Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1: FROM HELL…

The ship rocks violently as it enters the wormhole. Inside, Jon Kent cautiously edged toward the ship’s computer console. He hovered his finger over a button.

“I think this is it,” Jon whispered, his breath shaky as he pressed the button. The ship rocked violently, and Jon grabbed the console to keep from falling.

“I need to sleep on the ride home,” Jon mused. “I haven’t felt this weak since… no. No, don’t think about that. You escaped. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Not here, Jon thinks. Not if this thing holds together long enough.

Jon stumbled through the ship. He approached what looked like a bed, and for Jon, that was enough. With his legs quivering and his breath ragged, he collapsed onto the bed, curling up and slipping into a restless sleep.

The next thing Jon realized was that he was back in the hell he’d barely escaped. Peering down at him was the monster that looked like his dad but was nothing like him: Ultraman.

Jon couldn’t help himself as the tears began to escape him.

“No!” he cried. “No, I got out! I got away!”

“Is that what you think?” Ultraman sneered as he grabbed Jon by the hair and lifted him into the air. His smile widened as Jon cried out in pain, “You really think you can escape this place? You really think you can escape me?”

Ultraman made a fist and drove it into Jon’s midsection. He dropped the boy, who curled in on himself as he gasped, trying to get air back into his lungs. Ultraman laughed mockingly.

“All those weeks of careful planning,” he taunted. “All it took was one moment of letting your guard down to bring you back to me. Back to where you belong.”

Ultraman crouched, grabbed the still gasping Jon by the chin, and lifted his head so Jon was staring at Ultraman.

“Welcome home, son,” Ultraman said with a smile as Jon continued to gasp painfully.

###

It had been a long time since Dick Grayson was in Gotham City. Even longer since he patrolled the city as Nightwing. He would never admit it aloud, but he missed it: the work, the rhythm, the weight of the place. He knew he should check in more often than he did, but for every good memory Gotham held, there were twice as many that hurt.

Still, there’s no place like home, as they say, so he’s glad Barbara asked him to help out as a favor to her father. From what he understood, things were getting a little rough in the city, not helped by Bruce being Bruce and Damian being Damian.

Dick meant that as derogatorily as possible.

“Nightwing,” Barbara buzzed in his ear through his comm. He tapped it.

“Go ahead, Oracle.”

“I’m tracking an object entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

“What kind of object?”

“A crashing one. The object’s tech signature is corrupted, alien-adjacent. I’ve never seen this configuration before. I managed to hack into its guidance systems, and I got it on a course with Gotham Harbor. Think you can check it out?”

“On it. Any indication they’re hostile?”

“None so far. Be careful, though.”

“I always am.”

Nightwing fired his grappling hook and started making his way toward Gotham Harbor.

By the time Nightwing arrived, the object was already floating a few hundred yards from the docks. A small rowboat had gotten loose and was floating free in the water. Nightwing jumped in, fired his grapple, and zipped the boat toward the crash site.

When he got close enough, he slowed the boat and jumped onto the object. There was a clear glass-like covering over where an occupant lay on the inside. He tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle, this is an escape pod,” Nightwing reported.

“Any sign of a battle?” Oracle questioned. “Or if one might follow it to us?”

“Doesn’t look like it. Can you access the occupant’s vitals? See if it’s safe for whoever’s inside if we crack this egg open?”

Oracle went silent, then after a moment, the glass began to hiss and open.

“Looks like Earth is safe for them,” Oracle said. “It should be opening now.”

The pod hissed open. Nightwing stepped forward — then froze, his jaw slack.
Inside was...

“Oh, my God,” Nightwing exclaimed.

“What? What is it?”

“Oracle, you need to get us onto The Watchtower. Call Bruce. Call Clark. Call... I don’t even know, but someone!”

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Nightwing said as he sat on the object. His face paled in disbelief.

###

Muffled voices filled Jon’s ears as he slowly woke. He sat up carefully, looking around to get his bearings. He wasn’t in that bed anymore. He wasn’t even on the ship anymore. His vision shifted, and he saw rows of empty beds. I must be in some sort of barracks or infirmary, he thinks.

“Are you sure?” he hears a woman whisper in a hushed tone.

“We won’t know for sure until he wakes up and we can run some tests,” a man replies.

“No!” The woman all but shouted. “No tests.”

“We need to be certain,” a third man chimed in.

“Guys, he’s up,” a younger voice says, warm and familiar, just before three people enter the infirmary.

Jon smiled; it had to be his first in weeks. His parents and Nightwing rushed toward him, and his mother dropped to her knees at his bedside.

“Mom! Dad! Dick!” Jon forced his hoarse voice to exclaim.

Lois stares into his eyes. Her expression softens into relief.

“It’s you!” Lois says, as she begins to cry, and envelopes Jon in a hug. “It’s really you!”

Lois’ grip tightens, surprising Jon at how painful it is. Those beatings Ultraman gave him as part of his “re-education” must not have healed yet.

“Jon,” Clark says, drawing everyone’s attention. “Can you tell us what happened? Where did you go?”

Tears welled in Jon’s eyes as the memories flooded back.

“Oh, Dad,” Jon began, “It was awful! First Grandpa – and then Earth 3, and  – and the Crime Syndicate – and then Ultraman! And he – and he –”

He quickly hugged Lois as tears fell. Clark’s jaw clenches. He looked away.

Jon breaks the hug, and Lois takes Jon’s hands in hers.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “You’re back, and that’s all that I care about.”

Lois gave his hand a comforting squeeze. Jon smiled. His gaze shifted to Lois’ hands, and his smile vanished.

“Mom?” Jon asks, his voice small. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?”

“I’ll give you guys a moment alone,” Nightwing says before he exits at a much faster pace than he entered. Clark sighed and joined Lois; he also knelt at Jon’s bedside.

“I –” He began and abruptly cut himself off with a sigh. “I wanted – I had hoped that we could help you ease into some of the bigger changes that have happened since you’ve been away.”

Jon’s gaze fixed on Clark’s hands, and Lois began to look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Yours is missing, too, Dad,” Jon says. He looks up at his parents, scared and confused. “Why aren’t either of you wearing your rings? You never take them off, unless Dad is being Superman, in case anyone notices it.”

“Buddy,” Clark said in a comforting tone. “How long were you gone for?”

Jon stammers, “I don’t know how long I was in space, but I tracked the days the best I could while Ultraman had me trapped, and it was only about a few weeks. Maybe a month at most if my tracking was off.”

“You were gone for more than a month,” Lois said, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“The truth is,” Clark began with a sigh. “Your mother and I aren’t wearing our wedding rings anymore because the divorce was finalized about six months ago.”

Jon gasped like he did when Ultraman would punch him in the stomach. “How long?” asked Jon, his voice barely a whisper.

“Six years,” Clark said as Jon looked at him, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. Clark placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, trying to ground both of them. “You were missing for six years.”

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2: RESCUED, BUT NOT SAVED

As Jon slept, exhausted from the emotional shock he had just experienced, Lois refused to leave Jon’s side. Meanwhile, Clark, a man of action with no actions to take, paced around the Justice League’s conference room, much to Batman’s annoyance.

“I wasn’t wrong for telling him, was I?” Clark asked as he paced.

“He deserved to know,” Batman said, not bothering to stop or look up from his work on the computer.

“Right! Exactly!” Clark exclaimed before he resumed his pacing in earnest. “I mean, sure, I didn’t expect him to notice the lack of wedding rings right away.”

“He’s observant.”

“He probably picked those skills up from his time with…” Clark stopped, turning to Batman, his expression apologetic. “Oh, sorry.”

Batman stopped typing and finally turned to Clark.

“You can say Damian’s name,” he said. “Things might be… strained between us, right now, but our situations are completely different. I’m sure you’d much rather that Jon just hated you as long as he was still here.”

Batman turned back to the computer and resumed working.

“I know I did.”

“He’ll come around, Bruce,” Clark said. “Maybe now that Jon’s back –”

“—That is not a weight he should be forced to carry.”

A beep from the computer broke the silence that filled the room. Clark approached the chair where Batman sat.

“I was running a scan on Jon from when he was first brought aboard Watchtower,” Batman explained.

“And?” Clark asked.

“There’s residual temporal energy around him. It seems to be fading quickly enough.”

“I guess that explains why six years for us was only about a month for him.”

“There’s more,” Batman said, his voice grave as he turned to Clark. “And you’re not going to like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“He’s showing bruising and malnourishment that are consistent with prolonged abuse and captivity.”

Clark clenched his fists, and his eyes glowed faintly with heat vision that he quickly brought under control.

###

The smell of sulfur filled the air as molten lava boiled in pools. Ultraman stood triumphant, while Jon looked up at him in abject terror.

“No!” yelled Jon, his voice trembling with fear. “No, I’m not here! I’m on the Watchtower! Mom’s there! Dad’s there! Dick’s there! This isn’t real! I’m not here!”

Ultraman laughed haughtily.

“Do you really think getting back to your soft sheets in your nice, safe bed means that I’m done with you?” he taunted. Oh, no, boy. I’ve marked you. You’re mine now. No matter how far you run, you’ll never leave this volcano.”

“Please, just leave me alone,” Jon said, his voice small.

“Looks like you need another lesson,” Ultraman said as he cracked his knuckles. “Time to begin.”

###

Lois slept as she leaned on the bed where Jon was lying. She was awakened by movement to find him tossing and turning, muttering in his sleep.

“No, no, please,” Jon muttered in a panic. “Dad, help. Dad, please. Please save me.”

Lois gently eased him awake.

“Jon, honey?” she whispered. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

Jon woke with a gasp and immediately clutched Lois in a hug when he saw her.

“Please don’t let him hurt me again,” Jon begged.

Lois said nothing; she just rubbed circles on Jon’s back and hoped that would help.

###

At first glance, the Taylor Ridge gated community seemed like a typical condominium complex you might find anywhere in Burnside. However, the truth is being hidden right in front of us. In Unit NW-87, Dick Grayson sits on the couch dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. His phone is held in his hand, and the light of the screen reflects off his face.

Damian Wayne’s name stared back at him from the screen, taunting. He sighed, as another internal debate about whether or not he should call Damian and tell him about Jon wages inside him. He swallowed and pressed the call button, adjusting the phone to his ear. His anxious expression turns to mild disappointment when he hears the default voicemail message.

“Damian,” he said into the phone. “It’s Dick. Uh, Grayson. Look, I don’t know if this is a phone you actually use anymore, but, Damian, it’s Jon. We found him.” Dick chuckled, his relief clear. “He’s at the Watchtower. They’re running tests on him because, Damian, it doesn’t look like he’s aged at all. I’d wait until he goes home before planning a visit, because I don’t know what he went through, but whatever it was, he could use his friend. And, if I could be so bold, I think you could too. Be safe, Damian. I doubt you believe me, but I love you. I miss you. We all do. Bye.”

Dick ended the call and slumped back on the couch. He let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his fingers. He only stopped when he heard a slight sniffle and a tiny, scared voice.

“Daddy?”

Dick sat up. In the open doorway, a small three-year-old boy stood. His black hair was sticking out at odd angles, sleep-mussed and flattened on one side. He wore a long-sleeved pair of pajamas with little bat patterns, knees worn thin. He clutched the fabric near his chest like a safety blanket, eyes wide and glassy.

Dick’s face brightens.

“Hey, there, buddy,” Dick says in a comforting tone. “What are you doing out of bed?”

The boy’s lip wobbled.

“I -- I had a acci-dent,” he said, as the tears welled in his eyes threatened to fall.

“You did? Come on, buddy, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You’re not mad?”

Dick laughs. “I’m not mad,” he assured.

“I didn’t mean to,” the boy said.

“I know you didn’t,” Dick comforts. “That’s why it’s an accident and not an intentional.”

“Quarter,” the boy said, his voice still shaky.

“Seriously?” Dick questions.

“Quarter,” repeats the boy, more confidently.

“All right,” Dick relents. “You’re the boss.” He extends his hand, and the boy walks over and takes it before they head into the kitchen.

Dick guided the boy to a low kitchen counter where two glass jars sat. Both jars had labels written on white paper taped to them. The first said, “Mommy’s No-No Word Jar,” and held enough quarters to cover the bottom layer. Next to it was “Daddy’s Bad Joke Jar,” which was more than halfway filled with quarters. Between them was a roll of quarters atop a note that read, “Figured you might need this.”

“You know me too well, Babs,” Dick muttered as he opened the roll and dropped one into his jar. He turned back to the boy, “Better?” he asked.

“A little,” the boy said with a smile.

“Good, now, let’s get you and those sheets clean,” Dick said as he ruffled the boy’s hair, making him laugh. He grabs the boy’s hand again.

A little while later, after the sheets went in the dryer and Dick gave the boy a quick bath to clean him up, Dick finished drying the boy’s hair as the boy stood before him in a pair of Superman pajamas. Dick looked at the boy and noticed how pensive he seemed.

“Everything all right?” Dick asked. “You haven’t had an accident in a while.”

“No,” the boy replied. “I don’t like how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“You and Mommy. You’re happy and sad at the same time. It’s like with Unc-til Damon. He smiles and laughs, but he’s always so sad. I don’t like it.”

“You really are perceptive for your age, aren’t you?” Dick said with a tired smile.

He sighed, “I’m sorry we have you worried, bud. It’s just someone Mommy and I know came back after being away for a long time, and we’re all happy he’s back, but bad things happened when he was gone, so we’re sad about that.”

“Is it your brother?” the boy asked eagerly, his eyes bright with hope. “The one you named me after? The one who has to live in the ground because a bad man hurt him? Was he able to visit?”

Dick’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said quietly. No, it’s not him.” The boy looked up at Dick, and concern spread across his face.

“You’re sad.”

“Yes. I am.”

The boy hugs Dick as tightly as he can.

“I love you, Daddy,” the boy said.

“I love you, too, Jason,” Dick said as he reciprocated the hug.

###

Aboard the Watchtower, Lois and Clark sat in the conference room. They sat at opposite ends of the table, despite being the only ones there.

“Thank you for helping Jon after his nightmare,” Clark said. “If I knew, I would have helped.”

“You don’t need to thank me for doing my job as a parent,” Lois snapped back.

“That wasn’t what –“ Clark stopped talking and sighed. “Look, Lois. Whatever our issues, they’re not important right now. Being there for Jon is all that matters.

“Exactly. So when can I take him home?”

“Are you sure bringing him to Metropolis is the right move?”

“It’s his home, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but –”

“—But what,” Lois interrupted, annoyed.

“So’s the farm,” Clark pointed out.

“No.”

“Lois –”

“No.”

“Lois, it’s quieter than Metropolis, with a lot more open space, and plenty of ways to ease him back to a safe and loving environment.”

“Clark,” Lois said and sighed, a look of regret on her face. “I’m not bringing this up to be cruel. You know that. You know me. But things at the farm aren’t going to be exactly as he remembers them.”

“It’s true that Ma’s… not being around anymore will need to be handled delicately,” Clark responded. “I already regret how he ended up being told about the divorce.

“Then let me bring him home to Metropolis,” Lois pleaded. It’s familiar, safe, and what he remembers.”

“Is it safe?” asked Clark quietly.

“What are you talking about?” Lois asks, her eyes narrowed.

“My fath –” Clark stopped and took a steadying breath. “Jor-El hasn’t been seen since they left Earth together. We have no idea where he is, or if he might come for Jon again.”

He paused.

“The farm might be safer for him.”

Lois sighed, her expression skeptical. “Why do you want him at the farm so bad?” she asked.

Clark looked at her, confused.

“Because he is my son, and I want to make sure he’s safe.

Lois snapped and slammed her fist onto the table.

“Then why did you give up on him?!?”

Clark flinched; the words wounded him more than Kryptonite.

“You’re right,” Clark admitted, his words soft. “I lost faith. When the wreckage was –”

“—Oh, don’t give me that!” spat Lois. “You’re Superman! You’re supposed to be Superman! You are a symbol of hope for the world. Why couldn’t you hold out for your own son?”

Clark swallowed and looked down, ashamed.

“Lois, I –”

“—Tell you what,” Lois said as she abruptly stood. “You want to help Jon? And I mean, really help Jon? Why don’t you do what you’ve done for the past six years and stay the hell away?”

Lois stormed out. Clark sat in silence, the emptiness around him echoing louder than any argument ever could.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 3: EIDOLON

In the five days since he was found, Jon had settled into a routine. His parents would visit him during his medical check-ups, though they were never together. He started taking walks around the watchtower to gain strength. He still napped during the day, but not as much or as long as when he first arrived on the satellite. He still had nightmares about being back with Ultraman, but he had gotten better at hiding them. He was a few steps ahead of his mother when he stopped and turned to her.

“Mom?” he asked. “Am I the reason you and Dad got divorced?”

“What? No, of course not,” Lois quickly replied, picking up her pace to stay in step with Jon. “Why would you think that?”

Jon shrugged. “You two were so happy before I left,” he said. “Then I disappeared, and now… you’re not.”

Lois sighed. “Jon, I’m sorry if we did something to make you feel like this,” she said. “Your father and I… It’s complicated."

“That just makes it sound like it’s my fault, but you don’t want to say it,” Jon snapped, picking up the pace and leaving a stunned Lois behind.

Jon continued walking, increasing his pace to almost a run, and he didn’t slow down as he rounded a corner, where he spotted Dick. He is leaning against the wall in his civilian clothes, reading a data pad.

“Dick?” Jon asked, surprise clear in his voice. Dick looked up from the data pad and turned toward the sound of his name. He smiled when he saw Jon.

“Hey, Jon!” he said, cheerfully optimistic. “Glad to see you’re up and about. Everything all right?”

Jon shook his head and said, “No.”

Dick frowned and knelt to match Jon’s eye level.

“What’s wrong?”

Jon swallowed.

“Do you remember when I was nine? And I went flying at night, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and I got lost and hid in a cave. You found me, gave me a lollipop from Batman’s utility belt, and juggled his smoke bombs, and it made me feel like everything is going to be all right.”

“I remember,” Dick said with a nod.

“There’s no lollipop or juggling act to make me feel like that for this, is there?”

Dick slowly shook his head.

“Sorry, buddy,” Dick said. “But I think you’re right about that.”

“I didn’t think so,” Jon admitted.

“You want to talk about it?”

“I asked Mom if she and Dad got divorced because I got trapped on Earth-3.”

“Of course not!” Dick exclaims.

“That’s what Mom said,” Jon states. “But then she said the real reason was complicated.”

“Oof,” Dick winced. “Lois, you know better than that.”

“Everything’s changed so much,” Jon replied, his voice breaking. “It’s like I was frozen, and everyone else moved on and forgot about me.”

“They didn’t,” Dick insists. “I promise you that.”

“Why hasn’t Damian visited?” Jon asked.

Dick paused, choosing his words carefully.

“He wants to. I know he does,” he said softly. “I actually left him a message a few days ago, after we found you. Told him you were here, but… I also suggested he wait until you were back home. Just so things were calmer. Easier.”

Jon frowned. “Why?”

Dick offered a small, understanding smile.

“Because you’ve been through enough already. And I thought you deserved a little peace before dealing with... anything else.”

He ruffled Jon’s hair gently. “He’ll come. He just needs the right moment.”

“Where even is home anymore?” Jon asked.

“What do you mean?” Dick wondered.

“Mom and Dad probably don’t live together anymore,” Jon said. “So, where am I supposed to go?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Someplace safe,” Jon said, wistfully.

“And where’s that?” questioned Dick.

“I wish I knew,” confessed Jon. He sighed, looking up at Dick. “So much has changed, and most of it’s bad. Is there anything good that’s happened since I’ve been gone?”

“Actually, yeah,” Dick said with a smile. “Barbara and I got married, and we have a kid. Jason. He's three.”

Jon’s jaw dropped.

“You did? You do?”

“Yeah. When you’re up to it, I’d love for you to meet him.”

“I’d like that,” Jon smiled. “Anything else I should know?”

“Oh!” Dick exclaims. “Big Belly Burger has a chicken sandwich meal now.”

“Is it any good?”

“Not really, no.”

Jon laughed. It was pure and genuine.

“Thanks, Dick,” Jon said.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Dick said with a shrug.

“You did what you always do,” Jon stated. “You made me feel better.”

“Glad I could help,” Dick said with a smile.

“This has got me thinking,” Jon said, putting his hands in his pockets. “This place, it’s big, but it’s confined, you know? I don’t really like that. I want to be somewhere more… open.”

“Have you figured out where you want to stay?”

“Yeah,” Jon nodded. “I want to go back to the farm.”

Neither Dick nor Jon noticed Lois peeking from around the corner, a sad look on her face.

###

Clark was already in the Infirmary when Lois returned. His smile softened when he saw that she had returned alone.

“Where’s Jon?” He asked.

“Talking to Dick Grayson,” she replied. “I overheard them. He told Dick that he wants to go to the farm, so I guess you win.”

“Win?” Clark asked, confused. “Lois, I didn’t want Jon at the farm because I live there; I want Jon there because I think it’s best for him. Trust me, I’m not trying to be the world’s most divorced dad and compete with you over him. I want him safe."

“I know you do,” Lois said with a sigh. “So do I.” She takes a breath. Jon asked me if he was the reason we got divorced.”

“Oh,” Clark said, looking down, ashamed.

“I denied it, of course,” Lois replied. “But I didn’t have a good answer for him, so he stormed off, and he ran into Dick.”

“Why didn’t you tell him it was because of me?” Clark asks, confused.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you,” said Lois, her voice softer. “Just because our relationship as husband and wife is over, that doesn’t mean our total relationship is.”

“I’d like that,” admitted Clark with a slight smile.

Jon entered with Dick.

“Oh, Mom!” Jon said as he ran up to his parents. “Sorry for leaving you like that.”

“That’s fine, honey,” Lois said. “You just needed to do things your own way.”

“Dick?” Clark asked, turning to him. “Thank you for making Jon feel safe.”

“No problem at all,” Dick said with a smile. “I’ll let you guys be alone.”

“I appreciate that,” Lois said. “I think we need to start talking about where we’ll be staying for the next stage of recovery.”

Dick nods, gives Jon a comforting smile, and exits the Infirmary, leaving the family to discuss their business.

###

It was decided that Jon’s next stage of recovery would take place at the Kent family farm, the very farm Clark had grown up on. But before Jon was discharged, there was one last stop they needed to make.

The Kent family’s red pickup truck rolled to a stop at the edge of Shuster Cemetery’s entrance gates. Inside, Jon takes a deep breath.

“If you change your mind about this,” Clark said, “you just let us know, and we can leave.”

“We can always come back another day,” added Lois.

“Exactly,” Clark confirmed.

Jon smiled, appreciative.

“I’ll be fine,” assured Jon. “Thank you. But I think this is something I need to handle on my own.”

Jon got out of the truck and followed his parents' instructions. Before long, he was standing in front of Martha Kent’s gravestone. He took another deep breath as he approached.

“Hi, Grandma!” Jon said aloud to the gravestone. “It’s me! I’m back. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t around more when I could. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you this in person, and I’m sorry that it’s my fault this all happened.” He takes a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry I went to space. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. And I’m sorry that I hate myself for all the things I’m sorry for.”

“Don’t be like that, Jonny,” a voice from behind him said.

Jon quickly turned around and gasped.

“Grandpa!”

Jonathan Kent walked up, the crunch of the dirt road beneath his feet, and a warm smile on his face.

“Heya, Kiddo.”

Jon runs to his grandfather and hugs him. Jonathan holds his grandson close and rubs circles in his back.

“It’s all right, Kiddo.” Jonathan said, “You’re safe.”

Jon broke the hug and looked up at his grandfather, his eyes wide in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your parents told me you were visiting your grandmother today. I decided I waited long enough.”

“When they told me that she…” Jon let the thought hang. “I was worried about you.”

“You’re a good boy, Jonny,” Jonathan said with a smile. “You went through a lot, and you’re first thought was of someone else.”

“But you’re all right?” asked Jon.

“It hurt. It still hurts. But I manage, thanks to your parents. They were there for me, just like they’ll be there for you.”

“I’m glad I’m moving back. So I can spend more time with you.”

“Me too, Kiddo,” Jonathan says, as they hug each other again. “Me too.”

###

A few days later, Jon finally left the Watchtower for the farm. Clark had spent the past few days preparing everything, working with Lois to bring over clothes and supplies for both her and Jon. Clark felt anxious; for the first time in six years, the whole family would be under the same roof.

Lois’ car turned down Siegel Road and made its way toward the farm. Lois glanced over to Jon in the passenger seat.

“You excited, honey?” Lois asked.

Jon put on a fake smile and nodded.

“Yeah,” he lied. In truth, he was more nervous than excited, hoping the vast open areas and fresh country air would make him realize the truth; he is home and surrounded by people who love him.

Clark was quick to greet them when they arrived. He wore a nervous smile as he welcomed them. Jon hurried over and hugged Jonathan while Lois inspected the room.

“Clark, where are my bags?” she asked.

“In my bedroom,” replied Clark.

“Why are they there?”

Because you’re staying here as my guest, I won’t have you on the couch when a perfectly good bed,” Clark insisted. “I’m taking the couch.”

“Yeah, but --"

“-- Don’t worry about him, Lois,” Jonathan interrupted. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Grandpa?” Jon asks, confused, “Why are you sleeping out here, too? What’s wrong with your bed?”

Jonathan smiled sadly.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Jonny,” Jonathan explained. “It’s just that was the bed I shared with your grandmother. It doesn’t feel right to sleep in it without her.

Jon hugs his grandfather again.

Lois clicks her teeth.

“Are you sure, Clark?” she asked. I don’t want to impose.”

“You never could,” Clark immediately replied.

“Okay, fine,” Lois said with a sigh as she relented. “Just… thank you.” She exited and went to Clark’s bedroom, gently closing the door behind her.

Later that night, Lois went into Clark’s bedroom to sleep. Jon returned to his old guest room, where it was still made up and waiting for him. Clark laid on the couch while Jonathan was in his recliner.

“Pa?” Clark asked.

“Yes?” Jonathan replied.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s nice to have you all here, again.”

“Not for that,” clarified Clark. “For not saying ‘I told you so.’ I know you were on Lois’ side over how I reacted after Jon was… when it looked like he was gone for good.”

“Clark,” Jonathan sighed. “I was never not on your side. You were hurting. I get that, we all were. But, to see you -- and I mean you, Clark Kent, not Superman -- just… give up, that hurt me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, because it meant my baby boy was hurting, and I didn’t know how to make it better.”

The two laid in silence.

“I’m glad I was wrong,” Clark finally said, his voice low.

“Me too, Clark,” Jonathan replied.

They went silent again.

“Hmm?” Clark hummed as he sat up.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jonathan. “Does this look like a job for Superman?”

“No,” Clark said. “But it might be a job for a very annoyed parent.

He tilted his head, listening.

Footsteps. Just one set. Not crunching the gravel, but soft. Controlled. Almost rehearsed.

Clark stood. “He’s here.”

###

Jon tossed and turned in bed. A small whimper escaped him as he endured another nightmare. He clenched his fists while sleeping, the sheets tangled around his legs like restraints. His breathing increased rapidly. 

Then, a presence. Quiet. Heavy with purpose. Not menacing, but watchful.

Jon’s eyes snapped open.

The room was dark, bathed in silver moonlight leaking in through the old curtains. His breaths were ragged, sweat clinging to his brow. And then he saw it, a figure standing silently at the edge of the room, half-shrouded in shadow.

A shape. Armor. A helmet. Red, cracked down one side. Eyes like white slits.

Jon bolted upright, heart pounding in his ears. He blinked hard.

The figure stood there, unmoving. Suddenly, Jon smiled.

“You’re taller,” Jon said with a hint of pride. “I knew you could do it.”

The figure took a small step forward, becoming visible in the light. He was a sharp silhouette, lean and precise. Black and muted greys layered in sleek armor, tactical but not flashy. A long cape, charcoal-dark, trimmed with deep green.

The helmet was unmistakably Red Hood’s, or what was left of it. It hid his face but couldn’t hide his presence.

“Why are you wearing that?” Jon asked, standing now.

The helmet hissed softly as the clasps disengaged.

The figure lifted it slowly. Carefully. As if it were both armor and burden.

Damian Wayne’s face emerged. He was older, wearier, the hard lines of guilt and sleepless nights etched beneath his eyes.

He didn’t speak at first.

He just stepped forward, taking two strides, and then threw his arms around Jon, gripping him so tightly that Jon nearly stumbled.

For a moment, Jon froze.

Then he felt it.

Damian was crying. 

Muffled sobs against his shoulder, shaking breaths that hadn’t been let out in six long years.

“…You’re here,” Damian finally whispered. “You’re actually here.”

“That’s right,” Jon responded. “I’m back.”

Damian’s sobbing intensified.

“I’m sorry,” Damian choked out in ragged breaths between sobs. “I failed you. I’m so sorry.”

The boys slunk down to the floor. Jon cradled Damian close as he cried.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Dame,” Jon whispered as he held his best friend close.

For the first time since Jon came home, Jon’s own tears began to fall.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 4: RETURN OF THE SUPER SONS

Damian’s breath hitched as he continued to sob into his best friend’s shoulder. If Mother could see me now,Damian thought. She’d be so disappointed. A Wayne crying over what couldn’t be fixed. A son of al Ghul, undone by grief. He and Jon remain seated on the floor. He’s not entirely sure how they got there.

“Dame?” Jon asked as he gently pulled Damian away, his eyes wet from his own tears.

“Yeah?” Damian asks, his voice hoarse from crying.

“I missed you.”

“Me too.”

“So,” Jon said, letting his pause last just enough that it started to feel awkward. “What brings you to Kansas in the middle of the night? Something Robin related?”

“Eidolon,” Damian said, his voice quiet as his breathing evened out. “I’m not Robin anymore. It’s Eidolon, now.”

“Okay,” Jon said. “Something Eidolon related?”

Damian’s brow furrows.

“That’s it?” he said, annoyed. “You’re not going to ask about my new alias?”

“Damian,” Jon said with an unexpected chuckle. “I come back after what was to me only a month, to find it has been six years here. My parents are divorced, my grandmother is dead, Dick and Barbara are married with a kid, and Big Belly Burger now serves chicken. You having a new hero identity is the easiest thing to accept by far.”

“When you put it like that,” Damian said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “I guess it makes sense.”

“So why Eidolon?”

“It means ‘Phantom.’”

“Cool.”

“I wasn’t going for cool. I was aiming for how I felt.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Jon said, his eyes cast toward the floor.

“It wasn’t just your disappearance,” Damian admitted.

“I’m sure it didn’t help.”

“You’re right.”

“Can you tell me?” Jon asked. “There’s so much I don’t know, and I don’t know if my parents or even Dick will be 100% honest with me if I ask them.”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Damian questioned. “You know how it is. Once this is out, there’s no putting the genie back in the bottle.”

“What do I have to be worried about?” Jon asked in false bravado. “I have the mighty Eidolon on my side.”

Damian scoffs and laughs despite himself. The sound fades, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.

“All right,” Damian relented. “I’ll tell you. Just… promise me you won’t hate me. Or anyone else after what I tell you.”

“I won’t,” Jon assured him.

Damian nods.

“It all started a few months after you left,” he began. “There had been no word, and people were starting to worry. Your father went into space multiple times but never found anything.” Damian took a breath as he fidgeted with his gloves. “So I decided that I was done waiting.”

A soft knock on the door cut Damian off. The door slowly opened a little, and Clark’s head poked through.

“Hey, kids,” Clark said in a quiet voice.

“Dad?” Jon asked.

“Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

Clark entered the room and stared at the two boys. He looked more nervous and awkward than either boy was used to seeing.

“So, uh,” began Clark. “I heard you two talking about what happened.”

“Of course,” Damian muttered. “Super hearing.”

“Actually,” Clark corrected with a smile, “You weren’t as quiet as you think you were being.”

Damian glared at Clark but stayed silent. Jon observed them both, feeling the familiar dynamic return: Damian irritated, Clark patient, and himself caught somewhere in between.

“If you’re going to tell Jon the truth,” Clark said as he sat on the floor and leaned against Jon’s bed. “I’d like to be here for it.”

Damian took a small step backward, surprise etched on his face. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” replied Clark.

“Dad?” Jon asked, confused.

“Remember what I said about not hating me or anyone else?” Damian asked. “This is what I meant.”

“Dad?” Jon asked. “Why would I hate my dad? I -- okay, let’s go on with it. You said you were done waiting.”

“Right,” Damian said before continuing. “I went to space to find you.”

“I have to note you left Bruce,” Clark said as he pulled out his wallet and removed a folded-up piece of paper. He handed it to Jon.

“You do?” Damian asked, surprised.

“Bruce gave it to me,” explained Clark. “I kept it as a reminder.”

Jon unfolded the paper and read it aloud:

“Father, I’m going to find Jon. Taking the Hellbat. Avenge me if I don’t return in a year.”  

Silence.

He lowered the paper and stared at Damian, intently.

“You took the Hellbat?!?” Jon’s voice cracked somewhere between awe and disbelief

Damian’s gaze dropped. “You see how desperate I was to get you back?” Damian said. “I gave myself a year. I figured that would be enough time to find you or die trying.” Damian’s lip wobbled. His voice broke as he continued. “I was barely gone a week before I found the wreckage of Jor-El’s ship."

Damian’s voice softened, his hands trembling slightly as he recalled. “The hull was frozen solid, like a tomb. No signs of life. No beacon, no heat, nothing.”

He gazed at the floor, unable to meet Jon’s eyes. “I told myself I’d keep searching anyway. But deep down, I knew.”

Damian kept his focus on the spot on the floor he stared at as he continued. Gradually, the world around him seemed to change, and he was no longer in Jon’s new bedroom at the Kent farm, but back at the Watchtower, dragging the wreckage behind him.

###

The docking bay lights flickered to life as the Hellbat armor breached orbit. Emergency containment fields shimmered into place, sealing the chamber before the outer hatch had even closed.

Damian disengaged the armor’s propulsion and manually guided the wrecked vessel in. The wreckage was unrecognizable. What used to be a Kryptonian scout ship was now a twisted skeleton of metal and ice, its surface scarred from micro-impacts and cosmic radiation burns.

He released the magnetic clamps and let it settle onto the bay floor. Frost steamed off the hull in thin, ghostly ribbons.

“Watchtower, lock quarantine on Bay Seven,” Batman’s voice came over the comm.
“Confirmed,” replied the AI. Red warning lights pulsed along the bulkheads.

Damian stepped out of the Hellbat, the armor’s joints hissing as it powered down. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the magnetic stabilizers holding the wreck in place.

The blast doors opened, and two figures entered: Batman and Superman.

Superman’s boots hit the deck with a heavy metallic ring. His cape drifted in the recycled air, catching faint flecks of frost from the wreck.

“Where did you find it?” Batman asked.

“Drifting in the debris field along Jupiter’s orbit,” Damian said. His voice was steady, but his eyes didn’t move from the ship. “No transponder. No life signs.”

Batman began scanning with a handheld analyzer, a muted series of chimes echoing through the bay. “We’ll need to isolate the fragments. There might be data stored in the core --”

“-- There’s no core left,” Damian cut in. “It’s vaporized.”

Superman said nothing. He stood close to the wreck, eyes faintly glowing as he looked through the hull. His breathing slowed.

“Radiation signatures are Kryptonian,” Batman confirmed. “Hull plating matches the ship Jor-El used.”

Damian clenched his fists. “Then it’s true.”

Batman’s scanner chirped once more. It was sharp. Final.

All life-support systems failed upon impact. Internal temperatures dropped below survivable levels within seconds.

Superman turned his head just enough for Damian to see his profile. The light in his eyes faded.

Batman hesitated. “We don’t have proof of --”

“-- Don’t,” Superman said softly. The hum of the bay almost drowned out his voice. “Don’t say it.”

He stepped closer to the wreck. His gloved hand brushed the metal, and frost cracked beneath his touch. The sound echoed like breaking glass.

“Seal it,” he said. “No one touches it until I say so.”

Then, without saying another word, he walked past Damian and through the blast doors. The faint rush of air pressure followed him as he left the chamber.

Batman exhaled slowly.

“Start decontamination,” he ordered the system.

Damian remained back, gazing at the scorch marks along the hull. The Hellbat armor loomed behind him, towering and motionless.

When the decontamination lights flickered on, Damian finally spoke.

“Why do we even bother pretending we can fix anything?”

Batman didn’t reply. He simply lowered his scanner as the blue glow faded and watched his son’s reflection in the battered ship’s metal.

###

Damian looked up as he finished telling the tale. Jon took a gasping breath.

“Wait. So, dad, you… stopped looking for me?”

Clark sighed and gave a sad nod that confirmed his shame.

“Jon,” Clark said, his breath quickening. "Your mother told me what you asked her on the Watchtower. And no, it's not your fault that your mother and I got divorced, Jon. It's mine,”

Clark’s voice cracked, his words and emotions spilling out.

“It's my fault because I gave up on you. And I am so sorry for not believing in you. I hope you can forgive me, but I'll understand if you can't.

“You gave up?” Jon asked, betrayal in his voice.

Clark nodded, avoiding his son’s gaze. Jon rushed forward and embraced his father, almost knocking Clark into the bed.

“Jon?” Clark asked, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Jon replied.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” Clark asked, surprised and confused. “I’m the one who wronged you. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not true,” Jon said. “Everyone deserves love. Those who made a mistake, even more so.”

Clark slowly raised his hand and patted Jon’s head. “I love you, too,” he told his son.

After they broke their hug, Jon turned to Damian.

“So, how did Robin become Eidolon?”

“Through a lot of pain, bitterness, and death,” Damian said, his tone sharp, before he took a breath. “Look, Jon, with you gone, I… was alone.”

“But what about --”

“-- Bat Family doesn’t count.”

“Okay, then what about --”

“-- Teen Titans also don’t count, either. And before you get smart about it, neither does Young Justice.”

“Who?”

Damian sighed, long and exasperated. “You were my best friend, Jon. People around me started liking me because you helped mellow me out. So when you were gone, seemingly forever, everything I’d built just… stopped mattering. I got sloppy. Reckless. I didn’t care what happened to me.”

He looked down at his gloved hands. “And when someone like me stops caring… people get hurt.”

The room went still. Jon opened his mouth, but no words came. Clark’s gaze softened, understanding more than Damian could ever say aloud.

Damian’s fingers twitched against his gloves. His voice was steadier now, but only because he was holding everything else inside.

“Jason came with me that night,” Damian said, his voice distant.

“I thought you said you were alone?” Jon asked.

“I tried to be,” Damian replied. “But Jason didn’t believe in letting people self-destruct quietly. He told me he knew the look, said he saw it in the mirror once, a long time ago.”

He exhaled slowly. “We were working a case in Gotham. Small arms dealers tied to something bigger. Routine, until one of them panicked and threw a grenade.”

Damian’s gaze went glassy. “Jason shoved me clear. The explosion tore through the scaffolding. His armor absorbed most of the blast, but the wall behind him didn’t. When I found him, the helmet was cracked; the same one I wear now.”

He swallowed, his throat tightening. “He was bleeding. Badly. I was trying to stabilize him when he grabbed my wrist.”

Damian’s voice softened into something fragile. “‘Hey, kid,’ he said, ‘at least there’s no crowbar this time.’”

Jon flinched at the reference. He knew that story; everyone in their world did.

“Then he looked at me,” Damian continued, “and said, ‘You don’t get to make my mistakes. You hear me? Don’t turn dying into the only way to matter.’”

His breath caught. “And then… he smiled. That same stupid, lopsided grin. And he said, ‘Tell Bruce I finally got one right.’”

Damian fell silent. His fists trembled, but his voice when he spoke again was eerily calm.

“He was gone before I could answer.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint creak of the old farmhouse settling around them.

Jon didn’t think; he just moved. He crossed the room in two steps and threw his arms around Damian, holding him tight.

“I’m so sorry, Dame,” Jon said, his voice shaking. “I wish I’d been here for you.”

Damian didn’t move at first. Then, slowly, his hands rose, hesitant, uncertain, and he returned the embrace.

“You are now,” he murmured.

“After Jason,” he began, voice barely above a whisper, “everything changed.”

He looked down at his gloved hands again, flexing them as if to remind himself they were still his. “Bruce grounded me. Dick checked in every day. Barbara kept saying it wasn’t my fault. But all I could think about was what Jason said, ‘Don’t turn dying into the only way to matter.’”

Damian’s breath hitched slightly, but he pushed through. “So I tried to honor that. I tried to stop fighting like I wanted to die.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking toward the cracked helmet resting on his belt. “But I couldn’t be Robin anymore. That name... it felt like wearing someone else’s skin. Jason’s death took the last of that boy with it.”

Jon didn’t interrupt. Clark didn’t either. The silence between them was reverent, like they were standing at a graveside.

“So, I built something new,” Damian said finally. “Something that felt honest. Eidolon. A phantom. That’s what I became. Not quite living. Not quite dead. Just… here. Trying to keep everyone else from ending up like him.”

He swallowed. “Like us.”

For a long time, none of them spoke. The room was still, heavy with everything that had been said. Outside, the Kansas wind whispered against the windowpane, low and steady, as if the world itself was finally exhaling.

Jon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and managed a small, tired smile. “You know,” he said softly, “for two people who were never supposed to have friends, we didn’t turn out so bad.”

Damian let out a quiet huff, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Don’t get sentimental, Kent.”

Clark smiled faintly, looking between them. “You two sound more like partners than ever.”

“Maybe that’s what we always were,” Jon said.

Silence fell again, but it was a softer kind this time, the kind that fills a space instead of empties it.

Jon yawned and lay back on his bed, exhaustion creeping in now that the storm had passed. Within minutes, his breathing slowed, steady and even.

Clark lingered a moment longer, his gaze soft. “Good night, son,” he murmured, brushing a hand through Jon’s hair.

Then he looked at Damian. “You’re staying?”

Damian nodded once. “Just until he’s asleep.”

Clark hesitated, reading something in Damian’s eyes, not defiance, not guilt, but the same fierce protectiveness he felt himself. He gave a small nod.

“All right,” he said quietly. “Just keep an eye on him.”

“Always,” Damian replied.

Clark smiled faintly, that tired, proud sort of smile only a father can manage. “Good night, Eidolon.”

“Good night, Superman.”

Clark left the room, closing the door behind him.

Damian stood alone in the moonlight. His eyes shifted to the cracked helmet on the desk, the same one he's carried through fire, grief, and years of trying to make amends. He picked it up, his reflection fractured down the middle.

“At least there’s no crowbar this time,” he whispered, as the ghost of Jason’s grin flickered through his mind.

He gently placed the helmet down and looked toward the window.

“Good night, Jason,” he said. “I’m still trying to get it right.”

He pulled back the curtains. Moonlight spilled across the room, silver and still. Then, silently, Damian slipped through the open window and vanished into the quiet Kansas night.

Down the hall, Clark paused, sensing the faint shift of air behind him. He smiled to himself, the kind of small, knowing smile of someone who has seen this pattern before.

“Like father, like son,” he murmured, and headed for bed.

Outside, the wind swept through the fields, carrying the scent of rain and earth, the smell of home.

And somewhere far away, in Blüdhaven, a small boy stirred in his sleep. Jason Grayson, bright, curious, and already too perceptive for his own good, opened his eyes for just a moment, as if he’d heard something calling out to him from across the stars.

He didn’t know it yet, but his life, and theirs, was about to change forever.

For now, though, the night was still.

And the Super Sons were back.