Chapter Text
The one time Hal risks dozing off in a League meeting, something mindblowing happens.
Hal sits there in his chair. He’s so bored. He’s bored out of his mind and Spooky’s dragging this meeting on so long, to the point where it’s actually becoming painful. Hal’s got a headache from their last fight and he just wants to get home, get into his PJs, and crawl into bed. Then he’ll become dead to the world for a good twelve hours before he’s ready to interact with society again.
So he lets his eyes drift shut. He’s just resting his eyes, he tells himself. It’s no big deal. The darkness behind his eyelids is enough to soothe him, and Batman’s voice droning on in the background is almost like a lullaby to nurse Hal into a deep sleep.
For a moment, he’s there. He’s on the brink of sleep, ready to tuck himself in and call it a day. But then something happens. There’s a clang, and Hal’s eyes snap open.
He barely registers what he’s seeing. In fact, he registers it, but he can’t quite believe it.
Because that is a child.
That is a child in the Watchtower, and that child is armed with at least two katanas, one held steady in each hand.
“Father,” the child says. His voice is cold and stony and Hal wants to cry because he hasn’t even recovered from their most recent fight, how the heck is he gonna cope fighting against a kid?
There are similar reactions around the table. Half the Justice League are in combat-ready stances, while the others just… stare. What else are they supposed to do, when faced with some stabby brat who’s demanding his father?
“Uh, hey there, kiddo,” Superman is the first to attempt contact. He stands up, leaning forward to offer the kid a hand.
The kid’s standing on the table. He’s got the high ground now. He’s terrifying, and Hal would like to go home. The kid slaps Superman’s hand away.
“Don’t touch me, alien,” he sneers. He sounds more hostile than a hornet in a bee’s nest.
Superman looks genuinely hurt. He’s just been rejected by a child, so Hal can kinda understand his feelings but still, it’s weird. This is weird. Everything’s so impossibly weird and when Hal looks over, he realises that Batman doesn’t look the least bit concerned.
“Uh, Batman?” Hal hisses, trying to catch the big bad Bat’s attention.
Batman doesn’t so much as tilt his head, but Hal’s pretty sure he’s got his listening ears on.
“Aren’t you gonna do something?” Hal asks.
Batman breathes in through his nose. It’s a long, deep breath, and he doesn’t say anything. He remains painfully silent.
Hal wants to die. He’s so grumpy. He glances at the kid, who’s brandishing his katana in a threatening manner, pointing the tip of it at Superman who, to his credit, doesn’t actually look that scared.
“Are you lost?” Superman asks softly.
The kid growls. Like, honest to God, he growls. Like a feral dog.
“Do we need to help you find your parents?” Wonder Woman asks.
The kid eyes her up. Hal takes in the kid’s appearance. He’s wearing shaded colors; red, green and yellow. He has a black cape on with a hood and he wears a domino mask to hide his identity.
“You’re adequate,” the kid decides. Hal wants to breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this means it’s over. Maybe the kid’s gonna stand down. But no, the kid refuses to back down, and he continues, “Fight me.”
He’s asking Wonder Woman to fight him. Is the kid suicidal? Maybe. Who knows with kids these days. It’s those darn phones, Hal’s sure of it. And no, he’s not just bitter because he can’t figure out how to use one. That’s totally not the case.
“Who are you, young man?” Wonder Woman asks.
The kid huffs, then tilts his head to take the rest of the room into consideration. In particular, his sight seems to be focused on one hero.
Batman.
The Batman.
This kid is trying to antagonise Batman, apparently, because he strides down the table and stands ominously over Batman. Or at least, he tries to, because no matter how much height the table gives him, he’s still shorter than a looming Batman.
“Father,” he repeats.
“Are you looking for your father?” Superman asks.
Batman lets out a heavy sigh. It’s the most resigned he’s ever sounded. Ever. Hal thinks he might be witnessing the renaissance with how humane Batman’s acting.
“Robin,” Batman finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s settled over the meeting room.
Hal can’t help it. He laughs. It’s a slip of the tongue. He regrets it as soon as the half-hearted giggle comes out. Batman turns a steely glare on him and Hal cowers behind Flash, who shrieks and zips to the side.
“Don’t use me as your human shield, dude!” Flash yelps.
“What’s so amusing, Green Lantern?” the kid asks.
Hal does a double take. The kid and Batman are both staring at him. And Hal, against his own will, suddenly realises that they look awfully similar. Their icy glares, their narrowed lenses, their matching scowls… they’re practically the same person.
“Holy shit, Batman, have you been cloned?” Hal asks.
Batman sighs again. He grabs the kid by his collar and drags him off the table. The kid kicks and screams as he’s manhandled, but doesn’t wield his katanas or do any proper damage, so Hal decides to leave this up to Batman. Batman carries the kid over to the door. He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at the team gathered around the mission table.
“I… apologise,” he says quietly.
Hal would like to hear that again, but he senses he’s already in trouble, so he shuts his gob and watches as the kid falls slack in Batman’s grip.
“There’s no reason to apologise, Batman,” Superman, ever the simp, says. “If you could explain–”
“This is Robin,” Batman says shortly. “He’s my–” there’s something on the tip of his tongue that threatens to come out but whatever it is, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he continues with: “–sidekick. He’s my… sidekick.”
“I am your partner!” the kid screeches. “I will not be reduced to a measly sidekick!”
Hal’s eyebrows have risen so far they’re not even attached to his face anymore. Consider him gobsmacked. He stares at the kid, at Robin, and then at Batman, whose ice cold expression gives nothing away.
Batman’s gotta be joking. That’s a kid. Is he training a kid to become a hero? A child? No way. Hal knows that Batman’s a bit kooky at times, but he never once considered he’d bring a child into the fight.
“I have to attend to this,” Batman says. “I’ll see you all for tomorrow’s regularly scheduled meeting.”
With that, he leaves. He literally walks out, as if nothing’s the matter. The kid follows like a loyal puppy.
Hal looks around the room. No one seems to know what to say. Flash’s mouth is agape. Wonder Woman is frowning. Superman has adopted the expression of a very confused puppy, tilted head included.
“You all saw that, right?” Hal says once he’s regained usage of his voice.
Superman manages a nod. Wonder Woman’s still frowning. Flash looks seconds away from fainting. Martian Manhunter, on the other hand, doesn’t look at all bothered. He’s already returned to the paperwork left on the table, and is shuffling through it, most likely looking for something useful.
“Isn’t that child labor?” someone asks. Hal doesn’t bother checking who, but he totally agrees.
“We’ll confront Batman tomorrow,” Wonder Woman says. She sounds conflicted. “We deserve to know what’s going on.”
-
Tomorrow takes its time to arrive. Hal crawls into bed at three A.M and feels like crying. He curls up into a ball and falls asleep to the sound of the morning birds waking up. It’s a truly horrific experience to wake up only hours later to his alarm buzzing loudly on his bedside table. He smacks the alarm off the table, ignoring the sound of electronics breaking when it hits the ground.
There’s no food in the fridge. Ugh, Hal’s life sucks. He has to rummage through the back of his cereal cabinets to find something edible and even then it tastes stale, as dry as the ground in Arizona in its yearly drought.
Hal only remembers last night’s (or was it this morning?) events when he’s scrubbing his bowl clean. He pauses mid-scrub. What the hell. Did that even happen? Or was he hallucinating? He hopes to God he was, because if not…
It’s super messed up for a kid to be fighting crime. And for it to be a kid fighting crime by Batman’s side? That’s just insane.
Hal checks his watch. It’s half past six on a Saturday morning. He has an hour and a half before he needs to be at a League meeting.
(Honestly, who the hell schedules meetings for eight A.M? Oh, that’s right, Batman does. Batman, who’s apparently kidnapped a child to continue his legacy. Because c’mon, Batman couldn’t possibly get a girlfriend. There’s just no way.)
The next hour is long and slow. So slow that Hal considers participating in a race against snails. He’d lose. But eight A.M rolls around eventually, and Hal practically throws himself out the door. He’s rolling up to the Hall of Justice in minutes.
“So, guys, what do you think his excuse will be?” Hal asks into the quiet space.
Miraculously, everyone’s arrived early. Everyone barring Batman and Martian Manhunter. Batman has yet to step foot in the building, apparently. When he does, Hal’s pretty sure an alarm will be sounded with the way they’re all sitting there in quiet anticipation.
“I’m sure he’s got good reason,” Superman says. His eyes are haunted. Hal can tell he’s been thinking about this all night.
“Batman is a noble warrior,” Wonder Woman starts gently. “But… perhaps he is not so noble as a man.”
“You’re saying he’s a criminal?” Flash says.
“No,” Wonder Woman says, but she’s hesitant and Hal isn’t too sure that she’s convinced herself with her own argument.
“I have faith in Batman,” Superman says.
“Is something the matter?” Martian Manhunter asks, gliding into the room. His eyes sweep around. “I don’t suppose this is about Batman and Robin, is it?”
“It is,” Aquaman says gravely.
“Where d’ya think the kid came from?” Flash asks.
“He kidnapped him obviously,” Hal says. He earns a glare from Superman, who’s always so eager to defend Batman.
By the time Batman arrives, the League has reduced into a petty argument over kidnapped children and child soldiers. Y’know, normal stuff. At least, normal for them.
Batman doesn’t look impressed. Neither does the kid standing by his side. Robin, who he’s apparently brought with him. Hal wants to scream. Why did Batman think it’d be a smart idea to bring the cause of the argument with him?
Batman clears his throat, and the breath is knocked out of the room. All eyes focus on Batman, and then on Robin, who scowls. Superman politely pulls out Batman’s chair for Robin, who glares at him adamantly before perching on the seat anyway.
“You know, I have a son your age,” Superman begins.
“I don’t associate myself with aliens,” Robin sneers.
Batman sighs again. It’s so strange hearing him be normal. Hal kind of wants it to stop, but also wants to see it play out. It’ll be interesting, he tells himself. Then he glances at the kid, and decides that maybe it’s better to protect the kid rather than amuse himself.
“So, Batman,” Hal says, standing up from his chair and splaying his hands over the table. “Care to explain yourself?”
“I thought I already had,” Batman says stonily.
Shivers go up Hal’s spine, but he refuses to give up.
“That’s a kid, Spooky!” he says, only half aware of how his voice is rising in volume. “You can’t just bring him into the Hall of Justice!”
“Is he really your… sidekick?” Superman says, grimacing as if the word tastes bitter on his tongue.
The corners of Batman’s mouth turn down. He doesn’t look angry. More so… torn. Upset, maybe? Hal has no idea how to read Batman’s expressions, especially not with that cowl in the way.
“He’s…” Batman trails off. He doesn’t know what to say. In Hal’s opinion, that’s as good of an admission of guilt as they’ll ever get.
“I am his partner,” Robin seethes. “Get it right!”
Superman’s sad puppy eyes focus on the kid. He looks like his heart has been freshly broken and honestly, Hal can’t blame him.
Wonder Woman kneels down beside Robin. “Robin… that is your name, isn’t it?”
“It is the only name you shall refer to me as,” Robin says.
“Alright then, Robin,” Wonder Woman offers him a small smile. “Do you feel safe?”
“What are you trying to imply?” Robin snarls.
Another heavy sigh from Batman. “He chose this,” he says. “Robin was… a complicated case. I couldn’t simply let him continue as he was. We compromised, and so… here we are.”
“He’s a literal kid, dude,” Flash murmurs.
“I am ten!” Robin says.
“Not helping, little dude,” Flash says.
Robin does that growly thing again. It would be cute if it wasn’t so damn intimidating. Hal shouldn’t be trembling in his boots over a ten-year-old, but here we are.
“A lot of people would say their victims ‘chose it’,” Superman points out. He looks faintly ill. Hal can relate, because the criminals who usually say stuff like that aren’t… the best people.
Hal hopes to God that Batman isn’t a pedophile. Hal respects Batman, as much as he fears him. He looks up to the guy despite the obvious stone-cold flaws in his character. Batman isn’t a people person, but he’s a brilliant leader and you can’t help but admire him. So it’d be a real shame if he turned out to be a child molester.
Robin doesn’t have the air of a victim, though. He’s angry, but Hal gets the sense that he might not be that angry. He isn’t lashing out like a victim might. His anger is contained, and he’s directing it at who he wants to, not who happens to be in the way.
And he doesn’t seem at all bothered to be associated to Batman, or to stand by his side. He seems perfectly fine with it, in fact. Almost as if he wants to be the Bat’s partner in crime.
The very thought of it creeps Hal out.
Batman looks genuinely upset now. His mouth thins into a disappointed line as he stares at Robin.
“He’s–” Batman’s struggling for words. It’s a shock to Hal, who’s used to the collected detective. “He’s…”
“I am his son!” Robin shrieks.
Superman legitimately falls out of his chair in shock.
“Stockholm syndrome?” Hal whispers to Flash, who nods slowly.
“Yeah, makes sense… Batman’s gotta be a good manipulator, right?” Flash mumbles back.
Neither of them want to believe it. They don’t want to admit that they’ve worked with a kidnapper. Someone who targets kids, apparently.
“It’s not Stockholm syndrome,” Batman grits out. He sounds annoyed, which is more like the usual Batman Hal knows. “He’s my son. His mother– it’s complicated.”
Right, well, Hal’s really confused now. Who the hell decided to shack up with Batman of all people?
“Batman,” Wonder Woman says lightly. “Don’t we deserve to know?”
Batman looks at the child. He looks around the table, and then back at Robin, as if he really can’t decide what to do.
“It’s hard to explain without compromising my identity,” Batman says. “But… Robin is my son. His mother is in the League of Assassins–”
“I am the heir to the Demon’s head, you mean–” Robin interrupts, but he goes ignored by Batman.
Hal, however, is still stuck on the idea of Spooky… you know… getting it on. Eugh.
Wait.
League of Assassins?
“Hey, aren’t those guys major bad guys?” Hal says.
Batman cringes. “I… trained with them,” he offers in lieu of an explanation.
“And you slept with one of their assassins?” Flash says in disbelief.
“I… suppose I had a lapse of judgement,” Batman says. “But none of that matters now. Point is, he’s my son, and he was raised to become an assassin. I couldn’t just– he wouldn’t– I had to train him to do the right thing.”
Robin doesn’t seem happy to be talked about right in front of him, but he doesn’t protest.
It’s all starting to fall into place for Hal. Of course the only person who’d dare sleep with Batman would be an assassin. And the kid– that’s a surprise; who knew Batman didn’t know about safe sex… ha, it’s almost enough to make Hal laugh.
“Okay… so he’s an assassin…” Aquaman’s the first to breach the silence that’s settled.
“Was an assassin,” Batman corrects. Robin harrumphs indignantly.
“Yeah, sure, that. But are you sure he should be… fighting crime?” Aquaman continues.
“It is my birth right,” Robin declares. Hal doesn’t know what to take from that. And what the kid says next is even worse. “Besides, I am not Father’s first warrior.”
“You what?” Hal’s brain is melting.
“The Imposter has also–”
“He is not an imposter, he is your brother,” Batman insists, but it’s lost on the kid who continues to speak as if he wasn’t just interrupted.
“–fought on the streets of Gotham for our cause.” Robin finishes. He has a smug grin on his face. Hal fears what this child will become.
“Wait– wait.” Flash looks like he might be having an aneurysm. “You have kids?”
Batman grunts. He rests his hand on Robin’s shoulder and guides him out of the room, not leaving another word to be spoken.
The room is silent. There’s a mix of shock, confusion, and terror. No one knows what to say or do.
“What the fuck,” Hal mutters.