Muddling though Grey
Chapter Eleven: Visiting Hours
Disclaimer: Characters and premise are the property of DC, I'm just borrowing them for a little non-profit fun.
"Ick!" Owen declared wrinkling his nose at the hot cereal Conner had put in front of him. "Want candy!"
"You ate all the candy last night," Conner lied without remorse. "Then you jumped on your bed when you were supposed to be sleeping."
Owen grinned unrepentantly.
"And there's no candy left," Conner finished.
Owen pouted. Conner reminded himself of the bouncing on the bed at ungodly hours and the worry about Owen managing somehow to bounce out of his crib and hurt himself. Those thoughts steeled Conner's resolve. "No more candy," he reiterated. "Good, healthy food." Conner tasted a spoonful of Owen's cereal. "Yum!" he declared.
Owen looked at the oatmeal doubtfully. It looked boring, nothing at all like the brightly colored and wonderfully appealing stuff known as candy.
A knock at the inner door summoned Conner. "Yummy cereal!" he repeated before going to answer it.
When Conner found Barry Allen standing on the landing the only thing he could think of was the violation of the unspoken rule where Flash and the other mentors pretended not to know where their younger partners had been hanging out for the last six months.
"Conner, I'm sorry," Barry said.
Conner shook his head in denial. Behind him Evan appeared leaning unsteadily on the doorjam to the sickroom. "Who got nabbed?" he asked gruffly.
"I'm sorry," Barry repeated. "They were all arrested."
Conner sat down hard, his head spinning.
"Fuck," Evan swore. He staggered over to Conner and leaned on his shoulder. "This happens. Not everyone at once ever before and that really sucks, but jail happens. We'll deal, they'll deal. Come on Con, we'll deal 'til they figure a way out."
Conner remembered Len telling him that he'd have to cope with the Rogues being in jail sometimes if he stayed and made a visible effort to pull himself back together.
"I want to see them," Conner stated.
"Conner, they were apprehended in the middle of robbing an armored car. You can't break them out of jail," Flash said.
"I- I've got to talk to L- Digger," Conner insisted. "I'm in charge of Owen. It was only supposed to be overnight."
Barry winced. "I hadn't even thought of Owen." He looked at Evan, "Do you know who his mother is?"
"Digger doesn't know who Owen's mother is," Evan said drily. "Time travel thing. He's tangling with Zoom and vanishes. Two months later he's back with a kid who calls him 'Papa' and no clue where he's been or where the kid came from."
"I have to talk to them!" Conner exclaimed agitatedly.
"Alright," Barry sighed. "I'm on my way to Metropolis already. I have to remind people that Trickster isn't a meta-human and try to get him tried as a normal juvenile."
Conner forced himself to loosen his hold on Owen as the guard directed him to a booth about half way down the row of semi-private boxes. Picking up on Conner's tension Owen buried his face against the older boy's shoulder and twisted his little fist in Conner's shirt.
Len waited for them on the other side of the plexiglass barrier. Conner swallowed and picked up the hand-set.
"Sorry kid," Len said. He grimaced, "I miscalculated, counted on Superman putting his city over anything relating to you."
Conner let the hand-set drop before it could shatter. He forced himself not to grab Owen. After several moments of not knowing what to do with his hands he pressed them up against the barrier. In moments it began to deform under the pressure he was exerting. Len gestured sharply for Conner to stop. He pointed toward the hand-set. After a moment Conner picked it up. "Cut that out!" Len ordered. "You nearly got your brains scrambled the last time the League of Busybodies decided to get ticked off. Don't give them an excuse!"
"He wants to take you away from me," Conner ground out.
"To be fair, he thinks he's doing the right thing." Len grinned oddly. "Us Rogues, we're criminals if you haven't heard. Goes with the whole breaking law and stealing stuff that you keep mentioning."
A brief, watery laugh escaped Conner.
"Doesn't matter anyway," Len continued. "We got offered a deal. And they've got to be pretty desperate to be offering practically before we've been formally charged. So I pushed and the hard-assed government bitch gave: We do one mission for the government and we get a pardon. I get a notion the bitch thinks most of us won't make it back but she doesn't know us very well."
"I'll go with you," Conner volunteered instantly.
"No you won't." Len stated. He paused, trying to think of a reason that wouldn't be too alarming and his gaze settled on Owen. "Who are you gonna leave the brat with? Heroes'd corrupt him. Piper? Mirror Apprentice?" He shook his head. "We have to remind Piper to feed himself when he really gets into his music. And you know Evan doesn't have the patience, tell him to get the brat dressed or fed and Owen's screaming bloody murder in five minutes."
Looking defeated Conner nodded.
"Hold out for a few months," Len said. "We'll be back." He forced a wry grin. "Just ask Flasher: we're bad pennies every last one of us. Always turning up again just when you think you're quit of us."
"You better," Conner said thickly.
"Alright then. Now you stay. They'll send Digger out to talk to the squirt as soon as I'm secured." Cold smirked. "These Metropolis pigs are afraid of what might happen if any two of us are out of a cell at once."
Conner nodded. He blinked back tears as he watched Len being led away.
Ten minutes later Digger took his place.
Sitting on the other side of the barrier, looking at his son curled up unhappily in Conner's lap, Digger looked ashamed. "We really came a gutser this time," he sighed.
Conner nudged Owen to get the toddler to uncurl enough to see his father. Owen immediately reached out to be picked up. Then he noticed the barrier and turned to stare up at Conner, confused as to why he was being kept from his papa. Conner helped Owen hold the phone so they could at least talk.
"Hey, kiddo," Digger said unhappily.
"Want you," Owen protested the existence of the barrier.
Digger looked away. "We've got to head out beyond the Black Stump, do a little job 'fore we can come back," he explained. "I'll make it as quick as I can. You can stay with your Con for a bit longer right?"
"Papa going away?" Owen asked, tears trickling down his face. "Mama went away. No more Mama."
"Just for a little. I will come back," Digger promised. "I need to tell Conner a few things."
Conner took the phone back. "Hell kid, I know this is a mess and you're just a kid too, but I don't know who else to ask," Digger said.
"I'll take care of him," Conner promised seriously.
"Gonna give you a couple account numbers, that'll deal with the practicals," Digger said. "You let Flash and Ms. Iris help you, alright? If he gets sick or anything you take him right to them, you don't waste time trying to fix it yourself."
Conner nodded. After Digger finished giving Conner all the advise he could think of Conner gave the phone back to Owen.
"You be good for Conner okay? It's just for a bit," Digger promised again. Then more quietly he added. "Owen, you remember: I'm coming back… I love you."
Conner didn't want Owen to watch Digger being taken away, so they left first.
Barry met them as they crossed the waiting room. "Can you get Owen back to Central on your own?" he asked, his expression filled with worry.
Conner nodded but looked suspicious. "Why?"
The federal government is claiming jurisdiction," Barry explained.
"Len and Digger talked about making a deal with government people to get home sooner." Conner reported.
Flash shook his head. "I don't like this. They're too eager to get involved, and too focused on James."
"You're going to make sure it's okay?" Conner asked, pled.
Barry smiled wryly. "I'll make sure the Rogues are the most crooked part of the deal," he offered. "Now get on home. Stop by Jay and Joan's, I asked her to make up some of her chicken soup to help get Hartley and Evan back on their feet."
Superman saw Conner leaping across the city and without thinking flew to intercept him. The next time Conner hit ground, Clark landed in front of him.
The first thing Clark noticed was the toddler with tear stained face in Conner's arms. For a moment Clark found himself on a tangent, wondering about the odd way Conner was holding Owen. The older boy had one arm supporting the toddler while his other forearm rested along the toddler's back and that hand supported the back of Owen's head and neck. Then it hit Clark that Conner was protecting Owen from being jostled by the violent jolts caused by his leaps. It was a shock to see proof that Conner was not only trying to be gentle with the toddler, he was demonstrating considerable forethought by having taken measures against causing indirect harm.
Clark opened his mouth to say something and it occurred to him that he hadn't seen Superboy in person since the battle against the Injustice Society in Miami over half a year ago. It seemed incredibly strange. It felt like it had been just a few days since Superboy had been turning up in Metropolis at awkward moments wanting attention from him, leaving him feeling out of his depth and eager to get away. Superboy looked different. The S-Shield tee-shirt was gone, as were the inappropriate shirts he'd been wearing after he first moved in with the Rogues, instead he was wearing a black shirt with stylized electric-blue icicles. He looked older, or maybe he just held himself differently.
One moment Clark was distracting himself from the fact that he didn't have a clue as to what he wanted to say to Superboy. The next he was on the ground with a sore jaw and the knuckles on Conner's hand were split and bleeding. "I hate you," Conner stated with firm conviction. "Stay the hell away from me." Clark stared up at his clone in shock. Conner turned and leapt away without another word.
It was several minutes more before Clark climbed back to his feet. He activated his comm-link. "Batman?" he asked.
Clark could hear background noises and knew the channel was open, "Are you in a situation where you can't talk or are you just not speaking to me?" The sound of wind whistling around Gotham's convoluted architecture and the distant sound of cars told Clark that Batman was probably watching his city from the rooftops. In other words it was the later option.
"What else was I supposed to do? They were committing a crime."
"I'm not questioning your actions," Batman stated. "Your motives however... Then there's the issue of their judgement in picking a fight with you. Just when I think this mess is settled it gets stirred up again. Still," unexpectedly his voice switched from Batman's baritone to Bruce Wayne's tenor, "a member of my other set broke his back skiing awhile back. Lucky thing: While the doctors were patching him up they noticed he had kidney cancer. Saved his life, even if he'll never ski again." His pitch dropped back to the Bat's, "We may have had that kind of luck."
"Something I can help with?" Superman asked.
"Not right now. What did you want?"
"You said you've had the Rogues bugged. Could I borrow the tapes? Maybe the tapes from Mount Justice while Superboy was still there too?" Superman asked. "It was pointed out to me today that I don't know anything about him. I've got a feeling talking to him isn't the way to go at this point." He rubbed his jaw, he didn't think it was broken, but it was certainly going to bruise.
"Educate yourself," Batman stated. "Don't show any more initiative, please! I used to worry about the Rogues guilting him into helping them commit crimes. It wouldn't be hard, he does want to contribute to the group. Which is why I've been paying him a stipend for living expenses since he started working with Young Justice again but we aren't providing him with room and board anymore. Now I'm more concerned that if you keep pushing him, he'll go over completely for the sole purpose of ticking you off."
"Yeah," Clark sighed. "That might be a justified concern."
Conner shifted Owen nervously in his arms as he stood on the Garricks' doorstep and knocked. After a few moments a grandmotherly woman opened the door. She smiled warmly at them.
"Hi, um Flash, Barry-Flash, not your Flash, he said…" Conner stammered.
"Yes, of course dear," Joan Garrick replied. "Just come in for a moment and I'll put the soup in a thermos so it stays warm. Nothing better for sick bodies than a hearty home-made chicken soup."
"Really?" Conner asked. "I- It was only supposed to be for the night. Sam said lots of liquids, but everyone was supposed to be back and now…"
"Now you have two sick friends and this little one to worry about and you're not sure who you can fall back on," Joan said quietly.
Conner nodded.
"How about if I come along and deliver the soup personally?" she suggested. "Take a quick look-see that those other two are on the mend while I'm there?"
Conner looked grateful.
"Just one moment while I round up a thermometer and a few other essentials." In short order Joan had the three of them loaded in her car along with the thermos of soup and a basket of OTC remedies.
When they got to the hide-out Conner pointed Joan to the sickroom then he tried to put Owen down in his playpen. Owen clung to Conner and began sobbing bitterly. "It's okay, it's okay," Conner cooed as he rubbed Owen's back.
Joan frowned. "Mr. Harkness really should have rethought his occupation given his status as a single parent," she muttered.
Conner looked torn between agreeing and defending Digger.
Joan sighed. "Stay, I won't need any help checking on the other two." She put the soup in the kitchen then headed back.
The air in the sick-room was stale and unpleasant. Joan briskly cracked open a window and moved the trashcan out to the drive-way then replaced it with bowls from the kitchen. "Have either of you been to the doctor?" she asked.
"Outstanding warrants," Evan answered while Hartley exclaimed "You know my mom!"
Joan turned to Hartley first. "Yes and she'd be worried sick."
"It's just the flu," Hartley protested. "James got better after a day or so. Mom would have me in the hospital; she'd call in specialists from out of state when the doctors told her it was nothing. It's embarrassing!"
Joan shook her head and popped a thermometer in Hartley's open mouth.
" 'Sides, 'm still mad," Hartlely continued around the thermometer.
"Shh dear, or the reading won't be accurate." Joan turned to Evan. "You don't have any warrants against your civilian identity," she reminded him and Evan flushed. "Now, how long has this been going on and are you keeping anything down?"
"Hart's on day three, he and James brought the damn thing home from school," Evan complained. "I've only been puking since yesterday. And, yeah, it's been pretty much everything coming back up."
"But you are still trying?" Joan asked worriedly.
"Not like Sam and Con have been giving us much of a choice," he grumbled.
"Good for them," Joan replied tartly.
The thermometer beeped. "It's not too terribly high," Joan declared hesitantly.
Hartley stared up at her with big hazel eyes. "Please don't call Mom," he begged.
Joan shook her head. "I'll go sterilize this and if Evan's no worse off, I'll give it another day before I have the both of you hauled into the doctor's office. But! I will be staying to keep an eye on you."
"Yes ma'am," the boys mumbled.
Out in the main room, Owen had cried himself to sleep but his fists were still tangled in Conner's shirt, keeping the older boy holding him. Joan started some water heating. "It might be a good idea if you'd bring Owen over in the afternoons along with some homework. He could get to know Jay and I with you there. Then you'd have someone to babysit while you're with your team," Joan suggested.
"You wouldn't mind?" Conner asked.
"Of course not." Joan smiled to herself, "I need to brush up on my grandma-skills. Wally was already six when Barry started dating Iris."
Conner looked confused for a few minutes then his expression turned mulish. "You can't say anything bad about his dad," he demanded sternly. "I promised I wouldn't let any heroes turn him against the Rogues."
"Alright dear," Joan agreed.