By Weirdnessmagnet
February 11, 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.


**

Bart adjusts his grip on his small duffle. "Is this a bad time?"

Tim steps back to let Bart move inside. Bart drops his bag just inside the door and stares at the filthy baby wrapped in the sheet. "Oh my god, it's him. He looks like him. Well, of course he looks like him, but he looks like the other him. Our him. You know." He stops and inhales and looks at Tim. "Hi."

"Hi." Tim smiles for real this time.

Bart reaches out to touch the baby but Tim pulls the bundle away. "Don't. He had an accident."

Bart's eyes grow wide. "Is he hurt?"

"Not that kind of accident. The diaper kind."

"Oh. Ew. Okay. Need a hand cleaning him up?"

"I can clean him up. Would you mind putting the sheets in the wash?"

It’s hard not to simply stand and watch Bart as he moves around the apartment because he moves so slowly. Tim used to note in his reports the times he’d seen Bart merely walk because they happened so infrequently. He watches Bart put the dirty sheets in the wash, get clean sheets from the closet and make the bed. The fact that Tim can see every move Bart makes gives him a pang in his chest.

The man -- and he is a man now, no denying -- is taller than Tim by a few inches. His hair hangs in his eyes in the same carefree style he wore in his speedster days. Tim observes how Bart holds a pillow with his chin and slides a pillowcase on. Bart seems genuinely glad to see them and has been smiling since he got here, but there’s something in the way he stands and the way his yellow eyes aren’t sparkling.

It looks like Bart is in pain.

Bart finishes making the bed about the same time Tim has Little Kon dried and dressed. Tim lays Kon on the quilt on the floor next to the farm play set the Kents sent and hands him a plastic toy sheep. Kon immediately sticks it in his mouth.

"You look good," Tim says to Bart.

"Yeah, right. I look fat." Bart finishes fluffing up the pillows.

Tim knows better than to comment on a person’s weight. Still, Tim estimates Bart has put on thirty pounds. Tim doesn't say anything when Bart gives him a half-smile and settles on the floor.

Bart plays with Little Kon’s feet as he kicks. "At first I ate a lot out of habit. Now, it’s the antidepressants. They give me the munchies."

Drugs affect him now. Tim makes a mental note. "How long have you been on them?"

"A few months."

Which translates to 'almost a year.' Tim resists the irrational urge to move the baby away from Bart. "Do they help?"

Bart gives a half shrug. Tim must be making an expression because Bart says quickly, "I’m okay, really. Adjusting to life at normal speed has been..." Bart stops himself, shakes his head. "Everything is just. So. Slow. Including me."

Tim narrows his eyes. "I need to know that you're okay to be around him." It's harsher than he wants it to be, and the shadow passing Bart's eyes makes him wish he could pull back the words.

It's harder for him to be kind than it used to be.

Bart stops shaking a rattle in front of the baby. "I'm okay to be around him." His eyes are as serious as Tim's ever seen them. "The last year just hasn't been easy."

Tim nods and watches Little Kon drop the sheep. He hands it back to him.

"How have you been?" Bart says.

"I cloned Kon." It's out before he can stop it. He waits for the judgments to come like they've come from everyone else.

But Bart just nods. "Yeah. So. How'd you do it?"

Kon squeals and drops the sheep. Tim hands Kon the squeaky cow instead. "What?"

"I didn't think anyone had that kind of tech down except Luthor's people and the ones who knew anything are dead, so spill. I've got professors at Keystone U who'd have puppies to hear this."

So the rumors and intel he'd seen were true. "I heard you were in college. How do you like it?"

"Boring. I mean, the professors appreciate intelligence they way they totally don't in high school, but they won't let undergrads do anything really interesting. And I spent too much of my free time in the library and at frat parties. I'm taking the semester off."

"I've heard drinking skills are an advantage in college."

"Not really. I like girly frou-frou drinks with little umbrellas in them."

"Ah. So you're screwed."

"Yep. But I learned some really cool drinking games. There's one involving a trampoline and a funnel you'd probably be great at." Bart grins at him. "You're still a master of avoiding questions."

Tim attempts a sheepish expression. "I'm more interested in hearing about your life than I am talking about mine."

"But you're a dad. That's huge," Bart says. "And Mini-Kon there had to be nowhere in the plan when you started the cloning thing. So what happened? Why is Kon a baby?"

It's the first time anyone has used the word 'dad' in relation to him. Tim takes a moment to roll the word over in his mind. "Batman. He sabotaged the process."

Bart's jaw drops. "That fucker."

"Bart!" Tim's eyes dart to the baby.

"Oh, sorry." Bart pets Little Kon's belly. "I mean, that evil, awful, very bad person who's also kind of your grandpa. Crap, that doesn't make it better."

"It's okay." Tim rubs his eyes and stifles a giggle. "The chemical process didn't work at all at first, thanks to him. Couldn't stabilize it. Then for some reason it stabilized but the hardware failed. Probably also thanks to him."

Bart's eyes still get that glimmer when he's thinking hard. "Couldn't you put him back in the tank? I mean, we've used certain solutions to regenerate Kon when he was seriously injured -- our Kon, you know. Couldn't we do something like that here to speed up his growth?"

"Stimulating his growth might destabilize his cellular structure. I won't risk it."

Bart smiles at the baby. "I've heard growing up the old-fashioned way has advantages."

Little Kon looks to the side and reaches. "Uuh."

Tim picks up the red toy car. "No, Kon. This is a car. Trucks have long beds in the back for hauling things. See? Car."

Kon blinks. "Uuh."

"No. Car."

"Aah."

"Yes, car." Tim hands him the toy. Little Kon chews on the bumper.

He ignores Bart's amused look. "I'm stimulating his language development," Tim says. "He has trouble with vehicles."

"Uh-huh. I think someone hasn't patrolled in a week and he's starting to lose it," Bart singsongs the last part and squeezes Kon's foot. "You have the cutest widdle toesies, yes you do."

Kon grimaces and drops the car. His face scrunches right before he lets out a fussy cry.

"Or not," Bart says.

Tim reaches for another toy. "Give him something to chew on. He likes that."

"Does he chew on everything?"

"Pretty much. That's all he's done since he was born."

Bart sticks a finger in Kon's mouth. "Oh. There's your problem." He says it with the same tone as a mechanic about to deliver expensive news. "He's teething."

Tim forgets to be upset at Bart for sticking his unwashed finger in the baby's mouth. "He's not supposed to be doing that yet."

"Says who?"

"The baby books."

"Those are just guidelines, Tim. Kids grow however they see fit. And this one," Bart pulls his finger out, "is about to get teeth."

Tim watches Kon start to cry again. "No way."

"See for yourself."

Tim slips a fingertip into Kon's open mouth. He can feel a ridge under the front of Kon's gum. An incisor, possibly two, on the verge of cutting through.

Tim removes his finger and picks Kon up. He rubs the baby's back and makes soothing noises. "I think there's a teething ring in the kitchen." He's pretty sure one was among the stuff Arsenal brought.

Bart rummages through the drawers and comes back with a red rubber ring. Little Kon gnaws on it greedily.

"Where did you learn about babies?" Tim says.

"My statistics professor had an eight-month-old boy. She had a bunch of students who took shifts watching him while she taught her classes. I babysat him during her ten o'clock class and her afternoon tutoring sessions." Bart watches Tim pet Kon's back. "Sometimes I'd watch him on weekends so his parents could go out."

"So," Tim says slowly. "You have experience taking care of kids."

"Well, yeah. Sort of. I mean, I've done it before."

Tim breathes slowly, inhaling Little Kon's scent. "I could use some help."

"Cassie mentioned that."

"It wouldn't be for long. Just until I can find someone permanent."

Bart gives a half shrug. "I don't have anywhere to be."

Little Kon makes his hungry noises, which reminds Tim that the baby hasn't had breakfast yet. "Here," Tim says. "He needs a bottle."

Bart tucks Kon right into his arm, supporting his neck and back the way Clark completely failed to do. "Hey, big guy," Bart says to him. "I'm your Uncle Bart. I'm gonna help your dad look after you for a while." He leans in close and whispers, "I've known your dad a long time. I could tell you some stories."

"Bart," Tim warns.

Bart mouths, 'Later,' to the baby.

Tim sighs inwardly and warms the formula.

**

"Bugging a person is easy," Tim says to Little Kon. He holds up the tiny transmitter riddled with small hooks. "This type is designed to attach to clothing. There are also magnetic tracers for tracking vehicles. Both can be thrown from a distance or attached during close contact. There are other kinds used for...long-term surveillance, but those are more complicated to plant."

Rumpled hair appears over the back of the couch. "You're going to give him a complex."

Am not, Tim thinks. "He needs to know this."

"Tim. He's a baby. He thinks eating his own toes is fun."

That reminds Tim to start Little Kon on a stretching routine. He'll lose that flexibility as he grows. "Arsenal's daughter is proficient in small arms, and she'll start first grade in the fall."

Bart yawns and starts disassembling his makeshift bed on the couch. "Can we at least get him some decent books? All you have around here is Sun Tzu and The 48 Laws of Power."

"I have Sherlock Holmes."

"Do you have a thing against Dr. Seuss?" Bart shoves his pillow and blankets under the sofa.

"He likes Sherlock Holmes." Still, Tim reasons, a trip to the bookstore couldn't hurt. They might find a decent ABC book and he could use a new copy of The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche. His copy is well-worn and won't survive baby drool.

As outings go, it's pleasant enough. Kon revels in the sunshine and Bart seems to enjoy interrogating the store personnel about children's books. Tim vetoes some of Bart's selections, but they still purchase a fair armful of Dr. Seuss and Richard Scarry. Tim sneaks in the Nietzsche, a volume of Grimm's Fairy Tales, and two books on forensics that he'll read to Kon when Bart's not around.

Bart's chatting as he maneuvers the stroller through the apartment door, talking more to Little Kon than to him. Tim half-listens as he checks the motion sensors. There's a blip on the north sensor.

"Bart." Tim uses the command voice. "Quiet."

Bart is silent for over twenty seconds. That has to be a record. "What?"

Tim visually scans the apartment in one sweep. Nothing is out of place until he gets to the dining room table. A file folder that wasn't there before sits at his chair, silently mocking.

Tim moves close to Bart and whispers. "Take Kon into the bathroom and don't come out until I say." He can check the security cameras in there last.

Bart silently gathers Kon up and shuts the bathroom door behind them. Tim finds no tampering or feeds tapping into the cameras dotting the main room. The security recordings of the last hour show the dark shape moving through the apartment, making no effort at all to conceal his presence. Batman planted three listening devices, one of which Tim finds on the barn of the farm play set. Tim makes a note to have a word with him about planting devices small enough for Kon to swallow out of the baby's reach.

He destroys two of the devices. The third he carries by two fingers and knocks on the bathroom door. Bart peeks out, Kon in his arms sucking on a pacifier. "Is it safe?"

Tim holds up the tiny microphone. Little Kon looks at the device. Tim holds it close to Kon's face, plucks out his pacifier, and pinches the baby's leg hard. Kon lets out a screech and starts to cry indignantly.

Tim crushes the microphone between his fingers. "I hope he had the volume turned up." Tim moves to the table and flips open the file. "He was here."

Kon makes snuffling noises in Bart's arms. "Batman? What'd he want?" Bart says.

"My help, apparently." The file is full of surveillance photos, schedules and biographic information on one Doctor Yugo Kolankov.

"Couldn’t he have just e-mailed you that stuff?"

"Wouldn't be as dramatic. It's his way of telling me to get back to work." Tim thumbs through the file. This doctor's research on plant life in the Amazon rain forests has attracted the attention of Poison Ivy. Batman apparently expects an attack during the doctor's appearance at a fundraiser at the Gotham Arboretum tomorrow night.

"Maybe it's time you did. Whole point of my being here was to watch him so you can get back to work." There's sadness in Bart's eyes, a dread almost, and something else Tim can't identify.

"You're sure you're ready for this? You haven't spent much time alone with him yet."

Bart shrugs. "I'll figure it out. Between your neurotic planning skills and my ability to half-assedly wing it, Kon should be fine."

Which isn't anywhere close to reassuring, but. "You're sure."

"Go. Save the world from whatever's threatening it this week. And pick up diapers on your way home."

Tim crooks a small grin. "I'll try to remember, in between battling giant plants."

Bart and Little Kon settle on the floor with the farm play set. Tim watches them play for a few minutes before turning his attention to the file.

**

The giant plant this time is some sort of huge flytrap with thick, knobby tentacles. Robin slices through two vines with a Batarang, flips over a third and makes a mental note to start that paper on Freudian theory and Poison Ivy's preferences when it comes to mutating plants.

It took less than thirty seconds to trash the fundraiser banquet and turn the buffet tables into halfway decent cover. Robin dodges another vine and ducks behind an overturned table. He finds a man in a very expensive suit already cowering behind it.

"Mind if I join you?" Robin says.

"What is that thing?"

"Giant plant." Robin takes two round explosives from his belt. "What time is it?"

"What?"

"The time."

The man glances at his Rolex. "Ten minutes after eleven."

Shit. He's overdue. "When I throw these, head for the door. Got it?"

The man nods shakily. Robin tosses the bombs. They land perfectly inside the flytrap's gaping maw. The man crawls for the exit, staying low.
Smarter than he looks, Robin notes. He counts to five as he does a quick somersault and hides behind a sturdier wall.

The muffled boom almost drowns out the sound of Bart answering the call. "You're ten minutes late."

"I was busy."

"I figured. What's that noise?"

The sticky sound of plant flesh slapping against the walls and ceiling. "Just another day at the office. Everything okay there?"

"Fine, although you and I are going to have a talk about where you hide your shuriken, mister."

Robin pokes his head out and sees Batman handcuffing an unconscious Ivy. He grumbles internally; he missed all the really good fun. "Problem?"

"Your son found one of your toys."

Must have been the one mounted under the coffee table. "He okay?"

"He's fine, but I had a hell of a time getting it away from him. For some reason -- " Tim can hear Bart's eye roll through the communicator, " -- he thought it was okay to chew on it. Also, where's the suture kit?"

"Kitchen. Third cabinet from the left, second shelf, next to the instant oatmeal. You okay?"

"Nothing three stitches won't fix. How's it going?"

Smoldering plant matter slides down the wall and lands on the floor with a wet smack. "I won't be late."

He finds Batman on the roof of a building across the street observing the GCPD loading Ivy into the carrier and the few casualties being loaded into ambulances. "Could have been worse," Robin remarks.

Batman grunts. "Are you heading back?"

"The night's still young. Thought I'd do a sweep."

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" Batman says.

Robin instinctively scans his tone for hints of accusation or sarcasm and, finding none, decides to be honest. "I checked in. Everything's fine."

Robin waits for the eye slits to narrow or the man's mouth to thin. It's not like he's looking for another fight, but he's also accustomed to preparing for Batman's reactions.

But Batman just fires a grapple and offers a curt, "Let's go."

Robin watches him swing off the building before firing his own line and following him into the darkness. He tells himself it's not hesitation; he's just using more caution these days.

After all, he's got a son to think about.