Chapter Text
The coughing racked his chest. With each spurt his hand flew up to his sternum, trying to sooth the ragged and rough coughs that tore up his already sore throat. Point was, he was miserable. Worse was that his right nostril was backed up, just as his left was opening up too. It would’ve been better if he wasn’t trembling under Dick’s sheets with his older brother pressing a cold hand to the back of his neck. He whined and tried to move away but Dick’s grasp was firm. All he wanted to do was both lean into Dick’s touch but pull away from the cold against his boiling neck. His brother’s clawed thumb moved in soothing motions as he let out a soft sob. He was going on a week of being sick with improvements going painfully slow.
Of course it doesn’t help that this was a side effect of some Lex Corp engineered illness. One that was meant to linger, according to Bruce. He didn’t even know how it got into Gotham or why Lex Luthor would need something like this but Tim didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to feel better.
“Shhh, it’s alright baby bird,” Dick soothed, his voice raspy and deep which betrayed just how much sleep he was losing. Being the only one who can go for longer on less sleep meant he appointed himself the one to watch over Tim.
“Dick,” Tim gasped out as another round of coughs overtook him.
“I know, I know,” Dick said softly, pulling him up so he was sitting to help him breathe.
“Any progress?” Tim asked once the coughing subsided. He didn’t bother to dry his cheeks but Dick wiped at them with a tissue.
“Barely, Bruce is at a standstill with an antidote,” Dick said softly, “but he’ll figure it out.”
That made him want to burst out into tears again. He couldn’t imagine feeling like this for any longer. And he probably would’ve if the door hadn’t opened to Damian in his Robin suit. Right. Patrol would’ve been ending and his little brother was very adamant on spending the rest of the night with Tim. Even if it was mostly sleeping, because Tim insisted his little brother got some rest, Damian wanted to be near. Behind him Jason stood, already showered and changed, with arms crossed and his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn’t been dealing well, Tim knew he wanted to head to Metropolis and beat a cure out of Luthor but Bruce hadn’t let him. Metropolis was Superman’s city and none of the bats stepped foot there.
“Hey Tim,” Jason said gently as Damian walked over and pressed an ungloved hand to his still burning forehead. Nights were always so much worse.
“Still feverish,” Domain said with a frown.
“You can thank Lex Luthor for that,” Tim said, his voice rough and nearly gone.
“Alright bird brain, it’s my turn,” Jason said and motioned for Dick to move but their oldest brother stayed still.
“He’s doing worse,” Dick said, “I’m staying.”
“Fuck,” Jason curse, eyeing the IV bag that hung next to the bed pumping him full of fluids and antibiotics.
“You should all get some sleep,” Tim rasped, “I’m not, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“We’re going to be right here,” Jason said, “after the little brat showers.”
“I will not take long Timothy,” Damian promised with a nod and scurried out of the room.
“Now that the kid’s gone, how bad is it?”
“Nearly coughed up a lung,” Tim sighed, “threw up again.”
“I think it’s time we convince the old man to reach out to Clark,” Jason said and Tim stiffened.
“What is it, baby bird?” Dick said, running a cold hand through his hair.
“They don’t talk anymore,” Tim mumbled, “haven’t since I started as Robin.”
“Those two were best friends, what the hell happened there?” Jason asked.
“Don’t matter,” Tim said, “they don’t talk.”
“Tim-”
“I’m tired, Jason,” Tim cut in, “I’m…I’m going to try and sleep.”
“Alright kid, we’ll be right here,” Jason soothed.
Nervous didn’t even begin to describe Tim as he waited by the large monitor Batman usually was stationed at when he was in the Watchtower. They had gotten there early for a reason. Bruce wasn’t working, he was leaning against the large desk that served as its keyboard while staring straight ahead. Straight through where the Justice League would walk through and see Tim as Robin. A new Robin. He knew they were cautious when it came to Jason, Dick had been snatched on patrol. Deep down he knew this was going to go bad. Awful really. But a part of him hoped, no, prayed, that they saw this as a good thing. Saw how Robin reigned Batman in and gave him something to live for. Then again, when it came to matters revolving around Batman the league seemed to be less understanding.
“Batman,” Superman’s voice made him stop pacing and his spine straighten. His voice carried authority, it was clear why he was seen as the leader of the league. Looking up Tim saw him stop a few feet from them, his eyes hardened and jaw clenching. Oh, this wouldn’t be good. “What’s this about?”
“This is Robin,” Batman said, standing to his full height. The tension between them was making Tim start to feel sick. He didn’t want to come between them, it was the last thing he wanted. Especially when Clark Kent was such a rock in Bruce’s life especially after Jason’s death. Yet the way he was looking at Tim made his insides burn.
“After what happened to J-” Superman swallowed but his voice was still so, so angry, “how could you bring another child into this?”
“I didn’t do anything that Robin wouldn’t have eventually,” Batman said.
“Whose under the mask, Bruce? Another underprivileged child who you took in and pulled into crime fighting?” Superman snapped and in a blink was inches away from Batman.
He knew that Superman was close to the Robins, just as Dick and Jason called him Uncle Clark in their civvies. If he had memorized Bruce’s heart, did that mean he heard both Robins’ hearts stop? Clark had lost two nephews and here was Tim standing in their place.
“Robin’s identity is none of your concern, Clark,” Batman, no, Bruce snapped. These weren’t the two leaders of the league fighting, this was two hurt and grieving best friends at each other's throats.
“Son, this is not something you want to involve yourself in,” Clark’s tone was softer, kinder, but still hard and stern. He was scolding Tim for being Robin, little did he know he got the role by stealing the suit and following Bruce out into the Gotham night.
“I think I do,” Tim’s voice was soft, but steady. It didn’t betray the pounding of his heart although he was sure that Superman could hear it.
He doesn’t really hear what happened next, not after Bruce asked to give them a moment alone. All he heard was harsh whispers before Bruce stormed to the Watchtower’s mainframe. Tim watched with wide eyes as he revoked his own access, ordered Tim to follow him, and then they were back in Gotham. Back in the cave.
“Bruce, I’m-I’m so sorry-”
“They do not get to dictate who Robin is. You are a qualified Robin,” Bruce said, walking over and resting a hand on his shoulder for the briefest second.
Then he was alone in the cave realizing that Bruce had just cut Gotham off from the league. From any help. It was truly just them now.
There were days that Clark hated to admit he missed Bruce. Missed looking to his left during league meetings for any slight give away to what he truly thought of the matter at hand. Cues only he would be able to pick up on. Missed fighting alongside someone who he didn’t need to talk to, one who flowed easily with his movements. But that Bruce had died with Jason, he knew this. Saw it every time he went to Gotham to pick the pieces back up and try to keep his best friend together. Keep him alive.
But he had heard the whispers. Had seen the news coverage of Nightwing and Red Hood alongside Batman. And the newest Red Robin with yet another Robin. It burned his insides, how many more people would Bruce bring into this world? Clearly that Robin he met so many years ago was Red Robin, so who was the newest little bird he acquired? Even after what happened to Dick, Jason, Tim. The sight was still so vivid in his mind. Bruce rushed through the zetatube after screaming his name carrying a blood soaked Robin. A pale, fragile kid laying in their med bay as Bruce paced. This kid, who reminded him so much of Ryan, made Clark want to crumble. He had met Tim Drake before at Galas and whenever the Daily Planet sent him to interview his parents. He was such a sweet kid and Clark watched him nearly die. So when he heard the slightest whisper of his name in Bruce’s voice he couldn’t help but perk up.
“Clark.”
Without realizing what he was doing he was soaring straight towards Gotham. To Wayne Manor. Through the cave entrance he had used so many times until he was standing in front of Bruce. A man who was so unrecognizable yet familiar at the same time. His frame was lighter, eyes not as haunted as when he last saw him. Yet there were dark bags marred underneath his eyes. It was silent for a moment, the slightest moment, before he heard two words he never thought he’d ever hear again.
“Hey Uncle Clark.” He whipped around and was faced with the undoubtable faces of Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. Both older, both so different. But he could still see the excited children that ran up to him at Galas and pestered him when Bruce took them to the Daily Planet.
“How?” He asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Dick’s voice was so rough, it nearly made him flinch away, but he let his oldest nephew get closer, “we need your help.”
“Where’s Tim?” Dread filled his chest as he watched Jason’s face harden.
“Sick,” Jason said, “some Lex Corp engineered virus. No spleen, you know what that means for the kid.”
“If you can get me a sample of the original virus I can attempt an antidote,” Bruce explained, “ samples from Tim aren’t enough.”
“Where is he?” Clark asked.
“Upstairs,” Dick said.
They led him up to a room between where he knew Dick and Jason’s were. Even before they made it there he could hear Tim’s lungs full of fluid. Hear him struggling to breathe and his heart working double time to function. His hacking cough was thunderous to his ears. Seeing him was much worse. A younger kid was holding him up as Tim coughed into his hand. His skin was nearly translucent. As he struggled to stay up.
“Grayson,” the kid’s voice was panicked and the minute the distinct metallic scent of blood reached Clark’s nose he understood why.
“Dick,” Tim whimpered, looking up as blood coated his hand, his chin. Dick hissed and rushed over, hushing the panicking Tim and wiped the blood away with gentle hands.
“Dammit,” Jason cursed.
Seeing Tim in the bed, so pale and so tired, brought him straight back to Ryan. To the first person outside his parents to know his secret. The boy he thought of as a little brother. The same boy he stayed with through his last days, watched him slowly die, and held his hand as he took his final breath.
“I’ll get you the antidote,” Clark said, watching as Dick helped Tim lay back down.
“Thank you,” Bruce breathed out.
For a moment he wasn’t standing at the doorway to Tim’s room, he was standing in the Smallville General Hospital hallway as nurses swarmed, continuing doing their job as he stared at an empty hospital bed.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that neither Bruce or Clark were unwilling to break the tension in the room but were suffering its consequences. Tim watched from his place in the medbay bed with careful eyes. Even if they pretended it was fine it certainly wasn’t. Maybe his brothers hadn’t noticed yet, or just didn’t care, as they took turns reviewing his vitals and chart.
“Do you think they’ll talk?” Tim asked softly and Dick stilled.
“I don’t know baby bird,” Dick mumbled, then pushed him gently to lay back down.
“How’re you feeling?” Jason asked.
“Better,” Tim breathed.
It hadn’t taken Clark long to get an antidote to them, Tim couldn’t be more thankful. But watching the two former best friends he couldn’t help but want to stand up and do more. Beg Clark to hear his side of the story, beg him to listen to Bruce. Beg them to be friends again. Yet, it was silent and he couldn’t find the strength to move. Then Clark was heading towards them and Tim swallowed.
“I don’t think we’ve ever properly met Tim, I’m sorry,” Clark said.
“Yeah well last time ended in you and Batman fighting over me being Robin,” Tim said and then swallowed, “you didn’t bother to hear us out.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Clark said.
“It wasn’t fair to Tim, he deserved Uncle Clark too,” Jason cut in with arms crossed.
“And he will,” Clark said with a soft smile, “I promise.”
“So are you and Bruce friends now?”
“Not quite,” Clark said and glanced back to where Bruce was furiously typing on his computer, “but we’ll get there.”
“Finally,” Tim sighed.
“I have a uh…a son your age, Tim,” Clark said softly, “maybe you’d like to meet him some day.”
“With Lois?” Dick asked.
“A clone,” Tim filled in and shrugged, “I got bored, I started looking.”
“A son,” Clark said firmly, “but yes. A clone.”
“Fine,” Tim said, “maybe one day.”
“I think he’d like that,” Clark said.
Tim pressed his lips together and wondered if he’d like that too.
A new generation of Bat and Super. He wondered how that would end.