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Clark could only stare at the computer monitor and sigh.
“If it’s any consolation,” Barry tried. “I’ve examined the evidence, and the scene.” A pause. “…It wasn’t his fault.”
“…Hm.”
“The League doesn’t blame him.” Arthur added softly. “…Bruce doesn’t blame him.”
“Neither does his family.” Diana supplied.
“Dick’s already called to ask if Jon’s okay.” Donna quipped, shaking her head in vigorous agreement with Diana. “He’s worried about him too, as well as Damian.”
“I’ll let him know.” Clark returned dryly, keeping his eyes on the medical information flashing across the screen. Faint brain activity, an even fainter heartbeat. The indication of broken bones, the amount of blood that needed to be replaced…
Damian Wayne was lucky to still be alive.
“…This was going to happen, regardless.” Diana whispered, brushing her fingers along Clark’s. “You know how Damian is. We all do. There’s nothing Jon could have done differently to change this outcome.”
“Oh, I know.” Clark promised, nodding slowly, glancing down at her with a grim smile. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get Jon to believe that, too.”
Diana stared up at him for a moment, before exhaling with exasperated fondness.
“These boys are just like their fathers. In every way.” She reminded as she turned away, gesturing for Donna to go with her. “So remember that when he doesn’t believe you, and you get frustrated.”
Clark watched her go, before: “Thanks for always putting up with us, Diana.”
She glanced back at him with her own smile. “I still hold out hope for the day that I won’t.”
He laughed as she and her protégé disappeared, and glanced back to the computer screen. He watched it for a few more moments with Arthur and Barry, before excusing himself as well. His fellow heroes wished him luck, and sternly reiterated:
“It wasn’t his fault.” Arthur called after him.
Clark only waved in acknowledgement, before stepping into the Watchtower’s airlock.
He could have just teleported home; he had a station installed in the barn to do just that. But despite his friends’ assurances, he still needed time. And nothing created more time than slowly floating around the planet, listening as the human race went about their lives.
He remained just outside of orbit for a little over an hour, before he realized something. He couldn’t plan his words. He couldn’t anticipate what his son was feeling or how he’d be reacting right now. He didn’t know what words would be right or wrong or soothe or harm.
All he knew was Jon stayed on scene of the attack, stayed at Damian’s side, held him tight to his own chest, until the League answered his distress call, and then he was gone. Disappeared faster than a blink.
Clark inhaled, and angled his trajectory towards Kansas.
He was barely back in orbit before he picked up two non-animal heartbeats on the grounds of his farm. Separated, about fifty yards apart.
And as he hit Earth’s atmosphere, his communicator rang.
“Alfred just called.” Lois said softly. “Said they were able to stabilize Damian’s vitals, and that his prognosis, against all odds, looks good, though they’re still going to monitor him through tomorrow at least.” She stopped, and Clark knew she was hesitating. “…He regained consciousness once, just barely, Alfred said. Didn’t seem to recognize, or really see, anyone but his father. Demanded to know where Jon was, and if he was okay. He wasn’t…Alfred said he passed out again before anyone could give him an answer.”
“Good to know.” Clark returned, scanning the ground as soon as his home came into view. “Thanks for taking the call, Lo.”
“That boy practically lives here too. I’ve been waiting for an update just as much as you and the League are.” Lois snorted. “I haven’t seen Jon to tell him, yet. Though I’m assuming he’s on-”
“I see him.” Clark interjected, turning towards the barn, and the little speck sitting on the middle of its roof. “I got him. I’ll…I’ll let him know.”
Lois went quiet for a second, as Clark slowed amongst the clouds, before humming, “Good luck, honey.”
Clark couldn’t help but smile. “We’ll be in soon.”
Lois didn’t say anything else, and Clark heard the line click. He floated there for a few minutes, watching the barn roof. It was Jon sitting there, for sure – he hadn’t even changed out of his Superboy getup yet.
He was curled up in the tightest, smallest, most pathetic ball Clark had ever seen. Knees to chest, arms around calves. Jon could have crushed himself, if he really thought about it. If he really wanted to.
Even from such a height, Clark saw his son’s shoulders shaking. He was crying. But then Jon’s shoulders jerked, just once, near violently, and Clark realized he was wrong.
Jon wasn’t crying. Jon was sobbing.
Slowly, Clark floated downwards, remaining silent. Deciding to remain silent until he was sitting next to his boy, and was able to hold him.
Jon didn’t give him a chance.
“What am I gonna do?” Jon wailed, even before Clark’s feet hit the roof. “What am I going to do?”
“It’s okay, Jon.” Clark started, lowering himself down next to the boy. “We just got word – it looks like Damian’s going to be okay-”
Jon was suddenly shaking his head. “No, Dad – you don’t understand, I-”
Jon stopped to hiccup, and cry harder.
“Jon,” Clark tried, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What happened today wasn’t your fault, okay? There was nothing you could hav-”
“No, you don’t understand!” Jon’s head shot up so fast, tears bounced away from his face as he stared almost accusingly up at his father. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”
“…That villain was going to hit one of you, Jon.” Clark said softly, slowly removing his hand. “It just so happened-”
“I can’t lose him.” Jon practically screamed, but it was sad. Like the cry of a wolf after losing on of its own. Jon paused, as his voice echoed, and then whispered. “Dad. Dad, I can’t lose Damian. I don’t. I. What would I do? What would I do without him?”
Jon’s shaking became visibly worse, and Clark furrowed his brow in worry. “Jonno-”
“I love him, Dad.” Jon whispered. Barely breathed. “I love him, and I can’t live without him.”
And the knowledge was instantaneous. Jon didn’t mean Damian was his best friend, or he loved the other as family, as a brother. He meant dates and flowers. He meant crushes. He meant romance.
…His sixteen-year-old son was in love.
And…he didn’t know why he was surprised. After all, Dick’s been teasing the two for years, and Clark should have paid more attention to that, because Dick was the only one Damian told anything to. They spent an ungodly amount of time together, in and out of costume, even long before their teamups became daily routine.
Not to mention, there was that rumour Robin and Superboy had been caught kissing in an alley in Gotham. Or was it a training room on the Watchtower? Clark had dismissed the rumours almost instantly, due to the place of the supposed infraction never being confirmed or corroborated – only now to realize that there were multiple scenes in the rumours because it had probably happened multiple times.
…He wondered if Bruce knew.
(He laughed to himself, because, despite his intelligence, he knew his friend probably didn’t.)
“You said,” Jon sniffed. “You said it was our job to protect those we love. Because we have the superpowers. We have the abilities to. We have the responsibility to.” He rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. “I want to protect him the way you protect Mom, and I didn’t.”
“…Jon.” Clark repeated gently. “What happened today wasn’t your fault.”
“…I know.” Jon admitted, in a way that suggested he struggled to believe that truth. “I. I know.” He swallowed the guilty lump in his throat. “Damian saw the blast coming before I did, and jumped in front of me before I even knew what was happening. But that’s…that’s not the point.”
Clark waited.
“It’s our job to protect them, the humans. Our friends. It’s my job to protect him.” Jon explained, through the tears still splashing down his face. “He protected me today, and I almost lost him. I might still lose him.” Stop. “I can’t live without him, Dad. I don’t know how.”
“And you won’t.” Clark blindly promised. “You better than anyone knows how tough Damian is.”
“But I also know how human he is.” Jon countered, then whispered. “What am I gonna do, Dad?”
Clark could hear the underlying questions. What if this happens again? What if Damian jumps in front of me again? What if we’re not so lucky next time?
“You’re just going to do better next time, and only you know what ‘better’ actually means.” Clark sighed. “We’re going to monitor Damian’s injuries for the next few days, and once he’s well enough, you and him are going to sit down and talk about this.”
As Clark talked, Jon’s eyes slowly dropped, sloping down the roof and then moving across the horizon.
“Granted, he is his father’s son, so whether he listens to or agrees with you is another story, but I’m sure you already know that.” Clark chuckled lightly, before letting his smile drift away. “…Does he know? Damian, how you feel about him, I mean?”
“Yeah.” Jon sighed. “He said it first, believe it or not.”
“I see.” Clark nodded. “When?”
“When did he say it or when did we realize it?” Jon returned, sounding a little tired. “…Last fall.”
Clark nodded again. “…Does Bruce know?”
Jon let himself smirk, just a little. “Damian hasn’t said anything to him, if that’s what you mean.” The smirk fell. “I don’t think Mom knows, either.”
“Okay. I was just wondering.” Clark shrugged. He waited a moment, before wrapping an arm around Jon’s shoulders, and leaning their heads together. “…He’s going to be okay, Jon. I can’t promise that, but I know that he will be.”
“…I know.” Jon whispered, pressing into Clark’s side. “…I’m sorry I ran away from the scene.”
“You were scared, everyone understood.” He squeezed Jon’s arm. “Though I think I understand a little more, now.”
There was a beat of silence, before, “…I should have seen it coming.” Jon muttered. “I should have dragged his sorry ass out of there the second I knew what kind of firepower that psycho had.”
“Language.” Clark scolded halfheartedly. “And don’t stress about what-ifs, Jon. What happened, happened. No one can change it now, not even the speedsters, so there’s no point in thinking about it.”
“…I failed, Dad.” Jon replied anyway. “I messed up, and almost lost Damian because of it.”
“Then just make sure you’re better next time. That’s all you can do.” Clark tried, kissing his son’s temple.
“…Did this ever happen with Batman?” Jon asked quietly.
“Still does, all the time. There’s something hardwired in those stupid Wayne brains that makes them think they’re more invulnerable – or would be less missed – than Kryptonians.” Clark sighed with a weak laugh. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the first time a Bat has jumped into harm’s way for a Super, and, as unfortunate as it is, it won’t be the last, so you’ll have to be ready, Jon.”
“What happens, when it’s you and Batman?” Jon pushed. “After, I mean.”
“Well, I drag his equally sorry ass back to the Watchtower, and feel guilty until I know he’s going to be okay, which sometimes takes days.”
“Do you guys ever talk about it?”
“Sometimes. Not as often anymore. It tends just to be me screaming in his face about being an idiot, these days.” Clark admitted. “But, then. He forgives me. He tells me he forgives me, and that what happened wasn’t my fault, and never was.”
“Every time?”
“Every time.” Clark confirmed. “Even when we don’t talk about what happened after, he always makes a point to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, and that he forgives me anyway.”
“…Why?”
“Why does he tell me? Probably so I’ll forgive myself about it.” He shrugged again. “Ten bucks Damian will do the exact same for you.”
Jon frowned. “I don’t deserve it.”
Clark grinned. “That’s what I always say, too.”
Jon pursed his lips in a slight pout, and opened his mouth to respond, when suddenly:
“Jon?”
Both Clark and Jon looked down to the yard, where Lois was standing, a cordless phone in her hand.
“…Damian’s on the line, honey.”
Jon hesitated for just a second, before nodding and pulling himself from Clark’s embrace, rocking to his feet and walking to the edge of the barn.
“Jonno?”
Jon glanced back.
“Whenever you want to talk, about the powers, about life, about…about Damian. I’m right here.” Clark whispered. “…I’m proud of you, son.”
Jon flashed him a smile – a small one, a sad one. One that clearly, unfortunately, said I don’t deserve that pride.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Jon turned back towards the house, and jumped from the roof. He never hit the ground, literally flying by Lois to take the phone, disappearing back into their home with a slam of the screen door.
Both Clark and Lois watched the house for a moment, before Lois sighed loudly, turning back towards her husband.
“Should I go pack a bag?”
“You know he’s going to stay in Gotham until Damian gets the all-clear, so…probably.” Clark chuckled, following his son’s path, landing gently next to his wife. “I hear Gotham’s nice this time of year.”
Lois rolled her eyes, going towards the house herself. “You boys and your Bats, I swear.”
Clark glanced up to the house, where he could see Jon on the phone in his room. He was still crying, but he was laughing now, attempting to wipe the tears from his face.
Clark smiled, following after his wife. “You have no idea.”