Author's Note: I just felt like giving Eduardo some attention! This fic was also practice while I overcome another bout of hiatus writer's block. (;;) Titled after the Breaking Benjamin song, but you'll find many throwbacks to the other songs inspiring me during the whole process. Cover artwork by myself, and you can find more Ed fanart on my deviantART under the username hlwar. ;)
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my dear friend BabsDC on deviantART for helping beta-read and translate the Spanish! And many thanks to Leena1445 for the pre-read on a couple chapters!
Disclaimers: The cartoon Young Justice and Ed Dorado remain the property of © Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, Cartoon Network, and DC Comics Entertainment. All rights reserved to the original creators. No infringement is intended by this not-for-profit fan story that was written exclusively for fun.
Into the Nothing
a Young Justice fan fiction
I. Así es como se siente cuando recuperas tu vida.
Never. He hadn't just said it, he meant it.
No matter the context of the conversation, whether it was subtle hints or a direct enquiry, his father kept posing the same question to him: Why not return to S.T.A.R. Labs? Just for an hour, to update his records. Just for a day, to make sure his health was fine. Perhaps remain the week while his father finished his latest project?
Only for a little while. And subsequently allowing the other scientists to poke and prod his son for signs of his power escalating. Ed didn't even need to think it over.
"Never again. Padre, I don't even know why you keep asking."
"I like being able to keep an eye on you."
Ed felt slighted and he couldn't stop the irritation from rising to his tone. "I told you I'm not gonna run away again. I was running here anyway."
Not that New Mexico was any better than Argentina, it seemed. He thought being in America, being with his father, would give him greater opportunities and make his life easier. He'd been sick of talking to his Dad once in awhile on the phone, or through the occasional letter. Although he learned at a much younger age his father was too busy being a scientist to have free time for any family back in South America, he assumed things would be different if he were actually in his presence. In retrospect, it was a childishly stupid idea.
Wishful thinking only made his life worse, and Ed never realized how difficult and straining the relationship with his father could be. Not until the Reach and its meta-gene research. And now that's all I am to him too—research.
Those memories were sour pills to swallow, and whenever he started thinking back on them, despite himself, all his bitterness would swell to the surface. Ed was so tired of fighting with his father, yet he heard himself say again: "You never listen. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Because you are in my home and I am responsible for you."
"Being responsible for me doesn't include shipping me off to S.T.A.R.. That's where you belong, not me. I'm not your lab rat anymore."
His father's eyes narrowed hurtfully and instantly Ed knew his mistake; he meant to say "their lab rat", not personally attack his father. Slip of the tongue... or so he told himself. Trying to blow off the touchy conversation, as he usually did, he added, "Besides, I start school tomorrow."
As per their great family dynamic, Eduardo Sr. accepted the bait readily, also not wishing to provoke darker emotions. "Sí. So are you excited?"
"I guess."
"Well, I wouldn't worry. You got high marks in your early secondary, before you left."
And when I bothered to show up, Ed thought, but his father prudently refrained from pointing out his reckless, rebel phase. It wasn't that Ed disliked school, or any of his classmates, but his passion for learning dwindled after graduating primary. As a kid he wanted to be smart like his Dad, but as he got older he saw education wasn't getting him any closer to his father, definitely no faster. So he began acting out and skipping classes; attention-seeking his grandfather said. It still didn't bring him any nearer Ed Sr.
And then he had the bright idea to be more pro-active about that. Rebel phase, indeed!
"I just want to focus on being normal. If I fit in, than I fit in." He shrugged.
"High school here will be much the same, and I know you'll do well." The next sentence made Ed pause, think back. "And I know you choose friends wisely."
At least this time he wouldn't have to choose friends in order to stay alive.
There was something relaxing about the normalcy of going to school in the morning. Ed could almost believe himself an everyday teen with everyday obligations. But when he reached the outskirts of the high school grounds, he started to feel edgy.
He wasn't like the other kids, not really; deep down he constantly felt that odd well of power—the power to teleport at will.
Yeah, none of those other people could do such an unbelievable feat, because normal human beings weren't meant to travel like a miniature, flesh-and-blood Zeta-beam. It wasn't natural, and it made him feel like something alien.
Repressing an angry sneer of self-loathing, Ed rolled his skateboard to a halt and kicked it up to his hand. Repress it, forget it. He wasn't an alien, he was just a new student on his way to orientation. All he had to do was play it off like there was nothing wrong, and then nobody would be the wiser.
But what if someone did notice? How would they react? Maybe in the end being shunned for his recently created power was what actually scared him, now that he was out of the team.
Shrugging his shoulders and tucking his board under his arm, Ed reminded himself there was no way to know. His power was only visible if he used it, and he hadn't teleported himself in months. Not since helping the League disable the Reach's Disruptors.
So for today, he was just another newbie.
Like most new kids on the block, he received his fair share of curious looks and inquisitive stares, but also some welcoming nods. Maybe the start of his latest school life wouldn't be so bad? He did his best to be polite but he couldn't stop to try and make friends; the morning bell was not far off and he still needed to stop by the registrar's office.
As the rest of the students made their way to the main campus Ed veered off towards the municipal buildings, darting across the lawn to avoid the crowded sidewalks. Nearing the outer buildings, the amount of people became less and less, until finally he was the only one outside the executive wing.
There were two buildings here, sitting together in a 90-degree angle and overlooking a rounded courtyard of flagstones. When he reached the yard, Ed removed his safety helmet and looked for the directory. But as he neared the outer walls he heard hushed, yet demanding voices. Almost without meaning to, he adjusted his course to walk closer to the voices, tilting his head to listen.
"What the hell is this?"
The tone was obviously young—another student.
The main staircase for the first building sat adjacent to the point at which both buildings met, and as he got nearer Ed saw there was a covered walkway underneath, most likely heading to the rear exits and employee parking lot; but next to that was a guardrail and a descending staircase. That was where the voice rose from, below the morning light.
Walking closer, Ed saw two boys halfway down and flanking the stairs. At the bottom was a square pavement and a door with a sign reading 'Boiler Room: Authorized Personnel Only'. At the base of the stairs, hidden from the rest of the world above by the dank shadows to the locked basement, a burly boy held a slight, skinny kid against the wall.
Immediately, a cold, angry feeling washed over him, giving his skin goose-bumps. Ed hated bullies. Self-important idiots who threw their weight around solely because they could, with no regard for anybody else. The worst kind were those who forced others to submit, like this punk.
Like the Reach.
"But I told you before, my parents got suspicious," the little victim whimpered, his voice unnaturally high with fright. "They won't give me my whole prescription. That's all I have, sorry."
"What am I supposed to do with only two pills? That's not enough to get anybody even buzzed." The bully slammed the poor kid suddenly in fury. "No one will pay for that. "
"Sorry," he said again.
"You're gonna be—"
"What're you lookin' at, asshole?"
All the boys suddenly turned to look at Ed, who had unconsciously drifted closer than he should've. By the expressions he was receiving, he knew the look on his face told them everything he was feeling in turn: anger and disgust.
That can't be good, for me, he thought as the kid who addressed him got up in his face. This overweight jock must have been lurking nearby, a designated look-out, and Ed silently cursed himself for not noticing the fourth bully sooner.
"I said, whaddya think you're lookin' at, huh?" He jabbed a beefy finger into Ed's chest accusingly.
I can't do this, Eduardo warned himself. I can't get into a fight now, on my first day. His father would kill him! He submissively lowered his head, hating to do it but thinking it best, though his hands clutching his skate stuff fisted heatedly.
"Nothing," he mumbled nonchalantly. He hoped being passive-aggressive wouldn't backfire.
"Tch. That's what I thought." The jock grabbed his collar and shoved him towards the stairwell. "Got a Nosey Nancy here," he announced to his unofficial boss.
The bully at the bottom of the stairs maintained his grip on the money-maker, but his hard gaze was now locked on Ed. "Ah," he said. "I've never seen you before. A new guy?"
Eduardo nodded casually, feeling a sneer work its way to his face. He didn't meet the rabble-rouser's eyes, but instead flicked a glance to the victim. The younger, slighter boy kept his face to the ground, never daring to move a muscle. Ed assumed he'd get a pleading look, some silent gesture for help, but he didn't. He felt so sorry for the boy, yet a part of him retreated from the sympathy; almost like he was relieved—grateful even—not having an open invitation into the mix.
Besides, he wasn't anybody's hero anymore.
"Then I guess you don't know the ropes yet," continued the leader of the gang. "Count yourself lucky, man. But I suggest you move along, before we teach you your first lesson." He nodded his head away to indicate the newbie should leave.
But Ed hesitated, his brows furrowing grudgingly.
"I said get outta here!"
With a glare Ed moved to leave, but not before looking one last time at the boy he was essentially abandoning. Still no recognition or appeal. So he went on his way, thoroughly unlike his former self, backing down from a fight.
But it wasn't his fight, and really, what could he do? He was the new kid, and he was trying to start over. With a reproachful sigh, Ed realized he'd already broken his primary goal for today: don't get noticed.
Sitting on the bench outside the pueblo-styled architecture of his new school, skateboard at his feet, Ed listened to the final tolling of the bell. His backpack was weighted thanks to the mass of homework prearranged; seriously, he didn't think he left a single book back in his locker. He was starting mid-year with lots to catch up on, but he was afraid he barely even remembered the orientation tour. Except for the inquiring looks from the other students.
He had been genuinely friendly, but within moments of starting his opening class he seemed to lose interest. At first he wasn't sure his dilemma. He didn't feel nervous, yet Ed kept to himself throughout the day, staying aloof and laid-back. His focus waned, almost as if the earlier altercation already drained him. When the day came to an end, he was afraid he may have accidentally alienated himself.
Ed's goal was to be normal and he decided the best way was to not stand out. Epic-fail there. He was sure at least some of his new classmates had heard from the bullies... You're trying too hard, he finally told himself. Then he sighed, brushing hair from his face. Whatever. Tomorrow's another day.
As the rest of the school began to exit the grounds, Ed decided to focus externally rather than on himself. So he watched the other kids: rushing to catch their bus ride home, loitering in small groups to chat of the day, or ambling along the maze of sidewalks and keeping to themselves, like he was. Soon, enough time had passed that teachers began leaving, and Ed decided to pack up and head home.
He set a foot atop his board, and that's when he realized he'd forgotten his helmet. He knew his father would have more than a word to say about it, and he wasn't in the mood to get another lecture. So, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder, he reluctantly hopped aboard and skated back to the school. It was slow going with the bulk of books bearing down on the wheels, but the yard was quickly emptying and he didn't have to worry about maneuvering or half-halting.
Idly, his mind drifted back to the morning, and it suddenly felt like déjà vu. Would the bullies jump him now, he wondered? No, that was nonsense. They had their opportunity and let him go. Besides, he actually hadn't done anything except slip back under the radar, a passer-by.
But the clenching feeling remained, a faint paranoia. Eduardo had learned to trust his senses, his gut feeling, and he'd usually been right; it usually gave him fair warning. Even though this was no longer a battlefield on an alien spaceship, or even trashing city streets at midnight to spit in the face of the Reach's media fanfare, Ed decided to take heed.
It had nothing to do with his power. It was simply genuine human intuition. And it drew him back around the high school, towards the municipal buildings. He thought perhaps his conscious was trying to inflict a guilt-trip, which he didn't need reminding of, yet he still felt a mental alarm flare. He was on his guard.
Ed could make out cars still beyond the angled buildings, staff still inside. He stopped his board as he gazed around, replaying the morning scene in his head with a rather sheepish remorse. And then he happened to look up at the windows, and up even more—
And gasped.
A small frame was standing atop the building, on the edge just over the boiler room stairs. Although several stories in the air, Ed knew immediately it was the bully victim, the boy he failed to help. And it was obvious what he was doing.
"¡Dios mío—!" He dropped his pack, letting the dead weight fall.
Not good, not good. He didn't have time to warn anybody, didn't have time to even get inside, let alone make the climb up the flights of steps.
The suicidal teen uncertainly opened his arms to the abyss below, not welcomingly spread-eagled but tentatively parted. It was almost in slow motion. Ed was frantic, his eyes fixed on the kid wanting to jump, seeking escape.
But he was lingering; Ed could save him.
He didn't know the rooftop, the layout or the structure. But it was in his line of sight.
And then there was no more time to think as the victim let himself fall.
Only time enough to react.
He equated the use of his power like mentally snapping his fingers. Thoughtless, easy, quick. Ed grabbed desperately at the void of nothing deep inside himself, calling his power to use. And like the sudden sound of snapping his fingers, he saw the flash of light, felt the abrupt heaviness of his body in a weightless void as it traveled.
Following the focused path of his vision, he snapped back with another flash, midair. He caught the dropping boy by the shirt, snagging an arm, hanging on with all his might; but his eyes remained locked upwards for fear of succumbing to the plummet himself.
Flash, traveling, and a final flash; now high above the courtyard, atop the edge of the building.
Then suddenly Ed felt gravity at his back. His feet had found purchase as they reappeared on the ledge but he sensed his balance faltering.
"Whoa," he gasped in panic as his heels dipped precariously off the rim.
Throwing his weight forward, towards the security of the roof floor, he allowed his knees to buckle as he dragged the boy down with him. His knees struck hard and he had to catch himself on his hands before face-planting, but at least they were no longer falling.
It was a crash landing, but he'd done it! They were safe.
And then the pain struck; Eduardo forgot how badly it hurt to transport another person.
Reminding himself of the other kid, he tried to forget the searing ache steadily pulsing inside his core. He asked breathlessly, "¿Estás bien?"
Oh... Shaking his head to clear his racing, pained thoughts, he corrected: "You okay?"
The bully victim was unresponsive, crying loudly and almost curled into a fetal position. His own hands were balled into fists atop the roof, his head buried on his arms. He was probably in too much mental anguish to notice the pain of teleporting through Ed, too miserable to hear his savior's query. Biting his lip with pity, Ed laid a comforting hand on the boy's back, feeling him shaking, hearing his rasping sobs, and wondering what to do next.
Just then the covered door to the rooftop burst open with a metallic cry of the hinges, and several voices echoed to them. "Why are you boys up here?" "What's going on?" "What happened?"
Unsure whether to be thankful for the teachers' sudden appearance, or wary of their intrusion, Ed lifted himself onto his knees. He replied with as much compassionate strength as he could muster, trying to hide his own suffering, "H-He tried to jump. I pulled him off the edge before—"
"Oh my goodness!" an elderly teacher exclaimed.
A middle-aged woman, wearing the white jacket of a school nurse, nodded as if to herself, even though her eyes were wide with horror-struck worry. "I was afraid this would happen someday." She sounded angry. Putting her arms around the crying boy, she urged him up. "Come on, dear. Let's get you off this roof."
Now that it was over, Eduardo felt the whirling commotion like the aftermath of a tornado. None of the staff seemed to regard him with sudden aversion or doubt, so he felt confident they didn't see what happened, see what he "miraculously" had done. And he was certain the victim wouldn't remember the details, either.
As the despondent, tragic boy was escorted to the door, Ed was aware of a janitor nearby, reaching to help Ed stand. "You alright there, son?"
He hoped the man couldn't see the sickly sweat on his face, or the way he sat on his heels hunched over. Or the strange relief in his eyes. Reflexively shying away from the offer, Ed lurched to his feet as proof he was fine. He had to hold his breath for a moment though, clenching his teeth and willing the ache away.
"Yes, thanks," he said politely, albeit rushed.
"Well, you shouldn't be up here. I don't know how you kids keep breaking the damn lock, but in your case, it's a good thing you were here."
A good thing? I guess so... It wasn't how Ed pictured his first day, but at least it worked out okay in the end.
"Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit! Did you see that?"
"I sure did, Billy! Looks like we done found ourselves a bona fide superhero!"
