Author's Notes: Written after Superboy died.
His feet dragged across the floor. He'd worked too hard tonight... this week...
He flopped down on the bed. Who was he kidding, working took his mind off what had happened... off his friends... off times when they were around. He'd worked harder since they left.
He blinked slowly. His eyes didn't want to stay open.
He glanced over at the mirror. Why was it he couldn't recognize the person he saw there?
He managed to seat himself upright. He brushed a gloved hand through his hair.
When had he lost himself?
He frowned at his reflection; he knew the answer to that. He had lost himself, when he had lost him.
The gloves were easy to remove, but it had become harder and harder to remove the armor... and almost impossible to remove the mask. He fumbled with the tunic.
He could almost hear him urging him to remove it more quickly.
His hands shook; he didn't know why, the tunic didn't protect his emotions' fragility.
But the mask.
The tunic dropped lightly to the floor. The mask protected him now more than the armor could. Unfeeling, it stared back at him in the mirror.
Even knowing the truth, he didn't want to see it in his own eyes. He felt broken.
He was broken.