Title: Perfect Fit
Author: xlivvielockex
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 409
Prompt: Sidekick Free for All: Connor
Characters/Pairing (if any): Connor
A/N: Post-NFA. Spoilerish. Written before the comics came out.
It's like being in the witness protection program. Someone else decides what your life is going to be. You get shuttled off to a new place, a new life. And when someone finds out or things change, its time for another new life.
Can't tell anyone your old name (Stephen? Connor? Holtz? Reilly?). Can't tell them about your old life (The Greeks would have had a field day with it.) Can't let anyone know anything about you (Connor's got three daddies).
You don't know what your job will be. You never really fit. Your new name sounds kind of strange to your ears. The new life is like a shoe that is too small. It starts out just a little weird, tight but okay. Then it rubs. And it hurts. And at the end of a long day, it's rubbed you raw.
You've moved to a new life. Again. Again, not your choice. Someone bigger is always deciding what your new life is going to be. People found out about the old life, found out about the second chance life – not long until they find out about the new life. No matter how hard they try to cover it up and keep you out of sight.
New life reminds you of old life. The really old life. Before your second chance family got sucked into Hell with the rest of L.A. Now, it's like old times, the old life, some of the second chance life. Old dad taught you how to survive in the worst conditions. Second chance dad taught you compassion (you think). And real dad, he made you a killer.
New name. No last name this time. Did you have a last name the first time? You were too young to remember. But you don't think about that now. Too much to occupy you. You get up every morning, fight until the blisters on your hands break open and bleed. You lie. You steal. You save a few unfortunate souls. You have so much blood on your hands anymore. Blood from the old life, the second chance life, the new life, you aren't sure what's yours anymore.
You go to bed. You sleep when you can. Most times you remember to say goodnight to new life dad, real dad. Not old dad or second chance dad. They're long gone by now, along with those lives. But for the first time in all your lives, the shoe fits.