A/N Idea created on tumblr by me ( thecityofthefireflies) and newtsckamander

Spoilers for Voltron season 1. Also for general Batfam canon

Bruce deliberately ignored the ringing phone.

He was exhausted and just lifting his head to see which light on the monitor on his bed-stand was blinking was too much effort. The past month had been a hellish one. A world-wide threat had had the entire Justice League and every possible ally mobilized and constantly engaged for four weeks on end. Bruce had given himself the least breaks of all and they had finally shut down the entire operation fifteen hours ago. Bruce had debriefed and dismissed everyone on the Watchtower and then brought his brood back to Gotham and fallen asleep the second his head hit his pillow.

There were footsteps approaching his room - decisive and soft, distinctly Alfred.

The phone must be important enough for him to be woken up for.

Alfred opened his door, one gloved hand covering the receiver of the phone. There was an unreadable reserved look on his face, perhaps a tint of concern, or regret, or fear. Bruce couldn't tell but something didn't bode well.

"It's the Garrison, Master Bruce."

Ah. The Garrison. A now well-established private space exploration company and school facility. Bruce intellectually approved of them, after the Luthor Administration, it was a safer bet to have such a money-dependent scientific research facility separate from the government, but he still held some level of personal resentment for the Garrison.

Shiro had left him for the Garrison. Bruce really hadn't disapproved, Shiro had waxed poetic on space and how being an astronaut had been one of his earliest dreams. The bitterness came from the situation that spawned Shiro's secretive application and acceptance of a private school halfway across the country. Shiro had applied after Jason died.

He said he needed change to handle the loss of his younger brother. He never blamed Bruce the way Dick and Bruce himself had, nor had he blamed himself. He hadn't mentioned blame - just grief. So Bruce had signed all the paperwork, given him his blessings and a tight embrace, and sent his then youngest son to extended space camp.

That was years ago. Tim had come into their lives, and Cassandra, and Stephanie, and Jason had come back. Shiro had visited often, perks of a billionaire father meant he could fly back to Gotham every long weekend.

The phone Alfred handed to him was the designated parental phone, the number given to schools, civilian friends' parents, and other such persons.

"Hello?" Bruce tried to sound awake.

"Mr. Wayne? This is the Kerberos Mission ground-control commander. I don't want to alarm you, but protocol requires me to inform the designated contact of the astronauts. It's probably just a malfunction, but we're having communications interference with the Kerberos crew."

"You've lost contact with them." Bruce choked out. He felt cold. His hands were shaking but he kept his voice level. Communications issues were far from unheard of. If he was really concerned he could send Hal or John out to check on things - but he couldn't. It hit him that the Green Lanterns were in deep space by now, reporting back about the recent global incident. Hal had said he'd wave at Pluto when they went past. Dick and Stephanie had laughed at that.

"Yes. We don't have confirmation on why yet."

"Keep me updated." Bruce ordered into the phone. He felt so tired suddenly, weary from life and stress, but also like he'd never sleep again because how can he. His son was possibly in danger on the far side of the Solar System.

Ten years ago, Bruce would have said his most helpless moment had been watching his parents get gunned down and bleed out in Crime Alley. He had thought that being unable to do anything and therefore wasting the opportunity to be the epitome of helplessness.

Yesterday, he would have said that when Jason died was his low point. He had felt that having the skills and ability to have saved someone and just missing the chance by moments was real helplessness.

Now he was reconsidering. His son was in space and he was in both situations at once. He normally had contacts who could solve this, but they were gone. He had an opportunity but any efforts would be too late. This was true helplessness.

"Of course."

After that Bruce wasn't sure what pleasantries they exchanged to end the call. He was half on auto-pilot and half trying to figure out how to handle waking up and explaining to so many people that this happened.

Because Bruce was no optimist. He knew that if it was really just a short equipment issue they wouldn't have called Shiro's family. This was something serious.

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

Five hours later, when the next call came, Bruce took it in the Batcave. The others were all surrounding him at the computer, dressed in civvies and staring at the sprawling screen that was tapped into the Watchtower's current data-stream from the direction of Pluto in one corner, and monitoring the Garrison headquarters in another, and skyping Clark and Diana to keep the league updated.

Dick's hand clenched on his shoulder to ground him and Cass and Steph were warmths to his right he could feel the proximity of.

"We have an update. Are you seated?" Bruce's heart felt like it was both stopped and pounding. In a moment of inspiration he put the phone on speaker so he wouldn't have to voice the words in repetition. He grunted some form of affirmation.

"We have lost contact with the Kerberos crew. We have evidence that their vessel was destroyed. We are assuming piloting error. The crew is presumed dead. We offer our condolences -" The phone cracked in Bruce's hand.

Piloting error.

They blamed his son. His son the astronaut. The one who wasn't supposed to die. The one he never spent nights awake worrying about.

Shiro had been the "token civilian" member of the family. He had preferred a support role more like Alfred to being a vigilante. Jason had been Robin and Dick was Nightwing and Shiro never expressed interest in creating his own mantle. Bruce had been very happy with this and the lack of stress over the safety of another child.

And now he was gone.

Diana was saying something over the screen about Clark and J'onn and some other league members heading to Pluto to verify as soon as possible.

Someone pried the phone out of his clenched hand and he repurposed his empty hand to press the teenagers clinging to his front closer to him. His eyes were too blurred to see who and he couldn't bring himself to care.

They were all one mass pressed together into a body of grief. Stephanie, Cassandra, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian-.

Damian, who would never meet Shiro.

Damian had only been in Bruce's life for a year, and the six months before Shiro left for his mission had been busy and his short stints visiting Gotham had always happened to coincide with Damian's visits to his mother, or school trips, or extended missions.

They were anguished with no direction. No body. No culprit. No one to blame. No real need for violence to solve this outside of the catharsis from emotion it would provide.

He couldn't really blame the Garrison. He had checked their records and finances and intentions thoroughly and found them satisfactory enough to let them send his son hurtling into the void of space on a research mission.

Bruce wanted desperately to regret that. Shiro had wanted to be an astronaut and now Bruce wished he had instead chosen to be a vigilante because at least he would have been down here on Earth and Bruce could have died himself trying to protect him.