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When he walked through the door of that newspaper office, Tommy couldn't say exactly what he expected to see, but certainly anything but a row of desks with old monitors, stacks and stacks of newspapers neatly arranged on a row of shelves, and a constant coming and going of people exchanging news and information or talking on the phone while taking notes.
It was the first time he had gone to work with his father, and although he had always known that he was a journalist - like his grandmother and grandfather before him, he always made sure to remember his grandmother when he visited them - and that journalism was the Fourth Estate and blah blah blah, Tommy was equally surprised that this place was far from what he had imagined. Maybe he had expected something more modern, maybe a press room right next to the offices or who knows what else, but it all seemed so quiet and familiar that he wasn't surprised if his father continued to work there, even if it wasn't his dream job. Tommy was only eight and a half years old, it was true, but he knew that his father's passion had always been science and that they had offered him a job at STAR Labs in Metropolis, but he had turned it down to be with them; sometimes working as a journalist kept him away, but it would have been much harder if he had to do it in a completely different city. So, yes, it was a little strange to find himself in a completely different environment than he had imagined.
"You seems thoughtful, champ. Is everything okay?"
His father's voice brought him back to reality and Tommy lifted his face to him, immediately feeling the hand on his shoulder. "I was just watching. Where's your desk?" he smiled at him as he walked forward to greet one of his father's colleagues. It was Devis, Tommy had seen him a few times during the holidays or when he had dropped his father off when their van broke down, but there weren't many unfamiliar faces when you looked closely. Just a few people who had just been hired or were on a business trip and who seemed to be focused on their computer screens.
"Welcome to my kingdom, son," Jon said as he tapped on one of the desks next to the shelves, the third from the left, where Tommy actually recognized the clutter that used to characterize his father: there were papers scattered next to it and under the keyboard, a couple of pens of different colors without caps lying under the computer, a pile of books with some newspapers sticking out and two framed photos, but Tommy focused especially on the one they had taken when the three of them had gone to his first baseball game. Tommy remembered it like it was yesterday, even though two years had passed: his baba had caught one of the balls that had flown toward the stands for him, even gotten it signed by the Metropolis Meteors pitcher, and he hadn't let go, not even when they went out for pizza and ice cream, jumping everywhere like the happiest kid in the world.
Tommy chuckled, both at the memory and at the sight of his father trying in vain to clean up some of the mess. "Baba would scold you," he teased, and Jon snorted happily as he strategically hid part of the desk with his bulk.
"Baba's not here, so this will be our little secret," Jon joked as he winked at him before nodding toward the chair. "Come on, have a seat. Let your 'day with Dad' begin."
"Can I look up news about superheroes?" Tommy asked immediately with a hint of excitement, throwing himself into the chair to spin around a bit before stopping in front of the screen, his hands reaching for the keyboard, but Jon gently placed two fingers on the backs.
"It doesn't work like that, champ," Jon chuckled. "You see, as journalists, we talk to reliable sources who can give us information about..."
"Mr. Kent, how long!" they heard a voice, and Tommy and Jon turned at the same time, only to see a tall man with just a hint of pink in his hair approaching them with a bold stare and a toothy grin.
"Carter?" Jon said, reflexively waving politely. His mother hadn't raised him to be a scoundrel, after all. And Jon had set the record straight with him exactly eight years ago, especially when he realized - when Damian pointed it out, actually - that Carter was hitting on him; so he really hoped that...
"Apparently." Carter took a step towards him, smiling. "I see you hasn't changed at all. I wouldn't mind a chat like old times, now that I know how things are going..." he said softly as he touched his shoulder, and Jon instinctively backed away a little. Either he hadn't changed or he didn't know the concept of personal space. But Jon tended towards Carter, and his posture didn't seem to indicate otherwise.
"Carter, I'm..." Jon started to correct him, but a dark-haired mop stepped between them and climbed into the chair, his hands on his hips and his cheeks puffed out.
"Dad's busy."
Carter looked annoyed at the interruption, but was pretty good at not letting it show. "Oh, and who is this boy?"
"My kid."
"Ah. So..."
"It's mine and Damian's," Jon held the point. "And I thought I was clear about that, years ago."
"I like to believe in second chances."
Jon held his breath for a moment, then put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Tommy, Dad needs to talk to this gentleman alone for a moment, why don't you ask Devin if he can take you to get something to drink?" he said, and Tommy turned to him, his eyelids widening.
"But that's not fair, it's our day!"
"I know, champ. Dad will be quick, I promise."
"You promised," Tommy insisted, and Jon grabbed him under the arms to get him off the chair and back on the floor.
"Cross over your heart. Now go," he said, pushing him a little away, and when Tommy finally moved away - after looking at him one last time, despite everything - Jon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Carter with an expression so cold it almost suggested hatred. "Seriously. What do you want now?" he asked bluntly and Carter, who had been silent until then, grabbed the back of the chair to sit down and looked up at Jon.
"There have been some rumors about you lately, Mr. Kent." Carter's voice sounded amused. "You knows how we journalists are: we talk a lot and we investigate just as much."
"And I also know that a lot of people make up stories just to get on the front page," Jon said, closing his eyelids. "Get to the point."
Carter didn't speak, he remained silent and tucked a hand into his jacket, throwing a stack of papers on the desk as if that would explain everything; Jon did look at him questioningly, but Carter nodded and encouraged him to open the file, still smiling.
Although unsure, Jon grabbed the bundle of papers and looked inside, reading several testimonies from almost ten years ago. There were also photos of several superheroes, with the red and yellow blur that vaguely resembled the Flash and Green Arrow, engaged in a battle that seemed to be the heart of... "What is this stuff?" Jon asked, trying to control his heartbeat, but he recognized the city. This was Star City, the day of the battle with the Furies.
"The battle against Darkseid that Star City witnessed ten years ago."
"I know the story, but why are you showing me this?"
Carter's eyes seemed to light up with a strange malice. "Keep flipping, Mr. Kent," he said waving his hand, smiling as he saw Jon wrinkle his nose and do as he was told, turning page after page. There were other photos, police reports, testimonies from people who had lost their homes and witnessed the battle, and there was one photo in particular that hit Jon like a slap in the face: it was him. He almost struggled to recognize himself, but despite the angry expression and the blazing eyes, that young man who seemed ready to explode like a supernova was definitely him.
"I still don't understand," Jon insisted, and it was then that Carter leaned over and smiled, touching his arm.
"The resemblance between you two is extraordinary, isn't it, Mr. Kent?"
Jon understood what game Carter was playing, but appearing nervous would only confirm his suspicions. Besides, he had learned from the best to pretend on this side of his life. "I don't see what that has to do with me." His voice was calm, not at all worried about the situation. "If you came here just for that, you will leave empty-handed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a father and son day waiting for me," Jon said as he moved away from the desk to find Tommy and...
"It would be a shame if anyone found out about this, wouldn't it?"
"I had nothing to do with it, so I don't know what-"
"If it becomes public knowledge, your son wouldn't have an easy life either."
Jon stopped not far from the desk, his arms at his sides and a strange anger suddenly rising in the depths of his soul. If he still had his powers, he probably would have incinerated Carter on the spot. Instead, he retraced his steps, gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to grab him by the collar of his shirt."...you cling to a pack of lies and dare to threaten my family?" he hissed, but Carter put a hand to his chest and blinked, feigning innocence.
"Is this really necessary?"
"And you really think I'm Superman?" Jon tried to control himself, but his voice sounded contemptuous. "Would you risk a child's safety just 'cause of a rumor?"
"If it's for true, that and more."
Jon wrinkled his nose. "You seemed like a very promising journalist when I met you, why did you sell out for trash articles?" he grabbed the packages and slapped them with the back of his hand, focusing mostly on the photo. "These testimonies tell of a dark period that none of us would like to relive, they are all real facts and real emotions, they are people who have suffered and lost someone, the article for the anniversary of that tragic day would already be on the front page. Why ruin it with false assumptions?"
"Because I know what I'm saying," Carter said, snatching the papers out of Jon's hands and standing up to hold up the photo of Superman. "And that is you, Mr. Kent. This Superman disappeared the day you moved here to Hamilton. I investigated, I did my research, I followed the so-called breadcrumbs for months, I put the clues together and connected the details, and it all leads to you. Perhaps you would have done better to keep me as a friend instead of an enemy."
"Is that what this is about?" Jon's eyes widened in horror. "Are you doing all this 'cause I rejected you?"
"Don't treat me like a jilted lover," Carter retorted, closing the distance between them, placing a hand on his chest to lean toward his ear, and Jon would have even moved away if not for the obstacle of the desk. "Unfortunately, we hadn't reached that stage yet even it would be a pleasure."
"You're a damn bastard..."
Carter smiled before handing the package back to him. "You can keep this," he mentioned. "It's just a copy, so destroying it won't do any good. But you'll know where to find me if you wants to talk."
"I have nothing to talk about. You want to ruin your career like that? Then go ahead." To show that he had nothing to hide, Jon took the letter opener from the desk and pricked his finger, cutting some flesh; blood gushed from the wound, and Jon raised his finger in front of Carter. "If I were Superman, I wouldn't be bleeding," he said, and though Carter faltered a bit, he straightened up as he recovered rather quickly.
"This doesn't prove much. The facts, photos, and testimony speak for themselves."
"Dad, you promised me you'd be quick!"
Tommy's voice abruptly interrupted their conversation, and Jon blinked as if he had just woken from a trance; he saw Devin shrug and mutter, "Sorry, I missed that," and when Jon looked down at the child, he saw him with his fruit juice in his hand and his forehead raised as he stared intently at Carter. He didn't seem very happy that she was still there and, Jon admitted, neither did he. A day with his son was turning into a horrible nightmare. All because of that young reporter who, feeling rejected years before, had decided to smear his name. True or not, the rumors were more damaging than the truth itself, and Jon feared the consequences of those retaliations. He was no longer Superman, but he had been. He no longer had the powers, but he had had them. And if something like that came out, he was afraid that someone would target him and his family.
"Dad's done, champ." Jon tried to sound reassuring, but he hadn't taken his eyes off Carter for a moment. "I need to think about my son," he turned to the other man. "So I would appreciate it if you would leave my desk."
"Of course, Mr. Kent." If Jon had to use an adjective to describe his tone as he stood up, he would have said slimy. "Have a good day with your young boy." Carter looked down at Tommy and smiled, saying, "Hello, little man," before ruffling his hair; Thomas complained and slapped his hand away, but Carter simply waved his arm in amusement and walked away, leaving Jon with an overwhelming feeling of heaviness in his chest.
"How obnoxious," Tommy muttered as he tried to fix his hair, but remained with his arms in the air as his father, bending down a little, hugged him and planted a kiss in his hair, leaving him stunned. "Dad?" he called as he felt his body shake. "Are you okay?"
"Dad... Dad's fine, champ. Don't worry." Jon pulled away just enough to look into his face and smile, but he didn't let go of the hug, even though he tried to be as calm as possible.
It wasn't an easy situation, Carter still wanted to stand by his evidence even in the face of facts, and while from a purely journalistic point of view Jon admired his tenacity - even his mother had it when she worked at the Planet - on the other hand he knew that he was putting at risk everything he had fought for these years. Jon had still tried not to let Tommy's meeting that day get to him, had tried to keep his usual smile on his face as much as possible and had tried to show him what it was like to work in the newsroom, but his thoughts had flown to Carter more often than he would have liked. And going home hadn't helped.
Jon had continued to act as if nothing had happened, listening to Tommy tell Damian about his day and the people he had met with his heart in his mouth, afraid that he would also tell him about Carter; not that he wanted to keep Damian in the dark, but he had to formulate that thought himself before he let his partner know. There was more at stake than Carter could even imagine, and for a small, selfish moment, Jon considered using his powers to send him flying halfway around the world. A stupid thought, but it was the thought of a partner and a father who wanted to protect his family.
"Okay, spit it out. What happens?" Damian started out of the blue a few hours later when Tommy was in bed and they were sitting on the couch in the living room watching a movie.
Jon had tried to pretend that nothing had happened all evening, but Damian had always been a good tracker of certain things. "Nothing, why do you ask?" he still wanted to continue with the fake, his eyes still focused on the game show they had put on just to distract himself a bit. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."
"Don't sell me that shit, J. I've known you too many years to buy it."
"I don't know what-"
"Jonathan Samuel."
Oh. When Damian used both of his names, he only meant trouble. His mother had done it for years. So Jon sighed and closed his eyes, taking another long moment to gather his thoughts. "Do you remember... Carter?" he went on, seeing Damian raise his eyebrows and give a skeptical look.
"The guy who kept hitting on you even though I was right there in front of him? No, I don't remember he at all," he said sarcastically, and Jon would have laughed if it hadn't been for the situation. "Did he come back and start bothering you again? It's true that the wolf loses its fur, but it doesn't..."
"He has documentation of the battle in Star City," Jon interrupted.Damian took a second too long to articulate the meaning of those words, feeling an emptiness in his stomach.
"What?"
"I don't know how he found them, I don't even know who gave him the photos, but there's one of me and it seems he picked up on the similarities. Not only that, but he collected testimonies and noticed that 'Superman' disappeared completely after we moved."
"Jonathan, what are you..."
"He threatened to go public with the fact that I'm Superman. Or at least that I was. And he's going to do it even though I've shown him that he's wrong and that this isn't currently true, he just... he just wants to destroy me. I don't have my powers anymore, D, but if this article really gets out... I don't know what to do, I'm afraid that..."
Damian grabbed his face with both hands and forced him to turn around, staring into his eyes with such determination that Jon almost didn't know what else to say. "We'll get through this. Together." Damian's voice was firm and icy. "I'm not going to let some asshole ruin what we've worked so hard to build."
"He... he has copies, D, I..."
"I'll do anything to protect our family, Jonathan. From everything."
The way he said it worried Jon, who swallowed loudly as he lost himself in those deep green eyes. "D, you can't think..."
"I've been around this kind of people all my life," he said bluntly, stroking Jon's face. "And I know how these rats who aren't worthy to be called 'journalists' think. If need be, I won't hesitate to act accordingly."
Jon felt a strange shiver run down his spine and he didn't like it at all. "I don't want you to do anything you'll regret, D," he whispered, but Damian caressed his cheeks with circular movements of his thumbs, planting a kiss on both corners of his mouth and between the furrows of his eyebrows.
"Nothing that concerns the welfare of our family will ever make me regret or feel guilty, Habibi."
Despite these assurances and words, Jon spent a sleepless night and the next two days brooding over the situation. He could have pushed his luck and let Carter do what he wanted, take the risk of an article like that and suffer the consequences, but Jon knew how much words could weigh and affect someone's life, especially when they involved children. Bruce himself had suffered from the pressure during the first years, Jon had learned it from Damian when they started to talk in bed, and since there was a grain of truth in it, things got even more complicated. Of course, no one would ever have believed that a goofy kid like him, a good-time kid who always devoted himself to family, work, and community, could be Superman. But what would he have done to those who might have believed it? Even his old enemies might have followed the crumbs and tracked him to Hamilton and tried to take revenge, and then his family would have been in danger and he wouldn't have had the strength to save them.
The thought that something might happen to Tommy made his head ache and he was unable to concentrate on his work, apologizing to his boss for the delay in his piece; he had therefore sat down at his desk to try to finish it at least for this afternoon, but a stir coming from outside the building had caught his attention and he followed a couple of colleagues, moved by a curiosity he couldn't contain. And right there, under his incredulous gaze and the excited whispers of those who seemed as surprised as he was, two officers handcuffed Carter and made him get into their car, leaving Jon speechless and tremendously confused. What the hell did that mean? A strange thought crept into Jon's mind and he continued to have this doubt throughout his shift, no matter how much he tried to hear from his colleagues if anyone had understood the reason for this arrest. It was a pity that even though he was in a journalist's office, no one had had the chance to get any information from the police, even though the suspicions had been terribly wasted.
"They took Carter away today. In handcuffs. Do you know anything about that?" Jon began at home, drawing Damian's attention to himself.
With Tommy at a friend's house for a sleepover, they had eaten alone and Jon had kept these questions inside him the whole time, even though he had watched his partner and the strange calm look on his face; Jon had waited for the right moment, he had mentioned that he was going to take a shower and he had tried to see a change in Damian's expression but, and Jon knew it, Damian had always been good at not letting anything show. Even now as he sat on the couch staring back at him.
"Timothy found something very interesting about our 'mutual friend'," he said calmly, as if he had simply been talking about the weather and noticed it was raining outside, but Jon frowned as he looked him up and down, standing behind the glass coffee table.
"What did Tim do?"
"Absolutely nothing. Carter did everything himself." Damian took another sip of his jasmine tea. "From what Timothy discovered, Carter was no stranger to this kind of threat."
"What do you mean?"
Damian didn't answer, he just took his phone and accessed an encrypted folder and started an audio file by pressing the play button. "Hey, I found out some interesting things about that guy hitting on your partner. Did you know that he was sued in the Johnson vs. Milton case and then all the charges were 'suddenly' dropped?" Tim's voice spoke up before Damian deleted all evidence of that message. "Then he dug deeper into his past, checked his bank accounts, realized that he had threatened more than a few wealthy men just to make a profit, even fabricated false evidence with some of them, and... the rest followed naturally. and some birdie might have tipped him off. He's not the only one who knows how to play this game. We are Wayne."
Jon couldn't believe his ears. Had Carter, a young man who had seemed so promising when he met him, sunk so low to get a little notoriety? "But...why me?"
"Are you really asking me that, Jonathan? Even though we live in the country and many forget this, you are still part of the Wayne Family," Damian said. He put the cup down on the coffee table and stood up, moving closer to him. "Not to mention that Carter had some unfinished business with you. The resentment that comes from being rejected can be merciless," he added as he touched his chest, and he knew something about it. He had died at the age of ten precisely 'cause of the resentment his mother, in the grip of Leviathan's madness, had felt for his father.
"I still can't believe it... and what would you have done if Tim hadn't found anything against him?"
Damian cupped his face in his hands and stared intently into his eyes. "I wouldn't have let anyone hurt our family."
"You make it easy. But it wasn't something that..."
"It's over, Jonathan. Carter may continue to babble that you are Superman and present all sorts of evidence, as he has in the past, but now his credibility is nil."
"I don't know, D, it's just... it's all so weird."
Jon ran a hand through his hair and Damian rested his forehead against his, holding him in as comforting a hug as he was allowed. He could understand Jon, he had always been a person who wore his heart on his sleeve, he had always tried to see the good in everyone and had tried to solve conflicts first with words and then with his fists, but he himself had often let go and understood that it was not always possible to resort to communication. And in this world of ravenous vultures and hyenas at the ready, there was no room for sentimentality and guilt.
They stayed there, locked in each other's embrace, eyes closed, trying to push away the oppressive weight that threatened to crush them and ruin their lives completely. It was true, if Tim couldn't find anything, they would have to invent something, but Damian was sure that he would never allow an asshole like Carter to burn everything he and Jon had worked on over the years, to make all the blood, sweat and tears they had poured into making this life work for nothing, and he was ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he would do anything, even unethical, to protect those he loved.
It was the ringing of the phone that woke them both, but it was Jon who promptly straightened his back and, massaging his temples, loosened the embrace. "I'll get it," he nodded to Damian as he stole a kiss on his lips, then headed for the entrance to grab the phone and answer it on the fourth ring. "Hello?"
"Good evening, Jonathan."
At this female voice, Jon admitted that he frowned. "Talia?" he asked her for confirmation, even though she didn't need it. He was just... surprised. "I... I wasn't expecting your call. Wait, I'll call Damian and..."
"That's not necessary. It was you I wanted to talk to," the woman said, and Jon was glad to be on the other end of the phone, knowing that Talia wouldn't be able to see her shocked face.
"What?"
"I heard you had a bug problem lately."
"What are you talking about..." Jon trailed off, gripping the phone in one hand before holding it to his ear. "How did you know?" he whispered, and it wasn't long before Talia's soft laugh was heard.
"I'm the Demon Head. My eyes and ears are everywhere." There was a soft crackle on the other end. "And I won' tolerate anyone who dares to hurt the family."
If Jon had to make a comparison, he would have said that at that moment, Talia looked a lot like a lioness defending her cubs. And he was aware that the woman was just as dangerous, if not more so. "Talia, not for... not disrespect, but it's all taken care of. There is no need to..."
"It will certainly not be necessary again, Jonathan. I will see to it that it never happens again."
"R-Really, Talia, you don't have to-"
"Silence, Abni. Sleep well and give my regards to my son and my beloved grandson. Good night."
Talia hung up before Jon could even try to answer or say anything, leaving him distraught and holding the now silent phone in his hand. Jon stared at her for a long time, standing in front of the cabinet, panting, not sure what had just happened. She said she had found out about the problem they had with Carter - through what? The newspapers weren't talking about it yet, and they wouldn't be explicit enough to mention him either - and he'd done "something", but Jon wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what, especially knowing Talia.
"J? Who was?" Damian made himself heard as he appeared on the threshold of the entrance, and Jon turned around with that dazed expression still on his face.
"Your mother."
"My mother?" Damian blinked. "What did he want?"
"To inform me that we no longer have, and I quote, 'bug problems', it seems."
Damian raised an eyebrow without understanding, at least until the realization suddenly hit him like a slap in the face. "...I'm not sure I want to know how she knew," he admitted, but he moved closer to Jon to hug him again, to savor this closeness and this moment and what they had risked losing because of one man.
When he went to work the next day, Jon would have been lying to himself if he said he hadn't expected to find wilted flowers on Carter's now empty desk.