Close Quarters (A Young Justice/Superboy fanfiction)

A Long Walk in the Rain

-YAY! I finally updated!! Sorry it too F O R E V E R ! But I'll try and update the other books as soon as I can! I'm about to start my night job as a scare actor at a theme park throughout October, which is super exciting, but I ought to have time to write during the day!-

It must be nearing dawn now and the rain has let up somewhat, but Superboy is still cold and wet and miserable, marching obediently towards his ethical unravelling. Parts of him wants to go back and selfishly allow Mr. Alfred to take care of him, but he was supposed to be like Superman: selfless, moral, perfect. He needed to do the correct thing and turn himself over to Superman, to the one who was actually selfless, actually moral, actually perfect. Superman would give the just reckoning, and he could rest easy. Even is he was damned to the fifth or seventh circle of hell, he could rest easy knowing he was evil and punishing himself eternally.

The moon had set, and he'd long escaped the oppressive city boarders of Gotham, so Superboy trampled along the side of the slick, quiet highway, thankful that his eyes had been given a reflective membrane to aid in night vision. He didn't know if superman had that as well, or if that's just what made his inferior sight into thermal vision, but it brought the looming city in the distance sharp focus through the fog.

He was hungry, and his legs were cramped, as even Superboy could be injured by his own body, and right now his knees weren't bending enough as he walked, and his entire lower body and core ached for it. Things like this made him realize how weak he was. Superman didn't hurt himself from just walking wrong...

The first few cars whipped down the highway ahead of him. He had been told that humans worked all day and slept all night, but the past six weeks of his life had challenged that assumption. The Team, the League, Batman, The people in these cars, and even Mr. Wayne apparently worked all day AND all night.

Metropolis was closer than before, and the cars and bus-long trucks were shooting by more frequently again, but he still easily had four km to go before crossing the city boarders. He'd like to speed it up, but he couldn't risk using his powers and doing the wrong thing and upsetting Superman again. Not to mention that he couldn't stand to jump when he could avoid it, no matter how his friends tried to make it sound, he was bound to gravity, and he lacked what many must think Superman's most iconic strength.

Lois paced anxiously, tugging the roots of her hair. It was fast approaching daybreak and she was still in her friend's apartment. She was still processing the information she'd just learned. As organizing and documenting was a part of her job, Lois laid out the facts in her mind:

Fact 1) Clark (at some point in his teenage years) was taken advantage of and unwillingly fathered a child

Fact 2)The child was kept from the public eye, and the Kent's never pressed charges to save the scandal

Fact 3) About fifteen years later, Clark has suddenly gained custody of the child, who seems to have multiple learning disabilities and most likely deep childhood trauma and neglect

There were still a few blanks: did the Kents neglect him or was he living with his other parent? Did he have a name, or was he off the record? Where did Superman take him? Was he okay? They'd already called hospitals and jails, but with no legal name nothing had turned up.

"I should throw myself out the window..." Lois pondered sickly. "Or in front of a bus. then Superman might show his guilty, lusty face!" After a long minute Clark spoke up. "Do you think... do you think he's lonely?"

"Probably. He's just a kid." Things got quiet for a long time after that. 

"Have you eaten?" Clark asked. It was one of the things he asked a lot when she was irritated. It never failed to make her more irritated because he was usually right. 

"Have you?" Lois asked off reflex. To her surprise, Clark shook his head. He was usually the responsible one. It wasn't always that he failed the base of Maslow's hierarchy. 

With resolve, slipping back into the heels she'd kicked off for comfort, Lois stood. "I'm going to get take-out." She wraps herself in her jacket, but refused the umbrella Clark silently offered her. "Call me if something happens." 

She left. Silently hopeful that in the pacing of the Metropolis, her eyes might grace a familiar splash of greasy hair; hopeful she might expunge herself of guilt from this child's abduction. 

Metropolis was just as rainy as Gotham. His friends always described them as opposites: Gotham, the ever raining city of the dark and macabre, and Metropolis the summer-city of light and hope; but other than better streetlights (making him shy away for fear of being seen) the two city's may have well been the same.

Superboy felt his apprehension grow as he tramped through the city, towards the heaviest heartbeat pounding through his ears. He knew he ought to lay himself out to his fate, but the fear of further intruding, forcing Superman to give him judgement, made him slow his trudge. A large, long car slowed on the street beside him. Not wanting to be disappointed by the driver's abandonment, like before, he ignored the car, shielding his face in the shadows. 

The car stopped and two tall doors opened with a psshht, revealing two steps up. "Hey, kid, which way are you heading?" Asked a person, an adult, sitting behind a very large wheel. Superboy glanced at the doors, and the well-lit rows of seats within the big car. It looked warm. He jerked his eyes away, trying to shake the temptation, they would just tear away again the second he gained hope. "Hey, it's okay if you don't have fare, you really shouldn't be out this time." The person continued. "My route takes me over to Hastings, you heading that way?"

Superboy gave the glance towards the big car and the person within, maybe. Maybe this person was different... But just as the excitement grew, Superboy's saw the person's eyes catch at look at him, and grow slightly in surprise. Dread replacing the temporary excitement, he pulled back into the darkness, quickly slipping into an alleyway, and crouching behind a dumpster. He covered his ears as hard as he could, gritting closed his eyes.

Time seemed to inch by, millisecond by millisecond. Superboy didn't know why, but people reacted strangely to the sight of him. They were human and he wasn't, but even then, they seemed to react worse than they did to Superman, or any on the other non-humans. Was it that easy to tell he wasn't human? The others looked human enough, maybe he didn't? He looked like Superman, but did he look like a person?

The pain took over, clouding his mind, and Superboy pulled his hands away from his ears. Black Canary said he lacked 'self preservation instincts', which meant he didn't know his strength and he hurt himself on accident. Superman knew his strength. 

There was a  the Psshht of the doors closing, and the lights flashing through the alley as the big car passed his hiding spot.

Superboy waited until the throbbing in his skull lessened, and crawled out of his hiding spot. With everything clouding his brain, Superboy could get only three things straight: He needed to get back to superman, he didn't want to go back to superman, and he didn't want to be seen by any of the humans.

Stepping back out of the grime and into the street, he began dragging himself forwards again.

Clark's guard may as well be six feet under; Bruce, Dick, and Alfred had the kid (probably better for the kid), and Lois was out getting food. He had nothing to fight and no one to lie to, and the thoughts began to unwantedly enthrall him. How would Martha and Jonathan feel when their farm was practically destroyed and they find a baby there, a baby who needed them to care for it even though it had just made a crater out of their entire lively hood. 

He knew Lois was right, the kid was his trauma not his obligation, but he also knew that his mother and father had done the right thing, and with these contradictory ideas, Clark was stumped. Could it be possible, perhaps, that both could coexist? The kid was his trauma and he could try to do good by him?

Drowned by his thoughts, Clark jumped in shock from a soft, gentle knock at the door. "Lois?" He called. She was back quick. There was another knock. "It's open." He sighed, not having bothered to lock when she left. There was a third, even softer knock, and Clark drudged up and towards the door. "I left it unlocked for you, Lo, I--"

And as he opened the door, Clark came face-to soaking wet hair with his clone. Victor Frankenstein was correct in how the abominations of science, abandoned to the elements, will always come back.