Author's Notes:

Hey, remember me? Probably not. I've been gone longer than the show itself, haha. Bad joke, ok. But anyway, I was inspired to write this fic last night and then it turned out to tie-in kind of ish with the things revealed in today's episode. Funny how life works that way, eh?

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Noise

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Night came crashing down like a shit block on a Saturday night.

Superboy struggled to retain what little composure he had, curling his fists and hanging it at his waist. He turned to the wall beside him, biting his lip to stop from screaming. He thought. What happened to the wall wasn't his problem. The team could afford to fix dents. Batman could, he corrected his thoughts. The steel was begging him to unleash his rage— to scream and shout like he usually did whenever the pressure of "feelings" became too much.

But he stopped. Supey took a breath and continued walking. He only just had to get to the living to room— to the green sofa that has pretty much taken his shape after all these years— to sit down and watch static TV until he fell asleep.

Sleep was nice.

If anything, thank god clones can sleep.

Supey rolled over into the couch, turning on the TV and closing his eyes. There was something special about the sound of static. It was loud, distracting— enough to make Supey forget he had super-hearing and allow him to ignore all the other noises the threatened to disturb the emptying of his mind. It was better than anger, at least.

"Supey?"

The clone opened an eye, seeing in the midst of his daze the shadow of a boy with a giggle for a voice and laughter for every word. A figure in a largely red and black suit, with a cape toppling over thin shoulder, stood at the open entrance. Supey's first instinct was to call back, to say "Rob" and have the boy jump over the sofa to join him so they could play games or something.

"Sorry, I meant Superboy." Robin pressed his lips together, turning his head away slightly to rub his temple. "It's just Dick always calls you that and…"

Right, yeah. This wasn't his Robin. Supey sat up and shrugged. This Robin wasn't as slender as his. This Robin had a softer voice, with a stricter edge. This Robin…

"It's fine," The clone replied, leaning on the side of the couch and turning his gaze to the TV with forced interest.

People changed. They grew. Robin grew. He wasn't even Robin anymore. This new kid was Robin. His Robin changed— became Nightwing. Megan had to change, too. Like KF. And Artemis. And even Kaldur. They all changed. But he didn't. He was the same. Permanent. And now everything was different.

"You don't mind if I stay here then?"

Supey furrowed his brow, wondering why the kid had bothered to ask, and nodded.

Robin shot him an awkward glance and silently took his place on the armchair. He'd had a book in his hands that Supey didn't notice before. The kid opened it, his fingers fluttering through the pages.

"I wonder how many more of you I'm going to have to see." The clone murmured, barely even realized he'd turned to examine the boy. They looked the same age now, but soon, he was going to outgrow him— the same way his Robin did. Would he grow out of the Robin costume like Dick, too? It was like Batman was breeding sidekicks out of his ass, and here Supey was forced to watch the line pass— like a foul reminder of how time didn't affect him.

"Did you say something?"

"I didn't,"

"Hmm,"

"What are you even doing here?" Supey halfway growled.

Robin shut his book closed. The clone looked unyieldingly at the boy who looked back at him with an indiscernible gaze. Then again, Robin had an unfair advantage— mask and all. Still, Supey didn't take his eyes off him.

Supey was always in the living room. That was a thing— a thing everyone knew. Everyone also knew he liked being there alone. Only Rob—Dick and Gar were the only welcome company. Ever since… since… Well, since shit happened and he had to leave Megan. And then, despite knowing that (because surely Robin wasn't stupid), the kid came here.

"I asked if you minded."

"But,"

Robin smiled, slightly, and only for a moment. "No, I'm sorry." He stood up. "I'll just go. I'm sure you'd prefer to be alone right now. Unless you want me to call Dick?"

"No," Supey sighed. "Stay."

The kid looked at him curiously, but Supey shifted his gaze to turn his body over to lie down across the couch. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the TV's static rather than on the soft breathing of the boy sitting only two meter away.

But after a while, it was the sound of the pages turning that kept his attention and let him drift to sleep.