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I
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The multiversal rift glowed in the sky, right between Gotham and Metropolis, with its purple and gold flashes, and faint touches of green.
Creatures that none of the heroes trying to contain the catastrophe recognized were pouring out of the rift.
Jon Kent, Superboy, floated several meters above the ground, not knowing where to begin.
"This is..." he murmured, unable to finish the sentence.
Beside him, Koriand'r kept her hands wrapped in green flames, ready to intervene. Her green eyes scanned the scene with the precision of someone who had seen dimensional wars before.
"Superboy?" the Tamaranean asked, noticing the young man's expression. "Are you okay?"
Jason Todd, with the Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm and a crooked smile on his lips, stepped forward and patted Kori on the shoulder.
"Don't bother the kid, there are three Damians," he said, pointing toward the battlefield. "The boyscout is in his paradise."
Jon didn't even hear the comment. His attention was on what was happening in front of him.
Three figures.
Three versions of the same person.
Three Damian Waynes.
The first one, the one Jon knew better than he knew himself, was the seventeen-year-old Robin.
His black, red, and yellow suit. Different from his predecessors.
The katana rested in his hand as if it were part of his body; after using it for so many years, it seemed that way.
The second was older.
More than 24, less than 27, Jon calculated.
He wore the dark, elegant robes of a prince of the League of Assassins: black tunics with gold details, no cape, no mask. His face was the same, but sharper, more hardened by years of training in the mountains.
His green eyes shone with an intensity that made even Batman's seem soft.
The third... the third was something completely different.
The Batman suit fit him as if he had been born to wear it.
The black cape billowed behind him with every movement, and the mask with the pointed ears partially concealed his identity, but Jon would recognize it anywhere.
The square jaw, the rigid posture, the way he moved: it was Damian.
A Damian who had grown into something greater than the sum of his parts.
The three of them looked at each other.
It was only an instant.
In that brief moment, something passed between them.
A recognition.
An understanding that transcended words.
Then, the creatures attacked.
Failed experiments of Lex Luthor that had been corrupted by the energy of the rift.
The three Damians launched themselves at the same time.
The grappling hooks shot out almost simultaneously.
Robin fired his toward a building on the right. The Prince of the League aimed at a construction crane on the left.
The Batman aimed directly upward, toward a building on the left.
And then, in a movement Jon would never have anticipated, the Batman spun in the air, caught the cables of the other two hooks with his gloved hands, and used his own momentum to launch them.
The two younger Damians flew through the air like projectiles, their bodies turned into weapons.
Robin landed on the back of the nearest creature, sinking his katana into what appeared to be its spine.
The Prince of the League landed rolling, cutting tentacles with movements so fluid they seemed like dance.
The Batman landed in the middle of the three, his cape wrapping around him like bat wings, and for a moment, Jon could see the smile on his face.
It wasn't a cruel smile. It was the smile of someone who had found his equals.
"Robin!" the Batman shouted, and his voice was deeper than the Damian Jon knew, but it had the same accent, the same authority. "Left flank!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Robin responded with annoyance, but he was already moving to the left.
"Interesting" murmured the Prince of the League, his eyes evaluating his two counterparts.
"Shut up and fight" growled the Batman, launching himself at a creature that was getting too close.
What followed was something Jon would never forget.
The three Damians fought as if they had trained together their whole lives.
No, better than that.
They fought as if they were the same person divided into three bodies.
When one moved to the right, the other two covered his left flank.
When one jumped, the other two were already in position to catch him.
They exchanged katanas mid-combat.
Robin threw his sword toward the Prince of the League, who caught it in the air and used it to decapitate a creature before throwing it toward the Batman.
The Batman caught it with one hand while using the other to drive an explosive batarang into the central eye of another aberration.
"Three Damians!" Jason exclaimed, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "This is better than Christmas!"
"I don't understand" said Kori. "How can they coordinate like that? They're different versions of the same person. They've never fought together."
Jason shrugged.
"I don't know. I guess when you're Damian Wayne, you always know what another Damian Wayne is going to do. It's like..." he paused, searching for the words. "It's like they share the same brain. Although it's not like there's much to share."
Jon finally found his voice.
"It's beautiful" he whispered.
Jason looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Beautiful? Kid, they're dismembering monsters with swords."
"I know. But look at them" Jon pointed toward the battlefield. "I've never seen Damian fight like that. I've never seen Damian... smile like that."
It was true.
The three Damians were smiling.
They weren't smiles of superiority or arrogance.
They were smiles of pure joy.
Of finally meeting someone who could keep up with them.
The Batman jumped over a creature, using his cape to blind it before driving a katana into its skull.
The Prince of the League slid between the legs of another, cutting tendons and muscles as if he were cutting butter.
Robin flew through the air, launched by his two counterparts, and landed on the largest creature, the one that seemed to be the leader of the group.
"Now!" the three shouted at the same time.
The three katanas sank into the exact same point, piercing the creature's core.
The energy explosion was blinding, and Jon had to cover his eyes with his arm.
When the light faded, the multiversal rift was closing.
The remaining creatures disintegrated, turned into dust that the wind began to carry away.
Robin was breathing heavily, his suit torn in several places.
The Prince of the League was impeccable, as if he had just come out of a meeting instead of a battle.
The Batman had one hand pressed against his side, where a tentacle had managed to pierce his armor.
"Not bad" said the seventeen-year-old Robin, cleaning his katana with his arm. "For old men."
"Not bad" responded the Prince of the League, inclining his head. "For a child."
The Batman let out a low laugh, almost imperceptible.
"You're both insufferable" he said.
The three of them turned to look at each other. Jon floated closer, eager to hear what they would say.
Batman evaluated Robin with a look that was strangely paternal.
"You still have a lot to learn."
"Like what?"
"Like not letting your pride make you lose sight of what matters."
Robin frowned, but before he could respond, the Prince of the League intervened.
"I'm ten years older than you, Robin" he said softly. "And I can tell you that pride isn't your problem. Your problem is that you think you have to do everything alone."
"I don't do everything alone."
"Yes, you do." The Prince of the League gestured toward Jon with his head.
Robin followed the Prince's gaze and saw Jon.
Something flickered in his eyes, something Jon couldn't identify.
"Not always," he said quietly.
The Prince sighed and then stretched, lazily.
"The rift is closed."
"We need a place to regroup and plan," said D-Batman.
"Bruce is going to get a kick out of meeting you," said Jason, approaching.
"For Dad, this will be like any other Tuesday," responded the Prince.
Jason and Damian noticed how that version had called Bruce "Dad," but they pretended they hadn't heard.
II
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The Batcave had never been so... crowded.
Bruce Wayne stood in front of the main computer platform, arms crossed and an expression that oscillated between scientific fascination and something that could only be described as paternal discomfort.
In front of him, three versions of his son occupied the space as if they had always been there.
The seventeen-year-old Robin was sitting in one of the swivel chairs, slowly spinning from side to side with an expression of boredom that couldn't quite hide his curiosity. Beside him, the Prince of the League of Assassins remained standing, with an elegance that seemed out of place in the cave full of bats and technology. His dark, gold-trimmed tunics contrasted with the steel and stone.
And then there was him. The Batman, in full suit, his cape still damp from the recent battle. He had removed the cowl, and his face was Damian's, but more mature. More tired. More... complete, somehow.
He had dark circles under his eyes, yes.
But also a brightness in his eyes, a happiness that radiated from them.
Bruce didn't know what to say.
He had seen alternate versions of himself before.
He had met other Bruce Waynes, other Batmans, other realities where things had gone terribly wrong or wonderfully right.
But this was different.
This was his son.
"Father" said Robin. "Stop looking at us like we're an experiment."
"I'm not looking at you like an experiment" Bruce responded, even though that was exactly what he was doing.
"Yes, you are" said D-Batman, and his voice was deeper, raspier. "I recognize that look. I've used it myself. I inherited it from you, in fact."
"It's strange" murmured Bruce. "Seeing you... seeing all of you... Wait, since when do you talk to me with such confidence?"
"You gave me permission" D-Batman's smile grew wider.
Bruce looked away for a moment.
He had always thought his relationship with Damian would always be tense, distant... This gave him a small hope he didn't know if he should feed.
Bruce was about to ask something, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
Footsteps that weren't trying to be silent.
Footsteps that belonged to someone who didn't need to hide.
Jon Kent appeared at the entrance of the Batcave, with his hair disheveled and his eyes shining with that emotion that only he could have in a situation like this.
"Damian!" he exclaimed, and then stopped dead when he saw the scene.
Three Damians.
All looking at him.
"Jonathan," the three said in unison.
Jon regretted having insisted on coming the exact moment the three Damians said his name in unison.
It wasn't the first time he had heard his full name come from Damian's lips.
But the way each of them said it, damn it.
Bruce Wayne, from his position on the main platform, watched with a mixture of paternal pride and cosmic exasperation.
Jon felt the heat rise up his neck.
He was wearing his Superboy suit, the red and blue colors shining under the cave's lights, but in that moment he felt like a child again.
Like that eleven-year-old boy who didn't know what to do when Damian looked at him with those intense green eyes.
"Uh, hi, Dami..." he said, and his voice cracked at the end, because he didn't know which of the three to address.
D-Batman smiled.
A warm smile.
One Jon had never seen on his Damian.
"You haven't called me that in years in my dimension" he said.
Jon got worried.
What did that mean?
Had they stopped being friends in that other reality?
Had something happened between them?
"Do we not talk anymore?" he asked, his voice betraying him with an anxious tone.
"Quite the opposite" responded the Batman, and his smile grew wider. "You call me something different now."
"What?" Jon took a step forward, unable to contain himself.
D-Batman stepped closer too, and suddenly they were much closer than Jon expected.
D-Batman extended a gloved hand and gently took his chin, forcing Jon's blue eyes to look directly into D-Batman's green ones.
Eyes that pierced through him, and there was something in them that Jon had never seen in his Damian.
Something... possessive.
Something that sent a shiver down his spine.
"If I told you" murmured D-Batman, his deep voice resonating in the space between them, "I'd have to kill you."
Jon felt his face burn.
He didn't know if it was a threat, a joke, or a promise, and that was exactly what was driving him crazy.
"Don't touch my Jon" said a cutting voice, and Jon turned his head to see his Robin with his arms crossed and a murderous look.
D-Batman withdrew his hand with deliberate slowness. He didn't apologize. He just raised an eyebrow.
"Your Jon?" he repeated, with a hint of amusement.
The atmosphere tensed.
Jon opened his mouth to say something, anything, but as always in important moments, ideas and words abandoned him like a rat jumping off a sinking ship.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), the Prince intervened.
"God, I thought I was discreet" said the Prince. There was a tone of self-reproach in his voice as he crossed his long, slender legs with an elegance that made Jon have to remember that it was rude to stare at someone for so long.
But the Prince wasn't intimidated by Jon's gaze, no.
On the contrary, his gaze traveled over Jon from top to bottom with a slowness that made the Kryptonian feel as if he were being undressed.
"Discreet?" D-Batman scoffed. "We're anything but discreet."
Jon blinked.
His brain was trying to process what he had just heard.
"Discreet."
Plural.
What did that mean? What did it imply?
Jon looked at the three of them, completely lost.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
The three Damians looked at each other. There was an invisible exchange, a language only they understood.
"Nothing" the three said at the same time.
And Jon knew, with the absolute certainty of someone who has lived through enough multiversal adventures to recognize a conspiracy, that they were lying.
Bruce, from his position next to the computer, watched the scene with an expression that oscillated between confusion and something that looked suspiciously like amusement. Not every day he saw three versions of his son agree on something.
"Interesting," he murmured.
"Father" said Robin with a warning tone.
"I didn't say anything."
"You said 'interesting.'"
"It's an objective observation."
"It's a nosy observation."
Jon hadn't wanted to ask. He really hadn't.
But his mouth moved before his brain, as it always did when he was nervous, and the words shot out:
"You... you don't seem worried about being in another dimension."
D-Batman and the Prince exchanged a look. And then they laughed.
It wasn't a mocking laugh. It was something more intimate, more dangerous: a laugh of sufficiency, of shared secrets, of we know something you don't know.
"Curious that you say that" said the Prince, tilting his head in a way that was... flirtatious?!
Jon didn't know Damian could flirt. He didn't know that was on the table.
"Why me?"
The Prince looked at him intensely.
"If your Damian had fallen into a multiversal rift..." D-Batman began, his deep voice resonating in the cave. "Would you give him up for lost?"
"Of course not" he responded. Too fast, too certain. "I'd look for him. To the ends of the worlds. Until the multiverse ran out of rifts."
And the moment he said that, he understood.
These two weren't worried because someone would look for them.
Someone who loved them enough to cross dimensions, to defy physical laws, to tear the fabric of reality if necessary.
Someone waiting for them at home.
"Someone is looking for you" he said slowly. "Someone... is going to find you."
"Someone always finds us" confirmed D-Batman. "No matter where we are. No matter when. No matter what reality we've fallen into."
Jon nodded, processing the information.
It made sense.
If these Damians had lived full lives, if they had survived so long... it was because they had someone.
He wanted to ask. He wanted to know who that person was. He wanted to know what kind of extraordinary being had achieved what he had never had the courage to attempt: stealing Damian Wayne's heart.
But his thoughts stopped dead when his gaze landed on the Prince's left hand.
A wedding ring.
A pale gold band with what appeared to be a black diamond set in it. Elegant. Discreet. But unmistakable.
D-Batman, as if he had felt his gaze, raised his own left hand and rested it casually on the control panel.
The ring shone under the cave's light.
Black gold with an elegant sapphire in the center.
It looked more worn, as if it had been worn for years.
As if he had never taken it off.
Jon felt small.
Knowing that Damian had the capacity to love someone enough to marry... was hurting him.
Not because he didn't want Damian to be happy. Of course he wanted that. He wanted it more than anything in the world. But the fact that that someone wasn't him... that was a dagger in his chest that he didn't know how to remove.
Especially when he saw Robin look at those rings with hope, with longing... With love.
In a moment, Robin turned to look at Jon.
"Jon" said Robin, and his voice was softer than usual. "You're paling."
"Wait, can Kryptonians pale?" asked the Prince with feigned curiosity.
"Give the kid a break" D-Batman cut him off, and his tone was more serious.
Jon felt his cheeks burn.
"I'm not a kid."
The Prince rolled his eyes affectionately, but nodded.
"You're thinking too much" he said, and his tone was almost kind. "It's a bad habit."
"You do it too" Jon responded without thinking.
The Prince smiled. It was a strange smile, a mixture of surprise and something Jon couldn't identify.
"You're right. But I have an excuse. I grew up in an organization of assassins."
"Is anyone hungry?" D-Batman asked casually, as if he were used to this type of exchange.
Jon opened his mouth to protest, but the three of them were already moving as if they were a single entity, discussing the best way to prepare a steak.
He followed them, not knowing what to expect, but with a certainty growing in his chest:
The Damians, in any dimension, would always keep him guessing.
And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't so bad.
III
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The Batcave kitchen was a space few knew about.
Bruce had installed it years ago, after Alfred insisted that even vigilantes needed to eat something more than energy bars. It was functional, discreet, and equipped with everything necessary to prepare a decent dinner.
Jon had never seen anyone use it.
Until now.
The Prince of the League of Assassins was cutting vegetables with a precision that would have made any chef cry. His movements were fluid, elegant, almost hypnotic. Each cut was perfect. Each piece, identical to the previous one.
Beside him, D-Batman was stirring something in a large pot, still wearing the Batman suit but with his gloves off.
The image was absurd. Comic, even.
The thirty-year-old Batman, with his cape and mask, cooking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And then there was Robin.
Jon saw him approach the kitchen with an expression he had never seen before.
It was... curiosity.
Genuine interest.
As if he wanted to learn something he didn't know he needed to know.
"Do you need help?" Robin asked.
The Prince and D-Batman exchanged a look. Then, D-Batman smiled.
"Always" he said. "Grab a knife."
Robin washed his hands and joined them, taking a place next to the Prince.
Jon watched them from his position in one of the nearby chairs, feeling as if he were watching something sacred.
Three Damians.
Cooking together.
As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"What age did you get married?" the Prince asked suddenly, without stopping his cutting.
D-Batman smiled.
A smile of memory. Of nostalgia.
"At eighteen," he responded.
The Prince whistled, and his smile was mocking.
"Precocious."
"And you?" D-Batman asked, not taking the bait.
The Prince stopped for a moment, his knife suspended in the air. Then, he continued cutting.
"I've been married for a few months" he said.
"Who proposed?" Robin asked, looking at D-Batman.
D-Batman let out a low laugh.
"We got married at eighteen. Do you think I would have proposed at that age?"
"No" said Robin slowly. "You wouldn't have proposed at that age."
"But we never would have said 'no'" the Prince and D-Batman completed at the same time.
"And you?" asked Robin, his voice cutting but curious, looking at the Prince. "Who asked?"
The Prince straightened up, and his smile became a little arrogant.
"I did. I was tired of him not making the move. And I'm... very jealous."
The other two nodded in understanding.
"Yeah, I'm jealous too," admitted D-Batman, without shame.
"Ditto" said Robin.
The three looked at each other, and for a moment, there was a silent understanding between them.
Jon stayed in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. He hadn't been invited to this conversation. He didn't know if he should stay or leave.
But he couldn't leave.
Bruce, from his position at the kitchen entrance, watched the scene with a raised eyebrow. He had come down after a while, attracted by the smells coming from the kitchen, and what he had found was... this.
Three versions of his son. Cooking. Talking about marriage. About jealousy. About love.
And Jon Kent, sitting in a chair, looking at them as if they were the center of his universe.
"I'm sure they'll find me first" said the Prince, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
D-Batman raised an eyebrow.
"I don't think so."
The Prince smiled, and it was a smile that promised danger.
"We haven't been married long. There's urgency in not losing me."
D-Batman sighed, and it was a sigh loaded with meaning.
"We have a two-year-old son."
Jon's eyes widened.
The world stopped.
A son.
Damian Wayne had a son.
Damian Wayne, in some dimension, in some universe, had had a son with someone.
And that someone wasn't him.
Two men couldn't have a son.
Jon felt his heart break. Not in a dramatic way, not in a loud way. Simply... it broke. Like glass that cracks slowly until it can no longer hold together.
He didn't ask.
He couldn't ask.
He didn't want to know.
"Son?" asked Robin, and his voice was almost a whisper.
D-Batman looked at him, and his smile was radiant. It was the smile of someone who had found something he never knew he needed.
"Yes" he said. "Son."
And then, he turned toward Bruce.
"And, by the way" he said, with a smile that was almost cruel in its perfection, "my little son is your weakness. Since we had him, you carry him all the time. You even sing to him."
Bruce said nothing.
But everyone saw how that affected him.
His hands, which had always been firm, trembled slightly.
His expression, which had always been controlled, broke for a moment.
And in his eyes, in those blue eyes that had seen so many things, something appeared that Jon had never seen before.
Longing.
"Our little Alfred" said D-Batman, and his voice was soft, almost tender.
Bruce closed his eyes.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, Bruce opened his eyes, and his expression was controlled again. But something had changed.
"Alfred" said Bruce, and his voice was almost a whisper. "You named him Alfred."
"Yes" said D-Batman. "Any problem?"
"No" Bruce shook his head. "No problem."
"Good, because you helped choose it."
"I helped?"
"We're... we're incredibly close now" he said with a calm smile, one that Damian had never dedicated to Bruce.
Jon didn't ask anymore.
He didn't ask who the mother was. He didn't ask if he was happy. He didn't ask if that son also had Damian's green eyes or someone else's smile.
He didn't ask because he was afraid of the answer.
Something in his face must have betrayed what his heart was feeling.
"Jonathan" said Robin, and Jon looked up.
His Damian was looking at him fixedly, with that intensity that always made him feel naked.
"Come here. Help peel the potatoes."
Jon opened his mouth to say no, that he'd better leave, that he had something important to do on Earth, any excuse, but his body was already moving.
He took a knife and a potato, and began peeling it without looking at what he was doing.
"You're pressing too hard" said the Prince, with a smile in his voice.
Jon looked at the potato. Indeed, he was removing the skin and almost all the flesh.
"Ah. Thanks."
The Prince laughed softly and approached to show him how to do it. His fingers brushed Jon's, which made the Kryptonian's chest race.
"Like this" said the Prince, and his voice was a whisper. "Calmly. You don't have to do it perfectly. Just... be softer, Jonathan."
Jon nodded, swallowing.
He said nothing more.
Instead, he concentrated on peeling the potato, feeling the gazes of the three Damians on him.
And for a moment, just for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that this was his life. That he was the one waiting for them at home. That he was the one wearing the ring on his hand.
But it wasn't true.
IV
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"I told you they'd come for me first" said D-Batman, and his voice had a tone of quiet satisfaction, almost mocking.
The Prince snorted, leaving the knife on the cutting board.
"I know how to lose."
"No, you don't" responded D-Batman, with a crooked smile.
"Shut up."
Robin frowned.
"Who are you talking about?"
"My Beloved is here" he said calmly, without stopping cooking.
And then the door opened.
Jon didn't hear him arrive. Not even with his superhearing.
A fraction of a second before, the air was empty, and the next, there was a man standing in the kitchen doorway.
He was wearing a suit. Not just any suit. The colors were unmistakable: blue, red, gold. The colors of Superman.
But there were differences.
On his chest, instead of the iconic "S," there was a stylized bird with outstretched wings. A black mask on his face.
"Beloved" said the man, and his voice was deep, warm, and loaded with deep, almost desperate affection.
D-Batman turned, and his face, that face Jon had seen frown, smile with sufficiency, harden into Batman mode, lit up in a way Jon had never seen in his Damian.
"You arrived sooner than I expected" said D-Batman, and he let himself be embraced.
The man wrapped him in his arms, and it was a real embrace. Not a handshake, not a pat on the back. A full embrace, with arms around Damian's waist, with his face buried in his neck, with his eyes closed.
Jon looked at Robin and saw that the boy was watching the scene with an intensity that bordered on fascination. His green eyes were fixed on the couple, and his expression was... complicated. There was surprise. There was curiosity. There was something more, something Jon couldn't name but that reminded him of the way he himself looked at Damian when he thought no one was watching.
His future.
Jon understood suddenly.
Robin was seeing his future.
He was seeing the kind of love he could have, the kind of person he could become. And Jon... Jon now knew that his rival was a hero they didn't even know.
A hero who, not content with stealing the love of his life, had also stolen the colors of his suit, the bastard.
They didn't even know him yet, and Jonathan Kent already hated him.
"Little Wing?" asked D-Batman, without separating from the embrace.
The man laughed softly.
"Bruce was delighted to take care of his grandson" he said, and began to remove his mask. "My dad stayed too, just in case. We still don't know what caused the rift."
"Clark is always cautious when it comes to Alfred, Jona" said D-Batman, and his voice was soft, almost tender.
Jona.
Jon blinked.
The mask fell.
And Jon saw himself.
No. It wasn't him. It was a version of him. With expression lines around his eyes that Jon didn't have, with a fine scar crossing his left eyebrow, with darker, longer hair, combed back.
But it was him.
It was his face. It was his nose. It was his mouth. It was him wearing a suit that wasn't Superboy's but something new, something his own.
His brain was trying to process what he was seeing, what he was hearing, what he was feeling.
That man, that him, was the person who had stolen Damian Wayne's heart.
He was the person who had built a life with him.
He was the person who had had a son with him. He was the person wearing a ring on his left hand, a black gold ring with a gem the exact color of Damian's eyes.
His mouth opened slightly when he understood, with a clarity that chilled his blood, that the future he had been seeing, the rings, the smiles, the conversations about who had proposed first, was not a future with someone else.
It was a future with him.
Jon opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"What...?" he whispered, and his voice sounded broken, small, like a child's.
Tomorrow Man (the version of Jon who belonged to D-Batman) turned toward him.
"Hi Jon, hi Dami..." he said, and his voice was the same as Jon's, but deeper, more settled, with a timbre that spoke of years of experience. "This must be confusing."
Jon didn't respond. He couldn't.
His mind was a whirlwind of images: the Prince with his ring, D-Batman with his son, the words I never would have said no, the way the three Damians looked at him as if they knew something he didn't.
And now this.
"You...?" Jon swallowed. "We...?"
Tomorrow Man smiled. It was a gentle smile, patient, the kind of smile you give someone who has just woken from a long dream.
"Yes" he said simply. "Us."
Jon felt his legs fail. He leaned on the kitchen island.
"But..." he murmured. "But I don't..."
"I know" Tomorrow Man interrupted him, and took a step toward him. "You don't know yet. You haven't realized yet. But you will."
"How...?" Jon asked, and his voice cracked.
He didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't. Because the truth was that he did know.
The truth was that he had always known.
The way his heart beat faster when Damian entered a room.
The way he searched for his eyes in every fight, in every mission, in every moment.
The way the world became brighter, sharper, more real when Damian was near.
Jon had always known.
He had just never had the courage to admit it.
"Jon" said Robin, and Jon turned to look at him.
His Damian. The one who still didn't know what adult love was, but who in that moment was looking at him with an intensity that made everything else disappear.
"Breathe" said Robin, and his hand rested on Jon's arm. "You're paling again, you're thinking too much again."
"I can't..." Jon shook his head. "I can't process this. This is... This is unexpected."
"No one is asking you to do it right now" said the Prince from somewhere behind him.
Jon breathed. It was a trembling, irregular sound, but it was air in his lungs.
"How long?" he finally asked, looking at Tomorrow Man. "How long until...?"
Tomorrow Man tilted his head.
"That depends on you. On us. On this Damian." He gestured toward Robin. "There's no fixed timeline. There's no script to follow. There are just... decisions."
"And you?" asked Jon. "How...?"
"How did I realize?" Tomorrow Man smiled, and it was a sad smile. "He almost died. On a mission. An explosion. I got him out of there, I brought him back, and while I held him in my arms, cursing him for being so reckless, I understood that I couldn't live without him."
Jon felt the air catch in his throat.
He almost died.
Almost. Died.
He didn't think about that. He didn't let the thought settle in his mind, it was too much, it was unbearable to imagine.
"But he's fine. He's alive. He's here. And we have a son. And a life. And everything I always wanted, even if I didn't know it."
Jon looked at D-Batman. At that Damian with the Batman mantle, with his cape and his ring and his son named Alfred.
And then he looked at Robin. At his Damian. At the boy who still had a whole life ahead of him.
"What if...?" Jon swallowed. "What if I'm not good enough?"
D-Batman was the one who responded.
"It's not about being enough or good" he said, and his voice was grave, serious, but not cruel. "It's about wanting to try. About staying. About not running when things get hard."
"And you" said the Prince, appearing next to Jon with a soft smile. "You've never run. Not even when you should have."
Jon looked at them. At the three Damians. At his future self. At the Wayne mansion kitchen, with its half-peeled potatoes and its smell of onion and garlic.
"Alfred?" he asked suddenly, looking at Tomorrow Man. "You really named your son Alfred?"
Tomorrow Man laughed. It was an honest, warm laugh that filled the kitchen.
"It was Damian's idea. He said if we were going to have a son, at least he had to have a worthy name. And Bruce Wayne himself approved it... He even smiled."
"It's a perfect name" said D-Batman, crossing his arms.
"It's a family name" corrected the Prince, and his voice was soft.
And in that moment, while the three Damians returned to their kitchen tasks and Tomorrow Man approached his husband to steal a kiss on the cheek, Jon Kent knew that his life had just changed.
Tomorrow Man had wrapped D-Batman from behind, with his arms around his waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. It was an intimate, domestic gesture that spoke of a life together.
"I was scared" said Tomorrow Man, and his voice was a whisper against D-Batman's shoulder. "You disappeared... I stopped hearing your heart. Don't do that. Never again."
D-Batman leaned back into him, his eyes closed, his body relaxing against his husband's as if it were the safest place in the world.
"It wasn't intentional" he responded, and his voice was soft, without a trace of the cold, calculating Batman Jon had seen in battle.
"I'm not going to leave you alone again. Not even for five minutes" said Tomorrow Man, and there was a promise in his voice, an oath that Jon felt in his own bones.
D-Batman laughed.
It was a precious sound. Rare. Jon had never heard his Damian laugh like that, with abandon, with lightness, with love. It was a laugh that spoke of years of trust, of shared nights, of a bond that no multiverse could break.
"It's not like you leave me alone much" said D-Batman.
"You accepted when you became my husband, Damian Thomas Wayne-Kent."
D-Batman looked away a little... Embarrassed?
Damian Thomas Wayne-Kent.
Damian had taken his last name.
Damian Wayne, the heir of the League of Assassins, the son of Bruce Wayne, had added Kent to his name. He had joined himself to him. He had become his family.
Robin raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to make a comment, a question, something.
A breeze swept through the kitchen.
It wasn't a normal breeze. It was a displacement of air, the kind of thing Jon associated with speedsters.
But there was no speedster in the room.
There was only one man.
A man who appeared in front of the Prince as if he had always been there.
A man wearing the blue and red suit of Superman with the "S" on his chest and the cape billowing behind him, but whose eyes were blue like the Kansas sky, and whose face was... Jon's face.
And he was hugging the Prince.
"Amiri" said J-Superman, and his voice was a hoarse whisper, loaded with relief, with love, with years of contained worry.
The Prince melted into his arms.
"Habibi" he responded, and his voice was a sigh. "You're here."
J-Superman took his face with both hands, his thumbs caressing his cheekbones, his eyes traveling over every inch of his face as if he were memorizing it.
"I will always find you, Amiri" he said, and his voice was an oath.
And without caring that they were being watched, without caring about anything, he kissed the Prince.
It was a real kiss. Not a chaste peck, not a gesture of convenience.
It was a deep, hungry kiss, full of hours of separation and desperation at not finding him.
The Prince responded, his hands clutching Superman's cape, his body arching toward Jon's, muscle memory.
Jon stood paralyzed watching the scene.
His mind screamed:
That's Superman. That's me. That's me with Damian. I'm kissing Damian. Damian is kissing me.
And then, louder:
Damian loves me. In the future. Damian loves me and I love him and we're married and we have a son and—
"Jonathan."
Robin's voice pulled him out of his spiral.
His Damian was beside him, with his arms crossed and an expression Jon couldn't decipher.
"Yes?" Jon managed to say, and his voice sounded strange, distant.
"Stop thinking so loud" said Robin, and his tone was dry, but not cruel. "You're giving me a headache."
Jon let out a nervous laugh.
"Sorry."
They stayed in silence, watching the two couples. Tomorrow Man and D-Batman were still embraced next to the stove, whispering things Jon couldn't hear.
J-Superman and the Prince had separated enough to look into each other's eyes, their foreheads pressed together, their hands intertwined.
"They're... intense" said Robin, and his voice was a mixture of observation and something Jon couldn't identify.
D-Batman let out a soft laugh, almost mocking.
"You think we're jealous" he said, and his gaze landed on Robin with a kind of tired amusement. "You haven't seen Jonathan jealous yet."
The Prince nodded, his fingers intertwined with J-Superman's.
"And you don't know how overprotective he becomes."
Jon swallowed.
He could feel it, that intensity, that need to protect, to possess, to never let go.
He felt it in his own chest, in the way his heart beat faster when Damian was near, in the way his eyes searched for Damian in every moment.
"I've almost lost you twice, Amiri" said J-Superman, and his voice was a hoarse whisper, loaded with pain. "I won't let it happen a third time."
The Prince turned his head and kissed his cheek. It was a soft, intimate gesture, a silent comfort.
"It's not going to happen" he said, and his voice was firm. "I'm here. I'm with you."
"I know" responded J-Superman, but his arms tightened a little more. "But I can't... I can't help..."
"I know," the Prince interrupted him, and his hand rested on Jon's cheek. "I know, habibi. It's okay."
V
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Jon didn't think about it.
Or maybe he did think about it, but it was a thought so fast, so instinctive, so inevitable, that his body moved before his mind could stop it.
And before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, that Damian would push him away, that he would look at him with that arched eyebrow and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, that everything would go back to the way it was before, he opened his arms and hugged him.
It was clumsy. It was awkward. His arms wrapped around Damian's shoulders at a strange angle, his chin bumped against his temple, and for a second, Jon felt the world stop.
This is a mistake. This is a mistake. This is...
And then Damian moved.
He didn't push him away. He didn't shove him. He didn't say anything.
Instead, he settled in.
Damian turned his head slightly, resting his cheek against Jon's chest.
His shoulders relaxed and his hands slowly fell to his sides.
And he stayed there.
In Jon's arms.
His heart beat so loudly he was sure Damian could hear it. And maybe that's why, maybe because Damian could hear it, he didn't move.
"What are you doing?" Damian asked, and his voice was a murmur against the fabric of Jon's suit.
"I don't know" Jon admitted, and his voice was barely a whisper. "I just... wanted to try it."
"Try it?"
"Hugging you. See what happened."
Damian was silent for a moment.
"You're an idiot" he said, but there was no venom in his words. Just surrender.
"I know" Jon responded, and his arms tightened a little more. "But I'm your idiot."
Damian didn't respond. But his hands slowly rose and rested on Jon's back.
"It's okay" Jon murmured. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. Just... let me stay here. For a moment."
Damian didn't respond. But he didn't move.
And for a moment, just a moment, the world stopped spinning.
From the other side of the kitchen, the Prince watched the scene with a soft smile. J-Superman was beside him, with an arm around his waist, and his blue eyes shone with something that could only be described as pride.
"Finally" murmured the Prince.
"Let them be" said J-Superman, and his voice was soft. "They need time."
"I know. But it's beautiful to see, isn't it?"
J-Superman looked at the young couple, at Jon with his arms around Damian, at Damian with his hands on Jon's back, at the two of them standing in the middle of the kitchen as if they were the only thing that mattered in the universe, and smiled.
"Yes, it's beautiful."
D-Batman and Tomorrow Man were also watching them. D-Batman had his arms crossed, but his expression wasn't hard. It was... nostalgic.
"Did we look like that?" asked D-Batman.
"Worse" responded Tomorrow Man, and his voice was a laugh. "We were much clumsier."
"You're not very encouraging."
"I'm honest."
D-Batman rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on his lips.
Bruce Wayne, from the doorway, took a sip of his coffee.
His eyes landed on his son. On his sons. On the three versions of Damian Wayne in that kitchen, each at a different moment in his life, each on a different path toward the same person.
And for a second, very brief, Bruce Wayne smiled.
"Alfred is going to love this" he murmured to himself.
Jon, oblivious to everything except the warmth of Damian in his arms, closed his eyes.
Damian was in his arms. Damian letting himself be hugged. Damian, for the first time, staying.
And Jon knew, with a certainty that didn't need words, that it was worth it.
Everything. Every moment. Every fight. Every sleepless night. Every time he had wanted to say something and hadn't dared.
It was worth it.
Because Damian Wayne was in his arms.
And for the first time, he didn't seem to want to leave.
"You...?" Jon began, but he didn't know how to finish the question.
Robin looked at him.
"Me what?"
"Aren't you surprised?" Jon asked.
"Surprised about what I've been feeling for you for years? No," he said without pulling away from the embrace. "Surprised to know I'm reciprocated? Yes."
"What?"
Robin let out a sigh.
It wasn't a sigh of exasperation, although he had every right to be. It was a sigh of surrender. Of someone who had been carrying a secret for too long and who, finally, was letting it go.
"You're deaf as well as an idiot" Damian murmured, but his fingers were still clutching the fabric of Jon's suit. "I've been feeling... this for years. Whatever this is. And you just discovered it in a kitchen, with three versions of myself watching you."
Jon blinked, not knowing what to say.
"But... why didn't you tell me anything?" he stammered.
Robin finally raised his head, and his green eyes met his.
"What did you want me to say?" he asked, and his voice was cutting but fragile. "Hey Jon, maybe you haven't noticed, but you should know that I've been in love with you since we were thirteen and you seem to be the only human being on the planet who hasn't realized it. Is that what you wanted?"
"Since thirteen?"
"Don't make me repeat it."
"Damian..."
"No, don't look at me like that. Don't pity me. Don't..."
"I'm not pitying you" said Jon, and his voice was firm. "I'm... I'm..."
He didn't find the words. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He hugged him tighter.
Damian let out a sound, something between a gasp and a growl, but he didn't push him away. Instead, his arms closed around Jon, and for the first time, it was a real hug. A complete hug.
They stayed like that for a long moment. The rest of the kitchen watched them in silence.
Finally, the Prince broke the silence.
"Well," he said, and his voice was soft. "Is anyone hungry?"
Dinner was... strange.
Because Jon was sitting between Robin and the Prince, with D-Batman across from him and Tomorrow Man beside him, and J-Superman at the other end of the table, and Bruce Wayne at the head, and everything was so... domestic.
Jon watched them interact, the complicit looks, the brushes of hands, the smiles they gave without thinking, and he felt hope.
Because if these four—had found their way, then maybe he could too.
Robin ate in silence beside him, but his knee brushed against Jon's under the table. It wasn't accidental. Jon knew it. And he didn't pull away.
Bruce Wayne, from the head of the table, watched everything with an expression Jon couldn't decipher. But when the Prince passed him the curry and asked if he wanted more, Bruce nodded, and Jon would swear he saw a smile on his lips.
After dinner, came the goodbyes.
Tomorrow Man was the first to approach Jon.
"Take care of yourself" he said, and his voice was the same as Jon's, but deeper, more settled. "And take care of him, he tends to get into trouble almost as a sport."
Jon nodded.
"I will."
Tomorrow Man smiled. Then, he leaned in and whispered in his ear:
"Be patient. It's hard for him at first. But it's worth all the pain in the world."
Jon felt tears prick his eyes.
"I know" he said, and his voice was a whisper. "I know."
D-Batman also gave Robin some advice.
"Don't make him wait. Don't make him doubt. Don't make him feel like he's not enough."
"I won't" he responded, and his voice was firm.
D-Batman studied him for a moment. Then, he nodded.
"Good."
The Prince was next. He approached Jon and took his hand.
"You're stronger than you think" he said, and his voice was a whisper. "And he's more fragile than he appears. Don't forget that."
Jon squeezed his hand.
"I won't forget."
The Prince smiled. Then, he turned toward J-Superman, who was already waiting with his hand extended.
"Ready, amiri?"
"Always" responded the Prince, and he intertwined his fingers with Jon's.
J-Superman smiled.
"See you soon" he said.
"When?" asked Jon.
"When you least expect it."
And with that, the two older Jons and the two older Damians walked toward the rift. Before crossing, the Prince turned one last time, waving goodbye.
And then they crossed.
The rift closed with a whisper, and suddenly, the Wayne mansion kitchen felt bigger and emptier.
Jon stood looking at the space where they had been.
"Jon" said the Damian beside him.
Jon turned.
"Yes?"
"Do you want to stay?" asked Robin, and his voice was softer than usual. "Here. Tonight."
"Stay?"
"Not for..." Robin paused, and for the first time all night, he seemed uncomfortable. "Not for that. Just... stay. Watch a movie. Sleep. I don't know."
Jon smiled. It was a small smile, but genuine.
"Yes" he said. "I'd like that."
"And... Jon?"
"Yes, Dami?"
"Don't feel obligated..."
"Obligated?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Yes, we... You... We don't have to..."
Jon understood.
He understood what Damian was saying. He understood what Damian was offering: an exit. A way to escape without hurting his feelings. A way of saying if this is too much, if you don't want to, if you're just being kind, you can leave.
And Jon felt something break inside him. Not from pain. From tenderness.
Because Damian Wayne was scared.
Scared that Jon wouldn't want him.
Scared that this was a mistake.
Scared that, for the first time in his life, he had lowered his guard and someone would hurt him.
Jon took a step toward him.
Then another.
And took his hand.
It was a simple gesture. He intertwined his fingers with Damian's, slowly, giving him time to pull away, to flee, to say no, and waited.
Damian didn't pull away.
"I've waited so long for you, Damian... You're not going to escape."
"What if...?" Damian began, but didn't finish.
"What if what?"
"What if I'm not what you expected?" Damian's voice was barely a whisper. "What if this is a mistake? What if tomorrow you wake up and realize you don't love me?"
"Damian" he said with a firm voice. "I've loved you when you pushed me, when you insulted me, when you ignored me. I've loved you in every fight, in every mission, in every moment I thought I had lost you."
"But..."
"There are no buts" Jon interrupted him. "There's no and yes. There's no maybe. There's just this." He squeezed his hand. "You and me. Here. Now."
Damian let out a laugh. It was a small laugh, almost choked, but it was real.
"Okay" he said, and his voice regained some of its firmness. "Okay."
"Okay?" Jon asked.
"Yes," Damian squeezed his hand. "Okay."
And without saying another word, they hugged again.
VI
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Epilogue
Bruce Wayne was not a man who beat around the bush.
Jon discovered this when Bruce appeared in the doorway of the study and said, with that voice of his that admitted no reply:
"Kent. A moment."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't an invitation. It was an order.
Jon looked at Damian, who shrugged with an expression that said not my problem, and then followed Bruce down the hall to the study.
Bruce sat behind the desk and indicated for Jon to do the same.
Jon sat.
Bruce looked at him.
And the silence stretched on for what seemed like centuries.
"Kent" Bruce finally said, and his voice was grave. "I'm going to be honest with you."
"Please," Jon responded, and hated how small he sounded.
"I saw what happened. I saw how he looks at you. I saw how he let you hug him."
Jon felt his ears burn.
"Mr. Wayne, I..."
"I haven't finished" Bruce interrupted him.
Jon shut his mouth.
Bruce leaned back in his chair.
"Damian is... complicated," said Bruce, and his voice was softer now. "You know that. You've known it since you were children. He's stubborn, he's proud, he's incapable of admitting when he needs help. But he's also loyal. He's brave. And when he loves, when he truly loves... he loves with everything he has."
Jon nodded. He didn't trust his voice.
"So, if you have doubts, take the exit now."
"I don't want an exit" said Jon, and his voice was firm. "I've never wanted one."
Bruce studied him for a moment. Then, something in his expression softened.
"I know" he said. "That's why I'm talking to you instead of threatening you."
Jon blinked.
"Threatening me?"
"I'm Batman" said Bruce, as if that explained everything. "I have resources. I have contacts. I have ways of making someone's life... complicated."
Jon swallowed.
"But I'm not going to do that" Bruce continued. "Because Damian chose you. And Damian doesn't choose anyone. He never has."
"Mr. Wayne..."
"Call me Bruce" said Bruce, and it was the closest thing to a blessing Jon had received in his life.
"Bruce," Jon repeated, and smiled. "Thank you."
Bruce nodded. Then, his expression became more serious.
"However" he said, and his voice regained that tone of authority Jon associated with Batman. "There's something I want to ask you."
"Anything."
"At least wait until Damian turns twenty-four to propose."
Jon froze.
"What?"
"Twenty-four" Bruce repeated. "It's a reasonable age. It's when the brain finishes developing. It's when one starts to know what one wants."
"But..."
"I know what I saw last night," said Bruce, and his voice was softer now. "I know what those other Damians said. I know that in other dimensions they married at eighteen. But this is this dimension. This is my son. And I'm not going to see him married before he's ready."
"And if he wants to marry earlier?" he finally asked.
Bruce looked at him.
"Then he'll have to convince me" he said. "And Damian Wayne convincing me... that's a battle not even Superman could win."
Jon let out a nervous laugh.
"That's... fair."
"I know."
Silence.
Then, Bruce spoke again.
"Kent."
"Yes?"
"Take care of him."
Jon looked at him. And for the first time since he had entered the study, he felt he wasn't talking to Batman or to Bruce Wayne.
He was talking to a man who loved his son more than anything in the world.
"I will, I swear. I'll keep Damian safe. I... I love him, Bruce. Really."
Bruce nodded.
"Good" he said. "Then we're in agreement."
He stood up, and Jon did the same. Bruce walked around the desk and extended his hand. Jon shook it, and the grip was firm, warm, almost paternal.
"Welcome to the family" said Bruce, and his voice was dry but not cruel. "Officially."
Jon smiled.
"Thank you."
And when he left the study and returned to the living room, where Damian was waiting for him with an arched eyebrow and a silent question in his eyes, Jon knew this was the beginning.
Not the end.
The beginning of everything.
"What did he want?" Damian asked.
Jon sat beside him. He took his hand. He intertwined his fingers with his.
"Nothing" he said. "Just... welcoming me."
Damian looked at him. Then, his lips curved into a small smile.
"Good" he said.
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