"We'll laugh about this one day." Dick Grayson

.***.

Superman lingered outside the door of the old farm house in Smallville. Once upon a time, a young man named Lex Luthor would come over for dinner at least once a week, shrugging his shoulders and saying it was better home-cooked than at the mansion. Once upon a time, a young, naive man named Clark Kent and called nothing else, not even a nickname and certainly not "Superman," had looked up to this sophisticated, rich boy. Once upon a time, two best friends would lay in the back of the pick-up truck and gaze at the stars and proclaim that nothing could ever tear them apart, of course it wouldn't. They were Lex and Clark. Their friendship was the stuff of legends.

It was his fault, you see, and that's hwy he couldn't go inside. It was his fault that little Robin, who he'd known for years, who he thought of as his own nephew, had been left alone to fight the most deranged criminal in Gotham. It was his fault that laughing and smiling Kid Flash had been reduced to skin and bones in less than a week. And it was his fault that the League would never be able to function again, not without some really good explanations. That hot-headed Lantern Bruce would never let into the League had thrown all the clones into the sun. They had no proof that they hadn't been the ones abusing their too-too-young sidekicks.

And then there was Conner.

Clark Kent, feeling much too old, took a deep breath and opened the door to his parents house (they were insisting on moving back. Lex had always known where they lived, they said. Lex crosses lines all the time. Lex would find them wherever they went.) It smelled like cookies. Miss Martian had obviously discovered where his mother kept the flour. "Hel-"

In a second he was pinned against the wall. M'gann had found where she put her powers. He didn't struggle, just looked Miss Martian right in the eyes and said, as calmly as he could muster, "Your uncle and I are pretty close, M'gann. He'll be upset if you kill me."

"Oh!" The force field disappeared in an instant and Miss Martian looked distraught. "I'm so sorry Superman. I thought -"

"I know what you thought. You should all be careful. The clones have been dealt with, but I don't expect any of you to bounce right back after all this." He looked around Miss M's small form (she was green today) "Kal-El? Are you hurt?"

Conner shrugged his shoulders. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He was shirtless, probably because his body was so covered in cuts that any shirt would irritate it. Still, Clark couldn't help a little joke. "I didn't interrupt you and Miss Martian, did I?" He stared pointedly at the naked torso.

Megan's whole form turned red and she began stuttering out a protest. Conner just looked him straight in the eyes. "Yeah, you did. She was trying to patch me up. Insisted on making cookies first. You know girls."

Actually, he didn't, not recently. Lois had been a long time ago, back when he could watch the stars without a care in the world. "How'd you beat the clone?"

"I got the jump on him. Something was off. He was too..." Conner glanced at Superman, as if trying to gauge the older alien, then shrugged and finished the way he was planning to. "Nice. Kept offering to get me stuff, kept trying to talk. It wasn't you. I hit him with the toaster oven. Tell your parents I'm sorry about that."

"Where is he now?" Superman asked, smiling at the thought of what his father would say when he was told about the small appliance. Probably something along the lines of a toaster oven'll cost less than Barry Allen eating us out of house and home.

Conner nodded at the door. "I dumped him outside. A Lantern came by and picked him up just after M'gann got here." He paused, then plowed quickly ahead. "On the television, about Batman and Flash - those were clones too, right?"

For a second, Clark could only blink at the question. "Of course they were clones!" he snapped, making both young heroes tense up. He lowered his voice. "They were clones. Robin was at the hospital in Gotham but is probably back at the Batcave, they have medical supplies there."

"And Kid Flash?" Miss Martian asked timidly, as if not wanting to know the answer. "Conner was just saying...he told me that Wally was dead..."

Superman felt something in his chest tighten at the sight of these two so concerned about the members of their team. The only people their age who knew everything they were going through. "Kid Flash is with Ollie and Artemis in Star City. They tell me that most of the problem is with his metabolism. His body is eating itself trying to get food. The next time to see Wally, he may not look the same."

The silence that followed was broken by the beeping of the oven timer. Miss Martian brought a hand up to her eyes, pretending they weren't wet. "Would you like a cookie, Superman?"

"I would actually, thank you Miss Martian." He looked over at Superboy, standing in the corner and pretending he wasn't in pain. Whatever scuffle had taken place between him and clone had taken a lot out of him. Or maybe it was the past days that had taken a lot out of him. "Come here, Kon-El. Let me bandage you up."

And, bless the poor kid, barely a year old and too angsty for his own good. He hesitated for a moment, doubt visible in his eyes even from across the room. But in the end he crossed over to Superman and let him repair the damage done by Clark's his evil twin.

.***.

Superman was right. Kid Flash didn't look the same.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Every bruise, every cut, every broken bone stood out, not able to heal because things like ribs and pelvis and kneecaps stood out, too. Artemis had been there when he woke up, and had raised an eyebrow at him. "You're aware that you now weigh less than me, right? Who the hell loses sixty pounds in four days?"

"I'm just unique like that I guess," Wally said, trying to sit up and not quite being able to get there. "Would you get very offended if I asked you to make me a sandwich?"

Artemis managed the barest trace of a smile. "Already got one, Kid Mouth." Actually, she had seven, and set them on the table for Wally to eat while she caught him up.

"So apparently Flash, Batman, and Superman were all, like, kidnapped as you guys were sleeping in the barn in Smallville. So the real Flash was with you from the Watchtower, but not after you woke up."

Wally was on his third sandwich in under thirty seconds. He chewed slowly now, thinking, "The Flash who I was running with...that wasn't..."

"That was a clone. It's gone now. They're all gone. One of the Lanters threw them into the sun - I want to shake that guy's hand. It's over, KF."

Wally nodded. He was mostly done with his fifth sandwich. As he reached for the next one, his hand trembled over the plate. He stared at it for a second, seeing the nobly wrist, the too-clear knuckles. He was thin, disgustingly so. Emaciated like the pictures of those people in third-world countries. He was bruised because his mentor had beat him on the side of the road. His head was ringing with Barry's threat to send him back to his father, with words like useless and disgusting and disappointment. And the girl he loved was watching him like he might shatter apart.

And, because it had been one hell of a week, Wally did. His hand trembled more, more, and suddenly he was sobbing like a child, huge gasping breaths that let out wretched little animal sounds. Artemis blinked for a second, then crawled into bed next to him, holding him. She was bigger than he was. "Oh Wally, it's okay. It's all over. You're okay. We love you. Wally, are you listening to me? I love you. Please don't cry. Please..."

But he couldn't help himself. He kept crying, whole body shaking with the force of his sobs. And his vision was so obscured that he didn't even see his uncle standing in the door, silent tears rolling down his face.

.***.

Batman had gone in one of the many secret entrances in order to get around Alfred, who would detain him. He just needed to see Robin, to make sure he was okay (and how could that be? robin had been shot in the stomach. he'd been abandoned by his mentor when he needed him most...)

When Robin had first come to Batman, a scared little boy who desperately wanted to be scared anymore, he'd had problems with trust, and he'd had problems with Batman leaving. Alfred, who knew everything, called it "seperation anxiety." Commissioner Gordon had taken one look at the kid and fixed Batman with a hard look. He has abandonment issues, Batman. He's waiting for all the other birds to up and leave him. Yes, Batman's little bird hated it when Batman left him. He used to trail after Batman, following him around the manor, around the Batcave. He rarely talked (in those first few months, he never talked) but he would look with wide eyes at all the new things. Occasionally he'd say a word or two in Romanian, and then he'd seem to catch himself or catch Batman looking and blush, looking away, pretending again to be a shadow, a little shadow.

One night, three months after taking in a silent ward, Batman had returned from patrol with a bullet in his arm. Robin had been there when he came in. "You were gone," Robin said, his tiny hands pulling away the layers of cloth. His fingers were cool, and so, so small. "I woke up and you were gone."

Then he'd done something that surprised the hell out of the Dark Knight. He put his hands on Batman's face, one on each cheek. The hands were so small, the face so serious. "Niciodată nu mă lăsa. Mr. Bruce, don't leave me. One of my fathers has already left me." Coming back to himself, Robin snatched his hands away and flinched back. "I'm sorry. That was...obraznic. I'm sorry."

Batman pulled the boy on his lap. "I won't leave you." Without realizing it, he took one of Robin's hand in his. He was afraid his huge Batman paw would break the tiny thing. "I promise."

And yet...and yet here he was standing in the Batcave's medical bay because some clone of himself had known that the worst thing to do would be abandoning Robin in his time of need. There was the bed where Robin was, too small for the great white expanse of it. He was the shortest on the team, shorter than the girls. The youngest, the smallest, and Bruce made an irrational decision that Robin would never fight crime again. He'd stay inside and learn how to play chess and never be put in harm's way again, not if being put in harm's way meant that he'd end up with a bullet in the stomach.

Aqualad was sitting next to Robin, but the leader of the Team was asleep, one hand stretched out on the bed like he'd been holding Robin's hand as the other slept. The idea was endearing, and Batman was suddenly grateful that the stoic, rational Aqualad had been the one to be there for his little bird.

He came close to Robin, and it was only when he got very close that Robin stirred and looked up at him. The utter fear that filled Robin's eyes in that first instant drove the breath from the hero's body. "Robin..." he almost didn't remember the next words, the ones he used to call Robin when he was nine and newly orphaned, when he never spoke and just followed him around. "Puțină umbră. How badly did he hurt you?"

At the old nickname, Robin relaxed, though his eyes still held a hint of fear that cut through Batman like a knife. He wished Guy Gardner hadn't thrown the clones into the sun. He needed five minutes alone with them to work out his anger.

Aqualad's quiet voice broke the silence that stretched across a scattering of heartbeats. "Robin. Is this the true Batman?"

"Yes." Robin said, never breaking Batman's gaze. "I mean...I think so."

Aqualad nodded, then asked gently, "Do you want him in here? He can wait outside until...until you're ready."

Batman's admiration for the young Atlantian grew even more with this. Aqualad would bodily throw one of the original Leaguers from the room if he was making Robin uncomfortable. That was a very brave thing to propose, seeing as the entire Team had been (apparently) beaten up by Leaguers just a few days before.

"No, it's fine." But Robin dropped his eyes. It wasn't fine. Usually, if Robin got a minute alone with his mentor (which wasn't often, and Batman resolved to fix that) he'd be talking at a speed that rivaled the Speedsters', trying to get Batman to pay attention to him, trying to earn a few precious words of praise. "He...he can stay." His voice trembled a little and he looked down at the bruises that littered his body. A thirteen-year-old doesn't go against the Joker alone and come out white as a lily.

"Are you badly hurt?" Batman asked, hating himself for how stiff he sounded. He wished Kaldur would stop staring at him with those strange eyes, the color of the underbelly of water.

"No, sir." Robin said. He wouldn't meet Batman's eyes. He wished Robin would call him 'Bats,' like he always did when they were away from the Team and League and the eyes of the press. "Just a little sore."

Aqualad was still staring at him. "Kaldur, you should call Aquaman in the Watchtower. He's very worried about you." Sensing this as the dismissal it was, Kaldur looked at Robin. Robin gave him the barest of nods and Aqualad bowed his head politely and left.

Batman brushed Robin's hair behind his ears. It was getting long. He and Robin both pretended that Robin didn't flinch away from him. "You look exhausted little bird. If you sleep I'll just sit here next to you."

"And you'll be here when I wake up?" Robin shook as his head at the words, as if hating himself for how childish they sounded.

Batman liked it though. Sometimes he hated himself for making Robin grow up to fast, to make him exit childhood so soon after the tragedy of his parent's deaths. "I'll be here. And nothing will hurt you."

Robin nodded, settling back against the pillows. He closed his eyes, then they flew open as he remembered something important. "KF? Superboy?"

"They're fine. Superman and Flash are with them now. Go to sleep. You can see them when you wake up."

Robin nodded uncertainly, closing his eyes and trying to stop the trembling that had been coursing through his body since the moment he'd noticed Batman in the room.

.***.

Romanian translations: Niciodată nu mă lăsa = please don't leave. obraznic = as close as we could get to 'impertinent,' translates to 'rude' Puțină umbră = little shadow (which is, coincidentally, what we call our puppy.)

Young Justice comes on this weekend, so this is just a little flash before then. Only one or two chapters left guys. Thanks so much for the amazing reviews. We definitely couldn't have gotten this far without your help and support. We ask for your assistance one more time.