Rescued (SuperBat fic)

22

I fight against the comforter, bolt up in bed and glance around the dark room as my breathing slows. I glance at the red numbers of the alarm clock.
4:27 am. 
I put my hands to my face and rub my temples.
I snatch up my phone and send a text without thinking.
Me: Are you up?
I stare at the screen for a few minutes and bite on one of my thumbnails. Finally, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Clark: I'm on patrol. 
I feel the frown lines on my forehead.
My phone buzzes again.
Clark: I'm not done thinking. 
And, desperate, I'm typing without thinking.
Me: Dick doesn't have to have anything to do with you. He's my kid, not yours. I'm not trying to make you a father.
I clutch my phone with white knuckles and wait for the response. 
Clark: He's not going anywhere. If I want you, I have to have him. And that's not a small thing to consider.
I'm dialling without thinking.
And when he answers, I cut right over him.
"I love you, Clark." 
There's a small, indistinct noise on his end of the line.
"I'm in love with you and I don't understand what we've been doing that you can just so easily check out." 
"Bruce," he says, his voice raw. "I just, I don't know." 
"Do you care about me at all?" 
"Of course I do!" 
"Then, then why aren’t you here?" 
He sighs.
"I need some time." 
And he hangs up on me once again. I throw the phone to the chair on the other side of the room and it lands with a gentle thud. I push the comforter back and wander through to the kitchen, where I find myself squinting because the lights are on. 
Dick is curled up on a chair, with his knees in his chest and his head in his hands. I listen to the sob that tears through him as his shoulders shake.
I tiptoe over to him and set a hand on his back. He jumps and turns his head to glance up at me. I rub circles over his shoulder blades and crouch down in front of him to wipe away his tear-tracks with my other hand.
"What’s up buddy?" 
He goes on sobbing and twists around to put his face to my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him gently, shushing and soothing him. 
And once his sobs start to taper off, once his breathing starts to even out, I pull back an inch or so and look into his face.
"Alright kiddo, let's have some tea and get back to bed." 
He stays at my side as we wait for the kettle to boil. I drop two rooibos and honey teabags into mugs and let the cups cool before I hand Dick his. He fiddles with the string over the edge of the cup and sips the tea slowly. He sighs and yawns.
I put a hand to his shoulder and lead him through to my room. We sit shoulder to shoulder in bed and drink in silence. Dick manages half of his cup before he sets it aside, then scoots down in bed and pulls the comforter almost up to the top of his ears. I ruffle his hair and then get comfortable beside him, staring up at the ceiling until I start to feel sleepy again. 
I wake to a shout.
“Hey Bruce!” 
“Yeah kid?”
“Can you get me the stuff from my parents’ trailer, the stuff for our act? I wanna practice.” 
I wander out into the hallway to find out what room he is shouting from. I find him in the empty room next to my little gym. He’s in workout clothes, a little sweaty, bent low in a stretch. 
“I could have this room fitted out for you,” I offer. “The ceiling’s nice and high.” 
He looks up and glances around the bare walls. 
“Would you?”
“Of course. Now go get ready for school."
With Dick dropped off, I breeze into work and into the office, where I find Tilda and her replacement at the conference table with coffee and pastries.
I gesture to the situation.
"What is going on here?"
"Meeting," Tilda says, smiling. "Progress updates."
I take a seat and dig into a muffin as Tilda runs it all down for me. The patent for the engines is going through, the biochemical campus rebuild is going to schedule and the press on the leak has finally tailed off.
It's a good day, quiet by my standards. I don't have the energy for it when I see the bat signal across the afternoon sky. I'm grumbling the whole way across town and bitter at the sight of Harley backflipping around the museum, art tucked under her arm.
I stand and watch.
"Hey Harls, if you wanted the art, you should have asked someone to buy it."
"With what money?"
She eyes an impressionist piece that my mother loved. We spent an hour in front of it once.
"Harls, come on, I can't be bothered chasing you around tonight."
She stops and sizes me up, then sets the canvas beneath her arm against the pedestal of a sculpture and comes padding across to me. She puts a hand on my neck and looks up into my eyes.
"Things fell through with Super?"
I nod, eyes on the art.
"Need a rebound?" She asks quietly, shifting on her feet.
"I need a drink, or ten."
She reaches up and drags her jester's hat off. The bells jingle quietly in her hand. She pulls me across to one of the leather benches and asks what's going on with Clark.
And I tell her.
She pats my hands.
"Bats love, it's his problem, promise. I think you just have to wait him out."
"And if he doesn't come back?"
"He will. Super's a good man, a hero, a country boy. Those types are always good with kids."
I laugh quietly.
"What?" She says.
"You were good at your job, back in the day."
She shrugs and says, "I'm good at a lot of things."
"I know."
I lean over and throw my arms around her. She stays still and waits for me to let go.
"Go legit, Harls, get a paycheck."
She tilts her head.
"Nah."
She sticks her tongue out, rises to her feet and cartwheels away, shouting goodbye and come see me if Super doesn't come back.
I shake my head, smiling, and head home. I spend the night with Dick, planning paint colours and fixtures for his trapeze room.
He is sweet when I tuck him into bed, asking with a tremble in his voice if I can leave the nightlight on and the door open. I stand in the doorway and watch him toss and turn, then step away when he finally starts to snore.
My bed, when I look into my room, feels excessive. I'm not tired. I spend the night in my office, squinting at the screen of my laptop.