Story Synopsis: Superman's first birthday after Dick and Tim's "deaths"
"Present"
When Kal-El thought about it, he and Bruce were more alike then either would ever admit out loud. They both strove for justice. They both believed in a great good.
They both craved family.
Each had built a surrogate family for themselves when they lost their blood ones, and now, Kal-El had Christopher and Conner back by his side.
Superman, Superboy, and Nightwing.
It had a nice ring to it, if you asked him.
And though his heart swarmed with pride every time he looked upon his now teenage sons—God, how he missed seeing them both grow—he couldn't help but think of how Bruce must have felt all those years ago with Dick at his side, and Kal-El couldn't help but think of Dick.
The first Nightwing.
It was ironic. All those years that were stolen from him by Christopher's birth parents were the same ones he'd watched Dick grow. Granted, he wasn't the boy's father, but he saw himself as an uncle. The boy who had taken his name to honor him and now was gone.
The pain was one that mirrored the death of his first child—Kon-El—but now with Conner and Christopher back, he couldn't think he could be any happier.
Except of when he thought of Dick, and today of all days, he thought of the boy a lot.
Bruce was never one to remember birthdays, though you'd think with him being the Greatest Detective and all…but Dick never forgot one. No matter what the boy was doing, he either stopped in at the Planet or sent Kal-El a present.
Kal-El groaned lowly with frustration. He, himself, had lost his father last year, but the Bat Family lost one of its patriarchs, its eldest son and its second youngest. The mantle of Batman and Robin was now held by two killers, but as long as Jason kept his act clean, Kal-El would look the other way.
And right now, the moon now hung low in the western skies.
"Clark, honey," his mother called far below on the Earth. "Time for presents."
Presents? Though he really didn't need a new shirt or that BlackBerry touch screen, the ritual, so human, so normal, he craved. When you fight for the safety of a whole planet, sometimes it was just good to be part of the planet for a little while.
He came down from hovering in the stars and quickly changed into his normal clothes. He left off the glasses. He did that sometimes when he was with family. Despite his melancholy mood, just seeing his teenage sons, his wife, and his mother, he couldn't help but smile.
After opening a few gifts, his wife handed him one still packaged in a shipping box.
"It was shipped from a Staples in
He looked at her, then at his family before x-raying the box. What he saw made him gasp. A lead-lined box sat inside the shipping one with a scribbled note on top.
"No fair peeking!" he read in familiar handwriting.
It couldn't be…
He tore the package open with his bare hands, though for some reason, it felt like the toughest steel he ever tore apart. He clicked open the box and saw an old suit he realized to be Dick's original Nightwing outfit and a set of pictures that looked like they were taken in one of those tacky booths.
Dick Grayson and Tim Drake made poses—one like strongmen, one flying, another with their tongues out, and the last smiling with Dick's arm around his brother's shoulders.
Another letter he found under the outfit.
"Hey
Have a great one, and tell Chris I hope he doesn't mind sharing his name. We'll be back as soon as we find Dad.
Dick
P.S. Hope you can keep a secret!"
His nephews were alive.
"
Yes, it was, and it was the best present he could have received.
The End