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Cradle Of Love	By : Amarin Category: DC Verse Comics > Teen Titans Views: 2376 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Rocky Road To Romance
November sixth dawned gray and cloudy, with a cold bite to the air. Kon was on his way out the door when his phone rang, and, biting back a curse, he pulled his keys out of the lock and fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket.
“Hello?” he said, slightly breathless.
“Kon?”
“Yeah?” Kon blinked, frowning in confusion as he tried to place the slightly nasal, yet distinctly feminine voice. For some reason, he was reminded of Fran Drescher…
“I’m going to be late to work today,” his boss’ voice continued, “so I was wondering if you could get started on putting together the last of the Anselmo contract.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Kon replied reflexively. “Um, you sound…odd; is everything okay?” There, was innocuous enough; definitely better than ‘You sound like shit’ or ‘Did someone die?’
Tim made a hoarse half-sniffle, half-snorting noise, as if her sinuses were severely blocked up. “Just have a little cold…nothing to be concerned about.” Across the phone lines, Kon heard her sneeze and then cough, sounding as if she was simultaneously hacking up a lung and trying not to throw up.
A ‘little’ cold, Kon thought disbelievingly. Riiiight. “If you’re sure.” Wonder if she’s got that flu that’s been going around…
“I am,” Tim replied, and hung up.
Kon would have been worried over Tim’s illness making her act differently, but she’d always been rather abrupt where work was concerned. Politeness and the niceties thereof were for the artists and other record execs; the people who worked for her got to deal with her curt, cold, and sometimes inadvertently cruel mannerisms.
Kon actually thought her bitchiness was kind of cute, in a ‘Teeny-tiny toy poodle staring down the big mean German Shepherd’ kind of way.
And he would never ever share that thought with her on pain of death and dismemberment.

***
Kon decided that, for once, he was going to go against his boss’ ‘orders.’ Instead of heading in to work, he stopped at a nearby Walgreen’s to pick up some cough drops and decongestant syrup, and then headed across town to Timmie’s house. He lived about fifteen miles away from Drake Records, and so did she, but they were on opposite sides of town. Tim lived in a quiet suburban neighborhood on the west side of Gotham, and Kon lived in an old, yet well-built brownstone apartment on the east end of town, only a scant few miles away from the nearby city of Metropolis.
On the freeway, it would have only taken twenty-five minutes to get to Timmie’s house, but road work and a three-car pile-up blocked traffic. Add to that that it was rush hour, and by the time Kon arrived at Timmie’s house, he felt sure that she would already have been on her way to work, and he’d be in deep shit.
Seeing Timmie’s sensible sedan still parked inside through the window in the garage door, however, Kon started to worry. Had Tim passed out? Was she okay? Was Robin okay?
He wasn’t quite out of his mind with his worry, however, and rang the doorbell instead of hunting for the key underneath the pot of geraniums on the front stoop. Kon tapped his foot impatiently as he waited, counting down the seconds. If Timmie hadn’t answered the door after a minute, he’d get the key and go in.
It was at the count of fifty-five that Kon heard the grating sound of the deadbolt being turned, and then he was looking down at Tim’s haggard countenance – and taking in the sight of her illness-ravaged body, which, all told, looked pretty good.
Timothea was wearing a faded purple fleece top that was slipping down one shoulder, revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The pale pink band of her panties peeked out above the waist of her baggy gray sweatpants. She was barefoot, and her hair was a rat’s nest of a mess, half of it still scraped back in a messy ponytail, the other half lying in limp scraggly strands around her puffy face.
Kon thought she looked rather cute with her watery eyes, red cheeks, and pouty, glaring lips. But that was another thing he didn’t dare tell her.
Tim blinked up at him blearily. “Kon?” She sniffled, even as she shuffled back inside, allowing him to enter. “What…what are you doing here?” she asked, closing the locking the fumbling the door locked behind him.
“You sounded really sick, so I thought I’d bring you some medicine,” Kon replied, brandishing the plastic bag he held.
Wiping her runny nose with the tissue in her hand, Tim asked, brow furrowing in confusion, “But I just called you… How could you have gotten here so quickly?”
It was Kon’s turn to be perplexed. “Uh…you called me over an hour ago,” he said slowly.
Timmie blinked fuzzily up at him from her position propped against the wall. “I did?”
Kon nodded. “Yeah. You said you were sick, so I stopped by a drug store to get you some medicine, and then there was an accident on the interstate,” he explained with a shrug. “You must have fallen back asleep after you called me. You obviously need your rest.” He gave her a pointed look.
Her eyes narrowed at his patronizing tone, lips twisting in a mulish grimace, before her headache resurfaced and she whimpered at the pain. “But Robin…” Tim protested helplessly, even as she slumped further against the wall.
“Doesn’t go to school, so it’s not like she has to be anywhere today,” Kon quickly reassured her, moving closer in case she needed some support.
“But if I don’t take care of her, who will?” Tim asked, looking lost, alone, and, hidden in the back of her eyes, afraid.
Kon tried not to feel affronted that Tim seemed to have forgotten that she’d hired him for expressly such a purpose. It was clear that she was feverish, and her typically sharp mind was clearly working slower than usual. “The daycare does when you can’t, right?”
Timmie turned belligerent. “I don’t like her being there without me in the building.”
That was easy enough to solve. “Then she can stay here, with you.”
Tim licked her dry lips, and her face turned redder as she blushed. “But if I’m not well enough to take care of her…” she said, admitting what Kon had known ever since she’d called.
“I’ll stay here, too.” Kon smiled at his solution.
Tim blinked. “Whaaat?”
Kon was also a bit surprised by how rashly he’d offered to stay, but he thought it made the most sense. “I’m your personal assistant, right?” Kon grinned self-deprecatingly. “Let me assist you – and Robin.”
Too tired to put up much more of a fight, Tim said, “Only if you can manage to get the rest of your work done as well.” She was a stickler and a hard-ass even when she was sick.
For some reason, Kon wasn’t surprised. “Of course, boss.” He nodded and herded her back down the hall, towards where her bedroom presumably was.

***
Considering that Tim spent most of the day sleeping, and Kon could work on his computer while watching Robin watch TV, that wasn’t as hard a bargain to fulfill as Timmie likely thought it was. He made a few false starts trying to figure out how to cook chicken noodle soup on her gas stove, as opposed to the electric ranges he was used to, but quickly figured it out. He only burned one can, from then on deciding to stick with the microwave.
Kon had to make a quick trip back to his apartment – Robin in tow, of course – for a change of clothes and a few toiletries, because he’d realized by mid-afternoon that he couldn’t very well leave Tim and Robin on their own in the house, even overnight. He also stopped by the office to pick up some work.
Timothea’s house had several spare bedrooms, but none of them had actual beds. The sofa in the living room was surprisingly comfortable, however, if way too short for Kon’s large frame. Tim was so out of it the first few days, Kon was sure she didn’t even realize that he’d spent the night.
The next few days passed in similar ways. Kon quickly grew tired of catching snatches of the old Disney movies that Robin watched, but he couldn’t really complain about the TV doing most of his babysitting for him, since Tim was in the ‘shiver with cold, burn with fever, sleep, wake, eat, get wracked with chills, throw everything up, sleep, wake, drink some water, repeat’ phase of her flu. He got almost no work done, but without Timmie awake to give him more, he figured he could at least keep up.
And Tim wasn’t really enough of a stickler that she’d fire him over choosing to take care of her instead of work…was she?
On Wednesday he had to take Robin with him to the grocery store because Timmie had eaten all the soup in the house. Well, eaten it and then thrown most of it back up, but Kon thought some of the saltines and the apple juice had stayed down. He also bought more medicine, some alka seltzer, Tylenol for fevers, and tons of crackers and juice.
He would have bought some Vicks Vapo-Rub, but he didn’t think that Tim would appreciate him applying it, even if he could bring himself to do it with her so sick and out.
By Friday, Tim was, thankfully, starting to look a little better. Her fever was much lower, and she was actually able to eat some substantial food, and keep it down.
It was still a bit of a surprise to wake up on Saturday morning and hear the unmistakable sizzling sound of bacon frying in the kitchen. For one terrifying moment, Kon was sure that Robin was in trouble, but then he scolded himself; Robin knew better than to use anything other than the ice cream scoop by herself.
Cursing as the rasp of stubble on the pillows reminded him that he’d forgone shaving the other day, Kon fought his way out of the tangle of sheets, blankets, and the quilt from Robin’s bed that she’d insisted on lending him. He combed his fingers through his hair to try and neaten up his bedhead – or would that be couchhead? – and plodded to the kitchen, wishing he knew what had happened to his socks. His feet were freezing on the linoleum floor.
“Morning, Kon!” Robin chirped as he slumped down in a chair at the table.
“Morning, pumpkin,” Kon said on a yawn as he ruffled her hair.
Grinning, Robin waved towards her mother. “Mama’s all better now!”
Stealing a glance towards the stove, Kon took in the sight of Timmie cooking. She was wearing jeans and a raggedy sweatshirt with Kermit the Frog on it, thick socks on her feet.
Kon envied her the socks for a moment, before he noted that her eyes were still glazed over with fever, and face was flushed, and not just from the heat off the stove. Tim wasn’t ‘all better now’; much better, clearly, since she wasn’t swaying on her feet, but she was still sick. “Should you be out of bed?” he asked without thinking.
Shooting him a glare with more heat than her previous fever of one hundred and two, Timmie said, “Yes. Shouldn’t you be wearing clothes?”
Her scathing words were enough to put a blush on Kon’s face – and remind him of the fact that, while he was currently wearing black flannel pajamas pants, which were opaque, unlike his light blue cotton ones, he wasn’t wearing underwear. “Not before I shower,” he managed through a strangled throat. “Um…I’ll do that right after breakfast?”
Tim gave him a look, and turned back to her cooking, saying, “I hope you like your eggs scrambled; I don’t feel up to making specific orders.”
Knowing that that was as close as he was going to get to an apology and a concession on her still being sick, Kon said, “Scrambled’s fine. Anything I can do?”
“Make toast?” Robin offered. She smiled brightly. “With cinnanamon ‘n sugar?”
Tim laughed. “Only if it’s wheat bread. And you drink all your milk,” she added sternly, pointing her spatula at her daughter. “You don’t need to be bouncing off the walls all day.”
“Oh, please no,” Kon whispered under his breath. He’d made the mistake of buying popsicles at the grocery store, thinking that Tim need the liquid, and maybe she’d be able to keep them down. Robin had eaten half the box on Thursday, and nearly run him ragged playing hide and seek in the backyard.
Tim grinned at him wickedly. “And remember, Kon; you’d better be getting all your work done.”
Timmie’s soft laughter and Robin’s high-pitched giggles were an ironic counterpoint to the muffled banging of Kon’s head on the table.

***
Tim went back to bed after breakfast, but by mid-afternoon, she was up and moving again. Kon found her in the kitchen drinking some bottled water; when he entered, she blushed and turned away.
Puzzled, Kon said, “You feeling better?”
Tim coughed and met his eyes only briefly. “Yes, yes, I am.” She licked her lips and blushed again. “Thanks to you.”
“I was glad to help,” Kon said, almost blushing as well from the honest emotion even he could hear in his own voice.
“Still…” Tim picked at the label on her bottle of water. “I want to apologize for putting you out this week, Kon.”
“You didn’t put me out,” Kon told her, noting her typical distancing tactic of formality. Tim didn’t deal well with emotion, save with her daughter. “Not really. Besides, it’s my job to take care of you.” It was only because he was so focused on her apparent discomfort that he let that slip.
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s your job to take care of Robin,” she corrected.
Kon felt righteous indignation well up inside of him at yet another instance of her trying to keep their relationship ‘strictly professional.’ The lines never blurred with her, and if it hadn’t been for Robin, Kon knew he never would have gotten even this close to Tim. Was there some reason they couldn’t be friends? “Well, maybe I want to take care of you, too,” he said stringently, shocking both of them with the bald truthfulness of his words.
Timmie appeared stricken, and more than a little confused. It was as if she couldn’t fathom anyone except Robin caring about her. “Why?” she asked in a voice as small as his had been loud.
That, more than anything, caused Kon’s anger to drain out of him like water through a sieve. “Because…” Kon sought for the right words to tell Timmie how important she, not just Robin, had become to him…and couldn’t find them. Instead, he reached out, cupping the back of her head with one hand and capturing her soft lips in a soul-shaking kiss.
Kon had no idea what he’d expected to happen when he kiss Timmie. Would she push him away? Would she get mad and maybe punch him? Would she fire him, or threaten to report him for sexual harassment? Would she pull back and tell him she didn’t feel the same way?
Would she kiss him back?
What Timmie did was still in his arms, and Kon felt her start to pull away, but then…then something seemed to switch in her brain, and she melted against him, soft and warm and willing.
Kon knew he needed to make the most of this opportunity, because he was sure that once Tim had a chance to think over her actions, she’d decide it had been a mistake. He just prayed for Robin to stay occupied while he was with her mother.
Kon pressed closer to Timmie, rubbing his hands across her back, feeling the lines of her bra with his fingers. He traced one hand down her arm and oh-so-gently brushed against her sweatshirt-covered breast, thumbing the nipple through the thin cotton and causing her to gasp at his touch. He took advantage of her now-open mouth and moved his tongue into the kiss. After a moment’s pause in surprise, she did the same, one hand fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back, deeply, wetly.
Kon’s free hand twisted in Timmie’s curly black locks while the other continued its downward journey, stroking down past her waist, lightly caressing her jeans-clad ass and upper thigh. As he reached her mid-thigh, he pulled her against him, feeling her wrap one leg around his waist to encourage this endeavor.
Timmie startled both of them as she moaned quietly deep in her throat and pressed closer to him. He could feel every curve of her as she pressed herself against him and it excited him even more. Kon felt his cock grow hard and heavy as the beautiful woman he was kissing straddled his lap as best she could while they were both still standing.
The thought that this would be easier, and better, in a bed crossed his mind, but just then Timmie froze in his arms. And this time, instead of pressing closer to him, she did pull away.
Kon had been expecting her to do that, but still it hurt him, almost literally, to feel her move away from him.
They stood there, barely a breath apart, lips bruised with kisses and faces flushed with passion. Tim stared at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and Kon tried to look reassuring in return; ‘Hey, it’s okay; if you’re freaked out, we can stop.’
But Timmie wasn’t just freaked out; she appeared to want to turn back time and have it never have happened. Her hands were shaking almost as much as her voice as she said, “W-we can’t.”
Instead of asking why, Kon just said, voice husky with unsuppressed want, “We?” He had a feeling he might get a more honest answer that way.
She shuddered and closed her eyes. “I can’t,” she admitted. “I haven’t in so l– I don’t know if I ever can…” Cutting herself off, Tim wrenched out of his embrace and ran headlong down the hallway back to her room.
Kon found himself standing in the kitchen, staring after her retreating form. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and he wondered if she was really worth it, all the issues she seemed to have.
The strange thing was, he was pretty sure the answer was yes.

***
Kon went back to his apartment that night, knowing that Tim was nearly finished recovering from her bout with the flu. She didn’t call him, and on Monday, work went along as usual. Kon wasn’t sure why Timmie seemed so gun-shy of a relationship, but after discreet inquiries around the watercooler about Robin’s father yielded no results, he had a few theories.
Timothea Drake was a strong woman, that he’d been able to see from the very start. If the father had just been a regular deadbeat dad, Tim would have gotten angry, not sad. But it wasn’t just sadness, it was also hurt, and… She clearly loved Robin, but if the father was someone who had…attacked her…then Tim was a stronger woman than Kon had ever known.
It would explain certain things, but somehow, it didn’t quite fit. She didn’t seem afraid of him, or any man, really, just…sad whenever the concept of romance came up. Kon still resolved to tread carefully around Timmie, however, because her feelings were clearly fragile, even if nothing else about her – not even her heart – was softer than steel.
Except, perhaps, her body.

***
Two Weeks Later
***
Kon was glad to note that Tim had finally stopped avoiding his touch. She’d been subtle about it, and no one else seemed to have noticed, but Kon could see her going out of her way to stay at least three feet away from him at all times.
She’d finally eased up, though, and they were back to their usual friendly camaraderie. And if Kon would have liked it to be more, well, he kept those feelings to himself. He knew Tim wasn’t ready.
Wednesday afternoon, Kon brought in some files for Tim to look over, and when he made to leave, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Kon, I’m going to need you to be at this address on the second, if that’s all right?” Tim said, holding out a slip of paper.
Kon looked dumbly down at her hand and absently accepted the paper.
“I realize it’s a Saturday,” Tim said, removing her hand and giving him a commiserating glance over his missed day off, “but it’s the grand opening of Darla’s community center, and I need you to watch Robin while I handle the press.”
Kon managed to gather enough of his wits around him to nod. “Sure. What time should I be there?” he asked, pocketing the address slip.
“Ten AM,” Tim replied. “I need to get there early to talk to the press and get things arranged. Once the ribbon is cut, there will be a meet and greet with hors d’oeuvres so the media can get their soundbites.” She paused a moment, thinking that her grandmother’s recipe for raspberry cheesecake chocolate bars had gone over well at the company picnic, and maybe she needed to make more of them. “We should be done by two, and then you can head on home.”
“Fine with me,” Kon said, and went back to his desk hoping there would be lots of pastry at the after-party, maybe with those raspberry cheesecake chocolate brownie things they’d had at the picnic.

***
On Saturday, Kon drove downtown to the address he’d been given, noting how the buildings around him grew even more rundown the further away he got from the city. Then, as he neared the destination, they got cleaner, and while still shabby, the apartments and tenements had obviously been fixed up quite recently.
Pulling his car over to the side of the street, Kon parked and headed over to the milling crowd around the large brick building, a shiny white sign proclaiming in large black letters that it was grand opening of The Safe House. Once he reached the fringes of the crowd, he stopped in his tracks, grimacing at what he saw.
What had captured his attention wasn’t the giant red ribbon draped across the front door, waiting to be cut with the over-sized scissors, or the large throng of people churning around said entrance. It wasn’t even Timmie, who was wearing a form-fitting black pantsuit, with a red bolero jacket and matching heels, looking even more stunning than usual, though just as sexy.
No, what had captured Kon’s attention were the two reporters – the only two reporters, it seemed – standing near the front of the throng, Daily Planet press badges clipped to their clothes. He’d had no idea his father and step-mother would be there. If they saw him…
His new lease on life would be over.
It might have been petty, but Kon did not want Clark Kent, or Lois Lane, to interfere in the life he’d made for himself – without them.
Heart sinking and stomach twisting up with guilt, Kon snuck back to his car and high-tailed it back to his apartment. I’ll have to think up some excuse for Timmie…but I just can’t risk it.

***
Tim had shown up early for the grand opening of The Safe House, Robin in tow. Darla was willing to watch her for short stretches between making sure that everything was running smoothly.
As the clock ticked down towards the ceremony, ten o’clock coming nearer and nearer, Tim started to worry, a frown furrowing her brow. Traffic might have held him up, but she had expected Kon to have arrived before then.
Where was he?

***
By eleven, Timothea Drake had moved beyond worry into righteous fury. Wherever Kon was, he certainly wasn’t at the grand opening. Tim was steamed; she’d told him specifically to be there. While there were workers on staff to take care of the children in the daycare part of the center, she’d wanted someone she trusted watching Robin.
If she couldn’t even trust Kon to show up on time, she certainly wouldn’t trust him with her daughter.
“You’re mad, huh, T?” Darla asked.
Resisting the urge to growl, ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ knowing that Darla wasn’t the source of her ire, Tim asked, “What gave it away, D?”
“The smoke coming out of your ears,” Darla replied sweetly. “Or maybe just how loudly you’re grinding your teeth.”
Purposely willing her jaw to un-tense – she didn’t need to waste time at the dentist – Tim kept a close eye on Robin, who was playing on the playground, and inwardly seethed, left hand twisting the strap of her purse into something resembling a strand of DNA.
“Does he do this often?” Darla asked idly, eyeing the crowd of people around the punch bowl and hoping none of the teenagers from the neighborhood spiked it. Lane and Kent, the dynamic reporting duo from Metropolis, had been given the exclusive for her story, and she just knew that Lois would stick something in about her ‘contributing to the delinquency of minors’ if anything ‘unsavory’ happened.
“No, this is the first time he’s ever done this. He’s always punctual, and he’s never completely missed an event like this!” Tim threw her hands up in the air. “If he ever is going to be late, he calls.”
“Well, considering that this is the first time this has happened, maybe you should cut him some slack.” At Tim’s uncomprehending look, Darla went on, “Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he has a good explanation. Maybe he ran out of gas someplace where his cell phone had no service.”
“Awfully convenient,” Tim replied with a huff, even knowing that it was entirely possible.
“Maybe he had a family emergency,” Darla offered. “Or…he could have been in an accident.”
Tim snorted in disbelief. After a few moments, however, she said, voice full of reluctance, “Maybe.” Another car accident taking someone from her…
No. She wouldn’t have it.
She’d give Kon chance to explain himself, and if he tried to bullshit her, she’d give him his two weeks notice. He couldn’t just come into her life and make her daughter love him, and…and kiss her, and then turn out to be a complete jerk.

***
Monday morning, Kon came into work as usual. Tim, unexpectedly, wasn’t there, and he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief, before starting to worry over what excuse he would give for his absence. Every minute that passed brought Kon no closer to solving his dilemma – because the only good explanation was the truth – and by lunchtime he was cringing at every sound.
Tim came into work at one o’clock, Robin nowhere in sight – though, presumably, she was in the daycare. She came to a halt in front of Kon’s receptionist desk and glared at him.
Kon shrank back in his chair, feeling about ten inches tall. “Um…good afternoon, Miss Drake?” he offered weakly
Tim’s glare just got more heated at that. “Mr. Kent,” she said, so sweetly that it was clear she was on the verge of killing him with ‘kindness.’ “I presume that you have a good explanation for your absence this past Saturday?”
Kon suddenly felt like he was the toy poodle – about to be eaten by the German Sheppard. And no, he wasn’t going to compare Timothea Drake to a bitch even in his thoughts. “Umm…”
“Because if you don’t, then I can assure you I will have a good explanation for why I’ll be firing you,” Tim continued with her rant. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I, uh… You didn’t tell me that Clark Kent and Lois Lane were going to be interviewing Darla,” Kon sputtered, cringing as she realized how much he’d given away. Their article ‘Diva Opens Safe House’ had been the front page of the society section in the Sunday edition of the Daily Planet.
Tim leaned forward, planting her hands firmly on Kon’s desk – and, not incidentally, giving him a good view of her cleavage down the front of her dark purple dress where her jacket gaped open. She really was a master of tactics, be they battle, boardroom, or…base. “Why did you not show up at the grand opening?” she demanded, practically seething with suppressed rage, and proving that that old saying about anger and beauty being connected was true. At least in her case.
All these thoughts ran through Kon’s mind as he struggled to grasp hold of the explanation he’d been going to give for his actions. But the only one that he could remember…was the truth. He had wanted to hide from his heritage, but…a person couldn’t hide from himself. Kon knew it was time to come clean with Timmie. “Because…I know them.”
Tim waited for him to continue, eyes narrowing when Kon remained silent. “And…?” she prompted.
“We…don’t always get along.” Kon knew he was being difficult about dragging things out, but he’d thought it would be easier to explain things to her, having somehow forgotten that she was a strong, capable woman who brooked no nonsense, not some simpering milquetoast maid in a romance novel.
That fierceness came to the fore again as she glared at him with the fiery heat of a thousand and one suns. “And you’re unable to remain professional with people you don’t like?” Tim demanded.
“I can, but Clark is…” Kon wet his lips, knowing that his growing feelings for Timmie were only part of the reason he wanted to tell her the truth. Mostly, he just…felt like he was lying to her, and even if they never became more than friends, he felt she deserved to know. “Clark is my father.”
Tim appeared to be slightly set back by that. She cocked her head to side, mulling over his words. “You’re…Conner Kent?” Clark Kent and Lois Lane were very famous journalists. They were considered the best of the best, which was why Tim had given them the exclusive for Darla’s grand opening. Between them, they had won four Kerth awards and a Pulitzer. Clark’s son by business mogul Lena Luthor, Conner, was less well-known, both of his parents striving to keep him out of the spotlight, but Timmie had done her research well, as Kon knew she would.
“Conner Luthor Kent, or, as you know me, Kon L. Kent,” Kon confirmed. Kon had been his childhood nickname; he suffered from a mild form of dyslexia, and had had a problem with spelling up until second grade. He’d spelled his first name with a K, to match his last name. The L in his new pseudonym was for Luthor, and there were enough Kents in the world that he’d decided he could risk using it as his last name.
Not that Kon actually expected his father to spend a lot of time trying to track him down. And his mother already knew what he was doing, and tacitly approved.
Tim nodded fractionally. “Why did you lie about…everything?” he asked.
“I didn’t, exactly. I’ve been Kon Kent for almost three years now. I just…” He sighed, slumping down over his desk to avoid Timmie’s piercing gaze. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, absently noting that he needed a haircut. “I wanted to make a clean break with my past. Clark kept trying to get me to become a reporter, and he never wanted to let me do my own thing. My mother was supportive, but I didn’t want to keep working for her; I wanted to make my own way in the world. So I created this alternate identity – which is perfectly legal, she made sure of it – and…here I am.” He shrugged helplessly, unable to tell from his quick glance at her closed expression whether or not Tim was accepting his explanation.
Tim at least appeared to be thinking over his words. She’d even stopped looming over him like the Dark Spectre of Death. “Other than your name, what did you…”
“I didn’t lie about anything else,” Kon hastened to reassure her. “I kept personal information vague on purpose.”
Tim appeared to accept that, but her eyes were still hard. “Still, this is…big.” Her voiced made it clear she considered that an understatement.
Kon, on the other hand, didn’t consider it so much a breach of trust as…well, as him keeping his private life private. Like Timmie had done. “Not so big.” He still felt guilty about it, though.
“Compared to what?” Tim asked acerbically.
Taking a deep breath, for he didn’t know if this was right time or place, Kon rose to face her and said, “Compared to everyone in the company wondering who Robin’s father is.”
Tim tensed, eyes going wide with something not unlike panic. “I…” She backed away, pulled up short by the hand he reached out to place on her arm.
“I’d be the last person to tell you that you don’t have a right to your secrets,” Kon said seriously. “But one day, probably soon, Robin’s going to ask you…about him. Maybe you need to figure out what to tell her.”
Tim let out a shaky breath. “I know. I…I always planned to tell her the truth. I just…never have told anyone before.” Darla and her parents already knew, and she hadn’t made any close friends since…since it had happened.
“What is the truth?”
Tim looked at him critically, and Kon felt as if she was evaluating his very soul, weighing and measuring it against some internal standard. He wasn’t sure if he was equal to it, but he hoped she’d give him a chance to get there.
“Not here,” she said, and stormed briskly out of the waiting room. Kon blinked, then hurried to catch up to her. By the time he reached her, she had already opened her office door, and once he was inside, she locked it behind her, going to stand in front of her desk. She looked at the framed picture of herself and Robin that took center stage, and the myriad smaller ones grouped around it, before turning around and going to stare out of the window on the busy street below. “You know those after school specials that tell you that you can get pregnant even if you don’t have sexual intercourse?”
A bit puzzled by her line of questioning, but nonetheless willing to listen, Kon nodded.
Tim gestured at the pictures back on her desk. “Living proof,” she said, eyes hollow with remembrance.
Kon was solidly set back, if not actually stunned.
“His name was Bernard Robin Dowd,” Tim said, finally giving rest to the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind: the identity of Robin’s father. She snorted. “He hated his middle name. Thought it was ‘too girly.’” She glanced at the large picture of Robin again, before her eyes tracked back to the window. “He was my best friend since pre-school. We didn’t start dating until nearly the end of sophomore year, but…it didn’t take us long to fall in love.” The wistful smile on her face was a bittersweet counterpoint to the tears brimming in her eyes.
“A few weeks before school ended, he…he asked me to marry him.” Timmie’s hand crept up to the circular charm on her ever-present necklace; the one with a very small diamond chip. “We…celebrated, I guess you could say.” The blush that highlighted her cheeks only accentuated her sadness at the telling of her story as she turned around once more to look at Robin’s photos. “We’d decided to wait until our honeymoon for…but that one time was enough.”
Tim sighed, almost viciously turning away from her daughter to stare moodily out the window. “It was only a week after graduation that I got the call.” Her hands clenched into fists and she said through gritted teeth, “Some stupid…man…had gotten drunk and ran a red light when Bernard was crossing the street.” Anger warred with sadness on her face. “I threw up the next morning. I thought it was grief. But it kept happening, until finally, a week after the funeral, my step-mother dragged me to the doctor.”
Sensing that she needed some participation on his part, Kon said softly, “And you found out you were pregnant.”
Tim nodded jerkily. “When I heard that, I was…I was so sad, because I knew that Bernard would never get to meet his child. But I was also so happy, because I still had a part of him with me. And I knew I had to snap myself out of my funk. If only for…for our baby’s sake.” Her eyes winked closed on her tears, then snapped open. “It’s been almost five years, I don’t know why I–” She broke off, turning away, muffled sobs reaching his ears.
Kon instinctively gathered her into his arms, rubbing her back in slow circles to try and comfort her. “Maybe…maybe it’s because you never really allowed yourself to grieve and move on,” he offered.
Tim tensed slightly in his arms, even as she allowed herself to sniffle softly. “Do you really think that’s it?” she asked after a few minutes.
“When I was seventeen, I started college,” Kon said, voice soft and wistful with nostalgia. “I met a fourth-year journalism student, and fell head over heels. Tana and I were only together for that year, but I loved her with all my heart.”
He sighed, and turned bright eyes to look out the window. “And then someone tried to kidnap me to get money from my mother, and she was…she tried to stop them, and they k– shot her.” He swallowed down the memories and the misery.
Timmie just stood there, looking at his saddened countenance, unable to think of anything to say.
Kon clenched his eyes shut, expelling a breath of air, then looked at her with all due seriousness. “It took me years to get past it. But I did.”
“Get past it?” Tim parroted back.
Expression hooded, Kon smiled bittersweetly as he watched Robin through the window. “You never really get over losing someone you love.”
Tim shuddered in his arms at the thought of what – of who – she could still lose. “No, you don’t,” she said tearfully against his chest, crumpling up into a sobbing ball of hurt, and letting him hold her.
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Cradle Of Love