world— an expensive, last-minute trip— and for what? To see her daughter take pictures alone? Her daughter, who no one likes. She couldn’t go with her friends, they were probably already at the dance in their big group. She couldn’t beg a guy from her school to take her this last minute, that was just too pathetic. 

“Cassie?” Her mom asked in the doorway. 

Oh, gods. She blinked and the world went blurry. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Her mom rushed to her and took a knee. She smelled like stale airport. She’d been traveling for half a day, just for Cassie to disappoint her in the end. She probably wished she didn’t have such a loser for a daughter. 

“Um, nothing,” Cassie said, then swallowed. “Superboy canceled but it’s fine. I mean, there’s an emergency I guess. He has to do what he has to do. I’m just going to tell my friends I got sick.”

“That’s awful. Just awful,” Mom said and pulled her into a hug. Cassie closed her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Mom said as she pulled back. “I’m sorry for the emergency, but I’m sorry for you, too. Sometimes we want things from people that they just can’t give. It’s not your fault for wanting them. Does that make sense?” 

“Whatever, Mom,” Cassie said, getting a little annoyed. “It’s whatever. It’s fine— I don’t even care. I should change.” 

“No. You were looking forward to this dance. All your friends will be there.” 

“I know! I’m sorry I made you come all this way for nothing—”

“It’s not for nothing. Maybe I just wanted to see you. And take you to your dentist appointment, because really honey, you should’ve gone two months ago.” 

“Mom,” Cassie said, annoyed but with a small smile. 

“Don’t apologize, Cas. Superboy can worry about what he needs to— I think you should go to the dance anyway. You look so pretty and I’m sure your friends will miss you if you don’t go.” 

She glanced away. She really did want to go to the dance with her friends. 

“But…they think I’m bringing a date.” 

“So what? You tell them he was busy and it’s his loss.” 

“It’s so embarrassing.” 

“It’s not embarrassing. For him, maybe.” 

Cassie scoffed. Her mom watched her, worried. 

“Well, okay. Is there anyone else you can ask? What about another kid from your school? Oh— You know, I think Nancy from book club has a son who goes to a private school around here. What if we just called Nancy up?” 

Cassie looked at her like she was stupid. 

“Mom—” She cut herself off with sigh. “Thanks, but I really don’t think anyone can be ready to go in five minutes.” 

“Let me make a few calls,” Mom said. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

It wasn’t going to work but maybe she’d feel better after she tried. Cassie sat around the kitchen, pulling bobby pins out of her hair. 

At exactly 6:00, there was a knock on their door. 

Cassie shot her mother a look. 

Mom just grinned. “I called Diana.” 

Cassie ran to the door and yanked it open. She thought she’d see an apologetic, ruffled Superboy or maybe even Robin, unmasked, a little beat up but with an awkward pitched expression and bouquet. It wasn’t either of them. 

It was Bart. 

She’d never seen him out of costume. He looked even shorter, though maybe that was due to his hair being slicked back. That must’ve taken a truckload of hair gel. He wore a grey suit that looked about an inch too big for him with a white collared shirt underneath. She glanced at his ratty old sneakers but he held shiny black dress shoes in one hand

“I got here as fast as I could,” he said, kicking off the sneakers and plopping down on the porch to change. 

“Bart,” she said, disbelieving. She joined him on the porch. “What are you doing here?” 

“Your mom called Diana who calledWallyandhetoldmeyouwantedsomeonetotaketothedance— these shoes are so uncomfortable,” he interrupted his own unintelligible monologue as he pulled the laces of his first dress shoe. “Iris let me borrow Wally’s old clothes. Are these shoes designed for torture?” 

She blinked. 

“You’re gonna go to the dance with me?” She asked, still catching up. 

“Yeah— but do I have to wear these shoes?” 

“Uh, no— No. You should wear the other shoes if they’re more comfortable. I’ll tell my mom to take pictures from the knee up.” 

He looked up at her and grinned. 

“Crash,” he said. He switched back into his sneaker and stood up in the blink of an eye. 

They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Is this weird?” He asked, with narrowed eyes. “Wally said you needed a friend but ImeanIwasjustboredathomeandalsodancingsoundsfunbutIdon’t—”

“Wait,” she cut him off. “It’s not weird. I didn’t know you were coming, but I really appreciate it. I told all my friends I was bringing a date— as a friend.” She hurried to add. “Just a friend. So, yeah. I really, really appreciate it.” 

“Oh, good,” he said, extremely relieved. 

“Yeah,” she firmly reiterated. 

“Do you want to feel how hard my hair is? It’s like a helmet.” 

She felt it. 

“Impressive.” 

“Iris did it but she let me bring the hair gel in case it got messed up on the run. Do you want some?” 

He pulled a mostly empty tube out of his coat pocket. She had to smile. 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

Her school cafeteria was decked out. There were several scarecrows, an actual bale of hay by the entrance, and fake leaves glued all around in swirly patterns. To get the right lighting, the dance committee had battery-operated candles everywhere and the DJ had brought his own set up that flashed in time to the music. 

She had to introduce Bart to her friends.

It was so different than the daydreams she’d had. If she came to the dance with Superboy, she would’ve been the talk of the school— maybe even the whole internet. Bart was sweet, short, skinny, easily distracted and really immature. She was extremely glad he was on the same page about this being a purely platonic thing, but she was a little ashamed to admit that she hoped everyone else knew it was platonic, too. 

She and Bart walked into the dance. 

Work by Rhianna played and he started to bounce even though they were no where near the dance floor. 

“Wait, this is actually good,” Bart said, obviously loving the song. He did a dance move she’d never seen before. It involved a lot of high knees. A couple who entered behind them had to walk a long way around to avoid Bart’s jerky movements. They gave him, and her, a strange look. Knowing Bart, she couldn’t be sure if this was a popular dance move in the future or if this was just 100% his own brand of uniqueness. 

He incorporated loopy arms and she was really leaning toward the later. God, she should’ve stayed home. She cleared her throat. 

“Do you want to get a snack?” She asked. 

He stopped dancing immediately, oblivious to her discomfort. “Yeah!” 

They crossed the room and it seemed to Cassie that everyone had a date but her. All she saw was girls with their arms around their guys as Rihana turned to Feel So Close by Calvin Harris. She could see over Bart’s head easily and the fact made her feel worse. 

They went to the snack table and he munched through half a tray of ritz crackers. 

“Cassie!” Her friends ran up to them. 

Cassie introduced Bart and braced herself. Mentally, she was preparing to fake an illness and go the fuck home. Then, the most surprising thing happened. 

She had an amazing time. 

Her friends loved Bart and Bart loved them. He introduced himself as Cassie’s friend, sounding so earnestly happy about the title that it warmed her up inside. Her friends wanted to dance and once they were all on the floor Bart’s dancing didn’t seem so embarrassing anymore. It was crazy, definitely crazy, but the fun he was having was infectious. They all stood in a circle and danced, half the time they ended up copying Bart’s moves and giggling, whoop-ing, and screaming along to the music. Eventually her feet hurt from dancing and her cheeks were sore from smiling. She began to think maybe the night wouldn’t have been better with Superboy after all, just different. 

She pulled Bart away when she wanted a break. They went to the water fountain together, in the hallway outside the dance by the trophy case, where things were a little quieter. 

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” She asked, grinning. 

“It’s all improv,” he bragged. “What about you? This was genius.” He mimicked the move she’d started in the circle. He pretended to walk with a shopping cart and shove stuff into off the imaginary shelves. 

“Thanks. I call it the Grocery Store,” she said. 

“Why?” He asked, still doing the move. 

“You know, like when you’re walking around the store with your shopping cart?” 

“Oh. I’ve never been to the store in person before,” he said. “This is the best night ever.” 

“Yeah. Maybe I could go to your school dance too, if you want.” 

“I don’t know. Your school is way better than mine. No one at my school likes me.” He said it so casually but it still made her sad. 

Maybe she didn’t have the same difficult childhood that he did, but being homeschooled she understood a lot of what he must be feeling. Always an outsider, always different from the other kids, never quite getting the same references. She had the sudden urge to hug Bart so she did. 

He hugged her back. 

For a second she worried that she just did something to lead him on, but when they pulled away she could tell by the look on his face that they were still on the same page. It was so freeing to have a guy friend that she was absolutely certain nothing romantic would ever happen with. It freed up a lot of brain power and saved time second-guessing every interaction. 

“I don’t think I said it before— but thank you for coming with me. I’m really glad you did.” 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for inviting me. Do you think there’s still crackers?” 

“There better be. If there’s not, I’m buying you a whole box.” 

“Then we can do the Grocery Store for real,” he said excitedly, and busted out the move once again. She laughed. They had an amazing time and she danced the night away. 

~ 

Tim’s school dance went a little differently. 

Tim hated wasting time, which was the main reason he hated school. 

Pre-Robin, he loved it. He’d been the kid who always raised an eager hand. The kid who made teachers say “Does anyone know the answer? Anyone but Tim?” He loved making friends, even if it was sometimes difficult. Looking back, he didn’t even blame the bullies. He’d been a know-it-all with a bowl cut and Batman lunchbox. It was a miracle anyone had talked to him at all. 

Now that he was Robin, school was meaningless. 

Mr. Burton taught biology with the passion of wet cardboard. He was a hunched over man in his sixties with a head of luscious grey hair. A man his age with hair that great should be full of joy, but he must’ve been miserable. There was no other reason he read straight from the textbook and walked them through a boring black and white powerpoint every day. 

Tim stared out the window. It was probably going to rain, which was fitting for an October in Gotham. The sky over the soccer field was an endless stretch of grey. 

He wasn’t allowed to patrol or go to Young Justice practices. Bruce said it was because he wasn’t fully recovered, but that was bullshit. Tim’s stitches were all out and he didn’t even need concealer anymore. Bruce and Dick had both patrolled in far worse shape. 

The real reason had to be Red Hood, who was still at large. 

Tim watched the trees shake in the wind. A few orange leaves broke free, twirling through the air. He was benched but he could still work on cases in the cave. Last night, he spent hours pouring over details of the mass murder at the Small Business Association meeting. Twenty one Gotham community leaders, dead. Poison in the punch. Cyanide. Tim looked into every single victim, spending hours meticulously searching for connections between them. His list of suspects, with motive and means, was still pathetic. 

He should be spending this hour searching for more clues, maybe even secretly investigating the scene of the crime. Anything but listening to Mr. Burton drawl on about what to expect on their midterm. 

The bell rang. The shrill sound was music to his ears. He shoved his notebook into his backpack and got the hell out of there. 

He ate lunch with Bernard and Ives. He liked their group of three, but he knew that Bernard and Ives had really been hoping that starting high school would be their chance to move up a social circle or two. It was hard when most of their classmates were the same kids they’d gone to school with since Kindergarten. Ives had been the class crybaby until fourth grade. Bernard was the worst kid in P.E. every year. Those were hard reputations to shake. Together, they were three guys who fell on the loser end of the spectrum, though they definitely weren’t the worst off. 

Their school uniform was a white button down, pleated plaid skirts for the girls, navy blue blazers and slacks for the boys. Ties were required, dorky tie pins optional but worn by Tim for five years. 

“Tim?” Bernard said, as if it wasn’t the first time. 

Tim blinked. He really should’ve gotten more than four hours of sleep. They ate lunch at the table closest to the bathrooms. Unappealing but at least it wasn’t by the trash cans. They shared their space with Ives’s friends from the debate team. They usually kept to themselves, locked in a passionate argument about anything from international relations to hottest girl in school.  

“What?” Tim asked. 

“Are you going to Fall Formal?” Bernard asked. “Because we need to talk about what we’re wearing. We can’t have a repeat of 8th grade graduation.” 

“I bought it first,” Ives said, re-treading old ground. 

“But I looked better,” Bernard said with a glare. 

Tim put down his sandwich. “We can not talk about this again. You both have dates to Formal?” 

“Of course I have a date,” Bernard said, sliding closer and throwing an arm around him. Tim instantly tensed and felt too warm all over. He wasn’t a touchy feely person and Bernard never seemed to understand the concept of personal space, especially when it came to him. “I’ll come by your house around 8.” 

Tim gave him an annoyed look, even while his stomach swooped— he was probably about to be the butt of the joke.

“Remind me— Does your mom prefer roses or daisies?”

Bernard laughed and Tim shoved him away with a groan. 

“This is why you don’t have a real date,” Tim said. Bernard scoffed and opened his Pringles. 

“Actually, Ives and I are taking Emily Hasebe and Heather Kramer from band.” 

“Who’s going with who?” 

“I don’t know. Ives, you pick,” Bernard said, before digging into his snack. 

“I’ll take anyone but Ariana Dzerchenko,” Ives said, staring at the table of band girls. Emily was tall and always carried around a water bottle that was covered in cat stickers. Heather had blonde hair that was always in two braids. They were lower-end popularity on a school-wide scale, but in band they were well-liked. 

Ariana Dzerchenko was the latest new kid. She’d been deemed a loser freak pretty early on in her Gotham Academy career. She had a Russian accent and thick black hair that always looked uncombed. Most girls wore makeup, but none like Ariana with smudged black eyeliner and accidental marks from her mascara. She also broke barriers by being the only girl to wear a boy’s uniform. Judging by the case Tim saw her carry around, she played the flute. 

She sat at the band girls table, but talked to no one. 

Tim watched her across the cafeteria. He’d forgotten her last name until Ives said something. Dzerchenko. 

Her father had been one of the people killed in the Small Business Association. He’d been the owner of a print shop in Little Odessa, the Russian neighborhood in East Gotham. 

“I think I might go to formal after all,” Tim said. 

~ 

There was a knock at the front door. 

Troubling. 

He was supposed to be at Ariana’s house at 6:30. Bernard, Ives, Emily, and Heather were going to meet them at the dance. If his parents had come home, they wouldn’t have knocked. They would’ve come inside and said “Timothy, the school called about your grades. We’re very disappointed in you. Everything you do is a reflection on our family. Your tie is crooked. Where are you going dressed like that?” 

Tim straightened his tie and checked the ring camera. 

It was Dick. 

It was 6:15, he didn’t have time to change. He threw on a hoodie and hoped Dick wouldn’t question the dress pants. Hopefully this would be quick, but Dick was wearing comfortable clothes and holding Monopoly. Dammit. 

Tim answered the door. 

“Hey,” Tim said, preemptively. “What’s up?” 

Dick took one look at him and a grin blossomed on his face. 

“Are you going on a date?” 

“No,” Tim said, quickly. 

Dick waited. 

Tim tapped his fingers against the door. 

“Tonight’s Fall Formal and I—”

“Fall Formal,” Dick said, far too pleased. “Wow. I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me. You first Fall Formal is huge. Do you have a corsage?” He caught himself and then asked, “Do you have a date?” 

Tim gave up on hoping for a quick conversation. He went back inside. Dick followed him, abandoning Monopoly on the antique end table. 

“Yes, I have a date,” Tim said, defensively. “And it’s really not a big deal. She definitely won’t expect a corsage.” 

“Timmy. I have so much to teach you about women.” He sat on the back of the couch. His parents would have a panic attack— or maybe they’d let Bruce Wayne’s ward sit where ever he wanted. 

Tim gave him a side-eye. “I’m not sure you should be teaching anyone.” 

“Hey, I know plenty— and definitely more than you. Here’s a helpful hint. If she says she doesn’t need a corsage, you still get a corsage. Always err on the side of more flowers.” 

“Well, I’m supposed to be at her house in — now— so I guess I’ll see how it goes.” 

“Now?” Dick stood up. “I’ll drive you.” 

“I have a driver.” 

“Well, give him the night off. Come on— it’ll be fun.” 

“It’ll be weird.” 

“I’ll wear one of those driver hats and I won’t say a word.” 

“Getting weirder.” 

“Okay, I’m your cool family friend and neighbor who’s driving you around for your parents. Come on. I brought the ‘vette.” 

Dammit, Tim loved that car. He wavered. Dick must’ve sensed it. 

“I just want to meet this girl,” he said, before a pointed pause. Tim knew it was a cheap, cheap tactic. Still, his decision was made when Dick asked, “She is real, right?” 

“No, I hired an actress to pretend to be my date.” 

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” Dick said with a quiet, sing-song-y voice. 

“Stay in the car,” Tim said when they pulled up to Ariana’s. 

“Not a chance,” Dick said, practically catapulting himself onto the sidewalk. 

Ariana lived in Little Odessa, in a compact, square house with a wooden fence. The grass was dead in patches. She was standing on the front porch with her mother, who Tim also recognized from his research. She was around 50, with frizzy hair pulled back in a claw clip. She wore black on black. 

Ariana had on her usual messy makeup, but her hair had been combed and styled. It was pinned in a curled up-do. The only thing she’d told Tim was, “we will wear black.” 

She followed through on her end. She wore a black blouse that wrapped tightly around her, with a slender V neckline and black slacks. She had black lipstick, which was definitely not allowed during normal school, but it made the shape of her lips and strong cupid’s bow stand out. 

“Hi,” Dick greeted. “You must be Ariana. I’m Dick Grayson— family friend of the Drakes. And this must be your beautiful mother,” Dick held out a hand. 

“Da,” she said, charmed as they shook.  

“Hi. Sorry about him. He said he could drive us,” Tim said to Ariana. 

“It’s fine,” she said, with her thick accent. “You look very handsome.” 

Tim glanced down at his own outfit, like an idiot, as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. A plain black suit. As basic as you could get. 

“Oh. Thanks,” he said. He should compliment her, but he wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, because some comments might be taken the wrong way, and he didn’t want to sound desperate, but he didn’t want to be a bad date. Somewhere in the storm of overthinking, Tim had the terrifying realization that this was technically his first date ever. 

“You look… ravishing.” 

Instant death. It was too much and too weird— He’d only started speaking to this girl a few days ago. He didn’t even know where the word came from? Maybe he’d heard his father say it to his mother once? Or maybe it was from an old movie, from the days of black and white romances where a word like ravishing actually made sense. He was looking at Ariana’s surprised expression, but he swore he could sense Dick trying not to laugh behind him.

“Thank you.” 

“Can I use your bathroom?” Tim blurted.

Dick being there actually worked in his favor because he ended up distracting the mom. He was a natural entertainer. He wasn’t even speaking this woman’s language and she was still eating out of the palm of his hand, all smiles and laughs while he reminisced about his own Fall Formals. 

Ariana said the bathroom was down the hallway to the left, but he walked right past it and poked his head in different rooms until he found the office. He walked inside. The beat of his heart served as a constant reminder of the seconds that were slipping away. 

There was no computer. Maybe it had been cleaned out since his murder, or maybe he was an old fashioned guy. The room was dark but there was a window. It led to the side yard, but Tim wasn’t taking chances by turning on any lights. It was still dusk, which provided enough light for him to start snooping through drawers on the massive oak desk. 

Most of the drawers had an accordion folder with paperwork, recites, and tax information for his business. He gave it a quick look through but it all seemed legit. He didn’t have enough time to look closer for anything shady. Luckily, he found something more enticing. 

A false bottom on the top drawer revealed a small, black leather bound planner. It fit into his palm. He flipped through it.  

Tim heard footsteps. He stuffed the planner into his suit pocket and walked into the hallway. 

He was standing in the center of the hallway, not necessarily coming from the office but too far past the bathroom to make sense. He pressed his phone to his ear, just in time. Ariana walked around the corner, and stopped short. 

“Yeah, Dad,” Tim said into the phone, giving her an apologetic look. She watched with a closed-off expression. 

“I know. Eleven o’clock, on the dot… Yeah, love you, too.” He ‘hung up’ and tried not to think too hard about the last time he’d told his father he loved him. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Sorry about that,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Are you ready?” 

She looked at him and he had to actively force himself not to shift his weight. Her gaze had an icy intensity. 

“I know your friends put you up to this,” she said, clipped.  

“Oh— no. Nobody—”

“It’s okay. It makes my mom happy.” She gave him a once over. “And I liked your presentation on Lord of the Flies.” 

“Well, thank you. But seriously, my friends didn’t tell me to ask you. They actually tried to talk me out of it—”

Tim was the biggest idiot in the world. 

“I mean, because they wanted me to ask someone else. Julie, from band. Because they like her— I mean, they’re already friends with her and she’s friends with Heather and Emily. They like you, too.” 

Maybe he should’ve taken advice about women from the guy with Monopoly as Saturday night plans after all. Or maybe he should’ve given up six weeks ago and asked Red Hood to aim his bullets a little better.

Ariana seemed content to stand there, stoic, and let Tim talk himself into an early grave. 

When he finally had the sense to shut up, she smirked. 

“I’m glad you didn’t ask Julie from band.” 

“Yeah,” he said, as if she’d just thrown him a life raft. “Me too.” 

The car ride with Dick wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. Tim and Ariana sat in the back. 

“What kind of music do you like?” Dick asked, scrolling Spotify. 

She clicked her seatbelt. 

“I like the Ramones.” 

Tim glanced at her, surprised. “Me, too.” 

She glanced at him and looked a little less apathetic than before. Score.  

“Sounds like you guys have a lot in common,” Dick said, then queued up Do You Wanna Dance? before pulling out of the driveway. Tim glanced at her again before staring out the window. No one spoke over the music as Dick drove them to school. He must’ve pulled up a Ramones playlist, because they cycled through I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend and Baby, I Love You. Tim didn’t pull his eyes away from the window like his life depended on it. 

Dick parked. They undid their seatbelts. Ariana got out of the car and closed her door but just as Tim turned to open his, Dick spoke up. 

“Wait up a second.” 

Tim paused with his hand itching to pull the handle. His heart pounded. Dick studied him from the front seat. There was no way he could know Tim’s true intentions for tonight. His main priority was still the Red Hood case, how would he possibly remember the facts of the SBA case? Or the last name of one of twenty-one murder victims— much less connect the case to Ariana? 

“Someone talked to you about consent, right?” 

“Oh my god.” Tim said. He threw himself against the door like he trying to break through the window. 

“Enthusiastic consent, from everyone involved. I’m serious—”

“Yes! Now go. Thanks for the ride.” 

“If you not ready to talk about it, you’re not ready to—”

Tim cut him off with the slam of the door. 

Fall Formal was fine. 

The school gym was transformed into a Night Under the Stars. Candlelight chandeliers flickered above their heads, white curtains covered up the stacked bleachers, and even a black and white checkered dance floor had been installed. They met up with Tim’s friends. Heather and Emily were nicer than normal to Ariana. Bernard, in a baby blue suit over a maroon shirt, and Ives, in a black suit with a purple tie that matched Heather’s purple puffy princess dress, told him about the never-ending photoshoot Emily’s parents had forced them into. Emily wore a baby blue silk dress that was a lot with her blue eyeshadow. 

Tim announced he was going to the bathroom and didn’t stop walking until he was outside. 

The parking lot was too exposed. He walked around the other end of the building, hiding between the bushes near the iron fence and the olympic sized pool. He squatted down and thumbed through the planner.

There were dozens of names he didn’t recognize, but one from a lunch meeting last week at 2pm that he did. 

Kuzmin. 

He was an infamous Russian mobster, one of the brave and stupid men who fought for control against Falcone. 

In the back of the planner were lined pages. The first one was torn out, but there were indents in the page behind it. He needed a pencil to color it in, so he could see what Mr. Dzerchenko had written. He held up the planner, trying to catch the indents in the right light. 

It was Russian characters. He couldn’t read it but based on the format and numbers, he deduced it was bank information. Meeting with a mobster, writing his bank information on a piece of paper to give away, and then winding up dead. Maybe the SBA meeting was a shakedown, and once Kuzmin got his money he killed them all? It was too sloppy to fit his style, but he was officially the best lead Tim had. 

He’d got what he wanted from tonight. Maybe he could ask Ariana a few questions, see how much she knew. Adults tended to say more than they should around kids, like they didn’t realize they were people too, with memories and everything. 

He pocketed the planner and went back inside.

Ives was the only one at their table when Tim returned. Bernard’s jacket was on a chair, but he was no where to be seen. Tim slid into the seat next to Ives with a questioning look. 

“He’s dancing with Emily,” Ives said, loud enough to be heard over Yeah! by Usher. 

“Where’s Heather and Ariana?” 

“They went to get punch,” Ives said, dejected. Tim stood up straighter to catch sight of the drinks table, but he didn’t see the girls. 

“Maybe they went to the bathroom,” Tim said. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Ives scoffed. He shook his head. “I should’ve picked Emily.” 

Tim was actually relieved that Ariana ditched him. It would be easier for him to leave early, head back to the cave and follow up with Kuzmin. Yet, something felt off about the situation. She told him the only reason she said yes was to appease her mom— but he didn’t get the vibe she planned to ditch him all night. Especially to go run off with Heather. 

His instincts told him something was off, and being Robin had taught him to trust his instincts. He patted Ives on the shoulder and went to find the girls. 

He pulled out his phone to text Ariana, but saw that she’d already texted him. 

Meet me in the art room for some fun? ;)

His stomach swooped. There was definitely something going on here. But… maybe not. It might’ve been his own inexperience, making him second guess someone who wanted him like that. 

He’d never intended to actually kiss her or anything, but now that he’d read her text he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even Dick had thought they’d do something tonight. Maybe he should— just kiss her so it was done, so he knew what it was like. There was no real reason to be suspicious. It was probably just a result of his first date nerves, and feeling paranoid about carrying around a dead man’s planner. 

He didn’t know what to text back, so he went to the art room. It was a big classroom with tall windows and art taped to every available surface. Even the cabinets had been hand painted through the years with flowers, rainbows, and animals that looked greyscale in the low light. 

Once he walked further inside he saw them on the floor. 

Heather and Ariana were tied up and duct taped. 

They screamed through their tape with wide eyes. Heather seemed particularly crazed, attempting to scream so hard it must’ve torn at her throat. She fought against her restraints on her legs and arms but the rope held firm. Ariana waited on her knees. 

Tim switched into Robin mode, but was still hyper aware of the fact he had to pretend to be an untrained teenager. He scanned the room but no one else was here. He automatically assumed the mob was involved— Kuzmin had ties to human trafficking—  but he theorized with half his mind and reacted with the other. He raced forward and peeled off Ariana’s tape. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking her over for injury. 

“I’m sorry,” Ariana replied in Russian, one of the only phrases he knew. She pounced— she’d only been pretending to be restrained. He froze up instead of fighting, hesitating for half a second too long. She shoved a rag over his nose and mouth, and the next thing Tim knew everything went black. 

BANG!

He blinked awake to the sound of gunfire. He was in a twisted position on a cold metal floor. His arms were tied back but he forced himself to sit up. Heather was passed out next to him. The purple tool of her skirt made her look like a sleeping princess. Ariana stood in front of them both with a terrified expression. They were in the back of a van, one that was obviously used for moving given the amount of tied up furniture they were surrounded by. The entrance rattled; the gunfire must’ve gotten rid of the lock. 

“Shit,” Ariana whispered. 

Okay. Ariana kidnapped him and Heather— if not on Kuzmin’s direct orders, probably still for him. Tim and Heather were pretty high profile kids for human trafficking but it wasn’t impossible. They’d make more sense as  targets for ransom money. It explained Ariana’s involvement, because Kuzmin could have her deliver and interact with the targets and then kill her afterwards to tie up loose ends. It still didn’t explain the 21 deaths of the Small Business Association meeting. Were all of the businesses dealing with Kuzmin? Maybe Ariana’s father said something he shouldn’t have in front of the other business leaders, and they all had to be taken care of. 

Tim needed to clear his head and focus on the present. 

He couldn’t tell if Ariana was really scared. Obviously, she’d been a good enough actress to fool him earlier, but her terror seemed genuine now. 

She must’ve had an accomplice driving, but it couldn’t be her accomplice shooting through the lock. Bruce had trained him over and over on breaking out of binds. She’d used good old fashioned rope, not a zip-line. He felt around for something sharp and found the edge of a bookshelf. 

The entrance to the back of the van pulled up. 

Red Hood. 

There he was, just as massively imposing as Tim remembered. He had a gun in his right hand, dangling loosely, even though the safety was probably still off. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said. 

Red Hood wore a full coverage red helmet. His black shirt met the edge of the mask. He had a jacket thick enough to be armored and leather gloves. The helmet had a built in voice modulator so he sounded tinny and metallic— but emotion somehow bleed through. Right now, he was pissed as shit. 

Tim sawed at his rope even harder, giving up on trying to be discreet now that Red Hood was here as a distraction. 

Ariana crumpled. 

“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “They made me do it. They killed my father.” 

Red Hood did the last thing Tim expected. 

He holstered his gun. 

“Just get out,” Red Hood snapped. “Come on— And don’t think about running. Like you could in those shoes.” 

Ariana squatted and then stepped out of the van. “The drivers—” she started. 

“Shut up,” Red Hood said, jumping in and giving the van a good rattle. He picked Heather up in a fireman carry then paused in front of Tim. Tim looked up at him, not as Robin but as Tim Drake. Though luckily, Red Hood had been infamously reported on in the papers, so the fear on his face wouldn’t be unexplainable. 

Red Hood spoke quietly, but Tim heard every word like a gunshot in church. 

“I thought you’d be better at this.” 

Tim showed nothing but confused obliviousness. 

“What?” 

Red Hood either laughed or scoffed, it was hard to tell through the robotic tone. 

“Guess good help is still hard to find.” 

He left, jumping down like Heather weighed nothing in his arms. 

The last strand on the rope finally snapped. Tim’s restraints hit the floor. He got a grip, compartmentalized the Red Hood shit for another time, and searched himself for his phone. Of course Ariana— or her accomplice—  had already taken it. His cuff link doubled as a bat panic button. He pressed it. 

Bruce and Dick would be so angry with themselves that he was alone with Red Hood again. He didn’t want them to feel guilty, so hopefully he could escape before they even arrived. He wasn’t letting himself think about Red Hood’s comments yet. There was a full body mirror wrapped in bubble wrap and strapped down to the wall of the van. He trusted the bubble wrap to save him and punched the glass as hard as he could. Seven years of bad luck was worth it as he quickly pulled out a shard of glass to use as a weapon. He hurried outside, hoping nothing had happened to the girls in the few seconds he’d lost. 

They were parked in the grass, on an empty stretch of road at the outskirts of the city. It was dark but the car taillights were on. Exhaust smoke spilled into the air, catching on the lights.  

“Human trafficking is never the answer,” Red Hood lectured Ariana, who was now crying. 

“Please have mercy,” she said. 

“Okay, take a deep breath. I don’t kill kids—”

That was news to Tim, though their last confrontation made more sense, now. He’d felt like he’d been fighting for his life at the beginning, but by the end— he was unconscious and Red Hood had nothing but time to make the killing blow. Instead, he’d walked away. 

“—even the bratty ones who kidnap people. Just don’t do it again and let me worry about Kuzmin.” 

“It’s not Kuzmin I’m afraid of.” 

Before he could ask, the devil appeared. 

“The KGBeast,” Ariana said, like it would be the last thing she’d ever say. 

He was the perfect killing machine. His blue and red armor was bigger than Red Hood’s, like it was surgically attached. His left hand had been replaced by a machine gun, his right hand was wrapped around a machete. One of his boots could stomp Tim’s face in. His shard of glass really wasn’t going to cut it. 

Tim knew Red Hood couldn’t be trusted, but a tentative truce had to exist for either of them to escape this guy alive. He opened his mouth to suggest a plan, Tim Drake’s civilian status be damned, but Red Hood pulled out his gun and started shooting. 

Tim went temporarily deaf, ears ringing, but leapt into action anyway. The bullets easily deflected off of KGBeast but Red Hood was sticking to his fire-first, think-never strategy. 

Tim made eye contact with Ariana and shouted, “Run!” He picked Heather up into his arms. She was really heavy, but he managed to run her to the other side of the van. He didn’t even blink at the two men slumped in the front seat, shot dead straight through their foreheads. He dropped Heather to the grass, with a silent apology, and yanked open the door. He pulled the bodies out. 

The gunfire didn’t relent.

“What are you doing? We have to run,” Ariana said. Apparently now she cared whether he lived or died. 

“Get Heather in the van,” Tim said, finally yanking the second guy out. He expected her to run. 

Ariana looked at the long road that led away from this fight. It was her escape route to freedom but she didn’t take it. She bent down and strained to pull Heather up. 

Tim didn’t have time to be pleasantly surprised. He grabbed Heather around her other side and together they maneuvered her into the passenger seat. Ariana got in and Tim right behind her, in front of the wheel. 

The keys were still in the ignition. He started the van and hoped Red Hood would either get inside or get out of the fucking way. 

“Do you know how to drive?” Ariana shouted. 

“Do you want to see my permit?” He asked, though he didn’t have one, and floored it. 

“He won’t stop until I’m dead,” Ariana warned. “He doesn’t care who gets in the way. He killed my father; killed twenty innocent men just to make sure the job was completed.” 

Tim gripped the wheel for dear life and drove them down the abandoned road. An anxious glance in the rearview confirmed Ariana’s story— the KGBeast was sprinting after them, his robotic enhancements helping him gain on their vehicle with ease.

Red Hood jumped on his motorcycle and raced after them. 

Tim should’ve been relieved to see headlight up ahead. It had to be the Batmobile, or Nightwing on a bike of his own, but all he could think was fuck fuck fuck because in the rearview he saw the KGBeast raise the machine gun. The bullets missed. Tim slammed the pedal to the floor and swerved back and forth but in the end, it didn’t matter. The KGB fired another round and this time, he hit his target. There was an explosion and the back wheel popped. Tim and Ariana screamed as the van went spiraling out of control. Heather’s unconscious body smooshed against the side window. 

Tim spun the wheel, grateful for Batman’s Tokyo Drift practice, and managed to keep the van right side up. They skid to a stop on the grass. Tim threw his body over the girls, dragging all three of them to the floor right at the moment that bullets flew through their window. Glass shattered on top of them but Tim did his best to be a human shield. 

A minute passed; maybe two. 

It was quiet. 

Tim slowly pulled himself away. He and Ariana made eye contact. They were both breathing heavy, faces just inches apart. She had a cut on her forehead and a thin line of blood trickling down the side of her face. Yet, he couldn’t stop staring at her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” she whispered. 

He nodded and tiny flakes of glass accidentally shook out of his hair. He tried to freeze but his chest was still moving up and down. 

“Are you?” he whispered. 

“My Father owed them money,” she said instead of answering. Her brown eyes were wide with guilt. “They said they just needed kids from rich families to hold for ransom. They promised they’d let you go once my debt was paid.” 

“It’s okay,” Tim assured. 

“Ow,” Heather groaned from the floor. 

Tim jumped up onto the seat so the girls had room to detangle. Heather was barely conscious but Ariana managed to pull her up and lean her against the passenger seat. 

The driver’s door opened. Tim pulled the keys out of the ignition and held them like a dagger. 

Nightwing stepped away from the door, giving the kids plenty of space. 

“The police are on their way. Is everyone alright?” 

“I think so,” Tim said, playing up being freaked out. 

He stepped out of the car first and looked around. The Bat Mobile was parked in the grass a few feet away. Its headlights pierced the night. There were two sets of skid marks, but Red Hood and his bike were nowhere to be seen. Batman must’ve taken the motorcycle Nightwing arrived on. 

The KGBeast was dead in the center of the road.

Tim slowly walked closer, but he had to be dead. Otherwise, Nightwing wouldn’t let them leave the van. 

There was a pool of blood like a halo around his head. Definitely Red Hood’s work. He finally took the right shot. 

He tried to kill them, but he didn’t deserve to die. If Tim had been a little smarter, a little faster, a little less distracted— he’d still be alive. Tim never should’ve left him alone with Red Hood. He’d been trying to protect the civilians but if he’d been focused in the first place he would’ve realized what was really going on with Ariana and put a stop to the kidnapping before it occurred. 

“I thought you’d be better at this.” The memory resurfaced like Red Hood was standing right there. 

They had bigger problems than the corpse in front of him. 

Red Hood knew who he was. He was sure of it. How he knew, that was a mystery. The real question was why would a promising young crime lord keep the true identity of Robin a secret. Each potential answer was worse than the last. 

“Guess good help is still hard to find.”

Still. 

Like he was referencing previous Robins. 

He was left handed. 

He could’ve killed Robin, he could’ve killed Tim and the girls— but he didn’t. 

He hid his face. He hid his voice. 

In the distance the police cars crested the hill. Red and blue lights flashed. He was deep in thought. He didn’t even startle when Nightwing put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Your family will meet you at the police station,” he said. 

Tim turned toward him, and toward the approaching police lights. The red and blue flashes illuminated his face and lit Nightwing from behind. He knew what he really meant. He was talking about himself, his brother for all intents and purposes. Brothers were the last thing Tim wanted to think about but the idea had already burrowed into his brain.  

The police were too close. Nightwing left without another word, cutting the lights on the Bat Mobile and driving away silently. 

Heather was taken to the hospital. Tim and Ariana sat side by side as a young EMT guy patched up her forehead and checked them for concussions. Commissioner Gordon himself came up to them soon after. 

“I’ve already called your parents and your school. Don’t worry about your friend, she’ll be alright. We’re gonna take you back to the station to give your statements, but then you’ll be free to go,” he said. 

“Two guys kidnapped us outside the cafeteria,” Tim said. “Heather and Ariana went missing first. I went looking for them and that’s when I was drugged and forced into the van, too. We were all drugged, I’m pretty sure. Heather hit her head really hard.” 

Commissioner Gordon’s glasses caught glare from the light of the police cars, so Tim couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. Ariana inhale sharply in his peripheral. He just kept his gaze locked on Gordon. 

“It sounds like you kids had a rough night,” Gordon said. “Take a beat, drink some water. Then you can tell me all about it.” 

Tim didn’t know what Dick had been so worried about. He beat them to the station. He stood up from one of the plastic chairs in the lobby, dressed in a long black coat. Buttoned all the way up, probably in case Ariana wondered why he was in different clothes.

“Dick Grayson,” The Commissioner greeted, with an edge to his tone like he was worried something else had gone wrong. 

“Hi. Tim texted me; we’re neighbors. His parents are out of town this weekend and asked me to keep an eye on him.” 

Tim wanted to shoot him a shut up glare, but like a professional kept up his scared-normal-kid facade. The last thing they needed was Dick connecting himself to Tim, especially with a particular villain running around who knew Robin’s secret. Shit like this was part of the reason Tim figured out all their identities so easily in the first place. 

“Well, it’s been quite a weekend.” 

“You said it,” Dick agreed. “I better take him home.” 

Gordon’s tired eyebags were especially pronounced in the cold fluorescent lights. 

“He’s not going anywhere until we talk to a parent or guardian.” He saw the look on his face and added, “But you’re welcome to stay and keep him company until then. Tim— I’ll take your statement first.” 

“You might as well do Ariana first. I’m sure her mom will be here before mine,” Tim said. It didn’t matter; he’d already set up their cover story. Ariana would go along with it, then Tim would repeat it once again for the records. If Heather remembered the truth, they could write it off due to her head injury. It would be one against two anyway. 

Gordon was thrown off by Tim’s answer, but ultimately accepted it. 

“Alright. Please, follow me.” He lead Ariana deeper into the prescient. She gave Tim one last look. Now that he knew her a little better, he recognized it as gratitude. They left and Tim and Dick took a seat. 

“Are you really alright?” Dick asked, quietly. 

Honest was the last thing they should be in a building crawling with cops. Tim tried to be a vague as possible. 

“I’m fine. You really don’t have to stay.” 

If Robin can’t be out there, you should be, Tim attempted to convey through meaningful eye contact. 

Dick just shook his head. 

“I promised your dad I would be here.” 

Tim got the twisted message— Bruce’s orders. Of course. He probably assumed Tim’s identity had been compromised even though he hadn’t had a chance to tell him yet. What were the odds that Red Hood crossed paths with Tim Drake? Extraordinarily low. Of course Bruce would assume the worse case scenario, and this time he was right. Paranoia paid off.

Dick drummed his own knee. 

“So, how’d your date go?”

Tim turned completely in his chair to look at him incredulously. 

It was almost eleven by the time his parents called. 

Tim used the phone in Gordon’s office, which had an actual chord like it was a prop from the 90s. 

His parents said everything they were supposed to. The truth was, their comforting talk did very little actual comforting. Words had never made much of an impact. Still, he listened to his mother work herself up, insisting they were going to fly home immediately and take him to the best doctor’s money could buy and everything was going to be okay. 

Tim said everything he was supposed to. 

His parents loved him, he knew that, but if they cut their trip short he’d eat his left shoe. He had fortified himself against their empty promises years ago. 

Dick hovered in the doorway. His eyes were glued to his phone to give Tim the facade of privacy. Tim knew that he was probably itching to talk to his parents too, but they were already stressed about their son getting caught up in a kidnapping attempt— the last thing they needed was an irritated Dick Grayson asking them to book a flight. Really, the less they talked to Dick the better. 

“Oh— we’re just so glad you’re okay. This isn’t going to be in the papers, right?” Mom asked. 

“Don’t worry. They can’t use my name if I’m under 18.” 

“Thank Goodness— that is just the last thing you need right now. I’m going to look up flights first thing in the morning. You just go home and rest. You need plenty of peace and quiet. Order in, sweetie— and I’ll call Mrs. Mac and ask her to stop by. Do you need to miss school on Monday? I can call your principal.” 

“I’m fine,” Tim insisted. 

Dick caught his gaze. Tim picked at the phone chord. 

“Did Gordon talk to you about how I’m getting home?” 

“Yes. He said Bruce Wayne’s ward was going to drive you home. Thank him for us and you’ll need to write a thank you note of course. Your father and I will send a gift basket. If he brings up the merger, tell him our last quarter exceeded expectations— on second thought, sweetie, don’t engage in the topic at all. You’ve had a long night.” 

“Okay.” 

“Go home and get some rest, Timothy. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

“Okay. Thanks Mom,” Tim said. The stab of disappointment he felt irritated him more than anything else. Looking at flights had turned into a phone call which might turn into nothing. He’d already decided to stop expecting things from them. He shouldn’t be disappointed at all. 

“You’ll feel better after a goodnight’s sleep.” 

“Sounds good,” he said. He waited for the line to go dead before he hung up the phone with a satisfying click. 

Dick’s phone was put away when Tim looked up. 

“Gordon already signed off,” Dick said. “Let’s go home.” 

He lied on his mission report to Batman. It was the first time he’d ever done it, but it was easier than he expected it to be. He said that the two murdered mobsters were the ones who kidnapped them in the first place, completely eliminating Ariana’s role. He’d been honest about the things Red Hood said in the van, though. It was just like he thought; Bruce deduced Red Hood knew his identity already. 

At school, Ariana made a point to talk to him. Who knew all it took to get a girl’s attention was lie to the cops to save her from a felony charge? The next day, she said they were dating and just like that— they were.

Tim did figure out one thing before Bruce.  

Red Hood was Jason Todd. 

He got a nasty crack through the helmet that fucked with the voice modulator and Bruce confirmed the voice match in the cave. Red Hood had been a triggering subject for Bruce before, but now he was a trigger wrapped in devastating regret laced with disbelief and painted with PTSD. Batman needed a Robin more than ever before. Tim unofficially moved into the manor. No one talked about it directly and Tim sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Bernard and Ives just kinda stared at her. 

They were at lunch. Ariana sat next to him, holding his hand and eating her soup with the other. She still wore the boys uniform. She’d brushed her hair but it was pulled back in a low ponytail. The attempted kidnapping story had actually given her sympathy, and clout, around school. No matter where she was on the social ladder, Tim had a girlfriend. That gave him more clout than he’d ever had before. He didn’t care about things like that, but there was still the unresolved connection between her and the mob. He still hadn’t told Batman about it so he had to investigate himself. And yeah, she was a girl who wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to kiss her back. He justified it to himself easily. They were both getting what they wanted. 

He only had his left hand available to eat with. He awkwardly picked up his sandwich and tried his best not to spill the contents when he took a bite. 

He normally enjoyed listening to Bernard and Ives talk, and occasionally drag him into the conversation, but they were still staring at Ariana in silent, star-struck curiosity. 

“Do you like movies?” Ariana asked, breaking the ice. 

Ives squinted like he wasn’t sure if she was making a joke or making fun of them somehow. 

“Love ‘em,” said Bernard. 

She nodded, solemnly. She ate her soup. 

Bernard and Ives made eye contact with Tim, but if they thought he was going to alleviate the awkwardness in this social interaction, they didn’t know him at all. 

Bernard leaned back. 

“So— movies. Do you like scary movies?” 

“Yes.” 

“Samesies. What’s the first scary movie you saw in theaters? Mine was Monster House.” 

“That’s not a scary movie. It’s for children,” Ives argued. 

“Oh, it’s not scary?” 

“Not really.” 

“Tariana, back me up here,” Bernard said. 

Tim looked at him flatly and Ariana said, “It’s Ariana.” 

“No, I know— Tariana is your couple name.” 

“Or should it be Arimothy,” Ives said, slowly sounding it out. 

“Jesus Christ,” said Bernard, “This is why you have 40 instagram followers.” 

“After that monstrosity, you have 39,” Tim said. 

Bernard laughed then added, “38! I’ve been looking for a reason to unfollow.” 

“Monster House is not a scary movie,” said Ariana. 

“Thank you!” Ives said. “Finally, I have someone at this table with more than two brain cells.” 

“If it’s not scary, tonight we should go sit in the bushes outside of Arkham and watch it on my laptop.” 

“We absolutely should not do that,” Tim said, shutting that shit down fast. 

~ 

Tim had been campaigning to return to Young Justice for the last two weeks. Finally, on the day of Halloween Bruce relented. Tim was pretty sure he only agreed to let him go because of the holiday. Rhode Island was going to be safer than Gotham. Anywhere was going to be safer than Gotham. 

“They all asked about you,” Nightwing said, as they patiently rode the elevator. 

“Oh,” Tim said, pleased but trying not to read too much into it. He’d yet to feel really connected with Cassie or Bart but people did say distance made the heart grow fonder. Maybe since he’d been gone, they viewed their Cadmus break-in and first few practices as bonding moments of a beautiful friendship. If Superboy asked about him, it was probably about who gets to be leader when he’s gone. 

Nightwing and Robin entered the training room. 

It was chaos. 

Jump ropes at opposite ends of the room were floating in a big circle, like two makeshift basketball hoops. 

Bart was curled up into a ball, also midair. Superboy moved his arm like he was dribbling Bart, but moved him up and down without actually touching him. 

Not for the first time, he looked at Superboy and thought— it’s not fair. 

Something about the guy brought out the childish competitiveness within. It was more than his good looks— lots of people had those and if Tim wanted to look like a supermodel he could pay for surgery, expensive hair stuff, steroids, a special trainer and all the other things movie stars paid for. It was more than just his powers too, although he could day dream on the daily about having abilities like that and all the clever ways he’d use them. It was the fact that Superboy was born special. He was designed to be a hero. There was no doubt he was destined for great things. Tim was born to inherit his father’s company. He was designed to be the smiling face on his family’s holiday cards— a chance for his parents to brag about their perfect family and their latest trip to Fiji. There was no doubt that one day, Bruce wouldn’t need him anymore, and he’d face the monotony of business school and running Drake Industries and settling down with a girl who could never know about his secret past. By then, it would feel like a distant memory anyway. 

Superboy double bounced Bart, who screamed with laughter. That’s when Cassie made her move. She elbowed Superboy and while he tried to fight her off, she grabbed Bart and zoomed to the nearest hoop. 

“Traveling!” Superboy called, but Cassie ignored him. She dunked Bart through the jumprope. 

“Three points!” She cheered. 

“Whoa!” Bart said. Superboy used his TTK to fly Bart up. Cassie saw through his scheme and she put her hands on Bart to dunk him again. 

“That doesn’t count! That was all me. Besides, three points?” Superboy said. He finally acknowledged Nightwing, “In basketball that’s only— Robin!” 

“It’s not basketball if you’re using a human being,” Robin said, unnecessarily irritated.  

Superboy’s concentration must’ve dropped because gravity hit Bart. Cassie caught him by the ankle before he hit the mats from a terrible height.  

“Robin!” Bart said. 

“You’re back,” she said. 

Nightwing rushed over to potentially catch him and announced, “Okay, everybody needs their feet on the floor.” 

“You almost dropped him,” Robin said to Superboy. 

“Welcome back,” he replied. 

“Yeah, welcome back,” Bart said, sincerely. “We were so worried about you.” 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Cassie said. Bart nodded so fast his hair blurred. For some reason, their attention felt like too much. 

“Of course I’m okay.” 

“Nightwing said you weren’t coming back at all,” said Superboy. 

Tim’s carefully curated cool exterior cracked. He whipped around to Nightwing, too panicked to think. 

“What?” He said, dumbly.

He looked like the last thing he wanted to do was talk about this.

“When you first got injured, there was A Discussion.” 

“What discussion?” If he thought about it, he wouldn’t have done this in front of the other three. But Tim was rarely caught off guard, and this was a total shock. He obviously knew Batman and Nightwing were triggered by an injured Robin but he never thought they were upset enough to kick him out. There was so much more he wanted to do. 

“You’re here. That’s what matters.” 

“Until the next time you stub your toe,” muttered Superboy. 

Everyone heard him. Nightwing was already pulled thin; one comment was all it took for him to snap. 

“That’s it. I don’t want to hear all this arguing this again. You can’t work as a team if you keep butting heads. I think today, we need some special training.” 

“Cool,” Superboy said, not yet understanding. “Are we gonna finally fight someone for real?” 

“Nope.” 

Robin was wary. “What kind of special training?” 

Apparently, the kind of special training that corporate retreats booked. 

Nightwing rented out an escape room place and stood behind Anna, the college-aged employee. She had long red hair pulled up in a high ponytail with a black scrunchie. Her employee name tag was clipped on her oversized white company polo. Their phones were collected and left behind with Nightwing. 

Anna rambled through the rules and instructions. She was uncharismatic and perhaps a little high. 

Robin paid perfect attention. Bart bounced on the balls of his feet and kept glancing around the holding room as if the challenge had already started. Anna’s instructions went in one ear, out the other. Cassie kept sneaking glances at Superboy. Obviously something was going on there, something that Robin didn’t like one bit.

Superboy had his arms folded and a bemused smile, like this was going to be over quickly. 

“And, so, yeah. Have a good time,” Anna concluded and opened the door. 

“I’m going to be watching. You guys need to work together— without putting each other down,” Nightwing said as they passed him to go into the room. Robin was the last one in line. He hung back for a second. 

“I was cleared,” he said, pointedly. 

“This has nothing to do with that.” 

“Really? The first day I’m back in the cape, you send us to a place where children have birthday parties?” 

Nightwing looked deeply resentful. 

“For your information, this is the scariest room and you have to be 13 or older.” 

“You’re hovering more than B.” 

“You haven’t even scratched the surface of hovering.” 

Robin shook his head, dryly disappointed, and walked into the room.

Nightwing hissed, “He used to chaperone those school dances!” before shutting the door. 

It was a pirate ship. 

He expected the place to look straight out of Party City, but the craftsmanship was high quality. The wooden floor boards under their feet looked weathered by a life at sea. There was an old treasure chest with an impressive lock. A map was torn into puzzle pieces and spread around a table. The Jolly Roger flag hung on one wall. The flag was tattered and the white of the skull and cross bones had faded into a rusty brown. There were even sound affects and smells pumped into the room; the sound of waves rolling like they were lost at sea and the smell of salt water in fresh air.

There was a mechanical parrot perched on a bird swing. That must be the way Anna would communicate with them. 

There was a window framed by a wooden wheel. Maybe the wheel moved, or there might be notches in the wooden spokes that meant something. Through the window there was a painted scene of a sunny blue sky. Maybe the number of clouds would be relevant. There were several barrels of different shapes and sizes in one corner.

“Hey, costumes!” Cassie said, excitedly. 

“That could be a clue,” Robin held out an arm but they totally ignored him. 

She and Bart made a beeline to the corner were there were pirate accessories like the oversized, blue striped and tattered shirt that Cassie put on over her Wonder Girl suit. She added a brown leather belt. Bart wrapped a red bandanna around his head, which forced all his hair to fluff out the bottom. Superboy made his way to the window to examine it closer. 

“We should catalogue the room before we touch anything,” Robin said. 

Bart put on both eye patches at once and laughed. Cassie explored the costume jewelry options. 

Robin huffed. “Has anyone here actually done an escape room before?” 

In the distance, a seagull squawking sound affect played.

Bart and Cassie blinked. Superboy folded his arms. 

“Every room I’m in with you feels like an escape room.” 

“Okay,” Robin said, taking a deep, centering breath. “Nightwing and Anna are watching us through those,” he pointed out three different hidden lenses that he’d clocked immediately, “cameras. They can also hear everything we’re saying and if we need help or have any questions, we just need to talk to the parrot which is actually a speaker.” 

“Let’s ask them how to unlock the door,” Bart suggested. 

“No. The purpose of the exercise is for us to work together and figure out how to escape by finding little puzzles and clues around the room. It’s easy but we’re supposed to do it as a team.” 

“I bet I can get us out of here before you,” Superboy said. 

“That defeats the whole point,” he said, exasperated. 

Superboy didn’t listen, he was already back at the door, about to pry it open with pure Kryptonian strength. 

“And we’re not supposed to break things,” Robin said, alarmed. 

SB didn’t listen… but pulled and pulled at the door handle to no avail. 

He stepped back, wide-eyed. 

Robin glanced between him and the door. 

“Your powers are gone,” Robin said, slipping into his expressionless detective mode.

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.” 

Bart kept both eye patches but flipped them up to his forehead. He ran to the door but tripped over his own feet when he moved at a normal human pace. 

Cassie jumped, as if attempting to fly. 

“Okay. Nobody panic,” Robin said. 

Superboy grabbed him by the collar of his cape and yanked him closer. “What did you do to us?” 

Robin pushed him off with ease, which brought Superboy’s panic to new levels. 

“I’m sure it’s Nightwing. He probably asked a magic user to take away everyone’s powers while in the room, so we’d be forced to solve the puzzles with brains alone.” 

“Nightwing wouldn’t do something like that! Just admit it— you took our powers because you’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous because the three of us are better than you.” 

“Um, I don’t know about that,” Cassie said in a higher pitch than normal. Robin ignored her with a scoff that ended in a sarcastic smile. 

“I’m not even going to dignify that accusation with a response.” 

“So you admit it.” 

“Do want to fight, or do you want to do what needs to be done?” 

“I want you to give us our powers back.” 

Robin just shook his head. “This is so stupid.” 

“Wow, name-calling? So mature,” Superboy turned to the flag. “Nightwing, are you hearing this?” 

“Not a camera,” Robin said dryly. 

“Shut up.” 

“Now who’s mature?” 

Superboy looked ready to deck him. Powers or no, it would probably hurt. 

“Okay, we’re not gonna get out of here by fighting,” Cassie hurried over and separated them by shoving a pirate hat at SB and a ruffled white shirt at Robin. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” said Robin. 

“Just put on some pirate stuff. Both of you.” 

“I’m not wearing this,” Robin said and held up the ball of frills.  

“Yeah, I don’t do Halloween costumes,” Superboy said, being very cool. Robin resisted an eye roll. 

“I’ll take the hat then,” he said. He reached for it, but SB snatched it away. 

“Hey, she gave it to me,” he said and shoved it on his head. The giant feather looked ridiculous, especially with his indignant glare. 

“Come on, Robin. If we’re gonna work as a team, we need to dress as a team,” she said. 

“I found another option,” said Bart in the corner. He held up the final costume piece, a black and red striped dress with a tattered, pirate hem. Cassie looked thoughtful. SB snickered. 

Robin wore the shirt, but even leaving it unbuttoned didn’t minimize the awful tackiness of the ruffled collar. He didn’t let it distract him from the mission. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Robin said, standing over the map. “Impulse, you’ll take the barrels. They need to be ordered smallest to biggest.” 

“Why?” Bart asked. 

“The cumulus clouds outside the window are smallest to biggest. Look at the brand stamped on the barrels— Cumulus Rum.” 

Bart was impressed, and threw his back into pushing the barrels into position.

“Wonder Girl, the treasure chest needs a key. Search the room, there might be a loose floor board. Remember, we’re not supposed to actually break anything. Which brings me to Superboy—” 

“— I wasn’t breaking the door, I was trying to get us out of here. I think we should break it down. It would  be faster than this.” 

“You can look at the window, carefully, for clues.” 

“You already found the clue there.” 

“Maybe I missed something the first time. It’s always worth it to take a second look.” 

“And let me guess, you get to do the map. Why don’t you take a second look, and I’ll solve the map.” 

“You’re just wasting time arguing with me.” 

“Because I don’t think you should boss around the team that you ditched for two months.” 

Bart stopped moving the barrels. Wonder Girl paused her search. 

“I didn’t ditch you, I was benched.” 

“Why?” 

There was a beat. 

“We only have forty five minutes to get out of here,” Robin said. “Impulse— the barrels.” 

Bart got back to his task. 

“You won’t even tell us. It’s so unfair that just because you’re Batman’s kid and Nightwing’s favorite, you get a free pass to do whatever you want.” 

“What is your problem?” Wonder Girl said and glared at him. Robin looked at her, surprised that she’d defend him, but also oddly touched. 

“What’s his problem?” SB glared back and gestured to Robin. 

Bart moved the final barrel into place. 

Something strange happened. All the lights turned off. There was lightning and thunder— and it wasn’t a soundtrack or special effects. It was real. Outside the window, what used to be a painting turned into reality. There was a black sky and a real ocean. Looking through the window, they saw a real wave hit their ship. They felt it too, as it slammed against the side and ocean spray made it through cracks in the wood. The floor moved as they bobbed back and forth in a storm. 

Nothing inside changed except the bird. 

“SQWACK! Ahoy, young heroes. You’re in trouble now,” the parrot said and ruffled his feathers. 

Bart desperately tried to return the barrels to their previous order, saying, “Go back, go back, go back!” But it was too late. 

“This is just one of Nightwing’s tricks,” Robin announced. 

“Nightwing is trying to kill us?” Cassie exclaimed. Another wave hit, slamming everyone to the left. “We need to call for help!” 

“We don’t need help! It’s him. We already know he’s working with a magic user.”

“We don’t know that,” Cassie shouted at him. 

“This is just a part of his test. It’s probably an illusion.” 

“This doesn’t feel very illusionary,” Bart shouted, bracing himself against the wall.

“God! This is just like Cadmus! I constantly said we should call the Justice League and you ignored me until we were screwed.” 

“We’re not screwed,” Robin argued. 

Lightning flashed and the wind howled. 

“Forget this, I’m out of here!” Superboy said. He opened the window. 

A dastardly green smoke came pouring into the room. Superboy jumped back. 

“No cheating,” squawked the parrot. “Solve the puzzles if you want to escape. Escape with your lives, that is. Thirty minutes left.” 

“Thirty minutes until what?” Impulse asked. 

“Shiver me braaaaains,” moaned a low voice. 

That’s when the first zombie pirate appeared. 

Through the green haze outside the window, they heard the slow but terrifying thump… thump… of footsteps. A hoard of zombies with decaying green skin, sunken cheeks, and water logged leather boots, vests, and pirate jackets crossed the deck outside. They were headed for the window. 

“Zombie pirates?” Robin said, skeptically. “This has Nightwing all over it.” 

Cassie and Bart were too busy screaming and holding each other to reply. 

Superboy grabbed the parrot in one hand and held it to his face like a walkie talkie. “I don’t know who you are, but let us out of here and maybe I won’t punch your face in!” 

Robin took a second to sigh, then sprung into action. 

“Okay, we can’t waste time arguing about who’s behind this. We need to get to work— now. Impulse, help Wonder Girl with the search for the key. Superboy, check out the flag.” 

Bart and Cassie threw themselves at their task, but Superboy just elbowed him on his way to the map. 

“You check out the flag,” Superboy said, sorting all the edge pieces of the puzzle into a pile. Robin scowled but did what needed to be done. 

He checked inside the barrels but they were all empty. Then he noticed one of them didn’t move. 

“Impulse— did you move the biggest one?” 

“No, I just moved the others around it,” Bart said, crawling around poking at floor boards. 

Robin jumped inside it and heard the hollow bottom. It had to be a trap door. He reached it and attempted to open it but it didn’t budge. A small panel of wood slid away revealing a specialty lock with four letters. He’d have to keep searching for the answer. 

He ran to the flag. He unpinned it from the wall and discovered that behind the flag was a safe. He put an ear to the door and turned the knob but between the wind, the rain, and the zombies he couldn’t hear the clicks. He didn’t have his safe picking supplies but the code had to be around the room somewhere. It was four number digits.

“We found something!” Wonder Girl said. 

A flashlight, silver and heavy, hidden underneath the floorboards. 

Wonder Girl clicked it on. 

“Why is it blue?” Bart asked. 

“It’s a blacklight,” Cassie and Robin said at the same time.

“Looks blue to me.” 

“Let’s search the room for a hidden message,” Robin said but she was already on it. She pointed it around the room, on the safe, on the flag, on the window— right as a snarling zombie face dripping rain water appeared. 

“Ahh!” She screamed. 

“4 digits,” Robin muttered to himself, realizing something, “It could be coordinates.” 

“Hey!” She said, as Robin stole the flashlight and ran to the map. 

Superboy placed the final puzzle piece. 

The map was a cartoonish drawing of the Caribbean islands. Robin scanned it with the flashlight but there was nothing. Without a word, he started flipping the pieces over. 

“What are you doing? I just finished that,” Superboy said. He shoved him away from the table but with no powers, Robin just shoved him back.

“I think there’s a message on the back,” Robin said. 

“Well, there’s a map on the front. You’re messing it up. Look, they’re blank.” 

Robin clicked on the flashlight and there— in the bottom right corner, a single “X” that marked the spot. 

“Whatever,” Superboy muttered. 

Robin flipped over the clump of corner pieces and figured out the longitude and latitude lines that correlated with the “X.” 

The coordinates worked on the safe. Inside the safe was a damn Rubik’s Cube. 

Robin worked on it furiously. He’d watched Youtube videos about solving one, but had never actually done it before. 

“I’m great at those,” Cassie said. 

Robin hesitated. 

“It’s okay. I can do it,” he said, finally, and returned to the puzzle. 

“Nightwing, I think I’m sea sick,” Bart shouted at the parrot, looking a little worse for wear. 

The parrot nuzzled its beak into its wing. 

“Nightwing isn’t listening, Bart. He’s probably dead in a ditch.” Superboy said, with his arms crossed. 

Bart looked positively miserable. 

“What?” 

Robin snapped his gaze up from the puzzle. 

“You can’t call him by his real name while we’re in the field. Are you nuts?” 

“You’re nuts. You’re the one who’s going to get us eaten by zombies because you think it’s a game.” 

Wonder Girl discretely stole the Rubik’s Cube and devoted herself to solving it. The zombies were trying to climb through the window. Some of them started banging against the wall, while others pried at the wood and tried to claw through. 

“The zombies aren’t real,” said Robin, like he was talking to an idiot. “This is an escape room. It is a game. Nightwing is using magic to make it harder for us to escape, as apart of the game we are playing.” 

“I think I’m gonna Voit,” Bart said. The green in his face was enough of a context clue to figure out what voit meant in the future. The zombie’s moans grew louder as their break-in advanced. 

“You’re the one who doesn’t get what’s going on here.” 

“I’m the one who has the most experience.” 

“You don’t have experience, Batman has experience. You just follow him around and do whatever he says. I’m the one who has experience in the real world.” 

“The real world? You think your life in Hawaii is the real world? Everything has been done for you. The Justice League pay for everything, they deal with local authority. You really think the police had no questions about a super powered kid flying around?” 

“I’ve stopped more crime than you have, and I did it all by myself.” 

The zombies burst through but Robin and Superboy were locked on each other. 

“What crime? A few B&Es? You’re not even a national news story. Besides, the Justice League is always watching. If anyone was ever actually in danger, Aquaman would be on the scene in seconds. Why do you think he showed up when King Shark attacked? You’re more supervised than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” 

“Robin, watch out!” Bart shouted. A zombie lunged at Robin, but Bart acted fast, even without his powers. He shoved Robin out of the way and the zombie’s slimy, decaying arms captured him instead. Bart screamed as he was dragged into the green haze before disappearing into thin air. 

For a brief moment, Robin and Superboy were united in a shared look horrified. 

“Impulse!” Cassie screamed. She threw the solved Rubric’s Cub at Robin, who caught it one handed, and sprinted after Bart. She was overwhelmed by three Zombies. She fought against them tooth and nail, but was ultimately dragged away. 

The completed Rubric’s Cube opened up, revealing a slip of paper with four letters: I-c-u-p

Yeah, definitely Dick, he thought to himself. 

Robin grabbed Superboy by the shirt sleeve and pulled him toward the barrel. The zombies surrounded them and the green haze was thick enough to choke on. 

Superboy was babbling something about Bart and Cassie being gone forever, but there was no time to reprimand him for the name use. Robin finally popped the lock and opened the trap door, revealing a shiny brass key.

“SQWUACK! Two minutes left,” the parrot said before ruffling his feathers and flying out the window. 

“What?” Robin said, indignantly. Time might fly when zombies attacked, but he was sure they had more time than that. Superboy was still in shock. He barely noticed as a zombie grabbed for him, but Robin pulled him by the shirt sleeve to safety. The zombie managed to grab only the feather from his hat and groaned, confused, by the prize. 

He pulled Superboy away from the horde and toward the treasure chest. 

He unlocked it and clicked the latches open. 

When he finally pulled it open, he was surprised by the single piece of treasure inside. 

It was a scrap of parchment that simple said “Friendship.” 

Robin stood up, staring at the paper and ignoring his first instinct to crumple it up and scream are you kidding me at the nearest camera. 

As annoying as Dick was, he wouldn’t design a room that couldn’t be solved. He had a healthy respect for fair games. 

Robin just needed to figure out how friendship was the key to opening the door. 

He got an idea. 

He ran to the door and folded up the paper, trying to make it small and sharp enough to fit into the lock. 

Before he could test his hypothesis, Superboy picked up the biggest barrel he could without enhanced strength and threw it against the door. The barrel splinter slightly. 

“Wait, I have an idea,” Robin said. 

“Sorry I’m busy trying to save our lives.” 

“Just let me try—”

The zombies approached and Robin had to duck and weave to avoid capture. Superboy picked up the barrel again and used it as a battering ram. He gave up and just used his shoulder. 

Judging by the look on his face, he experienced a pain he hadn’t been expecting. But he just gritted his teeth and tried again. 

“I can get us out of here! We want the same thing.” 

“Whatever,” Superboy turned and chucked the barrel at Robin. Robin ducked, then realized the actual target for the attack had been the zombie right behind him that went tumbling to the ground. 

Superboy picked up a piece of barrel that had splintered off and wielded it like a wooden stake. He fought off the zombies and Robin tried his paper key in the keyhole idea. 

It didn’t work. 

The green smoke brought visibility down to nearly nothing. Superboy’s stake was knocked away by a particularly fast moving zombie and he gave up the fight. He tackled Robin to the ground instead, just outside the door. It was the exact moment that their time ran out. The zombies won, completely overtaking them with their snapping teeth and outstretched arms. Superboy squeeze his eyes shut and accepted death. 

But death didn’t come. 

One moment, all they heard was creepy, undead groans, snarls, and the raging storm as rain hit the ship like bullets. The next moment, it was silent. The zombies were gone. The floor beneath them stopped moving. 

Superboy opened his eyes and pulled himself away from Robin, just a little. 

They were in the room just as they’d walked into it, with a painted background in the window and all the props reset into their initial positions. 

He glanced at Robin underneath him, but Robin was staring transfixed at his own gloved hand. 

He quickly understood why. 

He rubbed his fingers together, but there was an invisible barrier that prevented them from touching. Superboy realized that his powers were back, and he’d used his TTK without thinking about it. It was wrapped around Robin like a suit of armor.  

Robin tried to poke his own cheek, but the TTK stopped him, a forced inch apart. 

He’d never felt like this when he used his powers. It was different, but more of a burning discomfort than actual pain. It was like stretching a muscle in a way he’d never tried to move it before. He touched Robin’s cheek and his hand easily connected, skin on skin, like there was nothing between them but air. He couldn’t see Robin’s eyes but swore he could feel the weight of his gaze. 

“Have you done this before?” Robin asked. Something about the quiet, sincere way he asked made him inclined to answer. 

“No.” 

“It’s really cool,” Robin said and then he actually smiled. 

His control slipped and his TTK dropped away. He hadn’t noticed it when it happened, but he definitely noticed when it disappeared. It gave him a chill as if he’d pulled away a blanket, despite the fact that they were still tangled together. Robin lightly thumped to the ground. SB hadn’t even realized they’d been two inches in the air. 

The door opened. 

Superboy flew away, as far he could get. Robin got to his feet. 

Nightwing shook his head, arms crossed. 

“Close, but close wouldn’t cut it on a real haunted pirate ship.” 

“I would’ve escaped, if I’d been working alone,” Robin said and whatever quiet moment of truce they’d had was immediately forgotten. SB flew forward, landing in front of Nightwing. 

“I would’ve broken down the door if he didn’t insist on doing all the stupid puzzles first.”

“How do you still not get the purpose of an escape room—” 

“The puzzles didn’t even work anyway!” 

“Actually,” Nightwing interrupted. “The final puzzle was the password. The door would’ve opened if you both said friendship.” 

Robin squinted. “A voice activated door doesn’t really fit the theme.” 

“Take it up with the designer.” 

Anna came into the room, but she looked totally different. Her hair was black and curled up at her shoulders. She wore a top hat, a black jacket with a white button up shirt, a black bowtie, and red shorts. 

“Zatanna,” Robin said, like he should’ve guessed all along. 

“It’s a pleasure to, formally, meet you,” she extended a white gloved hand and he shook it. “I must say, I’m impressed. It takes a keen eye to see through my illusions so easily.” 

“Oh— not really. I mean, it just seemed like the kind of prank ‘Wing would pull. Really, it looked super real. You’re really good. I’m the one who should be impressed.” 

“Take the compliment,” Nightwing said. She smirked, sweetly, like she was trying not to laugh at Robin’s fluster. 

SB folded his arms. 

“You should’ve told us it was going to be magical,” said SB. 

“I told you it was like a million times—”

“I wanted to recreate the confusion and high stakes of a real mission,” Nightwing said. “And you failed— you both failed. The one thing I asked you to do was work together and you wasted half your time screaming at each other.” 

“I always prioritize the mission. He’s the one who picked a fight,” Robin exclaimed. 

“It doesn’t matter who started it. I want you to apologize.” 

“Me?” Robin said, disbelieving. “Just me?” 

“You’re more experienced and you’re the leader. You have a different set of expectations. The things you said were completely unhelpful and unacceptable.” 

Robin, normally such a know-it-all, clearly hadn’t been expecting that. 

Superboy flew to Nightwing’s side and hovered a few inches so he could really look down on Robin. 

“I’m waiting.” 

Robin stared at him for a beat. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that what I said was unhelpful and unacceptable.” 

“And annoying.”  

“That’s not helpful, either,” Nightwing said as he turned to SB. 

“I’m sorry you don’t know the difference between reality and playing pretend,” Robin said, and he wasn’t just talking about the escape room. 

“I’m sorry you came back.” 

Bart and Cassie walked in just as SB said it. The air was thick with tension. 

“Awesome practice,” Robin said to Nightwing, pushing past him and the others to walk out of the room. 

SB tried to laugh like Robin was being overdramatic. Nightwing wasn’t in a laughing mood. 

“You’re benched for two weeks,” Nightwing said, tightly furious. “Not just here. Hawaii, too. And if I see you on the news, it’s another two weeks.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” SB said, but it was obvious that even he wasn’t totally convinced of the fact. 

“I should probably go,” Zatanna said, with a forced lightheartedness. “I’ve got a lunch thing with Miss Martian.” 

“Can we keep the costumes?” Bart asked, his eyepatches back in place. “Wally promised he’d take me treat-or-tricking.” 

Chapter Text

Impulse and Wonder Girl circled each other on the mat. 

“Are you ready to lose?” she said with a smirk. 

“Ohh,” he said, building up to trash talk. He zig zagged so fast he blurred at the edges. “Can’t beat what you can’t catch.” 

He zoomed in for a punch, but she blocked him with ease with a killer reaction time. The fight continued. Punch, dodge. Kick, zoom. Lasso, lunge. Back to circling each other. It was like a dance. Finally— Bart landed a punch that distracted her enough for him to grab her lasso and tie her up, super speed style. 

“Bart wins,” Nightwing called it, since her arms were stuck to her sides. 

“I win!” He celebrated. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“No one likes a sore winner,” she grumbled, as Robin came over to help unite her. Bart was busy doing victory laps. Nightwing watched him with amusement. 

“You flinched a lot. I mean, when Bart threw a punch you basically turned away. You need to keep your head up and your eyes open, preferably looking chest level,” Robin said. 

The knot loosened and she shrugged out of her lasso. 

“Okay, sorry.” 

“No, I didn’t— I mean— You don’t have to…” he trailed off. All at once, his posture changed, into something straighter and confident. “Yeah. I just wanted to tell you what I noticed.” 

“Got it,” she said, annoyed. 

“I think we can call it a day,” Nightwing said. 

Bart stopped running around. “We should all go visit Superboy.” 

“Actually, Nightwing, didn’t you say today we have to update our files?” Robin asked. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Of course. He was so the type to remind the teacher to collect homework. Cassie bit back a groan but Bart wasn’t so tactful. 

“Nooo,” he said, like he’d been shot. “That takes forever.” 

“It’s helpful to track our progress,” said Robin. 

“He’s right,” Nightwing agreed. “Come on, we can make it fun.” 

Nightwing tested them on strength, dexterity, speed, and in Cassie’s case, flight. The data was cold hard proof of the improvement they’d made, and that was fun for Robin. The ping-pong game afterwards, that was fun for Cassie and Bart. Nightwing had fun with it, too, creating a new category on their files called ping-pong games won.

~ 

Alfred prepared a full Thanksgiving banquet. Everything looked delicious, the proper degree of crispiness, and glazed to perfection fitting of a 1950s home and gardens magazine. It was a little awkward that such a display was all for the sake of two people.

They were in the main dinning room, next to the roaring fire. The room was designed to feel as welcoming as an old cathedral. The walls were dark wood with carved designs purchased and imported from the Italy. Impressive medieval tapestries were on display, the way some people might display stag heads. 

Dick left last night after a particularly nasty fight. If Jason dying brought them together, his apparent resurrection gave them a million new things to scream about. He didn’t even stop by Tim’s semi-official bedroom to let him know, probably because if Tim had looked sad enough he would’ve stayed. 

Tim and Bruce sat across from each other with the beautiful dinner spread out between them. 

Obviously, a holiday about family was always going to be an unpleasant affair— but Tim knew it was a different type of pain when Jason could be there but wasn’t. This was also the first Thanksgiving since Jason’s passing that Dick abandoned him, too. Tim couldn’t make up for one of their absences, much less both. Still, he was determined to improve Bruce’s mood. 

“My girlfriend broke up with me,” Tim said. 

Bruce sawed into his turkey. There was no way he knew he’d been dating Ariana in the first place, but he took the information in stride. 

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Tim shrugged, just two pals commiserating. “Women.” 

Bruce twitched into a smile, just for a moment, but Tim wanted to fist pump to celebrate. He contained himself. 

“Did she give you a reason?” 

Tim glanced down at his plate. “Not really. I think we’re just better off as friends.” 

And he was never around on the weekends and gave bullshit excuses like “studying” and “church group” and “family dinner” that she, unlike Ives and Bernard, could tell were bullshit. He actually thought it was cool that she called him out on it, but someone with a sharp enough eye to see through one of his basic lies probably wasn’t someone he should get closer to. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Bruce said, his version of hang in there, bud. 

“Yeah,” Tim said. He looked up, with his lips pressed together in a might-as-well-accept-this smile. 

“Who was your first girlfriend?” Tim asked. 

“I didn’t date until college.” 

“That contradicts several demerits you received while attending Anders Prepatory, as I seem to recall it, sir,” said Alfred, as he walked into the room with a perfectly polished pitcher of ice water. 

“Perhaps your memory isn’t what it used to be,” Bruce said, giving him a meaningful look as he picked up his wine glass. Alfred refilled his water glass with a perfect pour. 

“Perhaps. Shall I fetch the demerits and read them aloud to refresh us both?” 

“No.” He said. He dragged his gaze to Tim. “Alfred is right.” 

“He usually is,” Tim said and was rewarded by an Alfred smile. Rare, but always a great accomplishment. 

“I dated a few people in high school,” Bruce finally admitted. “But I regret it. It was a distraction. How is your school work?” 

“Good,” Tim said. “Great, actually.” 

Bruce fucked up with his first two kids. The least Tim could do was pretend to be a perfect one. One who was happy and successful and wanted to be there for Thanksgiving. Bruce deserved to have that, and Tim had hope that one day the kids he really wanted would be there for him instead— or maybe they’d still invite Tim to stay. He could picture it, though the Jason he imagined at the table had curly hair, laughed with his whole chest, and clocked in at about 5’7. He might be taller now, amongst other things, but Tim truly believed that the past could become the present. That was the powerful proof of nostalgia. If things had been that good before, they could be that good again. 

“Young Justice is going well, too. Like— the team is really clicking,” said Tim. He was trying to sell it too hard. He just wanted to give Bruce a reason to be proud of him, something that mattered more than homework.

“Good,” said Bruce. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your training. Time spent preparing is never wasted.” 

“Yeah. I was actually wondering, though— do you think we’ll get a real assignment soon?” 

“I think you should attempt an escape room again before I answer that question.” 

Damn, Tim tried to blackmail Dick into silence about that one. He needed new embarrassing pictures. The disco-wing suit wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe he could search Alfred’s meticulously organized attic for some pictures of Dick’s angsty-tumblr-kid-fringe year. 

“I don’t know what Dick told you, but I could’ve escaped just fine. My teammates got a little… carried away.” 

“Do you think everyone is well-suited for the team? Or is there someone you’d like removed, so that everyone else can… click?” He asked, using Tim’s own word. 

Obviously, a certain clone came to mind. But no matter how hard Tim rolled his eyes he couldn’t truthfully say that Superboy didn’t belong on the team. He was powerful and it didn’t matter how much he hated Tim, if push came to shove, he’d save his life. Like he’d tried to do on Halloween, and made a giant ass of himself in the process like an idiot and if he had just listened to Tim in the first place everything would’ve been fine and they’d probably get a real assignment by Christmas. Tim was bitter, but not spiteful. 

“Everyone deserves to be there,” Tim said, thoughtfully. 

“Hm.” 

“I mean it. They’re all good people. And they’re good at what they do.” 

Bruce was doubtful. 

“Or they will be, one day. Soon,” Tim said, and it felt like he was making a promise. 

“What was it like when you first created the Justice League?” Tim asked. 

Bruce sighed. 

“Complicated.” 

Tim internally cringed. Slight misstep, but he could turn this around. 

“Really? Did Selina try and talk you out of it?” 

Bruce’s frown told him that he’d once again stepped in shit. He needed to get his head back in the game. 

“She did not because I do not discuss things with her. We have no relationship.” 

As if summoned, Alfred appeared, white cloth napkin over one arm. 

“Curious. I must have misinterpreted Mrs. Kyle over coffee this morn—”

“Alfred.” 

Bruce glared. He pulled his own napkin off his lap with a flourish and threw it on the table. 

“I believe it’s time for pie. Are you ready for pie, Tim?” 

“Yes,” Tim said, because it was the right answer even though he was only halfway through his plate.

“Very well, sir,” Alfred said with a stiff nod. He made his way to the kitchen. 

“Bruce,” Tim said, candidly, once Alfred was gone. “Come on. It’s me. I’ve met Selina; I like Selina. Plus, I told you about my girlfriend.” 

Bruce sighed, but it was different than before. He was amused, albeit reluctantly. 

“I definitely do not have a girlfriend. And actually you told me very little about yours. Was this Ariana, the girl you asked to the dance?” 

Tim was shocked but by now, he should’ve known better. Batman. 

“Yeah,” Tim said. “She has really good taste in music.” 

“That’s important,” Bruce said, fully amused now. Everything was back on track. 

“Yeah. And my friends really like her, too. I think she’ll probably still sit with us at lunch. She didn’t really have friends, before.” 

“I thought Heather was her friend. On the night of winter formal, they left together. To talk.”  

He needed to stop talking about Ariana. The way Bruce just brought up that long since closed case meant he’d probably already suspected holes in the story. He didn’t need Bruce thinking of him as a liar or looking into Ariana. Tim had already cleared her. 

“They’re frienemies; it’s totally different. Dick told me you used to chaperone those dances.” 

Just as he’d hoped, the dry amusement was back. 

“Yes. No one spiked the punch bowl on my watch. Do they still give the chaperones flashlights to break up hanky-panky?” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never heard anyone say hanky-panky before. Did you say it back then?” 

“Only in front of Dick’s dates. And once on the mic when I asked the DJ for a turn.” 

Tim laughed. 

“Who asked you to chaperone?” 

“Well.” He said, a little stiffly, “I was an active member of the PTA. They expect you to volunteer for something.” 

“You were in the PTA?” 

“Yes,” Bruce said, with something like pride. “The Sixth Grade Mentorship Program was my initiative.” 

“I had a sixth grade mentor,” Tim said, excited. Every first grader had been assigned a sixth grade buddy to spend an hour with every Friday. Tim loved it, even though due to an uneven class size Tim and Ives had to share a sixth grader who definitely seemed to like Ives more. 

“And do you feel as though a meaningful friendship with an older student helped build your self-confidence and foster a sense of independence?” 

God, Tim could practically imagine the pitch slideshow. As if Brucie Wayne couldn’t have convinced a room full of PTA moms to stock the vending machines with Adderall by taking off his shirt. 

“Mission accomplished,” Tim said and Bruce looked the happiest he’d been all night. 

Alfred cleared the table and served the pie. Pumpkin, cooked to textbook perfection and lightly toasted with a creme brûlée torch, with a swirled dollop of homemade whip cream on top. 

“Coffee, sir?” 

“Yes, please,” Bruce said. 

“Yes, please,” Tim repeated and Alfred gave him disapproving look #8. No forehead movement, mouth in a pressed line. 

“I’m sure you’d prefer decaf at this hour, Master Timothy.” 

“But I’m patrolling anyway,” Tim tried but Alfred held firm. 

Tim accepted the delicate cup. “Thank you, Alfred,” he said, which seemed to please the old man. 

“You’re quite welcome.” 

Bruce sipped his coffee and made a disgusted face. 

A blank expression slid into place before he cut his gaze to Alfred. 

“Is there a problem with your drink, Master Bruce?” 

“None whatsoever,” said Bruce, full recovered from whatever that was. “Thank you, Alfred.” 

“My pleasure, sir.” Alfred excused himself from the room. 

Tim tilted his head but didn’t dare ask. Bruce dug into his pie and didn’t reach for his coffee again. Tim leaned a little closer and saw how light the liquid looked. That explained the source of the disgust, since Bruce took his coffee black. It had to be on purpose. Tim theorized that Alfred gave Bruce Selina’s usual coffee order, since he’d started to mention that she’d been around for breakfast that morning. If Bruce had pointed out the mistake, Alfred would’ve had another reason to mention Selina. It definitely seemed like his kind of plan, foiled only by swallowing discomfort to adhere to the strict code of polite society. A win-win in Alfred’s book. 

“You’re not going to drink that, are you?” 

Tim normally took his coffee with two creams. That drink was so light it was probably more milk than coffee, but caffeine was caffeine was caffeine. 

“Help yourself,” Bruce said and slid the cup away. 

~

There was a brief period of time between Thanksgiving break and the end of the semester. That period of time was hell for Wally West. 

Dick stood outside the door of Wally’s apartment. He raised a hand to knock, but it opened before he could. Opened and closed, as the shortest Flash family member sped away in the blink of an eye. Dick blinked again and Bart was in front of him, in civilian clothes, with tear stained cheeks and a pink nose. 

“Don’t talk to him. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone,” Bart said. Then he was gone and Dick’s bangs blew out of his face before settling into place. 

Dick had no idea what to make of that. 

He didn’t knock. 

Wally was on his couch with his head in his hands. His laptop was open on the coffee table. The surrounding floor was a tripping hazard of textbooks, papers, binders, flashcards. 

Wally looked up and Dick had never seen him so defeated. Never. 

“Shit. Did we have plans?” 

“No,” Dick said. “I thought I’d stop by… Walls…” 

“I’m fine,” Wally jerked to his feet and paced. Always a good sign. “I know— I haven’t had a chance to clean up so it looks really bad, but it looks worse than it is. I’m sorry I can’t hang out right now, I can’t even sleep right now even though I was awake all night in fucking Oregon which is so stupid! Who tries to end the world in Oregon? Nothing happens in Oregon but rain. And nothing did happen because we killed the hell hounds and I destroyed the portal but I’m going to fucking fail out of school because I have a thirty page paper due at midnight that I haven’t even started. And then I’ll be stuck paying off my student loans forever and I can’t hold a job. I can’t hold a class! I can’t hold a relationship— and I just fucked up Bart. He’s already fucked up. And then when he shows up here and won’t take no for an answer I just snap at him and say— Can you stop being yourself for five minutes? I mean, who says that to a kid? A kid like Bart, who’s so fucking sweet. Barry—”

Wally cut himself off, choking on the grief that saying Barry always brought. He’d been on the verge of tears for his entire rant, but now he finally looked it. 

“Barry never would’ve said something like that. Not to me, not to anyone. And I just wish Bart… I wish he had someone like that.” 

Wally sat on the couch and stared at the floor. 

“And I ordered Postmates and it says delivered but it’s not outside,” he quietly concluded. 

Dick watched his friend. The silence of his apartment was particularly pronounced after his outburst. It was after dinner, there was still plenty of traffic on the street down below. Wally’s upstairs neighbor played a party playlist, a low and steady thumping bass line muffled by the ceiling. 

Dick felt so much pity he was drowning in it. He decided to start in order of most-solvable. 

“If your food was never delivered you can request a full refund on the app,” he said, steadily. 

Wally looked up and they finally made eye contact. As Dick suspected, he was crying, but he wiped his eyes on the palms of his hands. 

“It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid—”

“I know what you think,” Wally said, standing up again. “It’s what everyone thinks. It should be you.” 

Dick furrow his brow, attempting to follow. 

“In the Justice League,” Wally said, spelling it out with fistfuls of frustration. “It should be you. Everyone in the League thinks so too, but they’re too nice and fucking terrified to say anything to Bruce about his kids. You’re the best of us, Dick, you always were. You probably hate me and I deserve it. The only reason it’s me is because Barry died and Bruce used that as an excuse to hold you back. If Aquaman was gone, it would’ve been Kal. He would’ve made more sense than me— anyone would’ve been better than me. I’m stupid. I can’t even sleep or feed myself. I take out student loans for fucking nothing. The League would be better off if I wasn’t around. Bart, you, hell, everyone—”

“That’s not what I think.” 

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay.” Dick insisted. He crossed the room and touched Wally’s arm, begging him to believe it.

“Wally. There hasn’t been a single second that I wondered why you were asked to join the League. Bruce doesn’t want me on the team, you’re right about that, but that didn’t have anything to do with why he chose you. You’re smart. Pretty sure that’s what got you into University in the first place. And you’re smart in a way that doesn’t make the people around you feel stupid, which is really a testament to your curiosity and compassion. It makes you an amazing hero because you don’t watch people and judge them, you talk to them and assume the best. It makes the people around you want to be better. You’re smart, kind, and great for morale. And fast, too, can’t forget that. Of course they want you on the League, for all the same reason I’ve always felt lucky to have you on my team.” 

Wally ducked his head. 

“Come on, man,” he said. 

“You need to hear this. Also— I’m ordering dinner. And paying your loans— don’t even start. You can pay me back if it makes you feel better, but if I asked B for money for college he’d probably do a heel kick and shout whoop-ee. Even if it’s not for me. He’d be happy I’m saying the word college.” 

“I think I would do anything to hear Batman shout whoop-ee.” 

“Then your loans are taken care of— I’m serious. We should have a program for League members anyway, like the VA. Now, about Bart— so, you lost your temper and said something you regret. It’s happens when you’re family. I know it was different with your dad—”

“Dick—”

“— But you’re not like him, Walls. You’re not. I’ve seen you and Bart. He calls you his best friend. He loves you. So, you made a mistake. You’ll apologize and he’ll still love you. He’s so much better off because you’re around. There’s the whole saving his life thing, but even more than that. I’ve seen Bart grow so much these past four months. That’s what happens to a kid when they finally have someone in their corner who believes in them.” 

“Jesus, Dick.” Wally wiped at his face some more. “Now on top of everything else I’m dehydrated.” 

Dick chuckled quietly. “Sorry.” 

“You should be.” 

“Sorry not sorry.” 

“Betrayal,” Wally said. He took a deep, deep breath and let it go. 

“So,” Wally said. “That was a lot.” 

Dick held his face and forced Wally to stare into his eyes. “You’re going to bed.” 

“But—”

“I’ll bring you Postmates.” 

“Dick—”

“Did you know that after 24 hours without sleep, every minute you’re awake kills as many braincells as a hundred concussions?” 

Wally squinted. “Huh?” 

Dick escorted him to his room.

“The fact that you have to think about that confirms my theory.” 

“So it’s just a theory?” 

“Go to bed now or I’ll employ one of Alfred’s sneakier techniques.” 

“What is it?” 

“Angrily polishing silver and glaring at you until you put pajamas on.” 

“Hm, I don’t know. My silver could use a good polish. Maybe after you could scrub down the Yacht.” 

“Just go to sleep,” Dick tsked and finally got Wally into bed. He closed the door softly behind him. 

Dick had big plans. 

He was going to write Wally’s essay for him. He had a living room full of scribbled notes, textbooks, and bit and pieces of an outline that he could assemble like a jigsaw puzzle. 

Turned out, Dick wasn’t really a STEM guy. 

He wrote the paper, because of course he did, but he had a sinking suspicion that it sucked. So he made a call and hired tutor halfway across the world who was awake at 11pm central time and paid her five times her normal rate to edit the paper in thirty minutes. 

At 11:30 Dick had 30 pages of furiously fast written critique. He braced himself and started making changes but knew the timer was going to run out. Wally still hadn’t woken up so Dick did the only logical thing and hacked into Wally’s school email to email the professor and ask for an extension. It was 11:30 so Dick wasn’t expecting an answer, which made the fast reply all the more surprising. 

K — sent from iPhone. 

Apparently STEM professors like to keep correspondence brief. Dick could appreciate that. 

He made himself comfortable on Wally’s couch and checked his texts. Barbara had a question about Poison Ivy, Kory was headed off-planet and invited him to join, Roy finally got to the season of Gilmore Girls that Dick wanted to discuss, Victor needed an old case file that he was pretty sure related to his current one. 

Superboy and Tim had independently replied when he canceled on their plans so he could stay the night at Wally’s. 

From superboy: Actually I was about to cancel too. I’m super busy with hero stuff.

From Tim: np 

Sure, Tim said no problem but it still felt like a problem. No matter how hard Dick tried, he almost always felt like he was disappointing somebody. It sucked but no matter how much disappointing a younger brother poked at the bruised center of his insecurities, the only place he wanted to be was Wally’s apartment. His family and his friends were so important to him, but Wally was his best friend. He would drop anything to be there when he needed him most. 

~ 

When Bart ran away from Wally’s apartment, there was only one place he wanted to go. 

Cassie’s house. 

It was in the kind of suburb where it looked like they took a classic house with a triangle roof and three windows and simply copied and pasted down the street. Cassie had a huge painted poster board all about Little Women drying on her porch. It must’ve been a school project with all character summaries and analysis of their relationships. Her front door was open. The screen door was closed, but unlocked. 

He didn’t stop running until he was in her living room. 

She was lounging on the couch in red shorts and an oversized T-shirt that had a picture of five people and the words the Breakfast Club on it. Her long blonde hair was pulled into two braids. 

“Bart?! What are you doing here?” She jumped up from her couch. Her face fell when she got a good look at his. He knew it must’ve been obvious he’d been crying, but he was momentarily distracted by the crusty green gunk on her face. 

“Are you moldy?” Bart asked. 

“I should be asking the questions. Did something happen?”  

“Yeah, Wally hatesmesoIcamehere.” He said, distracted, “Is that snot?” 

“Oh my god,” She swiped her pointer finger through the stuff on her cheek and held it out. “It’s a face mask. It’s good for your skin, sort of like lotion. It’s made of avocados and stuff.” 

“Grife,” he muttered to himself, examining her finger. He wiped his tear stains with the back of his hand. She gave him a once over. 

“Are you okay? Wait— did you say Wally hates you?” 

He blinked. “Wait— you understood me?” 

“Huh. Yeah, I guess I did…Try and say something else.” 

“Okay,” he said, with a bounce. “CassieyouaremybestfriendandIloveyouandcanItryafacemask too?” 

She smiled. 

“Same, Bart. Same. And yeah— I have a whole jar of this stuff in the fridge.” 

“Are you sure it’s not guacamole?” 

“Yes,” she laughed.  

They ended up having an impromptu movie marathon. He didn’t have a favorite genre so she picked one of each, starting with her favorite film of all-time, Mamma Mia. She braided back his hair but he was more interested in her collection of colorful hair clips. He tried to use as many as he could. She taught him Go Fish and discovered that one of his hidden talents was shuffling cards at the speed of light. 

“Do you have any twos?” She asked. 

“You’re cheating,” he said, shaking his head. 

“How am I cheating?” 

“I don’t know yet, but I’m gonna figure it out,” he said and handed her the win. She grinned and placed the cards on the carpet. 

He flopped onto his stomach. 

“Can I sleep here?” 

“Yeah. I mean, my aunt works nights but I can shoot her a text. I’m sure she won’t mind… You live with your aunt, too, right?” 

He propped his chin on his hand. 

“She’s Wally’s aunt. She’s my grandma, technically. She’s crash but… she doesn’t really think we should do the hero stuff anymore.” 

Cassie sat with her knees pulled up.

“Oh… Yeah, my mom doesn’t really get it either. I mean, she supports me and trusts Diana but sometimes I wonder if she wishes she had a normal daughter. When she was in high school, she was super popular. She was prom queen. And I’m… breaking into evil laboratories.” 

“You’re a princess?” 

She explained the intricate politics of high school popularity and the democratic voting process of prom queen. He tried to pay attention but he checked out completely when she started talking about the hottest guys at her school. 

“The point is, Bart— I love being a hero. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even a crown.” 

“I’ll go to your prom so I can vote for you anyway.” 

She smiled. “Thanks… I’m glad you’re sleeping over, but did something happen at home? You said Wally—”

“Yeah. I went to Wally’s— I mean, I told Iris I was going to spend the night at Wally’s. But when I went over there, he said he hated me.” 

“What? Why?” 

He flopped onto his back. 

“Idon’tknow. He just said— that I was annoying. Basically. He said— Can you stop being yourself for five minutes?” 

“That’s horrible!” 

Bart shrugged. 

“It is,” Cassie said and grabbed his arm. “Never stop being yourself. You’re the best part of Young Justice.” 

He smiled, but didn’t quite believe her. “What?” 

“I mean it. Robin is so serious all the time. He’s like an adult. And we don’t know anything about him— doesn’t that weird you out? And Superboy. He’s funny, but he only thinks about himself. He canceled on me like five minutes before the dance— you’re the one who saved the day. They’re always fighting, too. You and me— we could’ve finished the escape room. And had fun— and looked great— doing it.” 

Bart’s smile was infectious.

“I’m glad you’re not normal,” he said. 

“Shut up.” 

He looked worried and she clarified, “I’m joking.” 

“Oh. Shut up,” he said with a smile. 

Bart was a morning person. At seven AM he was awake, in a purple sleeping bag on the floor of Cassie’s bedroom. She was fast asleep, snoring, which made him snicker. She was freakishly loud, like a chainsaw. He zipped out of his sleeping bag and into the kitchen, to rifle through their pantry. Last night, she said to make himself at home, and so far he was doing a great job. 

He spotted some cookies that looked promising and grabbed a chair so he’d be tall enough to reach them. 

The doorbell rang. 

He sprinted to the door. He was still a little sleepy, but at the last second remembered to open the door with normal speed. 

Wally stood there, in a maroon hoodie, with his hands stuffed in the pockets. 

“Hey, Bart. I told Iris I’d pick you up.” 

Bart had been purely surprised when he opened the door, but after hearing this pick-up reduced to a chore, his expression closed off. 

“Sorry. Tell her I can run home myself. You probably have more important things to do.”

“Wait,” Wally pleaded. 

Bart waited. 

Wally sighed. “Can we take a walk?” 

Bart hated walks, but it was better than standing still. He and Wally walked around Cassie’s neighborhood, first her cul-de-sac, then deeper into the rows of matching houses that blended together like the google image results for suburbia. It was a chilly afternoon but Bart’s big puffer jacket was zipped up as high as it could go. He was gonna have to deal with the cold. 

“Bart, I’m really sorry— no. Please, let me say this first.” 

Bart held back his comment. Wally pushed on. 

“I was frustrated and tired, and I took it out on you like a real jerk. I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t said what I did, especially because it’s not true.” 

“You don’t have to pretend anymore. I can handle the truth. Just admit it. Your life would be easier if I wasn’t around.” 

“I know you can handle the truth, so I’ll tell you the truth. Sometimes you annoy me, like last night, because you’re energetic and fun and I’m a tired, jaded, boring, old person. But that’s why I’m so grateful you’re in my life. I need someone like you around. And I’m glad you’re exactly who you are. You’re amazing. You’re— you’re crash. Without you, my life would be so sad, and lonely, and way harder. That’s why we’re partners in the first pla— oof.” 

Wally was cut off by Bart slamming into him with a hug. 

~ 

“Thanks for the ride,” Tim said. 

What he really wanted to say was: please don’t make me go in there alone. 

But he knew better than to ask. This was supposed to be a team building activity. Team members only. Sure, the last time the four of them had been alone they fought and failed a goddamn escape room which ended up being one of the most frustrating hours of his life. But this was just a casual hangout in Mount Justice, exchanging Christmas gifts and drinking sparkling cider. It should be fine. 

Dick must’ve heard the hesitation in his voice anyway. 

“Don’t worry. They like you. Sometimes, you just get a bit intense. That’s what tonight’s for. You don’t have to put so much pressure on yourself to lead. You can just be Tim—” Dick caught himself, and quickly added, “But don’t be Tim. I mean, you know what I mean.” 

“Wait, the mask should stay on?” 

“You’re sarcastic too often, but I love hanging out with you. They will, too.” 

Nightwing smiled with one hand on the wheel. 

Tim, in his full Robin gear, got out the car. 

“I wasn’t worried about it until you started acting like I should be.” 

“You lie too often, too,” Dick got out one last critique before Tim shut the door. 

Superboy and Wondergirl shared the couch, with a cushion between them. Bart had the tall but plush chair. 

“Wow, Robin’s late? For Secret Santa did you finally learn how to chill the fuck out?” Superboy asked. 

Robin crossed the room, cape fluttering behind him. He took the chair across from Bart’s. 

“It’s not a Secret Santa if we’re all exchanging gifts.” 

“Guess not,” Superboy rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe Valentines Day,” Cassie said quietly, but not quiet enough. Robin’s shoulder rose an inch. 

“Can I please go first,” Bart said, then without waiting for an answer dropped their gifts in their laps at the speed of light. 

He returned to his chair and grinned, looking around eagerly. 

He gave everyone an envelope. 

They all opened theirs at the same time, Superboy with his TTK, and inside was a construction paper card with a shitty drawing on the front. 

“Is this us?” Cassie asked, smiling like she already knew the answer. 

“Yeah,” Bart said, “I drew four of them before Wally told me about copiers— so sorry that Cassie has the best one. I took the most time on it. Like, ten whole minutes.” 

“It’s awesome,” she said, showing the others her card with the four of them, in their hero costumes, posed to kick butt. 

“And really, it’s an idea. Because I don’t have the money to hire a photographer, but it would be cool if we had a photo like that. Like a superhero poster.” 

“Teen Beat Magazine asked me to pose for a poster,” Superboy bragged. He glanced back at the card with a smile, “But I guess a group poster might be cool, too. I like how I’m in the front.” 

“Yeah, dude, I figured,” Bart said, amused. “Do you like it, Robin? Look, I drew you frowning.” 

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Robin said. “But, yeah. It’s cool. And it’s a cool idea. I like photography.” 

He didn’t plan on saying that. He knew, logically, it was an innocuous statement that couldn’t be tied to Tim Drake but the truth of it, and the fact he’d confessed something so personal without thinking, scared him. He put the card down and didn’t look at it again. Superboy took a selfie with the card and posted it on his Twitter. 

“My turn. Merry Christmas, guys,” Cassie passed out her gifts. They were book shaped, horribly wrapped in Christmas paper. The paper was more crumpled than folded, held into shape by miles of scotch tape.

Bart tore into his present. 

“Oh,” said Bart, the worst liar of them all. “A book.” 

“It’s not just a book,” said Cassie, trying to get him excited. 

Superboy instantly turned to the back and scanned the blurb. “‘A timeless tale in it’s original form. At the end of the 18th century, the idea that a woman could survive without the support of a man was considered a kind of madness’— Okay, I know Pride and Prejudice is a classic or whatever, but this sounds boring, not gonna lie.”  

Tim flipped through the book and became the first to find the second gift. 

“Movie tickets,” he said pulling out his. “To Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.” 

“Yes!” she said, with a smile. “I thought we could all go together next weekend. You, uh— you don’t have to read the book.” 

“I like movies,” said Superboy. 

“I like zombies. When they can't actually eat me,” said Bart.  

“Thanks, Cassie,” said Tim, slipping his ticket back in his book. He couldn’t go. Obviously, he couldn’t go. Maybe Superboy could go to the movies with civilians but Robin didn’t do things like that. It was fine. They’d probably have more fun without him anyway. Maybe she’d even taken that into consideration when she bought the tickets. 

Superboy’s gift for them were Superboy t-shirt. 

“These are gonna be worth a lot of money one day. Plus, you can wear it and have an excuse to tell people you know me,” he explained, proudly. 

“I love it,” Cassie said, holding the shirt like it was precious treasure. 

“I can wear it like a dress,” said Bart, holding up his xxl. 

“Oh, shit—  I could find you another size—”

“No way, dude, I love it,” Bart insisted. 

Tim looked at his Superboy shirt. If he was being completely honest, he didn’t expect Superboy to get him anything at all. He sort of thought he— all three of them, really— would make up an excuse, like they didn’t think he’d show up, or he was too difficult to shop for. His Mom always said he was difficult to shop for, and his parents paid for everything anyway, so he could always get exactly what he wanted. 

Robin didn’t say anything. 

“You’re welcome,” Superboy said sitting forward pointedly. 

He looked up from the shirt. “They’re not selling well?” 

“They’re selling great. Actually, I’m sold out and these are my last three. And these first edition prints are gonna be worth a lot of money one day.” 

Superboy glanced to the left when he lied. Not that Robin was about to point that out to him anytime soon. 

Finally, it was time for Robin’s gift. 

Similar to Bart’s, he gave them each a drawing. The similarities ended there. 

For one thing, the drawings were computer generated on blue paper with white lines and a million notes in the margins. He redesigned everyone’s costume. Bart’s and Cassie’s kept a similar aesthetic, but the material was different, just like the pouches, the zippers, and even the laces on the shoes. The new designs maximized speed, power, and endurance. Meticulous notes explained each change, and why it would be beneficial. 

Superboy’s was the most different. The t-shirt and jeans were completely scraped, in favor of full body jumpsuit — similar to Superman’s— but with red pants, yellow strapped on pockets, and a blue torso with the “s” icon. 

“Wow.” Bart said, fairly impressed. “I didn’t know you liked to draw. We should do art together sometime.”  

“It’s not really art,” Robin explained, “I designed it on the computer. Batman’s gonna make these for you guys. I mean, if you want.” 

“Crash,” Bart said, excitedly. “Thanks, dude.” 

“Yeah, that’s really nice of you. I’ll have to run it by Diana, first—”

“No, yeah. Of course,” said Robin. 

“So… Batman’s giving us a gift,” said Superboy. 

“It’s a combined effort.” 

“Yeah, well, thanks but no thanks,” Superboy gave it back. 

Bart and Cassie shared a look. It was a look Tim could read loud and clear. It said: help help this is so awkward how do we escape this moment? 

Tim could certainly help with that. 

“I’ll get the cider,” he stood and left the room.

He poured the drinks and walked back with four plastic champagne glasses precariously balanced in his arms. 

He paused in the hallway, just before he turned the corner. He suspected they might be talking about him, and like usual, he was right. 

“Come on. You don’t have to wear it all the time, but don’t you kinda want a new costume?” Bart asked. 

“That’s the difference between Robin and me. I don’t need a cool costume. I’m cool. I’m the most powerful person on the team, no batteries required.” 

“I think Robin’s cool,” Bart said. 

“But he’s not like us. And he acts like he knows everything about everything, like in my stupid fashion design. Material would be better for supersonic flying—  Like he knows anything about flying. It just pisses me off.” 

“… one time, after I lost a fight to Bart, he came up to me and was like, you flinch too much, let me run through this bullet point list of all the other ways you suck.” 

She over exaggerated his dry monotone, but the other two cracked up laughing. They got who she was making fun of. And they thought it was hilarious. 

He knew he wasn’t likable— or lovable— the way some people were. Like Dick, as a child on the trapeze deafened every night by applause, or as a leader who inspired people like Wally, Raven, Kori, and Kal to devote themselves to him.

But with Young Justice, he’d tried. He’d tried so hard to be what Dick effortlessly was, and that just made the failure all the more painful. He thought this was finally his chance to have friends, true blue friends, who just got him. He wanted people who understood everything about him, even the stuff he didn’t fully understand yet. But as usual, he’d projected what he wanted onto the people he watched from afar. His fantasy future had become his disappointing present. That seemed to happen a lot. It was probably because in his fantasies, he was nothing like himself. 

He snuck back to the kitchen, dumped one of the drinks, and returned holding three glasses. 

“Hey guys. I just got a message from Batman— he needs me in Gotham, immediately. Sorry to cut the night short.” 

“Aw, man. Can’t Nightwing do it?” Bart asked, maybe disappointed but maybe not. He’d certainly been laughing earlier. 

“No. Nope, he needs me. It’s Gotham stuff. I can’t get into it.” 

“Well, good luck,” said Cassie. “I hope everything’s okay.” 

“Hey, if Nightwing’s not needed, he should come here,” Superboy said with a smile. 

“Invite him if you want,” Robin said, like he didn’t care at all. “Invite Santa Claus, too. How about Superman? You never know.”

“Why don’t you just stay in Gotham, since it seems like the only place people need you around.” 

Bart and Cassie shared another look, but Robin left before he could decipher it. 

It was one of the worst parties he’d ever been to, but thankfully it was also the shortest. 

~ 

Superboy escaped Cadmus in August. 

It was January. 

He’d learned a lot in his six months of freedom. 

Of course, Cadmus technically taught him everything he needed to know, but Nightwing was the one who showed him that there was such a thing as learning through experience. He’d gotten a lot of experience since then. He’d had his first girlfriend, broken up via snapchat with his first girlfriend for a hot striper / magical fury named Knockout, joined a team of superheroes as the cool one, fought crime in Hawaii which was impressive no matter what an asshole in green tights had to say about it, humored Nightwing with semi-weekly but at least once a month dinner plans, and made two best friends. Not to mention his merch and branding stuff, though that kind of fizzled out when he dumped Tana. Still. It was six months of making big money moves, the grind never stops, etc. 

It was six months of freedom that was all about to end in fucking flames. 

Everything happened so fast. One moment they were helping the cops fight back the Furies who wanted to force Knockout back to the prison of their home planet. The next moment, the Furies were gone but a cop was dead— and all their guns were pointed at Knockout. She said she didn’t kill him, so she didn’t; Superboy never doubted her for a moment. The cops had it all wrong. It wasn’t be the first time authority figures around him tried to imprison someone they didn’t understand. 

The only thing he thought about was saving her. 

He protected her in a TTK shield, picked her up, and got the hell out of there. The bomb she dropped provided cover for them to escape. No one was seriously injured. It was a necessary distraction. 

Now, they were deep in the heart of a volcano on the run from the law. A volcano— a jagged and rocky terrain with lots of crevasses— seemed like the best hiding place. Neither of them were particularly affected by heat, although being so close to the orange magma below heated him up enough to make him strip down to his light blue boxers. He sort of hoped she would strip too. She usually did when things got hot. 

She pulled him into a dark alcove. It was a tight fit. Both of them had their backs up against the rock, completely pressed together. She wasn’t looking at him but he had to grin, giving her a once over. This was exactly what he was hoping for when he took off his pants. 

The last thing he expected was Victor Volcanum. 

Victor joined them below the Earth’s surface with four volcanologists he kidnapped. 

SB assumed they were volcano scientists because they wore official looking orange jumpsuits and they had the awkward look of nerds, even while roped up and terrified. Maybe it was just the glasses. Everyone who wore glasses looked like a nerd. 

“You say you want to study? No, you want to play God!” Victor ranted about his evil motivations. “You picked the wrong natural disaster. I am the one who controls the fires of Hell and I am the one who will harness that fury to take over the world!” 

Knockout shifted and SB finally looked back at her. She was smiling. 

“This is going to be fun.” 

He was pretty preoccupied with one type of fun in particular, so he nodded. 

She kissed his cheek and whispered, “When it’s time, get him.” 

“What are you talking about?” He wanted to whisper back, but her breath on his neck and her chest against his was kinda making Victor Volcanum seem like old news. He made a slightly embarrassing sound, which made her roll her eyes, and then she walked into the light. 

“Am I interrupting?” She asked, in a seductive pur. 

“Hell demon,” Victor exclaimed. 

“I prefer Fury.” 

She cozied up to him. The scientists had their mouths duct taped but SB could see the expressions on their faces. Half of them were hopeful for an escape, the other half terrified that things were about to get a lot worse. SB knew what scheme she was pulling. He’d seen her seduce people before to get what she wanted. They’d rescue these nerds, and maybe if they returned to the police with a captured criminal, they’d be willing to talk things out. 

He didn’t mind being on the run from the law, but he didn’t want to give up Young Justice, and it might be awkward to show up at practice with a warrant out for his arrest. Regardless, he’d give it up gladly if it meant protecting her. 

She flirted with Victor until his hands were all over her. They kissed and SB had never seen it progress that far before. He still had no idea what she meant by “when it’s time” but when he saw tongue on tongue action he called it. 

He flew out from the shadows and grabbed the scientists. He could only hold two, one in his arms and one on his back. The other two he TTK’ed right next to him and flew away. He dropped them about a mile away in the national park. They were still tried up.  

They stared up at him with wide eyes. He didn’t have time. Victor was crazy, not stupid. He was probably attacking Kay right about now.  

“I’ll be right back,” he promised the hostages and flew back to the volcano. 

“Help!” Knockout shouted when he returned. 

If he’d stopped to think for a moment, maybe he would’ve realized that something was wrong. It looked like Victor was restraining her, holding her hands against the rock wall. But if he’d looked closer, he might’ve noticed the confusion on Victor’s face, the way that her hands were gripping his wrists and forcing him to pin her, or maybe even the fact that Victor was a schemer, not a fighter. Knockout could’ve slayed a hundred Victors without breaking a sweat. 

He didn’t stop to think. 

He swore he’d protect her and if he fucked up by not flying fast enough with the hostages, he’d never forgive himself. Superman would’ve been fast enough. 

It was so hot. He didn’t sweat but his skin felt like it was on fire. It was too hot to think, but not to act. 

He tackled Victor to the ground and attacked. Nightwing’s techniques went out of the window. His punches had no structure, no purpose. He acted on anger alone. 

Victor had been unconscious for a minute before SB finally realized it. 

He flew off him and landed on his feet, breathing heavy. 

His hands were covered in blood.

He’d gone too far. Way too far. Victor hadn’t even touched him. He wiped a hand on his side before he remember he didn’t have a shirt. He let out a shaky breath. 

Knockout picked up his lifeless body and dragged it to the edge. They were just a dozen feet above the magma swirling below. 

SB floated after her. 

“What are you doing?” 

She spun around and he almost flinched. Victor’s feet were off the ledge, dangling over this death, but she held him in a viper-like grip. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

“He’s seen too much,” she said. 

He reminded himself that Knockout must be really scared, she had to be after the day they’d had. She wasn’t thinking straight. He licked his lips and thought about it. He sort of wished he had his shirt back. 

“What are you talking about? He hasn’t seen anything. We should take him to the hospital and go hide somewhere else.” 

“I thought you were going to protect me.” 

“Of course I am—”

“But you’re not strong enough?” 

“I’m definitely stronger than this guy,” Superboy said, then felt a little bad about it. The guy didn’t need to be kicked when he was down. 

“So prove it,” she said, and shoved Victor away. Superboy barely managed to catch him with his TTK to prevent him from plummeting to his death. 

“Jesus. First of all, he’s not a real threat, Kay. When he wakes up, we’ll be long gone… Maybe we should call Nightwing. He could help us clear your name.” 

She wrapped an arm around him and threaded her hand through his hair. 

“You and me— we’re special. We’re different. We’re bigger than things like Earth laws or mortal ethics,” She smiled, “We don’t need ‘em. We have each other.” 

His hold on his TTK loosened. Victor slumped to the ground.  

“There you go,” she purred. “Now— finish the job.” 

He looked at her, and this time, he didn’t like what he saw. 

“You mean kill him?”

She pouted. “Is anyone really going to miss a crazy weirdo who kidnapped a bunch of people? What if he’s the reason they find me? Find us?” She let her hands wander down his waistband and he told himself not to enjoy it. “There’s so much I wanted to teach you. We deserve a happy ending. Don’t you want a happy ending?” 

He couldn’t move until she kissed him. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, and ultimately stepped away. “I… You know how I feel about you. But killing him isn’t the answer. There has to be another way.” 

He’d never seen her so angry before. 

It transformed her whole face. Like she was a monster.  

He wasn’t sure if she was angry because he rejected her bid for sex for the first time ever or because he refused to kill. 

She crushed Victor’s skull with her fists, and then he had a pretty good idea. 

It was like all the air had been stolen from his chest. He’d never seen death up close and personal. It was another one of those things that was so different from the way he’d learned about it in the lab. So, so different. So permanent. She was ranting about how hard it was to find somebody who understood her, but he couldn’t hear her. He felt nauseous and dropped to his knees. Blood was everywhere. 

A helicopter flew overhead and Batman and Nightwing dropped down on long rope ladders.  

Knockout put up a fight but Batman met her blow for blow. 

Nightwing walked over to him and crouched. 

“Are you okay, SB?” 

He didn’t touch him but SB still felt disgusted, like he needed to put more distance between him and everyone else. He rolled his shoulders back but the feeling didn’t go away. It was under his skin. 

He shook his head. 

Nightwing talked to him quietly but with total confidence. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” 

But getting arrested didn’t feel very okay at all. 

SB and Knockout were technically meta offenders which meant they would be taken into custody of the Justice League. For legal reasons they needed to be processed through the Hawaii Police Department first. That was how SB ended up taking his first mug shot. 

Knockout took a bite of her placard with her name and booking information and gave the camera a furious glare. 

SB assumed that the purpose of mugshots was for the judge, court, and lawyers to see what he looked like before the big day, so he really hammed it up. He wanted to appear nice and likable so he gave it his best instagram smile held the placard like a trophy. The flash of the camera blinded him for a second, but even after the light faded he felt just as discombobulated. Everything had gone wrong. Knockout probably did kill that cop. She’d tricked him, probably tricked him the whole time. It didn’t matter what Nightwing had promised him. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. 

~ 

“Superboy is not off the team,” was the first thing Nightwing said on Saturday morning. 

Bart and Cassie were not satisfied. 

“Whereishe?” 

“What happened?” 

“Somewhere safe. He made a mistake but everything’s okay now.” 

“Whycan’tweseehim?” 

“Okay? He was arrested!”

“Whycan’thecometopractice?” 

“His mugshot was all over Twitter!” 

“Look,” Nightwing cut them off decisively. He glanced from one to the other. “I promise you that as soon as he’s able, he will be here. I’m sure he misses you guys but he needs time alone for a while. It was a traumatic ordeal.” 

“Who is Knockout?” She asked. 

“Whycan’tweseehim?” 

“Why can’t he come here?” 

“Yeah!” 

“This is for the best, believe me,” Nightwing concluded. “It doesn’t matter what happened, it happened and it’s over and you’ll get to see him when he’s ready to rejoin the team.” 

“I bet you told Robin,” Cassie said, sourly. 

Robin was standing a few feet away from the group, arms crossed. He shrugged. 

“I know as much as you guys.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she scoffed. 

“Let’s get started,” Nightwing said. “I know Bart will appreciate this lesson— Handstands.” 

Bart looked miserable. 

“Actually… it doesn’t feel right without Superboy here.” 

“He won’t care. He can hold himself up in a handstand with his TTK.” Robin pointed out, dismissively. Bart just looked sad. 

“You’re probably glad he’s gone,” Cassie said, hurt. “You never liked him.” 

“That’s not true,” Robin said but Nightwing spoke over him louder. 

“You know what— we all miss, SB. I think Bart is right. Let’s do something he’ll be glad he missed. Arm day.” 

“Ew, nevermind,” Bart said. He wrinkled his nose. 

“Yes,” Cassie pumped a fist. “Arm day! Arm day!” She chanted. 

They walked to the weight room. Cassie and Bart walked side by side, right at Nightwing’s heels. Robin was a few steps behind the rest of them. He usually felt separate from the group, but it was times like that, walking down a hallway, that the feeling was accompanied by physical proof. 

He didn’t really like weight lifting. It gave him too much time to think. 

Maybe he and Superboy mutually disliked each other, but he wasn’t happy that he was gone. 

Cassie had been correct about one thing though; he did know more than she and Bart did. 

That was mainly through snooping. It wasn’t hard for him to sneak into the cave unsupervised. Then he secretly watched the cowl footage, Batman’s and Nightwing’s. SB confessed to Nightwing that he wasn’t just Knockout’s partner in crime— they were dating. 

“I’m glad you told me that,” Nightwing said in the video. “Come on— let’s get out of here.” 

His word choice was soft and soothing but Tim knew him well enough to catch the change in his tone. He was barely holding his anger in check. He was furious at Knockout, disgusted by the situation, but probably most of all pissed at himself. He should’ve been there. He should’ve protected him. Tim knew how he felt, because he felt the same way. 

It was horrible. Superboy’s age was questionable, but at most he looked sixteen. His level of maturity had to be around sixteen as well, if not younger. Knockout was a predator. Batman and Nightwing escorted her to intergalactic jail, so he had no doubt that they’d done everything they could to make sure she wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else ever again. 

SB was sentenced to basically house arrest at the Watchtower. 

Tim saw the sentence for what it was. Bruce, no doubt feeling just as guilty, wanted him far away from the all the things that might hurt him on Earth. To Bruce, solitude was safety and isolation, a tool for survival. That wasn’t how Tim saw it. To him, isolation was just a different kind of cage.

Superboy was annoying, obnoxious, rude, and so many other things that made him want to tear his own hair out— but he didn’t deserve to be locked up in the cold void of outer space. He didn’t need exile. 

So on Sunday night, Tim took a trip.  

~ 

The Watchtower reminded him of Cadmus. 

It was all the cool tone lights, cold metal, and chrome surfaces. He could stare out the window and see the Earth a million miles below spinning through space. It was about as far from humanity as he used to feel back then. He didn’t fight back when Batman sent him there. Where else was there to go? When he was at the lowest point he’d ever been (geographically and emotionally), he’d actually missed Cadmus anyway. 

They treated him like a weapon. He shouldn’t miss a place like that— it was wrong— but he couldn’t help remembering the good parts of the lab. 

It was easy when his whole world had been a room. When he lived in a test tube and got everything he needed hand delivered. When there was always someone who told him what to do and how to do it. He thought he was a person, but maybe he wasn’t. He’d spent six months living as one and didn’t do anything right. Maybe he should’ve stayed in Cadmus. He was nothing but a weapon that needed to be kept on a high shelf. 

Superboy sat around what looked like a break room. There was a white microwave, fridge, sink, and counter space. He sat at a long, empty table, and wondered if weapons were supposed to feel so freaking bored. 

The small, blinking red light of the camera in the corner turned off. 

He glanced up when it didn’t turn back on. 

Weird. 

Then something weirder happened. 

Robin walked into the room. 

Superboy stood, his bad mood instantly worse. 

“Come to gloat?”

Robin didn’t even look at him. He just walked into the room and the silver doors slid shut behind him. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you. You’re not supposed to be here, you know. No one is.” 

Robin finally looked at him. His dumb cape was pulled up around his shoulders. 

“I can only loop the footage for three minutes,” Robin said. “So I need you to shut up and listen.” 

“I—”

“No,” Robin cut him off. “Three minutes, and I’m out of here.” 

“You—”

Robin talked over him. “Batman wants to keep you here. Superman, too. But you don’t deserve that, just because you made a mistake and trusted the wrong person. I’m going to give you the name of people who can help. You’ll have to break out of here and find them on Earth but they’re the only two people who will be able to get the Justice League to back off. I told them about you— but they don’t know about me, so don’t mention my name. No one can know that I gave you their information. No one can even know I was here. When they ask, you’ll say that you used your superhearing and you figured it out. If this ever gets connected to me, I won’t be allowed to be Robin anymore.” 

Superboy stared. 

“What?” 

“There’s no time,” Robin said, frustrated. “Just listen. I don’t care what Clark thinks, you’re his family. That means they’re your family, too and you deserve a chance to know them. Based on previous actions, they’ll know exactly what to do when an alien orphan shows up on their porch.” 

He had about a million questions but started with the biggest one. 

“Who’s Clark?” 

Robin slapped a manilla folder on the table. 

“It’s all in here. When you’re done reading, you need to burn it with your heat vision. Remember, I didn’t give this to you. This doesn’t exist. You spied on Clark and you figured it out.” 

Robin moved to the wall and started unscrewing a vent with a tiny screwdriver he slipped out of his belt. 

Superboy picked up the folder but didn’t open it yet. 

“Wait… why are you doing this?” 

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” He said with his back to him. The vent came undone and he crawled inside. 

“But if I rat you out… you’d be kicked off the team. I’d be the leader.” 

“I know.” He reached to the floor and picked up the discarded vent cover. 

“And you just decided to risk it all?” 

“I figured you want what every single person on Earth wants: a family. And I figured you want it more than you hate me.” 

“You could be wrong.” 

The vent cover was reattached but he heard Robin say one last thing before he disappeared. 

“Don’t show the folder on camera.” 

After a beat, he stuffed the folder under his shirt. It was mere seconds before the red light on the camera flicked back on. 

God. His heart was pounding. 

He was in shock. He hadn’t expected anyone to show up, but if he had sat down and made a bullet point list of possible saviors, he wouldn’t have thought of Robin in a million years. He would’ve guessed Nightwing, Bart and Cassie, Cadmus people, or even Harrison Ford with a blaster before he expected to see Robin’s scrawny ass rolling up and sliding him a solution. 

He looked at the vent but even with x-ray vision Robin was gone. He put a hand on his chest and felt the crunch of the folder. It felt like a new beginning.