As they approached the familiar, wrought-iron gates of Wayne Manor, a peculiar hum filled the air.

To everyone’s surprise, the Bentley didn’t stop. Instead, it smoothly lifted off the ground, a soft, powerful thrust propelling it upwards. Richie gasped, his face pressed to the window, eyes wide with astonishment as the manor grounds spread out beneath them. The car then gently flew and landed softly on the expansive back lawn, settling down with barely a whisper.

Inside, a stunned silence hung in the air until a familiar, beaming smile filled the windshield. Standing beneath a massive banner unfurled between two ancient oak trees, was none other than “Big Blue” himself, Superman, radiating warmth.

Beside him, the rest of the Justice League—Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Cyborg—stood, smiling broadly.

The large banner stretched proudly above them, emblazoned with bright, cheerful letters: WELCOME HOME RICHIE!

Richie’s jaw dropped. He looked at Bruce, then back at the impossible gathering of heroes, his small face illuminated by pure, unadulterated awe. He was excited beyond all reason, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across his face.

It was a complete surprise to Bruce and Hailey as well. Bruce’s usually unreadable expression was etched with genuine astonishment, while Hailey simply stared, her lips parted in disbelief. However, Alfred, ever the picture of composure, gave a slight nod and knowing smile to Superman.

Bruce caught it and immediately knew this was Alfred’s idea. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“You’re welcome, Master Bruce.” Alfred replied.

Superman, ever the courteous host even when landing a car in a garden, held the Bentley’s door open for them. Richie, still beaming, hopped out. Before rushing to the heroes, he turned and, with a serious little face, actually stopped to open Alfred’s door, a gesture that earned a soft chuckle from the stoic butler.

It was a homecoming party, not just for Richie, but, implicitly, for Bruce too.

All the heroes gathered around them, a dazzling assembly of powers and personalities, each radiating genuine warmth.

Superman was the first to approach, his smile broad and earnest. He knelt down, putting himself at Richie’s eye level. “Welcome home, Richie! We’ve heard all about you. It takes a very special kid to get Batman to crack a smile, and we’re all thrilled to have you here.” He then clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “And Bruce, congratulations. This is… well, this is probably the best thing you’ve ever done.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward, her regal presence softened by a genuine warmth. She offered a gentle smile to Richie. “Welcome to the family, young one. Your courage in facing such sorrow and finding joy again is truly inspiring.” She then turned to Bruce, her gaze steady. “You have opened your home, Bruce, and your heart. This is a powerful act of justice in itself.”

The Flash zipped in, momentarily appearing beside Richie and then Bruce in a blur. “Awesome! Congrats, both of you! This is way cooler than fighting giant robots, almost.” He gave Bruce a quick, celebratory clap on the back.

Green Lantern (Hal Jordan) grinned, his arms crossed. “Alright, Batman, who knew you had it in you? This is great. Welcome, Richie. Just try not to break any Bat-stuff too soon, okay?” He winked at the boy.

Aquaman gave a curt, approving nod. “A fine addition to the household, Bruce. Young Richard, you have found safe harbor. The currents of fate have brought you to a strong protector.” He offered a small, reassuring smile to Richie.

Cyborg clapped his metallic hand on Bruce’s shoulder, a surprisingly gentle thud. “What they said, B. Seriously though, this is big. Happy for you, man. And hey, Richie, if you ever need help with homework, or, you know, building a really awesome robot, I’m your guy.” He gave a thumbs-up.

Richie, overwhelmed but beaming, just stared up at them, wide-eyed. Bruce, still holding Richie close, looked at his friends, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but heartfelt, his gaze lingering on Richie, who was still trying to process the unbelievable scene. “Thank you, all of you.”

The party went on all afternoon, a truly unprecedented event at Wayne Manor. The air buzzed with laughter and lighthearted chatter, a stark contrast to the mansion’s usual quiet.

Richie, now fully absorbed in the fantastical reality before him, took it upon himself to keep the Flash thoroughly occupied. He seemed to have an endless supply of challenges for the speedster, each more outlandish than the last, all designed to prove just how fast he really was.

“Okay, okay, Mr. Flash!” Richie yelled, giggling as the hero appeared in three places at once. “If you’re really the fastest, then go get me a kangaroo from Australia! In under thirty seconds!”

The Flash just laughed, a bright, booming sound, as he watched Richie, looking at his watch, intently begin his countdown.

“One… two… three…” Richie’s voice was filled with a child’s serious determination.

When he got to “…eleven…” the Flash simply zipped away, a red blur, leaving a faint whoosh in his wake. Richie, unfazed, continued counting, his eyes fixed on the empty space where the hero had stood.

“Twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen… sixteen… seventeen… eighteen… nineteen… twenty… twenty-one… twenty-two… twenty-three…” Richie hadn’t even got “twenty-four” half out of his mouth when the Flash zoomed back into existence, a playful grin on his face and, cradled gently in his arms, a tiny, wide-eyed baby kangaroo.

Richie giggled with pure delight, reaching out a hesitant hand towards the little joey. The Flash chuckled warmly as he tousled the boy’s hair.

“I better get him back to his mother before she worries about him. Would you like to go?” the Flash asked Richie, a playful glint in his eye.

Richie looked at Bruce, his face alight with hopeful anticipation. “Can I?”

Bruce just nodded, a soft smile on his face. This was a moment of pure magic for the boy.

Flash knelt, and Richie clambered excitedly onto his back.

“Hold on tight,” Flash instructed, his voice filled with amusement.

With that, they were off, a red blur streaking across the lawn, Richie’s delighted laughter fading into the distance.

On the way back, the Flash apparently decided a quick detour was in order. As they reappeared in a flash of red, Richie giggled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The evidence of their side trip was all over his face: streaks of melted chocolate around his lips and smeared on his cheek.

Everyone laughed, a collective wave of warmth washing over the gathering. Richie, still grinning, dug into his pocket and triumphantly pulled out a chocolate bar, somewhat smashed but clearly intended as a gift, and held it up for Bruce.

“Authentic German chocolate. My favorite. Thank you, Richie,” Bruce took the slightly squashed bar with a genuine smile.

“You’re welcome.” Richie beamed. “We got it in Germany!”

Richie then turned to the Flash and whispered, “You’re my favorite hero. Don’t tell Batman.”

Bruce, despite the whispered instruction, heard it perfectly. He simply winked at the Flash, a rare, playful acknowledgment of the bond already forming between the boy and his impossibly fast friend.

Throughout the entire joyous celebration, Richie, completely uninhibited, apparently delivered his whispered confession to everyone. “You’re my favorite hero. Don’t tell Batman.” It brought quiet chuckles between the assembled heroes, a shared secret adding to the warmth of the afternoon.

Richie even approached Wonder Woman, looking up at her with wide, earnest eyes. “You’re too pretty to be fighting bad guys,” he declared, utterly sincere. He then added, “You’re almost as pretty as Dr. Hailey.”

Diana just laughed, a rich, melodic sound, and knelt to give him a gentle hug. Hailey, who had been chatting nearby, tried to act casual at the comment, but a faint blush crept up her neck, giving away her amusement and mild embarrassment.

***

For all the joy and lightheartedness, the gathering held a tension that only two of its guests could truly feel. The laughter was a beautiful cover for the unfinished business between the world’s two greatest heroes. As the sun began to dip, Superman and Bruce subtly peeled away from the festivities, disappearing into the quiet sanctuary of the study. Superman waited until the heavy oak door clicked shut before speaking, his voice lower, more serious than it had been all afternoon.

“Bruce,” he began, his blue eyes earnest, “I’ve always trusted your judgment, but not always agreed with it. This… this situation. Harley Quinn? You brought her into your home. Gave her a new identity, a new life, everything. She should be in prison.”

Bruce leaned back against his desk, his gaze steady.

“Clark,” he replied, his voice calm, “what purpose would her sitting in a cell serve? To be a trophy for the justice system? A reminder of past failures? She wasn’t found by Batman in some alley. She reached out to me, Bruce Wayne. She saw me on television, talking about the shelter, about second chances, about helping those Gotham had forgotten. She was on the precipice, Clark. She was close to suicide, utterly broken by years of Joker’s physical and mental abuse. He shattered her, twisted her, used her until there was nothing left but a shell of the woman she once was.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You know what he did to her, the torture, the manipulation. He threw her out of windows, electrocuted her, gas lighted her into thinking his cruelty was love. He would have had her murdered within a week of her trying to leave. You know that. She was a liability to him, a loose end. And if she wasn’t killed, she would have simply festered, plotting, potentially becoming an even greater threat in her rage.”

Bruce pushed off the desk, taking a step towards Superman.

“Instead, look at the good she’s done at the shelter. She’s Doctor Hailey Smith. She’s helping children, she’s counseling families, she’s building something truly positive in Gotham. She’s prevented countless tragedies through the 999 hot line. How would the public interest be served by denying that, by imprisoning someone who is actively, demonstrably making amends—who is using her unique insights, however twisted their origin, for profound good?”

He continued, his conviction unmistakable.

“She’s trying, Clark. Truly trying, every single day, to be better, to fix what she broke. She’s a living testament that people can change, that redemption is possible. Locking her away would simply be punishment, not justice. And Gotham, believe it or not, needs more healing than punishment right now.”

Superman listened, his expression thoughtful, his gaze never leaving Bruce’s. After a long moment, he finally nodded, a slow, deliberate movement.

“Maybe you’re right, Bruce,” Clark conceded, his voice soft. “In her case, maybe true justice for her victims isn’t incarceration. Maybe it is the healing of those who need help. Perhaps it’s Gotham seeing that even the most broken can be mended, and that hope isn’t just for the innocent.”

Bruce’s expression remained steady, a familiar intensity in his eyes.

“You know me, Clark. I’ll be the first one in line to throw her in prison if she backslides.”

***

Bruce and Clark rejoined the celebration, a subtle understanding passing between them. Richie, still buzzing from his kangaroo adventure and the presence of so many heroes, quickly found himself back in the thick of things. The afternoon continued with more laughter, more astonishing feats by the Flash—who now seemed to have a permanent, delighted shadow in Richie—and easy camaraderie among the world’s greatest heroes and the burgeoning family of Wayne Manor.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, the party started to wind down.

One by one, the members of the Justice League offered their final goodbyes and well wishes. Wonder Woman gave Richie a warm hug, reminding him to always be brave. The Flash ruffled his hair one last time, promising more “secret” ice cream adventures. Green Lantern gave Bruce a knowing nod, and Aquaman offered a silent, respectful salute. Cyborg waved his farewell.

Finally, only Superman remained. He shared a quiet look with Bruce, a silent acknowledgment of their earlier conversation and the profound shift taking place in Bruce’s life. He gave Richie a final pat on the head.

“Keep being a great kid, Richie,” he said softly. With a final, shared nod between the two titans, Superman launched himself into the sky, a streak of red and blue vanishing into the twilight.

The back lawn was quiet once more, save for the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of Gotham.

Richie, tired but radiating happiness, looked up at Bruce, his eyes still sparkling with the magic of the day. Bruce, with Hailey and Alfred by his side, put a hand on Richie’s shoulder, a warmth spreading through him that was far more comforting than any victory over a super villain.

The guardianship was official, the family complete, and a new chapter in all their lives had truly begun.

© Copyright 2025 J.R. Geiger. All rights reserved.