Chapter Text
The moon. He can see the moon. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, through the telepathic images he’d been given, but it was… different, somehow. The brightness overwhelms his new Kryptonian senses. And everything is so loud. Heartbeats resonate in every direction, water courses beneath the street, electricity pulses through the city, and he can hear it all. He had never realized how quiet they kept CADMUS until now.
He can hardly focus on what the surrounding teenagers say. He can hear something coming towards them, though, and when he looks up, he sees him. Superman. He might teach him, he might help him. The Superboy knows what fathers are. He knows he does not have one. But he still can not keep the hope from his face as Superman flies into view.
He is everything that The Superboy had imagined he would be. He is strong, and graceful in his flight. His face is kind, and his eyes are piercing. The Superboy can see himself in Superman’s face.
The boy in yellow - Kid Flash? - is making a joke beside him, but his ears are not helping him anymore. There are too many noises. So The Superboy watches as his purpose for living lands in front of him. Superman is eyeing him with curiosity. He lifts the torn piece of his shirt to reveal the symbol. He does not have enough mind left to speak. He hopes it will be enough explanation.
The shock on Superman’s face rapidly morphs into anger. The Superboy does not know what to do. This is not the reaction he has anticipated. Superman is kind, he is forgiving. This is not the reality he was taught about. People are talking, but he does not hear it, he only sees an angry face.
He finds his words. Just a few of them. “I’m Superman’s clone!” I’m your clone. I’m your son. Help me. He tries to explain himself, but Superman’s gaze only hardens further.
He can not hear anything over the city for a while. He does not even know if anyone is speaking. Superman has turned away from him, but The Superboy cannot see anything besides the mentor he was supposed to have. When Superman turns to speak to him, he focuses enough to hear him again.
“The League will, uh- figure something out for you.” Batman is frowning over at Superman, but Superman continues to speak, “I better make sure they get the Blockbuster creature squared away.” Superman flies away, and Batman’s angry grunt doesn’t stop him.
The Superboy does not know anything anymore. The moon is different. Superman is different. CADMUS is different. He is different. He does not know when he put his hands over his ears, but he is glad. Superman does not want him, and he does not want to hear what will happen to him now.
He flinches when someone crouches down in front of him, but Batman’s words are soft, even if he can still hear them through his hands, “Come with me,” Batman beckons with a hand, and The Superboy does not know how to do anything but follow.
His hands remain over his ears as he follows the Bat, even if the thousands of heartbeats continue to overwhelm him. Batman leads him to a sleek black ship, and The Superboy does not hesitate to follow him inside. One of the teenagers who freed him - freed , is he free? Is this what free feels like? He does not like it - is already on the ship, strapped into a seat.
As soon as the ship seals itself closed, the noise just… stops. He can still hear the heartbeats of Batman and the teenager, he can still hear the hum of the ship, but nothing else. Thousands of heartbeats, gone. The rushing water, the voices, all the things making his brain scream. They stop.
His hands drop from his ears. He is on the floor. He does not know how he got there. His face feels wet, his body is shaking, and his breath is leaving him in heaving gasps. He takes a moment to realize he is crying. Sobbing . He has only ever seen it on other people.
The noise is gone, and there is no longer anything to stop his thoughts. His brain cannot stall any longer, and all he knows is that Superman does not want him. He has no purpose. Maybe he never did. He has only ever been a tool, a project, a clone. And he does not know who to be without those labels.
At some point during The Superboy’s sobbing, the teenager left his seat and is now wrapping a blanket around The Superboy’s shoulders. Batman is in front of him, speaking gently. His voice is a deep rumble as he speaks practiced words of comfort. “I know. It’s okay. You are safe with us.”
The Superboy knows the words mean nothing, but they soothe him all the same.
_-_-_-_
The Superboy does not remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to the gentle shuddering of the ship as it touches down. The kid - Robin, he remembers now - eyes him warily as the ship unseals. The noises flood his senses, but they are different here. Things moving, squeaking. Bats, he realizes. And another heartbeat outside the ship. These noises are manageable and less overwhelming. Robin seems to relax when he sees that The Superboy does not panic.
Batman exits the ship first, with Robin following behind him. The Superboy takes a moment to gather himself, scrubbing at his eyes and cheeks, before following along. The blanket is still draped over his shoulder, but it provides a comfort he has never had before, and he cannot bring himself to put it down.
Outside of the ship waits an elderly man in a tailored suit, with a grey mustache. He inclines his head towards The Superboy, “Alfred Pennyworth, a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?”
The man's accent surprises him, but only for a moment. The Superboy bites his lip, thinking. He has never had to introduce himself before. “They call me The Superboy.”
Robin stares at him incredulously for a moment. “ The - Do you have a name?”
The Superboy blinks, thinking, “The scientists referred to me as Project KR sometimes.” He shrugs. He has never had a name. He does not know any differently.
Robin gasps dramatically, and The Superboy flinches, but Robin only continues dramatically, “We have to give you a name! KR…” The boy hums and begins sounding out letters, seemingly randomly. “Ka… Ke… Ko… Kon - R… That’s it! Conner! That should be your name!” The boy is practically bouncing up and down, and The Superboy can’t help but adopt some of his enthusiasm.
“Con-ner…” A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth, and he turns back to Mr. Pennyworth, “Okay, my name is Conner.” The name feels a bit unfamiliar in his mouth, but he is delighted anyway. His very own name.
Mr. Pennyworth nods in acknowledgment, a small smile gracing his face. He looks like the kind of person who only gives small smiles.
The Sup- Conner takes a moment to look around. The space is huge. The platform they are standing on connects to a much larger one by a metal bridge. The main platform has all sorts of things that Conner has never seen in real life before. A huge computer system graces the center. Glass cases surround countless suits along one side. Trophies and keepsakes litter the space in decoration, and there even appears to be what looks like a dinosaur. Conner gapes at the space.
Before he can get lost in gaping at the large space, however, Batman clears his throat, “Conner,” he acknowledges, “since you are under the care of the Justice League, we need to find a place for you to stay until we can find a permanent solution.”
Conner’s heart sinks, and his mouth snaps shut. He does not want to know what happens now. He has no purpose. He does not know what the Justice League does to useless things.
Conner mentally prepares himself for the worst. So, naturally, Conner completely bluescreens when Batman says, “So I would like to offer you to stay here with us for the foreseeable future.”
Batman’s face is perfectly calm, and that is the only thing that stops Conner from outright laughing at the offer. He had learned about Batman, from the scientists who made him, the same way he had learned about Superman. Batman works alone, aside from Robin. Batman is ruthless. Batman keeps his secrets close to his chest. And Batman does not like super-powered metas and aliens in his city.
“I- Are you-” Are you serious? He does not finish his question. Where else would he go? He needs this offer. Conner clears his throat, “Yes, that would be- Thank you.” He looks around the cavernous space. Some hallways looked like they might lead to rooms… “Is there a room down here, or…?”
Robin, who Conner had nearly forgotten was here, bursts into laughter. He gasps out words between breaths, “B- He- Beds- down here-” He laughs probably too hard, but Conner assumes he must be exhausted from their day, bordering on giddy.
Batman sighs through his nose, ignoring the laughing boy beside him, “No, Conner, we will not be keeping you here, in the cave. I am inviting you to stay in my home.” Batman hesitates for a long moment, his hands twitching at his sides before he slowly reaches up to remove his cowl.
Conner is stunned into silence, even before he removes the cowl. He didn’t expect him to just give up his iden- and oh holy shit that’s Bruce Wayne. Conner has never met Bruce Wayne, obviously , but he had studied history, popular culture, politics, a little bit of the ongoings in the business world, and countless other things in his telepathic education. He knew who Bruce fucking Wayne was.
Of course, his shock makes him open his mouth, and his ability to stop talking has left him. “Oh, fuck, you’re Bruce Wayne. Like The Bruce Wayne. This is- how does nobody know? This is-”
He cuts himself off when Robin - who has removed his mask to reveal Dick Grayson, holy hell - starts laughing again. There’s an amused tilt to Batman’s lips, and Conner blushes so hard, that he’s sure his face matches the emblem on his chest.
Despite his embarrassment, Conner’s mind is still racing, and suddenly it hits him. “Are you inviting me to stay at Wayne Manor?” It comes out at almost a squeak. If Conner had known this would be the consequence of pissing off Superman, maybe he would’ve set out to do that from the start.
Alfred Pennyworth steps up from where he had been observing the conversation, a reserved tilt to his lips, “Young sir, if you would follow me, I can show you to a room upstairs. You must be tired.”
For the second time that day, Conner forgets how to do anything except follow. Batman and Robin split away at one of the hallways, presumably to go change, but Conner just follows blindly behind the elderly man.
He leads Conner up a long set of stairs. At the top, he opens a panel in the wall, and they step into a study. The room is simple but still manages to emanate wealth. They emerge from behind a clock made of deep-colored wood, black Roman numerals stand out against a cream-colored face. A desk made of an identical shade of wood stands in front of the clock, with a chair of matching wood and plush, purple velvet. Bookshelves line the walls, and Conner would surely be intrigued if he wasn’t so overwhelmed. Two couches frame a short coffee table in one corner of the office, and one wall has a large window that looks out onto a beautiful garden. The window is framed with heavy curtains that brush against the floor. Conner doesn’t have time to take in the rest of the room before Mr. Pennyworth leads him out into the hall.
The rest of the house carries a similar opulence, and Conner is thoroughly blown away by the time they reach their destination. The room Alfred leads him to is beautiful, with deep blue sheets on a huge bed, and a large window that lets in plenty of sun.
“The bathroom is through there,” Alfred points to a door against the left wall, “I have left some clothing that I believe will fit you on the counter. If you would like to clean up, I am almost finished with dinner. You can get clean and eat before you get some well-deserved rest. How does that sound?” Despite his proper accent and professional language, the man’s tone is gentle and soothing.
Conner nods, a little too overwhelmed for words, but Alfred just nods and leaves the room. Conner doesn’t take any time to rest. He has a feeling that as soon as he stops moving, he’ll break down again. He takes a quick shower with the soap left for him in the bathroom, marveling a bit at the wonderful hot water. He pulls on the clothes left for him, a soft grey t-shirt and black sweatpants that he has to tie to keep from falling, and wanders out of the room.
He only worries about how to find his way for a moment before he hears Bruce Wayne’s voice coming from somewhere in the house. He follows the sound, and he ends up in a small dining room. Bruce seems to be giving Alfred a rundown of the situation, and admonishing Dick for his recklessness. As soon as Conner gets close to the room, the conversation cuts off.
Dick smiles at him when he enters, and Bruce gives him a brief nod. Alfred ushers him over to a chair before serving him up a plate of spaghetti. It takes until he has a forkful of food in his hand for Conner to remember he’s never eaten a real meal before. He knows about food, through his education, but he had always been fed through a tube in the lab.
Bruce must notice his hesitation because he sends him a questioning glance. Conner, however, is too embarrassed to admit his inexperience with food and shoves the bite into his mouth. It tastes nothing like he expected, and he has to take a moment to taste the food before deciding it has to be the best thing he will ever eat.
Bruce and Dick chat idly through the meal, but Conner is busy devouring his way through 4 whole plates of spaghetti. When he is finished, he wipes his mouth on a napkin, like he knows he is supposed to do, and finally looks at the other people at the table. Dick looks astonished at how quickly he ate, and Conner ducks his head sheepishly.
“Sorry,” Conner clears his throat, “I- uh- I’ve never…” Conner trails off, a little embarrassed to have to explain this.
Bruce’s eyes widen in realization, “You’ve never had food before.” Conner nods, and Bruce gets a considering glance, “How old are you, Conner?”
Conner breathes out shakily, “Um, I don’t actually know. Like, I can remember things about the last three or four months. I don’t know how long I was being, um, grown before that.”
Dick blinks a couple of times, “You’re four months old??” His face is incredulous, but his mouth is twitching like he might burst into laughter at any second.
Bruce shoots Dick a disapproving glare, then turns back to Conner, “Of course, I should have considered that. I’m glad you enjoyed the food at least.” Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly, “How about we all get some rest? I know it’s early, but it’s been a long day.” Bruce stands and collects all of their plates.
Conner stands up too, “Um, Mr. Wayne? Thank you. For, letting me stay, I guess. Thanks.” Conner’s words are shaky and unsure, but the man just inclines his head towards him.
“Please, call me Bruce. Or B, if you’d rather. And I’m happy to have you here. Tomorrow, after we’ve all gotten some rest, we’ll work out the details. For now, Dick can show you the way back to your room. Sleep well, Conner.” Bruce doesn’t smile, but one corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
Despite his worry over breaking down, Conner is so tired that he passes out nearly before he makes it to the bed. The bed is soft and different from what he is used to, the sounds here are unfamiliar, and Conner has a billion thoughts running through his head. But those are all things he can worry about tomorrow. For now, Conner lets himself sleep.