By Weirdnessmagnet
January 27, 2007

Summary: The best-laid plans of mice and Robins...
Universe/Continuity: Teen Titans v.3, post-Infinite Crisis, pre-9/2011 Reboot.
Rating: PG
Author's notes: For 3jane's birthday. I promised a drabble, she got 423 words of Tim and Kon. Plus several more chapters.

**

It took only three days before it was clear that raising Kon at the manor would be a problem.

One problem is that Little Kon doesn't like the Batcave. Robin doesn't know if it's the darkness or the shapes of bats flitting around, but every time he brings Kon down here the baby whimpers.

Robin is already in uniform and walking Kon around to soothe him before Bruce is ready to leave for patrol. He stops in front of the large case.

"There have been four Robins," he explains to Little Kon. "That uniform belonged to Jason Todd. He was the second Robin."

Little Kon watches his face as he talks and tugs on the "R" on his uniform. Robin notes that the shuriken's sharp edges don't cut the baby's flesh. Still, he slides a finger between the weapon and the baby's hand, and Little Kon clutches his gauntleted finger instead.

"I'm the third Robin," he continues. "Nightwing, your Uncle Dick, was the first."

Alfred's footsteps echo. "Master Timothy, I hate to interrupt young Master Kon's education, but I believe it is time to depart."

Robin hands Little Kon to Alfred. "Are you sure you're all right watching him?"

"We'll be just fine, Master Tim. It reminds me of when Master Bruce was young."

Another problem is the circles beneath Alfred's eyes are darker than usual.

Robin runs a finger across Little Kon's cheek. "Don't stay up late."

He blanks his face and avoids Batman's glower as he straps in. He forces himself not to look back at Kon as they pull out of the cave.

Batman grips the wheel tightly and drives in silence. They are nearly to the waterfront when Batman says, "This arrangement can not continue."

"I know," Robin replies.

Batman eases the car to a stop the way he does when he isn't done mulling something over yet. Robin watches Batman's jaw clench and unclench until the his expression shifts like a decision has been made, and slides back the canopy. He shoots off a grapple and zips towards the sky. Robin aims his own line, fires, and follows.

The lack of talking between them is a third problem.

Batman had said nothing when Robin unstrapped Little Kon's baby seat from the Batwing three days ago. When Robin finished his report, Batman watched the infant for several minutes. Little Kon watched him back and sucked on his pacifier.

"Is it functioning?" Batman finally asked.

"His name is Kon, and he's eaten and...excreted. Several times."

"Any signs of degradation?"

"Nineteen-plus hours and no indication of instability."

Batman's jaw worked. "And you intend to keep it?"

"His name is Kon."

Batman turned sharply and sat down at the console. "Tell Alfred to find it a room. Far away from mine."

Some irrational part of Robin's brain thinks that it might have gone better had Kon's baby seat not had little duckies all over it. He makes a mental note to blame Cassie.

**

The invitation is for a picnic lunch in a park: to have a meal in a nice wide open space in broad daylight surrounded by parents with their young children. Obviously, it's a trap.

Tim swings Kon just a little in his baby seat as he walks to the rendezvous. He's ready for this encounter. He'd managed to find a diaper bag in a tasteful black nylon that so far holds three bottles, two outfits, seven diapers, wipes, diaper rash balm, a handful of pacifiers, five shuriken and several of the smaller explosives.

Little Kon looks ready too; the blue footed one-piece is appropriate for the weather and makes his eyes look bigger. Tim also replaced the ducky print lining with a masculine hunter green-and-burgundy plaid. The baby's eyes dart between Tim and the sunny sky overhead.

Should be a pleasant afternoon.

And truth be told, this particular meeting --

"Hi, Clark."

-- was inevitable.

Clark rises from his seat at the picnic table where lunch is already spread out and extends his hand. "Long time, Tim." His eyes slide past him and down to the carrier. "Is that him? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude -- "

"It's okay." Tim sets the carrier down facing them.

So far Little Kon's superpower seems to be mesmerism. Tim notices that people tend to gaze at Kon even when the child isn't doing anything. Clark stares at the baby like he can't help it. "He's got hair," Clark says. Tim lets himself smile. He'd intentionally let Kon's hair air-dry to its natural curl in the front.

Clark reaches out to the baby, then pulls back. "Is it okay if I touch him?"

Are your hands clean? he doesn't ask. "Would you like to hold him?"

Clark holds the infant gingerly. Little Kon looks from Tim to Clark. Tim runs a finger across the baby's cheek. "It's okay, Kon. This is your...this is Clark."

"Hey, little man," Clark says to Kon. Kon kicks his feet and gurgles.

"So," Clark says to Tim, "how's it been going?"

"Fine."

Clark glances at Tim over his glasses. "Really."

I tried to clone my dead best friend. "We're fine." Tim sits on the bench next to him. "How did you find out about him?"

"The only thing that travels faster than light is gossip," Clark smiles. "How's Bruce taking all this?"

"Like you'd expect."

Clark winces. Tim carefully avoids a smirk since he knows instinctively they're being monitored.

Clark slides Kon into one arm and uncovers a plate of fried chicken with his free hand. "Hungry?"

"Sure. Do we have Lois to thank for this feast?"

Clark gives him a knowing grin. "Ma made it."

Tim restrains himself from fourths on the chicken. He lets Clark feed Kon a bottle and hides his smile in a can of Zesti when Kon spits up on Clark's shirt. Clark laughs and wipes the spot with a napkin. "I think he's ready for his first frat party."

Tim catches a whiff on the air. "I'll say. Pass him here."

Clark reluctantly hands him over. Tim hasn't quite gotten the hang of changing diapers, but evidently his skills are enough to impress Clark.

"You're good with him," Clark says.

"So are you," he lies.

"I'm not used to babies that young." Clark watches Tim finish re-dressing Little Kon. "Kon -- the other Kon, I mean -- he was a teenager right from the start. Sometimes I think that's why he and I never really clicked. We never could figure out how we related to each other, and he didn't...he never really needed me."

Tim picks up Kon and watches Clark not look at him. He pats Kon's back and waits for Clark to work up the nerve to say what he's thinking.

"I wish I could have done things differently with him. Handled him better." Clark inhales. "Lois and I have talked about having kids."

Tim stills himself all over, focusing on the warmth of Little Kon's body. "No."

Clark manages to look at him. "He and I are biologically related."

Tim keeps his voice calm. "And like his namesake, only half of his genetic code is yours. How does Lois like the idea of raising Lex Luthor’s son? Or were you planning on withholding that piece of information until she and Kon are ‘ready’ to handle it?"

Clark's gaze hardens. "I wouldn’t have lied to her."

"But you omit," Tim says.

The shift from Man of Steel to paternal figure is so fast that anyone but a Bat couldn't have prepared for it. Clark puts a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Tim, you're just so young. And you have other obligations, important obligations. And he'd be well cared for."

"Cared for by whom, exactly? Neither you nor Lois would give up your career, and day care isn’t a good idea. They’d teach him to play patty-cake and he’d take out a wall."

Clark actually laughs and scrubs a hand through his hair the way Kon used to and it's so familiar it makes Tim ache. "I never had to worry about that growing up on the farm. There was lots of room and no people."

"I don’t think Lois would go for farm life. He’s staying with me."

"Tim," Clark says quietly. "You wouldn't be letting Kon down -- your Kon down -- by admitting this isn't what you wanted. I may not raise him the way you would, but he will be loved. That I promise."

Tim straps Kon into his baby seat and picks it up. "Thanks for lunch," he says over his shoulder, and leaves Clark among the litter of the picnic.

**

Robin puts Kon down for a nap before heading to the cave. He finds Batman at the work bench preparing tranquilizer darts.

Robin uses the calmest voice he possesses. "You put Clark up to it."

Batman doesn't look up from his work. "He’s always wanted a family. It seemed a logical solution for everyone."

Robin puts his hands flat on the work table in front of Batman. "You had no right to offer him to Clark."

Batman looks at him, eye slits narrow. "You had no right to build a lab beneath Titans Tower and attempt one hundred thirty-three times to clone your dead best friend. One hundred thirty-four times, actually, as the last one didn't turn out how you planned."

Tim tries to keep his face blank and can't. His report didn't include... "You knew all along I was trying to clone Kon."

"I had hoped the time away would ease the pain of his loss. But even before we returned to Gotham, I discovered you'd accessed the files on cloning technology. Your laboratory beneath Titans Tower wasn't hard to locate."

Batman's voice is hard and dark as the man moves around the table. "The truly disturbing part is how you put the Titans' lives in danger so you could investigate cloning methods used by those who claimed to succeed at the process."

"You sabotaged the tanks at the Tower. All those failures...you caused them. My process worked from the start."

"We do not decide who lives and dies. If people can be replaced, an individual's life no longer has value. That...child is an aberration. It should not exist."

"His name is Kon," Robin practically shouts.

The line of Batman's shoulders indicates he's finished having this conversation. He returns to his seat at the workbench. "Alfred won't be providing any more babysitting," he says without looking up, "and you won't be patrolling for the time being."

Tim spends the afternoon in the nursery until Batman leaves for the night. He holds Kon in one arm while he accesses a secure line. It beeps twice before he hears the familiar, "Hey, little brother. What's up?"

"Dick," Tim says quietly. "Help."



~on to part 4