Title: Fifteen Seconds
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Beta: the_protagonist
Fandom: Superman/Teen Titans
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Kal-El, Timothy Drake, Kon-El
Length: 897 words

Summary: He curses himself for a fool – he, more than anyone, should have known what one of Bruce's children was capable of.
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or the concepts of Superman or Teen Titans in any of its forms. Though I would love to write for DC Comics if they would ever want me to.
Spoilers: Teen Titans v3 #17-19

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Clark Kent had been attending the G8 Summit in Germany, when the emergency claxon from the Batcave went off. A short trip to the building's facilities had him changed and out of the marble building, a small hope mulling through his thoughts that this wouldn't take too long – security was tight, and they would eventually wonder what happened to the man that had entered the men's room and had yet to leave.

He was half-way across the Atlantic when he realized he couldn’t hear Bruce’s heartbeat.

Not two seconds later he was in the cave, his sky blue eyes changing to ruby red as he took in the scene –

Bruce. Suited up, the shapeless cowl hung limply across his shoulders. Lifeless and sprawled across the counsel; one limp, gauntleted hand was still on the button for the emergency signal while blood seeped heavily through the lighter armor of the tights of his inner right thigh. A small diameter, black, oozing hole pinpoints the cause of death – small caliber slug cutting open the femoral artery. Not an immediate death, but not a slow one, either.

Diana's voice reaches his ears, a strangled "Ka-al," in something close to a ragged whisper, and he's about to jump to help when he sees it.

Another Batman was there, shorter and smaller in width, gun in hand and a sharp smile cutting below the cowl.

Red floods his vision and mind.

The next thing he knows, he's crashing through walls of granite and limestone, his sternum smarting in ways he's only felt a number of times in memory. But his mind is stalled, because the Flash-fast glimpse he'd gotten before the first wall had swallowed him was an impossible sight.

Conner was dead. Whoever these imposters were, Kal was going to make them pay.

Diana's heart is hummingbird-fast in his ears, as rock falls around him and the Batman imposter moves about.

He shoves a slab of granite aside, heat surging through him, the red threatening to bleed over again. He takes a breath, tries to tamp it down – it's been ages since he's been angry enough to actually black out – and focuses on the near constant fear of the consequences of blind rage.

"Kon, stand down!"

"But, Tim -"

"Stand. Down."

The click of metal hitting metal, and with a push of his legs he's back in the cave, fist drawn back to strike –

-glimpse of a small, intricate, open metal box in Tim's other hand spilling over with golden light before he's no longer flying under his own control, the red cleared from his vision as if it never existed.

His body slams into Tim's as inertia takes over. The box and rigid body armor digs into his suddenly tender skin, pushing air up and out of his lungs in an involuntary gasp. The gasp turns into a grunt when an armored knee digs under his diaphragm, stealing more of his air.

His powers are gone, but Kal's still a Kryptonian – a human would take precious seconds being confused and dazed, but while he’s no longer fast enough to dodge the strikes, his mind doesn't work at a human's pace. When the butt of the gun cracks against his cheek, he turns with it, lessening the damage and wrenching himself away to roll across the cave floor.

He's jerked to a stop as a red boot heel slams into one of his wrists, pinning it with a sharp jolt of agony against the stone floor. The look-a-like Conner sneers down at him past a black shield of El.

"I have arrived home, Father." The liquid, formal tones of Kryptonian. As ever, his heart aches for every word despite the message they give him. "Will you not welcome me?"

"You are NOT Conner."

A black gauntlet falls on the doppelganger's red caped shoulder, pulling the boy-man back. "Of course not. Conner was a fantasy you created, Superman. This is Kon-El." Casted steel is carefully aimed between his eyes. "And this is the gun that murdered the Waynes. I was going to retire it after killing Bruce. But that's a waste of resources, don't you think?"

His eyes cut to the mockery in his suit, before staring into starlite lenses. "He's not Kon-El either, Tim. I don't know what he did to convince you, but Kon-El's dead."

"That's were you are wrong, Superman." A steel-toed boot connected with his ribs, and the crack of bone giving way mixed with the abrupt scream. "I did what no one even tried to do. I brought him back."

The heavy click of a revolver's hammer cocking. He needs to stall. "Why are you doing this?

"Dude," Kon-El says, shaking his head. "Do you really need to ask?"

Tim does not seem to react. "You and Bruce would have stopped us from doing what needs to be done. Diana would have avenged you both. And only Diana has shown that she will do what needs to be done."

Kon shifts behind Tim, wrapping an arm around the human's waist, pulling the armored body back against his chest. Tim smoothly adjusts the angle of his wrist. "The world needs Gods, Kal. And that is something you never wanted to be."

He has the time to curse himself a fool as Kon's other hand rests atop Tim's gun hand, and proceeds to squeeze the trigger.

*---*---*

Welcome home, son.

--Fin.

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Author's Note: For those who don't follow the Superman side of DC, Gold Kryptonite in Post-Crisis era can remove a Kryptonian's abilities for 15 seconds.