-Batman and Superman write letters to Bruce and Clark-

'Bruce Wayne,'

He stared at the words, unsure of how to follow them up. Setting pen to paper, he continued: 

'You'll be relieved to hear that we've taken good care of your son.'

Son? Ward? What difference did it make? For now he left it and continued the letter.

'We've heard much from the children regarding you and your colleagues,'

That seemed almost too charitable. 

'and I would kindly, but firmly, suggest you improve your treatment of them.'

Bruce squinted down at the letter and tore it out, he started over again. He knew the children would have to go back, as soon as they could get ahold of Fate, but he couldn't stomach sending them back to the same conditions they'd left. So with no other course of action, he wrote himself a letter:

'Wayne,
We've taken good care of the children. We have fed and cared for them. I hope you appreciate that.'

No, too confrontational, if he wanted the other him to listen, he had to start generously before tightening the noose to make his demands. He'd have to be slow and deliberate if he wanted to better the children's' treatment.

'B. Wayne,
You'll find the children have been well cared for, we did our best to make them feel at home. They've been very well behaved'

Maybe that was a stretch, but he'd rather exaggerate than have the kids get punished for going MIA in an alternate dimension. He wouldn't be surprised if that league found a way to blame them for what happened.

"Hey!" He started, whipping around to see Dick in the doorway. The boy looked suddenly sheepish. "Er... sorry... me and Alfred are done with lunch."

"I'll be right down." Bruce replied coolly.

"Oh. Okay." The boy slunk out.

He felt a little bad for snapping at the boy, but he wasn't used to those kind of interruptions. stuffing down the guilt, he returned to the letter.

'I hope you are comforted by your children's return, but having spoken to Robin and the others, I have some strong recommendations for you:

'Kindly do not blame them for this, it seems to have been caused by a dimensional flux of sorts, something I hope you realize teenagers can't create.

'You will also do well to treat your children as what they are, rather than using them as soldiers. Though I cannot stop you from having sidekicks, I hope I can convince you to at least take better care of them.

'Sincerely,'

He inked a miniscule bat in the corner of the page.

Lunch was strangely tense. Dick was very quiet. Bruce wasn't really used to talking either, so they just ate in silence.

"I think... I think I'd like to go back and see the team." Dick said at last.

Bruce couldn't say he wasn't relieved, he felt a strange tension with the kid there. He would have time to work on his letter.

"If you'd like," Alfred said, "then I'm sure that's possible." Alfred almost wished the boy to stay, it'd been so long since he'd had a child in the manor.

Kaldur was so glad to see his friend that he could've hugged him. "Robin, how are you?"

"I'm fine." He admitted, though he did feel a little bad, he'd gotten a little over-familiar with this Bruce and now he felt rather embarrassed. He'd acted like he did back at home, but this wasn't the same Bruce who pestered him about school night bedtimes and homework. "Where's Wally?"

"Catching up with Flash." M'gann replied.

"Robin," Conner asked, fiddling with his hands. "Was he nice?"

"Who? Oh, yeah." Robin said. "I mean, I can't wait to get home, but they were nice."

Conner looked away.

Artemis uncomfortably interrupted. "Hey, when we get back we'll be able to see Canary again." She said awkwardly. "And Wolf, and Sphere... plenty to look forwards to."

Wally held up his phone. "This is Superboy's dog, and that's Robin for scale."

"He's...big."

"I know right?" Wally swept through the photos. "This is sphere, she's basically a giant metal kickball who turns into a bike... Oh, that's uncle Barry and me." 

Wally regarded the photo, a picture of his younger self with a blond man in his early thirties. "...cute."

"Thanks. Aunt Iris sent us out for groceries when we took that one." Wally scrolled to a picture of a nasty purple bruise in the indent of a clenched fist. "Oh,  uh, ignore that one. That's evidence." He continued flipping through pictures, mostly of injuries, formulas written on chalkboards or food. He landed on one of him and his friends, covered in blood and dirt. "That's a picture we took after a training drill."

"You look pretty beat up."

"You should see how we look after a real mission." The boy laughed. "Here, I'll show you my souvenirs." 

'C.K.,

'It's strange to write to yourself, I hope you'll understand.

'I'm writing to you about Conner Kent.'

Clark hesitated, then added:

'(Superboy).'

He held the ballpoint ped a few more seconds, considering his next words.

'From what Conner has told us, it sounds like he doesn't think you've been too nice to him.'

That was an understatement. 

'I hope I can convince you, as one Super to another, that you can't pick and choose the kryptonian family the world gives you. You just need to be grateful you aren't alone anymore.

'I've been alone too, I've seen the possibility of having a happy kryptonian family made impossible for me, but if you've been given a kryptonian child please, for my sake, do not ignore this opportunity. Conner could be your only chance of not being alone

'Best,

'Superman'