(A/N): My newest story, and it's mostly about Tundra Lad, so this should give you some background info on him (in case you're wondering.) Oddly enough, I wanted to write this before Marriage of Convenience, but . . . yeah, no luck. But as far as continuity goes, it's before MoC. And at this stage, Tundra Lad hasn't warmed up to ­anyone in the Legion. So, I hope you like it, and please tell me if there are any corrections I should make.

Full Summary: (Tundra Lad centric) He grew up alone, frightened of the power he had. But now, older and wiser, he's learned control. But just as he is called on a mission to his home planet, his powers spike, causing his control to falter. And with a fear-inducing villian on the loose, will he be more of a liability to the team than an asset?

Disclaimer: I don't own the Legion of Superheroes, but I do own Tundra Lad and Time Lass, so please ask before using them.

Steppe Son

A Legion of Superheroes fanfic

by Sailor V-babe

Act One: "There's no place like home . . "

The young man chewed on his lower lip, wishing this ordeal was over. With trepidation he stepped into the dark room, taking his place inside a ring of light. He clenched and unclenched his hands, almost marveling at the slightly moist feeling of it. His mouth had gone dry, and he swallowed hard to get the bitter taste out of it. A voice boomed overhead.

"State your name and power."

A slight shiver ran through his body as he looked up at the darkness where he knew people were. People whom he could not see, but the prickles on his neck said they saw him. He opened his mouth, and a squeak came out. Clearing his throat, the boy tried again. "My name is Illya Aleksandar Kuznetsov," he began in accented English, "But if I make it into the Legion, my name would be Tundra Lad."

"What do you do, 'Tundra Lad?'" the voice asked again.

"I create intense cold." He could almost sense their worry. "Do not be afraid. I can control it." He flipped the fur-lined hood of his parka up over his blonde hair, and took off his blue mittens one at a time. A blueish glow seemed to surround his hands as he concentrated. He could do this. He'd done it several times at home. Just . . . . create a chill . . . maybe some snow . . . He thought harder, and suddenly the cold inside him pushed hard. With a horrible wrench, waves of power flooded from his hands, creating snow and icy winds that whipped around the room. The boy gasped with shock and slight pain, then collapsed to his knees amid the ruins of his tryout.

"Disappointing. Come back when you have actually tried to control your power," a cold voice said. Laughter, or was it his own heartbeat, pulsed around him.

"But . . . but I can control it! I can . . . don't abandon me . . . please!" he cried, a watery shimmer on his cheek becoming a small piece of ice before cracking off and falling to the frozen ground with a soft klink.

Illya Kuznetsov sat up in bed, shivering with the reality of the dream. It had only been a dream, he chided himself. He had not failed his audition, it had gone off perfectly. But still . . . he felt that some of the Legionnaires didn't quite trust him. And his nightmares were getting worse, not to mention the fact that with each one, it seemed that his powers grew a bit. Perhaps, they were only portents of the future. Perhaps they were only dreams, but perhaps he would actually lose control. He shook his head. That would never happen. It couldn't. If it did . . . . . life as he knew it would be forever lost.

He shook his head. These thoughts were no good. He couldn't let fear run his life. But somehow, he couldn't get himself to go back to sleep. Throwing off the covers, he stood up, slipping his feet into fur-lined slippers and pulling on his usual black turtleneck. Then, he slipped down the hallway to the Legion Headquartes kitchen, putting on his blue mittens. Perhaps he could find something to help with his insomnia, he thought, looking through the cupboards.

"Looking for something?" a gentle British voice asked. He spun, eyes lighting on the slender girl seated at the table, her red robe slightly akimbo, showing her pink babydoll pajamas. "It's late. Shouldn't you be in bed? Or don't Russian superheroes sleep?" The girl took a sip from the teacup in her hands, her silver eyes never leaving his own blue ones.

Illya quietly let out the breath he had been holding and turned his head slightly, averting his gaze. "I was unable to sleep. So, I came here."

The girl nodded, her blonde hair, normally coiffed and hairsprayed to perfection during the day but now allowed to show its true shape, bouncing softly. "I understand. I've been fighting with my own nightmares for at least a week." For a moment, her cheerful face faltered, and a glimpse of the sadness within showed. Illya understood. Time Lass had been forced to go home, to see a part of her own world which had been sealed off for generations, and nearly lost all her friends to a renegade of her own race. He had guessed that the smile she wore daily since then had been only a sham, but now he knew. She hurt deeply inside, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even touch her to try and comfort her.

Within a few moments, her smile had reappeared. "Well, if you need something for insomnia, I've heard eating or drinking something works well. I could make you some tea . . ."

"Doesn't the caffine in tea keep one up?" Illya asked.

"Not this kind. It doesn't have any caffine, and it's designed to relax the body in preparation for sleep. And it doesn't taste too bad. I'll make you some." Illya sighed, letting a small smile cross his lips. Time Lass could be a bit pushy at times, but she was good at heart. He opened another cupbord, finding some of Timberwolf's famous cookies that he had apparently missed. He grabbed a few, then turned to Time Lass.

"Do you need anything to eat?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, I'm fine." She brought over a steaming glass and set it on the table in front of the seat next to her. Illya walked over with his cookies and moved the glass a few places away. Time Lass gave him a puzzled look. "You can sit next to me. I don't bite hard."

"I can't sit near you," Illya said. He noticed her face. "I generate cold from my skin. You don't want to be near me. Humans can't stand being around me for very long." He picked up a sugar cube and placed it between his teeth, then took a sip of tea with practiced ease.

"But I'm not human," Time Lass said. "I'm a Gallifreyian Time Lady, and we have a much better tolerence for cold." She took Illya's raised eyebrows as a nod to go on. "You see, my people, though very similar to humans in appearance, posses many biological differences from a human. For instance, we have a bypass respiratiory system, two hearts, a highly advanced brain, a special cell called the Rassilon Imprimature, and a body temperature of 60 degrees farenheit." Illya blinked. He'd known she was not a human, but . . . . that was very different. But somehow, not repulsive. He allowed a slight smile to twitch the corners of his mouth, and didn't fuss when she scooted closer. It would be nice to have someone to talk to until he felt sleepy again. Time Lass proceeded to chatter about something or other as he began devouring cookies. This way, he didn't have to say much.

--L--

Tundra Lad stared at the three burly minions bearing down on him, blue eyes as cold as ice chips. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, snapped his eyes open, then raced forwards and into a flying kick that connected with the head of the center minion. Landing with cat-like grace, he launched into a calculated series of punches and kicks to subdue the opponents around him. As the last one fell, he turned to see how his comrades fared. Like himself, the other Legionnaires were having no trouble taking care of their simulated opponents. Now that the warm-up was done, the team was not pulling their punches during their training. As the last one fell, they re-grouped in the center of the room.

"Hey, Tundra Lad, you haven't used your powers all day," Time Lass said, her silver eyes worried. "Maybe you should try . . ."

"I do not need your assistance to fight," Tundra Lad replied, rather icily. Time Lass blinked, then backed up.

"Sorry," she said meekly, before turning to stand next to her fellow female Legionnaires. Tundra Lad fixed his eyes on what his brain knew to be wall, even if it looked more like an alien vista than a steel-grey wall with holo-imagry systems embedded in it. A good part of his nature hated being so rude to her, but even though she wasn't scared of him, the Sharrouan-born teen didn't want her getting close to him. He was a very private person and still didn't trust his fellow Legionnaires, just as he knew they didn't exactly trust him. His powers were to unpredictable, and especially now that his control was steadily slipping . . .

"Tundra Lad," a kind male voice said from his left side. He blinked, then looked out of the corners of his eyes to see the smiling face of Superman. "Are you ok? I couldn't help overhearing Time Lass and you . . ." When the blonde boy's eyebrows snapped downwards in a look of slight annoyance, the Teen of Steel smiled wryly. "Superhearing," he explained. Tunda Lad's expression barely changed, but softened slightly. "She's right you know. You haven't used your powers all day, and you should probably get some practice in. You never know when you will need to use them."

Tundra Lad sighed, reluctantly giving in. He didn't want to admit that Superman was right, but he knew it. However, he worried about what could happen with his powers if he couldn't control them. The machinery around them whirred slightly as Brainiac 5 started the next level of the simulation. As foes flickered into existance before them, Tundra Lad flipped up his hood and removed his gloves. If they wanted him to use his powers, well, so be it.

He reached down to where the coldness that existed deep inside him dwelled and pulled it to the surface, channeling it through his hands. A pale blue glow surrounded them as he took off towards the swarm of people. He grabbed the arms of the two closest to him, and almost instantly a white frost shot up their arms, numbing them and threatening to freeze their entire body. As they stared in horror at the frozen water covering their arms, Tundra Lad reached up, smacking their skulls together with a loud crack. The two fell like rag dolls and he stepped calmly over them and on to the next group. A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he instinctively dropped into a judo throw, hurling the opponent into the wall in front of him. Raising his hands, a stream of ice poured out, trapping the legs of the foe before him. Just before he could break off the stream, there was a wrenching feeling and his powers spiked, increasing the amount of ice flowing from his hands by at least ten percent. With the increase came pain, and he clenched his jaws tightly to keep from screaming and squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, he was able to take control again and slow the stream until it was completely gone.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes. The other villains had stopped, frozen in place when Brainy had paused the program. The one in front of him had frozen too, but not the same way. He was encased in a complete layer of ice, clear as glass and nowhere was it less than an inch thick. Some places, especially around his feet, the ice was almost a foot thick. Tundra Lad stared in shock at what he had done, unaware that the other Legionnaires were doing the exact same thing.

Superman was the first to speak. "Tundra Lad? . . ." he began, before a loud voice over the speakers cut him off.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Brainiac 5 snapped angrily, just as frightened as the others, though his fear spoke out in rage instead.

"That was . . . amazing . . ." Lightning Lad said, a sort of hushed awe in his voice.

"No, it was stupid!" Brainy snapped. "What if that was an actual villain? Not only was that a gross misuse of a superpower, it was also a potentially dangerous and possibly life-threatening situation. We're supposed to protect life, and that would have killed him. What were you thinking?" Tundra Lad was now very engrossed in studying the floor under his feet, a conciously blank expression on his face.

"Я сожалею," he mumbled, his eyes not leaving the floor, "I'm sorry." Without looking back, he flew to the door and out of the room.

--L--

Illya Kuznetsov lay face-down on his bed, parka discarded on the floor and gloves beside it. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get the angry words of Brainiac 5 out of his head. And the worst part was, they were all true. He could have injured someone back there, even if he hadn't meant it. His powers were getting more unpredictable by the day, and he couldn't be sure that they wouldn't spike like that at a crucial moment. He was tempted to lay there, ensconced in his misery when a voice crackled over his flight/communicator-ring.

"All available Legionnaires to the briefing room immediately." Cosmic Boy's voice was as hard and no-nonsense as usual. Tundra Lad stood up, his face again a blank mask. What could their "Fearless Leader" want now? It could be just a routine mission, or it could be some public dressing-down intended for him. But attendance was mandatory. There was no way he could worm his way out of this. He pulled on his coat and gloves, this time making sure his hood covered his head and headed out into the hall.

"Hey, Tundy! Wait up!" Time Lass called before he had taken four steps. She flew over to him, her black cape fluttering behind her. "So, what was that back there?"

"I do not wish to talk about it, Time Lass," he remarked, not meeting her eyes, but flying next to her.

"I forgot how open you were," she grumbled. "Are you sure there is nothing you wish to discuss?"

"This is my own problem, Time Lass. Not yours or anybody's. I just need some time to focus."

Time Lass was unconvinced. "Well, it could become everyone's problem if that happens on a mission. You know that . . ." He did. He just didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the chance that he could hurt or even kill his comrades. Luckily, he didn't have to think on this too long, as soon the doors to the briefing room opened before them. They flew to their seats, and waited until all were filled. Brainiac 5 stood at the end of the room, waiting rather impatiently for all to be finally assembled.

"We have just intercepted a transmission," he began once all were there, "It appears that there is an unidentified group of super-powered individuals who are intent upon obtaining a supply of a rare metal called Quadrilinnium X. It is an incredibly rare specimen, and is one of the heaviest and densest materials known to man. It is even harder than diamond. However, that is not why they want it. This metal emits high powered electro-magnetic radiation, even more powerful than a super-magnet. Even a small piece of it could cause untold havoc with guidance systems and therefore would give whoever wielded it a great advantage in any inter-stellar war. We do not know if they are connected to the Domninators, but we cannot give them that chance. Luckily, there is only one place in the galaxy that has a supply of this metal. The world called Sharrou."

The room fell silent as a few glanced at the blonde haired boy in their midst, knowing that Tundra Lad hailed from that planet. "We will send a group to investigate and, hopefully, stop these people from getting any usuable supply of it. Cosmic Boy, your magnetic abilities will undoubtedly come in handy for moving it. Superman, your strength will also come in handy, as well as your invulerability. Time Lass, since you are not bothered by cold, it would be a good idea to send you along, not only because you will not be affected by the harsh climate, but also because your ability to move objects and people through 'wrinkles' in time and space will be useful as well. I myself cannot go since the same radiation that causes problems with spaceships will undoubtedly cause problems with my systems as well. But, as we need a scientific mind, I will send Violet along. She is most capable of handling this."

Taking a deep breath, Tundra Lad stood up. "Brainiac 5, I wish to go as well."

Brainy fixed his impersonal magenta eyes on the young man. "After the fiasco in the training room this morning I do not believe that would be advisable."

"You do not understand," Tundra Lad said. "Sharrou is my home. You would not be able to keep me here when my world is in danger. If necessasary, I would even quit so that I could save my home. And as you are already under-staffed, that would most definitely cripple your Legion. Not to mention the people of Sharrou are very suspicious and do not take kindly to strangers. They know me, and will accept me far faster than you by yourselves. And I know my way around the colonies. You do not. It is not hard to get lost and you could soon find yourself chasing red fish."

"Herrings," Time Lass hissed. Tundra Lad looked puzzled. "It's 'red herrings,'" she explained.

"That's what I said." Time Lass rolled her eyes at his response.

Brainiac 5 sighed, his face still relatively smooth, though the way he had pursed his lips so tight they were almost invisible showed how hard he was working to restrain his anger. "Very well. You are allowed to go on this. Consider yourself on probation. However, if you lose control again, you will be immediately brought back here and removed from active duty. Is that understood?"

Tundra Lad nodded. "It is understood perfectly." That decided, the meeting adjourned to allow the others time to get ready for the mission.

--L--

Shrinking Violet stared out of the large window in the Leigon cruiser. The planet below seemed to be all whites and blues, with a small scattering of brown. Dark grey clouds scuttled across the surface, creating swirls of shadow.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" a clipped voice with a mild Russian accent said from beside her. Violet glanced over to see the slender form of Tundra Lad staring out the window beside her.

"It looks cold," she stated matter-of-factly. Tundra Lad turned his ice blue eyes on her.

"It is, make no mistake. But . . . it's wonderful." She wasn't expecting a small smile to cross his lips. Tundra Lad smiled about once in a blue moon, and never in front of her. Odd. He had a very beautiful smile, with an almost magical feel. Like, one moment it wasn't there, and then it just . . . was. Then, it would be gone as soon as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it had actually happened at all. Perhaps, that icy exterior was just that: a sort of 'overcoat' to hide the real personality that he locked away inside. Or maybe she was just letting her romantic side take off without her again. If he ever decided to stop secluding himself, he'd probably make some girl very happy.

"You may need a parka," he said, heading off, the seriousness back in his voice again. Violet sighed. Ah, maybe she'd only imagined that he had seemed a bit more relaxed.

--L--

Violet shivered, glad of her green parka. Still, the quilted fabric couldn't completely keep the frosty chill out, and she wished in vain for the warmth of the cruiser. She glanced over at Tundra Lad, who stood almost happily in mid-calf high snow.

"All right, let's get going," Cosmic Boy said, looking commanding (and still very cold) in his dark purple coat. He began slogging through the deep snow, unaware that the others weren't following him.

"You're going in the wrong direction," Tundra Lad said, carefully biting down his laughter so that it didn't change the normal coolness of his voice. "If you're looking for New Moscow, you should head South, not North." His cold eyes issued a sort of challenge to the dark-haired Legionnnaire, and Cosmic Boy bristled slightly before turning and heading in the opposite direction. As Tundra Lad began to follow, he heard a familiar voice calling out from nearby.

"You sure have a lot of guts coming back here, Mr. Kuznetsov, especially after all you've done. I would have though you'd never come back." Tundra Lad stopped in his tracks and turned slowly to face the young man who was speaking . . .

---

And . . . I leave you with a cliff-hanger! You'll just have to come back for the rest to find out who this new person is! And, don't forget, reviews make me happy, and a happy author is more likely to write more! (But . . . don't think I'm demanding here, I just love knowing people like my stories!) See you next chapter!