Archive of Our Own

Bruce had the bluetooth headset firmly over one ear, half heartedly listening to Lucius do the businessman equivalent of cussing him out while he played sudoku on his phone. He could appreciate the man’s frustration. It was the end of quarter and Bruce had taken over a month off between the search for his children and Jay healing from his concussion. Had the man known the truth Bruce knew that Lucius would have been sympathetic as he was also a father but Bruce had, instead of outing himself as a vigilante, told Lucius that he and his family were going on a mountain retreat for bonding.

It had at least provided him with a ready excuse for Jay’s concussion. It had also given him more time to focus on the trafficking case that had been giving him trouble. He was half tempted to get Tim to look at it. 

“You’re doing a splendid job with the company, Lucius,” Bruce praised even as he frowned at the screen. He’d made a mistake somewhere. 

“You have two sevens in one row,” Alfred said softly as he poured Bruce a tea. Huh. Alfred was right. 

“It is your company, Bruce. Your name is literally on the building. You actually need to come to the office once in a while!” Lucius snapped. 

Bruce deleted the seven and replaced it with a three. “I’ll be in tomorrow.” 

Lucius gave an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“....Monday. I’ll be in Monday.” 

“I’m holding you to that, Bruce.”

They said their goodbyes and Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce. “It would cause you no bodily harm to actually attend to your company, Master Bruce or else someday Lucius is either going to arrive on your doorstep with the intention of strangling you or he is going to accept that position in Queen Industries.” 

Bruce hummed. “If Queen poaches Lucius I’ll just buy his company.”

“Why are we buying out Queen?” Dick asked, hands tucked into his pockets. Anyone outside of the family might consider his tone to be light and playful, but Bruce knew his son well enough to recognize that something was upsetting Dick. He only ever put his hands in his pockets, was only ever went still, when he was upset. 

It could be any number of things, though Bruce had learned the hard way that guessing what was upsetting Dick was far less effective than simply asking. And when Dick came to Bruce, being patient and ready to listen yielded the best results. 

Still, that didn’t stop Bruce from running through the possibilities and planning possible contingency plans. It could be the Team, Cass, or Dami. 

The Team would be an easy fix. They’d been under a lot of pressure lately, between Zatanna’s betrayal, Aqualad’s undercover mission, and Superboy, Impulse and Tim’s disappearance. Dick was a charismatic leader who was inherently kind. He was also willing to listen to good advice, a skill that Bruce still struggled with. He knew that Dick would take Bruce’s suggestion of rest and a bonding weekend seriously. The Team truly could use a day to do whatever was cool these days. 

If it was Cass, Bruce could soothe Dick’s unease despite sharing some of it. She moved with the grace of an evening breezing in absolute silence and when she stilled it was like watching flesh turn to stone. Bruce didn’t know what had been done or who had done it to make the girl like that, but Bruce had no doubt that beneath her skin lurked violence perfected. It had to be the reason why his doppleganger hadn’t attempted to force her to heel when she’d declared that she was following Tim. 

He simply couldn’t. 

While Bruce recognized her as dangerous, she was gentle, if not shy, with his family. She seemed self conscious of her speech impediment, taking care to avoid conversation. When she was more comfortable Bruce would offer her professional help, but if she carried any of the same baggage as Tim doing so now would cut deeply. 

So he let her be. She shadowed Alfred like a duckling and, when the family was gathered, haunted the edges of the room until invited to participate. She’d bonded with Dami and while their likely common ground broke Bruce’s heart, finding his youngest son reading to her had been adorable. There was still a chasm between Cass and the rest of the family, but Bruce was going to make it work no matter what it took, if only because of how she made Tim smile. Not the polished one he wore when he recognized that smiling was the expected social response, but something messy and genuine. 

For that alone Bruce would move mountains for the quiet girl. 

But whatever was wrong between Dick and Dami was beyond Bruce. They’d been fine before Halloween and upon the rescue Dami had clung to Dick as tight as he’d clung to the rest of the family until one day he’d simply stopped. What few words Dick had been able to pull from the younger boy had been sharp enough to draw blood and Dick had demanded Dami tell him what was going on, Dami had scoffed at him. “Isn’t keeping secrets what you do?” the boy had said acerbically. 

So far Dami hadn’t told anyone what the cryptic comment referred to and while Bruce hoped that the boy would eventually just break down and tell them all what was going on, given his parentage it was unlikely. 

“I’m not going in to work today,” Bruce said, setting down his phone and leaning forward, giving Dick his full attention. Active listening attention, not interrogation attention. He’d had to work with Dinah for a while to realize they were two different sets of body language. 

“Oh,” Dick said, hands moving so only his thumbs were slung into his pocket. “Is that why Tim is in the kitchen pretending he's not freaking out?” 

Bruce blinked, bewildered. While he was learning Tim’s triggers, they were complex and shifted depending on his anxiety, but Bruce had expected Tim to be in a good place today. Their conversation yesterday about Red Robin had gone better than Bruce could have expected and the boy had seemed ecstatic about the idea of a cat. He had no idea what could have knocked Tim out of the positive headspace so fast. 

“Is anyone else up?” Had anyone potentially said anything? If Bruce needed to talk Tim down it was always easier if he knew what had set Tim off. 

Dick shook his head. “Everyone else is asleep and I’m pretty sure Tim’s been up for a while. The coffee pot is suspiciously low.”

Bruce frowned as he made his way to the kitchen, Dick following at his heels, but he paused before entering and smoothed his face into something more neutral. The last thing he wanted was for Tim to feel like Bruce was angry with him and if Tim was upset it would likely be the first place the boy’s mind jumped to.

He entered the doors. “Hey, champ,” he smiled at Tim, taking in the boy. Dick was right, the coffee pot was nearly drained, always one of the strongest indicators of Tim’s mood. Sometimes it was the only one. 

“Bruce,” Tim gave a neutral nod. “What time are you going to the office today?” he asked pleasantly, the same way he would whenever he was up before Bruce left. 

Do not frown. Meet Tim where he’s at to figure out the source of stress. 

“I may be older than you, but I can still remember a conversation I had yesterday,” Bruce said, forcing a smile on to his lip. 

There. Tim’s hands tightened around his coffee cup. “Oh. I just wasn’t…” Tim trailed off, biting his lip. He squared his shoulders and Bruce braced himself for some statement that was going to break his heart. “I realized yesterday that our conversation was hasty and impulsive. Because of me you’ve already missed a substantial amount of work this quarter and we didn’t take the feelings of other people in the Manor into account.

There was so much hurt in that statement but what broke Bruce’s heart was the equal measures of acceptance. 

Why did Batman have easier problems to solve than Bruce Wayne? If he just tried to explain to Tim that the boy meant more than Bruce’s company, that time missed because he was kidnapped was not Tim’s fault, and that it was okay to put his feelings first, Tim would patronize Bruce with fake acceptance and spend the rest of the month giving Bruce fake smiles with sharp eyes.

Okay, do what Dami’s book said. Pick one problem to solve today. Be clear, be vulnerable, and ask questions.

“I have a company full of people I trust. A single day will not cause additional problems. Now, who do you feel would have a problem with you getting a cat?” 

“Alfred,” Tim said promptly.

Alfred? Had Alfred said something? Or did this have to do with the other universe’s Alfred? “Why do you feel like Alfred would be upset if you got a cat?” 

Tim leaned forward, his eyes serious. “They are filthy animals who shed all over the house and destroy the furniture. Their only use is to catch vermin, and the Manor does not have vermin.” 

Bruce could hear the quotation marks around that statement. “Was that our Alfred, or Alfred from the other universe?” Tim averted his gaze, which was telling. “Would asking our Alfred make you feel better?”

“I don’t want to bother him,” Tim mumbled. He was squeezing the coffee cup so hard his knuckles had turned white. 

“I’m sure it will be no bother at all. I’m going to go find him and then I’ll be right back, okay Tim?”

Tim bit his lip, a tic Bruce was certain the boy didn’t know he had. He didn’t do it often, and only ever around the family. Dinah said that it was more likely to mean that he felt safe being vulnerable around them, rather than seeing them as a greater stresser than anything else. 

It turned out that Bruce didn’t need to go far. Alfred and Dick were both lingering in the hallway, with Dick shooting the entrance to the kitchen anxious looks.  Bruce motioned for them to follow him until they were safely out of earshot. 

“I’m going to assume that it wasn’t you who said that,” Bruce said to Alfred. 

Alfred sighed. “While it is true that I am not overly fond of cats, I have never expressed such a sentiment to Master Tim and I will not act as an obstacle if you choose to adopt an animal, although,” Alfred’s tone hardened into that of a scolding parent, “I would appreciate of being informed of such matters ahead of time. As it is Master Dick and I shall barely have enough time to move the more delicate furniture into the North Wing.”

“We’re doing what?” Dick asked.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Cats are indeed hard on furniture and some of the pieces in the Manor are priceless. The North Wing is never used and as such it will be relatively easy to ensure continued safety. Unless you are implying I should do such a task alone?”

“No no no!” Dick waved his hands frantically. “I’m totally onboard for Operation Cat. We can get Jay to help as well.”

There was a frustrated groan and they turned to see Jay wandering towards them. “It is way too early for Dickhead to be volunteering me for anything,” he grumbled and let out a yawn.

“Language, Master Jay.” 

“Shit- I mean shoot. Um, sorry Alf.” Jay rubbed at his eyes. “But seriously, way too early.”

“We have to make the house cat proof so Tim can get one,” Dick explained.

That caused Jay to perk up. “Does Tim know he’s getting a cat?”

Dick shrugged and tilted his hand. “Apparently he knew yesterday but today he’s not so sure.”

Jay scowled at Bruce and poked him. “Go make him sure.” 

Wow. His children had such faith in his parenting skills. “That is what I am doing,” Bruce said dryly. “Alfred? Come tell Tim he can have a cat.” 

-

Tim was an idiot. The pieces had been laying before him for months and he just hadn’t bothered trying to solve the puzzle. Instead he’d relied on obviously flawed data, on false assumptions, and had acted on that and now it was coming to bite him in the ass, as it should. 

The Bruce Wayne of this universe was an impulsive man. 

Tim had thought there had been a level of calculation in his kidnapping, but it really had just been a spur of the moment thing. Tim had no idea how to feel about that, so he accepted it as a fact and moved along. Bruce had likely decided on the stage to pass Tim off as a blood son. He’d told Jay and Dami something that had caused the boys to attach themselves to Tim, for better or worse. How many of Bruce’s other actions had been on whims? Buying the camera? Calling the Justice League against Ra’s? 

Telling Tim he could get a cat must have been. 

One thing Tim could at least take out of this was that Bruce always meant the best. He’d never lashed out in anger, had never been upset to be outdone, or Tim would have found himself bruised after he’d taken over the Mountain. 

So Bruce had likely meant it, in the moment, that Tim could get a cat and simply hadn’t thought about the logistics. It was partly Tim’s fault, for asking for something so stupid. At least he’d finally identified the behaviour now instead of figuring it out when it would cause a serious problem. Bruce meant well but Tim would need to suspend faith in Bruce’s more outlandish promises until they were actually realized. 

Tim stood up and poured himself another cup of coffee, wincing as he realized he’d emptied the pot. He’d been doing better about keeping his intake low. Well, lowish. Within the range of Bruce’s suggested guidelines. 

No wonder he wasn’t going to get a cat. Everyone was going to take this as further evidence that he couldn’t take care of himself. 

Tim sighedand brought his cup over to the table. What was done was done and he might as well commit to his mistakes. 

As soon as he was seated, Bruce returned with Alfred in tow. 

Tim schooled his face. He knew what Alfred was going to say so there was nothing to be nervous about. This conversation had already happened in one universe and though whatever words were used in this one the outcome would be the same.

“Master Tim,” Alfred said, a hint of disapproval in his tone that made Tim flinch. There was nothing worse than disappointing Alfred. Tim would rather deal with Ra’s than a disappointed Alfred. “I have been informed that you have decided that I will not allow you to get a cat.” Okay, this scolding was definitely going to be worse than Tim had braced himself for. “In the future I would appreciate it if you actually bothered to have conversations with me regarding my opinions. As it stands I feel like another addition to the household, even a furry one, would be welcome.” Tim blinked. Did he hear that right?

“You take the responsibility of others very seriously,” oooooh, yeah, Alfred was definitely not pleased about the coffee, “and I trust that a pet would be no different. As long as you care for the animal, I have no qualms about you getting a pet.”

“The furniture-” Tim’s argument was cut off by Alfred raising a hand. 

“The Manor has over two dozen rooms, not all of which are utilized, and much of the irreplaceable items of the Manor, furniture included, is already tucked away so that Master Dick did not destroy it.”

Tim heard a snort of laughter that was quickly followed by a soft thump. The next thump was considerably louder and followed by harsh whispers that led to more banging against the wall. 

Voices started to leak out of the hall. “At least I can be trusted around the furniture!” 

“Oh yeah? I can be trusted around the car!” came Dick’s retort.

“Boys!” Bruce snapped, but the sound of scuffling continued.

Alfred let out a sigh. “A cat would hardly be the most destructive creature in this house.”

From the hallway came the sound of breaking glass. 

Alfred sighed again.

-

Cass trailed her hands down the walls, pondering this new place she now found herself in. She’d known it was going to be different if only because Tim was different. She learned much in Hong Kong, things that weren’t just about fighting in Batman’s unending war. Her favorite had been from a Japanese street vendor who had ceramic bowls and cups streaked with gold. Kintsugi, she’d said, was taking cracked things and filling the holes with gold to make something new and precious.

For a moment she had wondered if that was what Batman was doing with her, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that no, people weren’t bowls. They didn’t crack but instead wore away, like carvings beaten by the ocean. There was nothing about them that a little bit of gold could fix.

Then she’d spotted Tim at the party. In the time that she had known Tim, Cass had always thought him ready to crumble into dust under Batman’s boot, though she’d never understood why. Tim was valuable to the cause and Batman was wiser than to throw away his soldiers, but there was something between them that caused Batman to treat Tim like he was replaceable. 

Given the trouble they’d had during his disappearances, he was obviously not. 

At the party Tim had not looked like he was ready to crumble. He had looked like he had jagged edges made of his familiar fear and pain, but holes she hadn’t realized he had were filled with lightness, filled with gold and an emotion that she’d never really felt belonged to her. 

And she had thought that maybe she really was a bowl, and maybe what had been carved away could be shaped into something new. 

So she’d gone with Tim, trusting in his healing to lead her to her own. 

It was strange, but deeper than the word usually meant. Surreal. Surreal was a good word. Everyone had the same face, but their very skin fit differently, fit better. The way they stood matched the smiles on their faces and their laughter made Cass feel like she’d never truly heard the sound before.

The man who led this house was a Bruce. Not a Batman. Even when he wore the Batsuit, there was still a part of him that was Bruce, was ready to take control and put Batman away when he was no longer needed. 

He didn’t ask Cass to fight. He didn’t stop her when she sparred. He smiled at her smiles and asked questions about things that soldiers didn’t have to think about, and when she had no answers he looked sad but told her there was time. There was always time here. Time for the family to sit, time to eat, time to play. Crime still happened, but Bruce said Gotham had police and couldn’t rely on Batman to always hold their hands. There were times when he was needed, when he was necessary, but not always. 

No wonder Tim was filling with gold. 

But a bowl couldn’t be repaired without being touched, and hands reaching deeply into the scarred material could just as easily cause the cracks to grow worse if too little care was taken.

Right now was one of those moments. 

“We are getting a cat?” Damian- no, he was Dami here- was leaning forward and his body shone with excitement. Damian had been easy to excite, but there had always been a bloody promise attached to it. This was childish, like the little ones that followed their mothers in the market. 

But it made Tim flinch. 

Bruce nodded, unaware how close his fingers were to a crevice in Tim. “Yes, Tim and I are going today to pick one out.”

“I shall come too, so I may pick one out for myself.”

Cass was not good with words. She’d never be good with words and was usually fine. She could understand people well enough, but in moments like these she wished she could make them flow like a river from her mouth. She wished she could color the stories of Damian getting a cat, and a dog and a cow while giving Tim scars that lived both on and under his skin. 

But Bruce looked at Tim, who had ducked his head and shovelled eggs into his mouth, and he flicked his gaze to Cass. She didn’t know what he saw, what other people saw, but perhaps it was enough.

“I’m sorry, Dami, but only Tim is getting a cat.”

“What?” the younger boy said, and rage rose in his body like a wave. “Why?!”

“The house rule is that you have to be at least ten to have a pet,” Bruce said. It was a lie, but Jay and Dick did not say so.

Dami narrowed his eyes. “That is ridiculous.”

 But Alfred moved and the lie became a truth. “Those are the house rules, Master Dami.”

The boy crossed his arms, rocking back on his chair. “I am more than responsible enough to look after a pet. I have taken great care with Timothy’s health.” Now Dami’s shoulders were stiff, defensive. He was waiting to be angry again.

“You have,” Bruce nodded. He was thinking, thinking fast. He cared about making everyone happy. Batman would have told Tim no and Damian yes. “But the rule has been in place since I was a child, and ten isn’t very far away. It will give you time to do research on what animal you want, what breed you want, and what the specific care they need.”

“Fine!” the boy snapped. It was not fine. Cass knew even the others could see it. “I am still coming with you.”

“No.” This time Bruce was firm. Tim finally raised his head and Cass could see him tremble as a seam began to seal. 

“What!” Dami snapped, slamming his hands on the table hard enough to make everyone’s glasses shake.

“Whoa! Easy, Gremlin!” Jay said. Worried. He was worried. 

Bruce ignored the outburst. Bruce was not Batman. 

“Dami,” Bruce said softly, “It’s important that sometimes Tim and I just spend time alone together, the way you and I sometimes do.”

“But!” Dami protested and Bruce held up a hand in a demand for silence. 

“You and I have done plenty of things together, and we will do plenty more. I’ve already promised to take you, and only you, to the sword exhibit that is coming to the museum next month because you asked me to go alone with you. Now, is it fair that you get to do that while Tim doesn’t?”

Dami was still unhappy, kicking his legs, but his hands were set with realization. “No, Father.”

“So today is a day about me and Tim.”

The boy snorted and Dick spoke up. “This means we will have more time to do brother stuff. I can show you how to do a backflip on a trampoline.”

“I can already do a backflip.” The word came through Dami’s teeth, but it was followed by a tilt of the head as his legs stilled. “What is a trampoline?”

Jay and Dick both smiled, echoes of playfulness that Batman’s children did not have, and they took turns launching into an explanation. 

Bruce turned to Cass, studying her face. Seeking her approval? Batman did not care what she thought, but Bruce was not Batman, so she nodded and his shoulders suddenly bore less. 

Beside him Tim smiled as he was patched with a little more gold. 

-

“Toys?”

“Check!”

“Cat Tree?”

“Check!”

“Litter? Food?”

“Check and check!”

“Well, it looks like we got everything on the list. Time to go home.”

“Bruuuuuce,” Tim whined, making it as obnoxious as he could. 

Bruce laughed and reached across the centre console to ruffle Tim’s hair. “Have you decided which shelter you want to check out first?”

“Yeah.” Tim twisted the phone Bruce had finally got him to show a torbie with calico patches. “I think she might be the one I want, but it’s important to meet her before adoption.” She was gorgeous and apparently fearless, which would help her fit into the Manor. 

“Alright. Let’s go meet your-”

Bruce’s statement was cut off as a shockwave rocked the car, probably a result of the explosion of light in the sky. Even from this distance Tim could see debris falling towards the city. 

Tim sighed. No cat today. 

“I’m sorry, Tim,” Bruce said with sincerity, as though this was his fault. As much as Tim was disappointed he wasn’t projecting those feelings onto Bruce.  

“I’m pretty sure that the animal shelter isn’t going to stay open during this. Do you need my help?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, I have a safehouse nearby. It’s not-” another explosion rocked the air “-proof, so you need to go to the Manor and get in the Cave. Are you good to drive there? Because I can-” the sky flared again. 

“I can drive. Go. Do your thing.” These were hardly the worst conditions he’d driven in. He wasn’t the target. 

“Be safe,” Bruce said. There was a moment of hesitation before he reached over and grabbed Tim, pressing a kiss to his temple, before dashing down an alley without looking back. 

-

Dex-Starr stood shakily, hissing as he found his bearing. The Blue Man had swatted him out of the sky as though he were a mere insect, not a mighty Red Lantern, and Dex-Starr would make that pitiful man rue the day that he had dare challenged the might of Dex-Starr! 

As soon as he was recovered from such a lucky strike. 

He limped a few steps, taking in his surroundings. A filthy alley. He loathed filthy alleys. The worst moments of his life (the best moment of his life) had happened in a grimy alley just like this. Another thing the Blue Man would pay for. 

He yowled, promising the sky his revenge, and dragged himself closer to the street. He would not lower himself into staying in such an accursed place any longer than he had too. 

The slap of footprints caused him to still. 

“Oh shit,” came the voice of a human and Dex-Starr hissed again. Such awful creatures. Violent and senseless, they deserved painful deaths and Dex-Starr would gladly bestow that fate upon this one.

He hissed his threat and this human proved wiser than most, fleeing for his life. 

Dex-Starr let out a satisfied huff and took another staggered step and his head buzzed. The power of his Ring seemed to slide through his paws. The Blue Man may have actually caused more damage than Dex-Starr had initially assumed.  His death would be agonizing. It would be bloody and Dex-Starr would use his claws to shred his muscles from his bones before eating his eyeballs. 

“Here, kitty!” Brought out of his fantasy of revenge, Dex-Starr hissed in displeasure. The human he had just chased off was back. “It’s okay kitty. Pspsps. Come here. This isn’t a safe place to be.”

It was not because Dex-Starr was going to kill this pathetic human before him and-

The human threw something small his way. What sort of attack was that. How pathetic. How foo-

Wait. Was that a treat?

Dex-Starr limped closer. Chicken! It was chicken. Dex-Starr loved chicken. 

For this tribute Dex-Starr might allow this human to live. 

“Hey, kitty. My name’s Tim. I know you have an owner who's probably really worried about you, and I promise you I’ll help you find them, but this place isn’t safe. You need to come with me.”

The human moved closer. Dex-Starr hissed again. He knew what evil lurked in the hearts of men. He would not allow himself to be caught again. “I know you’re scared. I’m just trying to help.”

This human knew nothing. Dex-Starr wasn’t scared. He was furious! This weak creature thought Dex-Starr needed his help? This human couldn’t even protect itself. 

It looked up and Dex-Starr followed its gaze instinctively. A red streak was bearing down on their position and in the condition he was in, Dex-Starr couldn’t even fly. He hissed in rage before something dark fell across his vision. The beating of a heart made him realize it was the human but the ground falling away made that observation a moot point. 

-

Dex-Starr woke up, warm and being gently rocked in an uneven rhythm. He gave a satisfied sigh before he remembered that no, She was gone and no one had the right to hold him. 

He hissed, digging in his claws. 

“Ow! Shit! Wait, don’t jump. It’s-”

Dex-Starr freed himself with a mighty bite, forcing the human to drop him. He landed in a putrid stream, the fluid thick and, in places, clumpy. He froze, revolted. 

“-gross.” The human sighed before scooping him up again. This time Dex-Starr allowed it. Perhaps he would spare this human. It was proving to be useful. 

Adjusting himself so that he was perched on the boy’s shoulder, Dex-Starr studied the surroundings. They were in a long tube, the repugnant fluid forming a slow river at the bottom. It was deep enough to cover the human’s feet. What a foul creature. 

“We’re in the sewers,” the human explained. It was still walking with a strange gait. “When the debris impacted near us, it caused a cave-in and we landed here. It also sealed up the exit, so we can’t go out the way we came in.” A useful summary. “Fortunately, I’m pretty familiar with the sewers.” The human sounded wry, as though he found something amusing about this situation, and his familiarity with the environment did not further endear himself to the Red Lantern. 

It held up a glowing device, a phone, to better light the surroundings, before sighing. “This was not how I pictured today going, wandering around the sewers with a cat in a costume.” Dex-Starr dug his claws in warningly. Despite this creature’s usefulness he would not tolerate disrespect. It hissed in pain. 

Good.

“Come on,” it whined. “I’m already injured.” Dex-Starr was ready to preen at that before he realized that the human’s odd walk probably meant it was limping, likely from the fall. He retracted his claws. 

It would be of little use to him if it was further damaged. 

“All I wanted to do was spend some time with Bruce and get a cat,” it groused before sighing again. Dex-Starr had to shift as the creature’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve wanted a cat for as long as I’ve known what a cat was. It just.” There was an awkward pause. “My parents were never around. They were always at digs or at social events. When I was brought along I wasn’t allowed to speak, not until I grew to be useful enough to charm their business partners. 

"I didn’t have any friends. I was too weird. The quiet kid in the corner who was a little too obsessed with Batman.” Oh yes. Dex-Starr knew of Batman. The black creature with wings that could not fly. Dex-Starr could easily best him. 

“I probably spent the most time with Robin, and that was just stalking him from afar. It’s not like he knew I existed.” This creature could stalk prey? Well, it was small, for a human. It would be hard to see.

“Just,” there was an awkward pause and Dex-Starr could feel the human’s jaw shift. “It just would have made my life better.”

Dex-Starr froze, the words echoing through him. He could feel her skin, could smell her scent, could hear her voice as she whispered to him. You make my life better, you silly cat. 

No. This human would not make him feel sentimental. She was the only good one and she was gone. They would find their way out of this wretched place and Dex-Starr would leave this one to live only because of its help. He would not yield to it’s vain attempts to bond.

“I’m glad you have someone to take care of you,” the human continued. Dex-Starr did not. The Red Lanterns did not take care of him. He was not their pet. “I’m not super thrilled that they keep you in costume, but you don’t seem to hate it. Plus it will make it easier for me to help reunite them and then maybe, finally, I can get my own cat.” There was something defeated about the boy’s voice, as though his words were empty. 

An instinct that he had thought long gone in Dex-Starr flared up, and he pressed his cheek against the boys, rubbing it softly. The boy reacted by bringing a hand up to his ears, stroking him gently. It was awkward because of the phone, but still a soothing gesture.  “You are such a good kitty. I hope you are loved as much as you should be.”

“I love kitties,” came a sybiliant voice and the human lifted the phone. 

Before them stood a hideous beast. It was nearly double the height of Dex-Starr’s human and covered in a sheen of green scales, It’s mouth was full of jagged teeth that sat in untidy rows and Dex-Starr could smell it’s unpleasant musk from here. 

“You must be Waylon Jones,” the human said. He neither sounded nor smelled afraid. 

The beast let out a croaking laugh. Dex-Starr would have loved to challenge it had he been at full strength, but right now he knew he was vulnerable. That displeased him.

“Someone has been keeping up with their villains,” it hissed. “Which means you know what you do to those who wander into my sewer.” It smacked its lips. “But you’re quite thin and I’m feeling generous. I’ll offer you a deal. You give me the cat and I’ll let you live, boy. I might even show you the way out of here.”

Dex-Starr felt the rage boil within him. How dare that creature threaten him! And this human! It was going to betray him! All it’s soft words were lies and dust, but Dex-Starr was strong. He would win this fight and feast on both of their bodies! He would have his revenge!

“No.” 

What?

“What?” asked the beast.

“I said no, I am not giving you the cat.” Now there was a hint of fear, but the human lifted his head. 

The beast took a step forward. “Foolish child! I will devour you and your bones will lay, lost and forgotten within my domain and then I will eat the cat anyway!”

The human pitched his voice low. “I know you probably can’t understand me,” he whispered, “but if you turn at the next left, run by three tunnels and then turn right, heading straight will lead to a culvert outside. Just, run when I drop you, okay?”

The human took a step back, watching the beast. It snarled and lunged and the human tossed Dex-Starr past it. “Run!” he yelled, before he was overtaken. 

-

Bruce called Alfred. That was the first thing he did when the Red Lanterns had been driven back. He didn’t know what Hal had done to make them have a pissing match with the Justice League over Gotham and, quite frankly, in his current mood he’d strangle the man before he could get answers. So Bruce called called Alfred, ready to hear the soothing news of all his children being safe. 

But Tim had never made it home. 

Bruce called Tim. It didn’t even go to voicemail. Instead a tinny voice announced that this customer was out of the service zone and that was a whole new level of terrifying. 

Bruce tapped his glove, bringing up a holographic display. He found the van on a map, not far from where Bruce had left Tim. It was still on the other side of the city. 

“Captain Marvel,” Bruce hailed on his communicator. “I need a pick up.”

The hero was there in seconds, his face anxious. Despite being the youngest member of the Justice League, Captain Marvel was one of the most intuitive. Bruce was sure it wasn’t all Wisdom of Solomon. “What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Bruce adjusted the map so Captain Marvel could see it. “I need to be there.” The Captain nodded his head and grabbed Bruce without another word, moving as fast as he could without killing a mortal. Bruce appreciated that about Marvel. Superman only carried Bruce as fast as he could without causing discomfort.

If Bruce was calling in a ride, more than his discomfort was on the line. 

They arrived at the coordinates and Captain Marvel set Bruce down gingerly, holding onto his arm until the dizziness faded.

The van was there and looked pristine. It had to be Bruce’s. Besides the tracker, cherry red vans filled with cat supplies weren’t exactly common in Gotham. But Tim wasn’t. It didn’t look like there had been a struggle and Tim was clever enough that he would have left multiple signs, but Bruce didn’t know why Tim would have willingly stopped the vehicle in an emergency. Maybe there had been a trap, a fake need for help and Tim had been drugged and pulled into someone else’s van? There were those who would use these circumstances to kidnap someone. 

“Batman!” Captain Marvel called, lowering himself from where he’d been surveying from the sky. He motioned for Bruce to follow. 

The alley looked fine until he reached the end and discovered that it turned. Part of the brick building had been speared hit by metal and had spilled into the alley. A large metal fragment, the likely source of the building damage, was buried underneath. 

And caught in the asphalt was a bright yellow bag. Bruce didn’t need to read it to know what it was. 

Chicken flavored cat treats. 

He let out a slow breath. 

“Batman?” Captain Marvel asked tentatively.

If Tim was in that pile he was dead. If he was there then Bruce had just lost another son. If he wasn’t Bruce was grounding him so hard it would ripple across the multiverse. “Get Superman.”

A gust of air tugged at Batman’s cape. “Batman?” Superman asked, his voice all business. 

That’s who Bruce needed to be. He needed to be Batman. Cold and ready to face the grim side of Gotham. “Is there a body in that pile?”

Superman glanced at it. “No. There’s no one there.” No body in the bricks. That was good news, but then where was Tim? “There is a hole underneath the pile.”

“The sewers,” Bruce’s tone was grim. 

“Oh, I can just scan them,” Superman offered but Bruce shook his head. 

“They’re lead lined.”

“Well,” Superman said in his most reassuring voice, clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “Tim’s smart. He’ll survive until we find him.”

“Not if Killer Croc finds him first.”

-

Tim felt himself get pushed into the sewage, but didn’t have time to think about how utterly disgusting that was as he pushed up his legs, using Croc’s momentum to flip the man over Tim’s head. He scrambled to his own feet, sliding as he tried to use the wall for balance, and Croc took that opportunity to grab Tim’s ankle, pulling him down again. 

Tim landed on his hands, able to keep his face out of the filth, and rolled onto his back. He slammed his free heal into the delicate skin just behind Croc’s jaw and the other man howled in pain. 

Tim crab-walked backwards, trying to move out of reach, when he noticed that the cat, the stupid cat, was just sitting there. Watching. “Run!” Tim yelled at it. “Ts! Ts! Go!”

It cocked his head and narrowed its eyes and then Tim was trying to kick Croc off of him again. He wasn’t fast enough and Croc landed on his chest, digging his claws into Tim’s shoulders. “You might not have much meat but your bones will make excellent toothpicks!” He pulled at Tim’s left arm, maneuvering it so it was between them and squeezed until the bone broke. 

Tim screamed. 

“You should have just let me have the cat.” Waylon licked Tim’s arm. Then he reared back, hollering as he clawed at his own scalp. The cat, that stupid, amazing cat, was scratching the fuck out of KIller Croc’s scalp. 

Tim used the distraction to slide himself out from Waylon and clamber to his feet while Waylon tried to dislodge the cat by slamming his back against the sewer wall. The cat jumped off of Waylon and Tim grabbed it with his good arm, carrying it awkwardly as he raced down the sewer towards freedom. He could hear Croc snarling behind him. The man could smell Tim’s blood and Tim didn’t have a hope of just outrunning him, but Tim had experienced too many bad days to leave the house with no tricks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small smoke capsule, tossing it to the ground as he passed an intersection. The tunnel immediately filled with the scent of smoke and sulphur and the cat sneezed in displeasure. 

He’d get over it. 

The sounds of Killer Croc faded but Tim wasn’t willing to take any more chances today. He raced forward as fast as he could on his bum leg and just hoped nothing else went wrong. 

-

Dex-Starr was impressed. This human was cunning. The beast was a better predator and held every advantage, but the human, Tim? had fought well. He hadn’t been eaten immediately and probably would have held out longer if he hadn’t been distracted by Dex-Starr’s safety. 

It was strange, that this human had become emotionally invested in him in so short a time, and Dex-Starr found himself developing a mild fondness for this creature as well. Tim wasn’t as pathetic as Dex-Starr had supposed and he seemed earnest in his attempts to help. It was strange. 

It was nice. 

Tim had attempted to save him, so Dex-Starr supposed it would only be fair if he ensured that the human made it back to his clowder. He had taken injury on Dex-Starr’s behalf, so it was only right. 

It had nothing to do with the desire to spend more time with the human. 

The exit was where Tim had indicated it would be and the cat was pleased to be out of the stench of the tubes. It released into a series of large basins, but the human obviously intended to scramble up the edges of the entrance they found themselves at. It was a concrete tube, half as high as the sewers they’d escaped from. 

Tim lifted Dex-Starr above his head, placing the cat on a patch of grass, before lifting himself out with one hand. He whined in his throat as he did so, a sound so soft that Dex-Starr doubted the boy knew he was making it. The human flopped onto the ground next to Dex-Starr and laid there for a moment, breathing heavily.

“This is going to suck,” he said to no one in particular and Dex-Starr tilted his head, curious as to what the human meant.

It soon became apparent. 

The human pulled off its jacket, biting its lip as it screamed in its own throat as it slid the material over its damaged arm. Once that process was finally complete it tied the jacket into a strange pattern, wrapping it above his head before placing his injured arm into it. “There,” he said in satisfaction. “Done.” He stood shakely and held his arm out to Dex-Starr. “Do you still want to be carried?” Dex-Starr took a step back, studying the angles before he jumped onto the boy’s shoulder. 

“Okay,” the human said, sounding exhausted as he slowly climbed the craggy hill, “now all we need to do is get home, take a bath, find your owner, and then I can sleep for a month. Does that sound like a good plan?” Dex-Starr rubbed his face against the human’s, glad they were mostly on the same page. Find the human’s clowder and they would take care of it. 

The human reached the top of the embankment and it opened onto a road. “Finally. It will be smooth sailing from here.” Dex-Starr was skeptical. The human was still obviously injured and whined with every jolting step he took, but there was little Dex-Starr could do. 

Then again, she had liked it when he purred, when he nuzzled close and licked her face, so that’s what he did for Tim. He counted it as a success when the boy leaned back and let out a sigh. “Your owner is a very lucky person. You are a wonderful cat and don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Dex-Starr felt something warm in his chest. 

So that’s how they made their way, Tim limping along while carrying a purring cat.  The human was slowing in a way that worried Dex-Starr, so he licked along his ear to encourage him. The boy sighed, but seemed to maintain his gait. 

They eventually worked their way into parts of the city with more people and Dex-Starr was displeased that no one offered to help his human. Most wrinkled their noses and turned away, pretending they hadn’t seen him. Dex-Starr wanted to flex his claws but he would likely hurt his human and that was not allowable. 

“Hey!” a human called out. “Are you okay, man?” Dexter snorted. Anyone with eyes could see that his human was injured. “I can drive you to the hospital. I got a car.” He motioned to a white van behind him.

“I’m fine,” Tim said, stepping away from the human. Dex-Starr laid his ears down flat, trying to see what his human saw. He needed help so why was he denying it? 

Two humans emerged behind them and pushed Tim forward. Dex-Starr hissed and swiped at the creature that had touched his human, but perhaps he should have been paying more attention to the first one. It grabbed his human by its injured arm, making Tim half collapse in pain. 

Dex-Starr jumped to the ground as the boy slumped, his shoulder morphing into a perch that could only be maintained by claws. 

“I bet you’re a pretty thing under all that grime,” the human whispered, pulling Tim in close. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna fix you right up. Take care of you and sell you to the highest bidder.”

Tim kicked the man in the shin and bolted down the alley, stumbling as he went. The humans moved after but with no sense of urgency. Dex-Starr darted between their legs, chasing Tim. He turned to discover the human’s slow pace. 

The alley was a dead end. 

“Fuck,” Tim slid down the wall, utterly defeated. “I”m sorry, cat. Looks like I won’t be helping you get home.”

The humans came into view, their faces all teeth. Dex-Starr had seen that expression before and it had resulted in him being tossed off a bridge. 

“Don’t struggle, boy. Or do. A lot of our buyers like it when the kids fight.”

Kid? KID?? Tim was a kitten?!

The men moved closer and Dex-Starr hissed at them, his ears flat and his eyes glowing. 

“Fucking cats.” The human nearest him moved to kick him. 

Dex-Starr tore his leg off. 

“What the fuck?”

“Dave!” 

They screamed, and moved to escape, but Dex-Starr could feel his rage building inside of him and reached deep into his ring, launching himself into the sky and getting ahead of them. He spat acid at three and watching in satisfaction as they melted into piles of bone. 

He turned towards Tim, extremely pleased, but noticed how the boy had paled. 

“Holy fuck,” the boy whispered. “You’re a Red Lantern.”

Dex-Starr tensed, not expecting his human to know what those were, but instead of panicking, Tim held out his hand. Dex-Starr approached it slowly, until Tim started to card his fingers through his fur.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, pulling Dex-Starr close. "I'm sorry that you're so angry, that you've suffered so much." Dex-Starr meowed questioningly. No one has ever cared that he was angry before that he hurt. "I'm sorry you don't have anyone," Tim continued, "and I'm really sorry I can't take care of you. I just-" T sighed. "It wouldn't be safe for you, or for my family. Maybe I can leave you treats? You wouldn't mind that, would you?" Tim buried his face in Dex-Starr's fur.

Tim would keep him? Tim would keep him. And Tim would be good. But he was right. Dex-Starr couldn't go home with anyone while he was a Red Lantern. He wasn't safe.

But… he could be. She had said that he made life better. Tim had said he was looking for someone to make life better. 

Maybe, if Dex-Starr did that he didn't need to be angry anymore.

-

Tim watched as the cat began to glow a deep, acidic red. The aura swirled around him before something red streaked off, and when the cloud vanished Tim found himself with an armful of silver blue cat in a tattered collar.

"There we go, kitty," Tim gently pet the animal before he gently checked the tag. "Hi, Dexter," Tim whispered, burying his face into the cat's fur. 

Dexter purred away, rumbling soothingly in Tim's arms.

Later, Tim would be told that it was a police cruiser that found them. Apparently a skeletal arm was worth investigating even in the aftermath of a larger attack. They’d found a feverish Tim being zealously guarded by a cat. Tim had taken the ambulance where a paramedic had found his wallet, letting Leslie meet them at the doors.

Bruce had been called and the panicked state he was in had not been feigned. Tim spent two days unconscious on antibiotics because open wounds, like the giant scrape up his leg, did not mix with asplenia and sewage. The first time he’d come too he’d asked about his cat.

Bruce was not amused. 

It took another two days for him to be sent home. 

“Seriously, Bruce. Where’s my cat?”

Bruce sighed. “Tim, you don’t have a cat.”

Tim crossed his arms. Oh yes he fucking did. “He’s blue and has a collar that says Dexter.”

Bruce pinched his brow. “Dexter is at a shelter until his owner can be located.”

Tim scoffed. “It’s Gotham. His owner is probably dead.” Definitely dead, considering the cat had gone Red Lantern, but Tim was keeping that detail to himself. 

“Tim…” Bruce said, a warning in his voice. 

Okay, new approach. “That cat fought Killer Croc for me Bruce. I almost became a sewer snack but Dexter bravely jumped to my rescue. Isn’t that exactly what we look for in a pet? Don’t I owe it to the cat to take care of him?”

“If it hadn’t been for that fucking cat you wouldn’t have been in the fucking sewer,” Bruce grumbled, but he turned the car around, heading to the animal shelter. Tim internally cheered.

Dexter was coming home.

-

Dami laid on the floor, staring the animal in the eyes. “Apparently Timothy is fond of you,” he said with no small degree of vitriol. The cat stared back, seemingly unaffected. “Because of this and only because of this I will endeavour to make your stay here pleasant, but if you cross me I may give up my vegetarian diet.” The cat started to lick its paws.  “You will submit to allowing me to care for you so Timothy is not overworked. You will not inconvenience Pennyworth and you shall not destroy any of my artwork. What you do to Todd and Grayson are of no consequence. Do you understand the rules?”

The paused its cleaning and stopped to stare at Dami, tilting its head. Dami would almost swear that he saw the animal smirk. 

He braced himself for war.