A/N: Takes place before the JLA return from the alternate dimension in Trinity; I took a little liberty of having them return in the JLA headquarters, not that meadow.
“The Important Things in Life”
Hordes of slaves have been taken from various dimensions by the Crime Syndicate, and Red Arrow had given the distinct honor of going through and categorizing the worst cases for immediate attention. Most were exhausted, a few hurt with various injuries, but only a handful were actually life-threatening at this exact moment.
A heaving breath.
A muffled grunt.
A strangled cry.
Red Arrow glanced over his shoulder, and his heart stopped.
*^*^*
“BATMAN!”
Whatever conversation Batman had with Wonder Woman was lost at the shriek, and he dashed out into the main room of their makeshift infirmary to see John Stewart’s green gurney. Upon it was a boy, no longer than twelve, his hands pressed down upon his side as life leaked from his body. His handsome face was twisted in an agonized grimace as he writhed upon the table. Dinah tried to soothe the boy by running a gentle hand through his hair and murmuring sweet words, but nothing stopped the almost silent cries that broke through his pinched lips.
Nothing
stopped Batman’s heart from being ripped out of his chest except for the simple
fact that this wasn’t Dick. Well, it was, but it wasn’t his Dick. Somewhere, his eldest son was twenty-five, living in
Not a twelve year old losing his guts.
Superman flew to the boy’s side, followed by Wonder Woman, but Red Arrow quickly came to Batman’s. “I found him in one of the outer rooms. He’s—He’s—”
Red Arrow trembled, and though Batman wouldn’t acknowledge it, he never knew the younger man to be one to fear. He, too, was one who never feared, but he fought his own hands to stop shaking.
Green Lantern’s light shone over the boy’s maimed body, and he flew a few feet back out of the boy’s vision to shake his head slowly.
There was nothing they could do.
“Bruce…?”
Oh…Oh, he couldn’t…
“Bruuuce…”
A bloodied hand, barely strong enough to lift itself, beckoned, and Batman seized it before throwing off his cowl with his other hand.
“I’m here, Dick.”
Dick tried his best not to cry, Bruce saw, and the older man fought his own tears. God, this was his son—twelve years old, when Dick finally grew out of those Superman pajamas; when he started complaining about wanting a curfew past nine when he wasn’t out with Batman; when he first introduced Dick to Vicki and she said, “Are you sure he’s not yours? He has your eyes, Brucie.”
But Vicki didn’t understand. Dick was his, and this—oh, God. His son was dying.
“Y—You’re old—der…”
The boy was using the skills Bruce had taught him, even as the cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
“Time passed differently as I tried to find you.”
“Oh—sor—”
“No, don’t be.” Bruce’s usually stony face cracked a gentle, affectionate smile, and he pushed the boy’s bangs back from his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Dick. Just conserve your strength.”
“But…but…”
“Shhh…” Blood coated his hands from Dick’s, and he refused to see the gaping hole in his son’s side. “Everything will be all right. I’m here now. I’m here.”
“I’m....”
“Dick—”
“…sorry…wasn’t strong enough…”
The boy’s eyes began to droop.
No…not yet.
“Dick, who did this to you?”
His breathing became rapid, shallow.
Bruce clamped a hand against Dick’s cheek. “Dick, who did this to you?”
“Bruce…”
Bruce met the boy’s eyes but couldn’t speak.
The boy did for him. “I love you.”
The eyes stilled before Bruce could return the saying, before his heart beat once more, and his hand upon the boy’s cheek gripped.
“Dick…”
“Bruce—” Diana placed a hand upon his shoulder, but he couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the coldness seeping through his glove. He pulled it off to touch the boy, to feel some warmth, but none came.
“Dick, I—I…”
Dick never heard Bruce say it to him.
He’d only said it once to his son before he joined the Titans—a year away from this boy’s time.
The tears he hadn’t shed since that night coursed through the curves of his face. No, he wouldn’t lose this boy. He couldn’t. He tore open the boy’s shirt, only to see the tattoo tainting the left shoulder.
A moon with feathers about it like rays of the sun.
Owlman.
Owlman had enslaved his son and even marked him as his own only to kill the boy once the JLA came to this dimension.
The man—The man would—
A crackle of lightning and his cape flapped behind as a sudden burst of wind followed in the wake of Superman’s anger.
He went to
take care of this, and Batman—Batman couldn’t let the boy’s hand go.
*^*^*
The burst of light left the
Justice League in their headquarters, and as soon as the momentary bewilderment
subsided, Batman sought the people sitting at the computer. Nightwing and Robin
rushed to the JLA’s sides, his older son wrapping one of the Dark Knight’s arms
about his neck to sturdy Batman.
“Whoa. Drunk in the Batsuit, Bruce? I never thought I’d see the—”
His words faded into nothingness as Batman spoke, and Nightwing blinked. He looked at his father before he said, “What?”
Batman stood on his own. “You heard me.”
“Yeah, but it just didn’t compute. Can you repeat that?”
“You heard me, and that’s all that matters.”
The End