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Every Sunday, Bernard straps himself into a harness, hands the harness over to Krypto, and flies back to Gotham.
He meets his parents at the church door. They're always dressed in their Sunday best. Bernard's always covered in white dog fur.
Somehow, they make it work. Maybe. It's something close to "working," at least.
Darla and Helena always sit in the back. Tim used to sit there, too, but then he and Darla broke up, and now Tim normally stands in the back, that free space left for folks when all the seats are gone.
Tim's described himself as "Jewish-if-anything.” They all know he's not here for the sermon.
In some ways, Bernard envies him.
He still sits with his parents, though.
They've gotten into a routine. Bernard will leave when it’s time for the Eucharist, the Holy Sacraments, the Body and Blood, if you will. Once people start lining up to receive them, he’ll slip out those Church doors with Tim right at his heels.
If Bernard were a braver man, a better ex-Robin, he'd line up with the rest of the congregation and cross his arms over his chest in an X—a universal signal that someone does not want to receive the Body or the Blood, thank you very much.
That's what he intended to do on Sunday no.1, when his attempt to just... stay seated in the pew had visibly pissed off his parents. So Bernard got in line with his hands clasped uncomfortably, and got lightheaded with anxiety before he made it even halfway to the front, his mother’s nails cutting into his skin when she tried to catch him.
He hasn't made a repeat attempt since.
Bernard still remembers the way Tim rushed after him when he staggered outside, desperate to avoid passing out from anxiety in the middle of the Church, even if that ship had pretty much sailed already.
He calls these fainting spells “panic attacks,” because that's the closest term he's got, even if they don't quite look like the other panic attacks he's witnessed.
"My parents must hate me right now," Bernard told Tim back then, once he'd made it to a bench just past the Church doors, somehow managing to avoid tripping over the marble steps and braining himself on the concrete.
"Your parents," Tim started, his voice forcibly even in a way that made Bernard want to start laughing hysterically, "chose to bring you here. And then they pushed you to get in line for the, uh." Tim's nose wrinkled.
God, he was adorable. "The Holy Sacraments?" Bernard said, smirking weakly. "The Body and Blood?"
Bernard's smile faltered and fell when he registered what he'd said. He closed his eyes and fought down another shudder. "I think I need to, like, punch something."
"You could punch me," Tim said.
"What? No. What the hell?"
"I didn't want you punching a wall," Tim defended instantly, like he hadn't just offered to be Bernard's punching bag.
"Dude, there's a literal gym at—“ Bernard stopped. He did not have access to a literal gym, because he did not have access to the Batcave (or the Manor or anything, really).
"Sure," Tim said uncomfortably, still watching Bernard. Had he guessed what Bernard was about to say? It was Tim, he very well may have. "But I figured you'd insist on having lunch with them. If you do, it'll be a while before you can get to one."
That... was irritatingly accurate. Fuck. Bernard ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck.
"I'm not gonna punch you."
"Or the wall?"
"Or the wall, Christ, Tim. I was just... I don't know. Just because I feel like I need to punch something doesn't mean I'm going to punch something right the fuck now."
So they sat together on that bench until mass ended and out came Helena Bertinelli, AKA Huntress. She was followed shortly thereafter by Darla, AKA the ideal 2 for 1 special on a new sidekick and a new foster kid, who'd recently entered Huntress' custody. Bernard wishes he had Darla's shelf appeal. The moment she locked eyes on Bernard, he was getting wrapped in one of her suffocating hugs, and that bolstered him enough to be almost ready for dealing with his parents.
In the end, Helena stepped in before either of the Dowds could drag Bernard away. They went and got lunch together, all six of them, and then Bernard left on Krypto as soon as they finished eating to spare himself the lecture.
They've done the same thing every Sunday since—Bernard and Tim leaving just before the Eucharist, then everyone getting lunch together after mass—except for how six became five once Tim and Darla broke up.
Bernard imagines this is what it'll feel like if his parents ever actually get divorced—that is, in an alternate reality where his parents give a fuck about him. Tim takes the during-Church shift, and Darla takes the post-Church luncheon.
Bernard's not sure how to feel about the fact that Darla's stopped going by Laura, mostly because Darla never explained her feelings about the name "Laura" in the first place.
She came back from the dead with demonic powers and her new name, briefly tried to kill Robin for Johnny Warlock, then pivoted right into superheroing and rekindling her romance with Tim. Bernard’s not sure what happened between that last step and now, how exactly Darla ended up going by Darla again and breaking up with Tim and living with Huntress. In fact, Bernard isn't even certain who broke up with who. And just because Bernard was the one to introduce Darla and Helena doesn’t mean he knows how the fostering thing happened.
He worries that she feels like she can't tell him these things, that he's too fragile to lend her an ear.
It bothered Bernard, how Tim kept calling Darla "Darla" when she first came back from the dead, back when she was still asking to be called "Laura." He wonders if stuff like that's part of why they broke up, in the end, but then why is Darla still going by Darla now?
And listen, Bernard knows Tim wouldn't deadname him, if Tim knew he's trans. Tim might actually know already, since he's a bit of a stalker like that—those stalkerish tendencies were how Tim figured out that Dick was Robin, after all.
Point is, Bernard isn't worried that Tim's handling of Darla's situation reflects how Tim would handle Bernard's situation, because they're two very different situations.
Bernard's an intersex trans dude who was raised as a girl, Darla's an endosex cis girl who was raised from the dead—it'd be like comparing apples to oranges.
Not to mention, Tim's only ever known Bernard as Bernard.
Long story short, Bernard shouldn't be letting his own issues affect how he feels about Tim and Darla's stuff, but of course he inevitably does. It's the same way that thinking about Jesus only ever makes him think about Brother Blood or Kon, these days. Grief's had him thinking more about Kon than Brother Blood, though—Kon and the cult of people who've convinced themselves Superboy'll come back to life any day now.
Don't get Bernard started on the fact that Cassie's gone and joined that cult. Bernard knows a cult when he sees one, okay—when you accidentally join the Church of Blood in the 5th grade, you learn how to recognize the warning signs.
In some ways, Bernard's grateful. If he'd never joined the Church of Blood's fucked-up version of a summer camp, he never would've ended up on Batman's radar. If he'd never ended up on Batman's radar, he never would've ended up on Alfred's radar, never would've become Alfred's apprentice.
If Bernard hadn't been Alfred's apprentice, he wouldn't have been practicing his disguises in the Cave when Tim Drake showed up. If Bernard hadn't been practicing his disguises, hadn't already had that red wig firmly in place, he wouldn't have been there to witness Tim's insistance that Batman needed a Robin—he would've been too busy staying hidden from Tim to join in on the conversation.
If Bernard hadn't already been there, Alfred never would've sent Bernard out as Robin—Alfred's last-ditch attempt to save Dick and Bruce's butts.
If Alfred hadn't sent Bernard out as Robin, Bernard never would've become Robin.
...and if Bernard hadn't become Robin, he never would've met Kon.
And on and on and on.
Today’s a Sunday. Bernard wakes up to the sound of roosters crowing at dawn, and it's still such a jarring sound for a city kid like him, even after so long living at the Kent's farm.
He'd been sleeping in one of Kon's black-and-red tees with a pair of boxers, and Krypto had been sleeping on top of him, but they're both awake, now.
Even after their break-up, sometimes Bernard's desperately jealous of Tim and Darla. She was Tim's first girlfriend, just like Kon was Bernard's first boyfriend. They both died around the same time, even.
But only Darla came back to life.
Don't get him wrong—Bernard loves Darla, and he's so grateful she's alive again. But if Kon came back, Bernard would have to be physically pried from his side.
Honestly, Bernard doesn't want to think about what he would give to see Kon alive.
Kon's death is the only reason Bernard has these Sundays with his parents.
Bernard's mom reached out after she heard about Superboy dying. His parents hadn't known about Bernard being Robin, but they'd definitely known about Bernard dating Superboy, after the time they’d walked in on Bernard making out with a fully-costumed Kon.
Apparently it was easier for them to pity a grieving gay son with a dead boyfriend than to tolerate a gregarious gay son with a living one.
Bernard knows—he'd give these Sundays with his parents up in a heartbeat if it meant undoing Kon's death. He's never going to be Catholic again. His parents are the only reason he goes, and they don't even care enough to recognize the way he's flaying himself open for the chance of a relationship with them.
Krypto licks Bernards face, then, effectively dragging him back to the present moment.
At least Darla and Tim will be there.
Bernard drags himself up, drags his clothes on, and goes to make breakfast with Ma Kent. He'd rather make breakfast for Ma, but she won't hear of it unless it’s a special occasion, and Bernard's learned to adapt.
His church clothes will be covered in dog hair by the time he lands in Gotham, but Bernard can't make himself care about that.
If he keeps at it, maybe Bernard can make his parents care about him, make himself remember that he does love them, really, despite the layers of apathy that've sunken into his skin.
Given how messed-up Bernard's head is right now... it's probably for the best that he'd quit being Robin.