Title: The uses of my soul (Source) Fandom: DCU (Robin, shortly after the miniseries 'A Hero Reborn') Series:To be awakened (Story #1) Characters: Clark, Tim Summary: Every time he sees Clark, Tim has to remind himself it's not Superman. Rating: All ages gen Notes: Te's writing assignment for the night was "Convince yourself that Clark's a person." There was considerable subtext in that assignment. Disclaimer: Still not mine. By the time he meets Batman, Tim's ready for it -- that overwhelming, dizzying feeling of reality that almost kept him from talking to Dick in the first place. Batman is real, and Dick is real. Every now and then he almost has to pinch himself to remember. How many years has he known their names? But it's not the same as talking to them, as having Dick tousle his hair or Batman wake him from a nightmare. It takes a while to get used to it, and by the time he's used to them -- not so much that he stops seeing them, because he could never take them for granted, but enough to stop catching his breath and smiling just because they're right there -- He has to meet Superman. Superman's real. Superman's right there. Superman is looking at him like he's not Dick and not Jason. The pleasure of that moment never really goes away, even through the times when he'd kind of rather he was Dick -- because, yes, Bruce has to test them all, but does it have to be like this? He doesn't wish he was Jason. Almost ever. Every time he meets someone new, someone who knew one of the other Robins, he's not sure who they're seeing. They don't really want to see Tim, or they don't know how to see Tim. They see Robin. But Superman -- no. Clark sees Tim, because he knows Dick and he knew Jason. Clark sees Tim sometimes better than Bruce does. When Tim breaks a rule -- When Tim manages to make a joke -- Then he's Robin, for Bruce. The Robin he's supposed to be, or the Robin he's not supposed to be, but Robin. Every time he sees Clark, he has to remind himself it's not Superman. But the way Clark smiles at him is really not the way Clark smiles at Dick, and Tim would bet all his old pictures that it's not the way Clark smiled at Jason, either. It doesn't seem fair that he can't remember when Clark can remember perfectly. Maybe it's a human thing. He knows Bruce doesn't want Clark around, just at random -- and that's okay. It's Gotham. There are all sorts of things there that they don't need Superman -- Clark. They don't need Clark to handle the Gotham crazies, and Bruce says it's better that way. It keeps them away from brinksmanship. Tim doesn't get to argue with Bruce. Sometimes he even feels weird about the times they just disagree about simple things, like that makes him less Robin. He's afraid to ask Dick about it, because if Dick thinks he's not doing a very good job, he's not sure what he can do to fix it. He's trying. Always. He doesn't want to ask Bruce, either, because Bruce's rules for being Robin are really idiosyncratic as far as Tim can tell. Alfred likes Tim. It makes things a little better. It takes a while -- Paris and back -- before Tim gets a chance to talk to somebody else who at least met Jason. Not that he doesn't think about maybe calling Kory, but Kory is Kory Anders and that would be -- no. Instead he patrols by himself, and he says -- quietly, calmly, with all the control he's learned to use in his Robin-voice -- "Superman, if you're not busy, can we talk?" It's fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds before there's that sound that's Superman flying and Clark says behind him, "Really, Robin, it's Clark." Tim turns around. Clark is smiling his for-Tim smile, and Tim has to smile back. He makes it a little brighter than he would for Bruce and says, "I know. I -- I know. Thanks." "What did you need?" Clark says. "I --" Tim clears his throat and squares his shoulders a little. There's something about the way Clark stands that makes even slouching one teeny bit in front of him seem unpatriotic. "I wanted to know if you thought I was doing a good job." Clark blinks at him. "Robin --" he says, and he falters a little, but it's so he can go down on one knee and talk in Tim's ear. "Tim," he says, "you are an excellent Robin." Tim can feel himself blushing, and maybe it's because nobody says that kind of stuff to him -- Dick likes him and all, but -- and Bruce -- but -- "Thanks," he says, "but -- really. I need to know." "Would you like to fly with me?" Clark offers. It doesn't happen often enough to get boring. "Okay," Tim says, and Clark picks him up. It's like a big, warm hug from -- not from his dad, and really not from Batman. From how Dads are supposed to be. Except that it's got the dad-hug warmth, and then he can see all of Gotham, glittering. "Now, Tim," Clark says. "What's the matter?" "I'm doing everything I can," Tim says. "You're doing very well." Clark gives him a little atta-boy squeeze. It's like being in a sitcom, except Clark means it. "But -- I don't -- I'm not them." "No one expects you to be. Not even Bruce." Tim shakes his head. "That's not it, because -- no, of course I'm not them, and Dick -- Dick never trained with Shiva, and Jason never really -- well, he wasn't a detective." "You have things that they didn't," Clark says, and he wraps his cape around them both. "And they had skills you don't, yes?" Tim snorts. "My flexibility is pathetic, and I can't bench almost anything yet, and -- and I'm just not -- them." Clark sighs and gives him another squeeze. "Maybe that's not a bad thing." "I don't know," Tim says. "If Bruce wanted them to be Robin there must have been a reason, and if I'm not -- whatever it was they had --" Clark's shaking. No, Clark's chuckling. "Tim," he says, "they each had their skills, but yours -- perhaps you're better suited for Bruce now than either of them would be." Tim shakes his head. "No, that's -- no, but --" "I doubt he would look so kindly at having his tires stolen tonight." "Yes, but -- Clark," Tim says, "that's not the same." "No? Then experiment." Tim looks up at him curiously. "I don't know how to be them." "I'm sure you could ask Dick to make some of his horrible jokes for you," Clark says, and he's -- Okay, so maybe this is a time when it's okay that he's being a grown-up, and Tim is being a kid, but it still stings a little. All Tim really wants to do is to be a really good Robin, and if this is the kind of advice he gets -- "Puns aren't going to make anything better." "No," Clark admits. "Of course they're not. But that's something you're not as -- agile with, yes?" "I'm a lot more worried about --" Tim shrugs a little. "I -- did Bruce really used to smile?" "When the occasion warranted it, yes." "But not a lot?" Clark shakes his head. "Not recently." Tim frowns. "But it's my job to make him not be so -- cold. I guess." Clark is chuckling again. "You're not the court jester, Tim." "Yes, but -- but he's Batman. And I don't even make him proud of me." That makes Clark stop laughing. "Oh, Tim." "I don't." "You're Robin." Clark touches the R on Tim's chest -- does he know it's a shuriken? Well, it's Clark, so it won't matter. "You wouldn't be Robin if he wasn't proud of you." "Maybe." Clark shifts his grip so Tim's really looking in his eyes. "Did you want my advice?" It's a little uncomfortable to think of all the ways Clark could be studying him right now. Tim really gets, deep down, why glasses work for Superman. "Yes. I -- I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry. Just listen." Tim nods. Clark takes a deep breath and says, "If he's ever less than proud of you -- he will let you know. But it may not be in an obvious way." "You mean he might fire me." Clark winces. "He might, but -- is that why he said he fired Dick?" "No. It was -- it was insubordination." "Mm. Well -- if he isn't proud of you, you won't be Robin." Tim frowns and ignores the way it makes Clark stare into him. "But that doesn't mean I'm really good enough. It's not like he's got a lot of people asking for the job." "No," Clark says. "Just you." "I -- yes." "Because 'Batman needs a Robin,' yes?" Tim hears the quotes, the teasing, and sighs. He doesn't roll his eyes because he's really not that much of an adolescent, but the urge is there. He closes his eyes before he does anything stupid. "He does." "I know," Clark says, and -- no. Superman says. Tim looks at him again. Clark is totally solemn. Absolutely Superman. Not teasing at all, and he's looking at Tim again. "Oh," Tim says, and -- "oh." Clark smiles. "It will take him a long time to forget that you knew that before he did." "Is it really enough?" "It's a strong foundation, and you're still learning." Tim takes a deep breath. "As fast as I can, yes." "You're doing a wonderful job," Clark says. "I should probably get back to it, actually." Clark chuckles and heads for the building where he found Tim. "There's another way you're not like them, Tim." He winces. "Yeah?" "You're far more dutiful." Clark sets him down gently and squeezes his shoulder. "Maybe next time I can convince you to fly with me a bit longer." Tim smiles at him. "It depends on what's happening in Gotham." Clark beams at him and takes off again, hovering briefly. "Of course it would. Goodnight, Robin." "Goodnight, Superman. Thanks." "My pleasure," he says, and is gone. Tim says, "Thanks, Clark. Really," under his breath.
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