Nobody's Child
Chapter Three: Weapon
Disclaimer: Characters and premise are the property of DC, I'm just borrowing them for a little non-profit fun.
"Wow, you really must like Superman a lot," Lois commented as she picked through the options in the overnight bag. The towel-wrapped, little boy balanced on her hip nodded, but not as enthusiastically as Lois had anticipated. She made a note to come back to that point, after she'd clarified matters surrounding family Clark wanted to hide and the disreputable company the kid had arrived with.
She set Superboy on the bed and handed him several items of clothing.
"So, you having fun? Staying here with Clark?" Lois asked and got a more energetic nod once she'd helped him sort out the arms of his Superman pajamas.
"What do I call you anyway? I mean, I can't keep calling you kid, can I?"
Superboy nodded.
"Yes I can call you kid. Or no I can't?" Lois rephrased.
Superboy nodded and smiled, he liked her 'kid', it sounded like his friends' 'Supey'.
"I heard you wouldn't tell Jimmy or Perry your name, but I was sure you'd tell me," Lois gave him a sad look. She wanted to hear the kid's answer without Clark in the room.
She got a less certain head shake.
"Well, why ever not?" she asked.
"Not supposed to talk to you," Superboy blurted out then clapped both hands over his mouth.
"But you talked to Jimmy and Perry," Lois pointed out. "It's not like we're strangers, you know we know Clark and he's like your uncle right?"
Superboy nodded then shook his head. His hands remained firmly clasped over his mouth.
"You can talk to Jimmy and Perry?" Lois repeated and got a nod. "But you can't talk to me." Another nod. "But Clark is your uncle right?" A shake. "Okay, what'd Clark say? Your mom is his cousin. So technically he's your second cousin? Or is he your cousin once removed? I can never keep those straight." Superboy just stared at her in confusion. "Forget it." Lois said as she picked Superboy up and relocated them to the living room, leaving Clark with access to his dresser once his shower was finished. "Back to the important thing: Did Clark tell you not to talk to me?"
Superboy shook his head.
"But someone, specifically, told you not to talk to me?"
A nod.
"Well, that's just mean," Lois pouted theatrically. Superboy looked worried at the suggestion he was being mean to Lois.
"Not you," Lois tweaked his nose. "Whoever told you not to talk to me. If I knew who that was, I'd give them a piece of my mind."
Superboy stared at her with shock and disbelief written boldly across his face.
Despite the no-talking he seemed comfortable enough with being held. 'Comfortable?' Lois thought as she sat on the couch and settled him in her lap. 'The kid soaks in affection like a dry sponge!'
"You think I wouldn't? So this person is scary?"
Superboy wrinkled his nose, considering the question carefully.
"Are you scared of them?"
A quick definite head shake.
"But you think I'd be scared?"
An equally firm nod.
"Well, I'll have you know, I'm not scared of giving anyone a piece of my mind," Lois assured him. "Just ask Clark."
"Even Batman?" popped out before Superboy could stop it.
"Batman told you not to talk to me?" Lois asked skeptically.
Superboy nodded, his sapphire blue eyes serious and sincere, his hands back over his mouth.
When Clark emerged from his bedroom he found Superboy curled up in Lois' lap, fast asleep. "He fell asleep before I could get anything conclusive out of him," Lois said keeping her voice low.
Clark relaxed. He'd been worried about what Lois might have derived from the one-sided conversation he'd overheard.
"Ah-ha!"
"What?" Clark asked.
"You wouldn't look so relieved if you weren't covering something up," Lois reasoned. "You don't have a cousin in Metropolis do you?"
"Lois, not everything is part of some big cover-up," Clark protested.
"He told me Batman told him not to talk to me," Lois said.
"The things kids imagine," Clark said with a weak grin.
Lois gave him a disgusted look. "The eyes really do give it away, they're incredibly distinctive and striking... you barely notice the rest of his face, either of them. That and the way Perry couldn't budge the kid's arm. And he knows Batman! How'd Superboy get de-aged? Can't be Superman because we, well I, saw him at the press conference and the kid was already at the Planet by then. But tell me this: Why are you babysitting for the JLA?
Clark took a deep breath and considered the situation. Lois had pieced together that the boy was Superboy, not Clark Kent's cousin. It wasn't an utter disaster, yet. "Lois, this can't show up in the paper," Clark said seriously. "He's pretty helpless right now and it'd be like painting a target on him."
Lois draped a protective arm over the sleeping child in her lap and glared at Clark. "I'm not an idiot," she hissed. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, or Superman. I still don't like being kept in the dark. How'd he end up like this."
"I honestly don't know that much more than you do," Clark said. "At the moment he's five. Getting him back to normal is being worked on. I'm to watch him until further notice."
"Why you?" Lois demanded.
"Did you notice a point where I had the option of saying no?" Clark asked with frustration. Then he sighed. "He's actually a pretty normal kid, not at all what I expected from a living weapon."
Very carefully Lois shifted Superboy off her lap, she petted his hair for a moment to be certain he'd stay asleep. "Kent. Hallway. Now," she said in a sharp whisper.
Clark didn't see that he had any option besides following as Lois marched out of his apartment. As soon as the door closed behind them Lois spun around, "What the hell is wrong with you?" she accused, going up on her toes, the better to get in his face. "Where do you get off calling that kid a weapon?"
"Lois, he's a clone of Superman. He's someone's sick notion of how they could get that sort of power under their thumb. He is a weapon. He even says it himself."
"He's a brainwashed kid! What's your excuse?" Lois demanded, that she hadn't raised her voice didn't disguise her anger in the slightest. "I've got half a mind to take the kid with me when I leave, but Superman and the Justice League must have had some reason for leaving him with you!"
"He's not a real child," Clark protested.
"The hell he isn't! Look around you Kent!" Lois' eyes narrowed dangerously. "We share this world with aliens, androids with souls and women made out of clay. It's gotten so I barely use the word 'human' when I write because there are so many people running around who aren't, technically, human. So the kid's a test tube baby? So what? That's practically normal."
"A clone."
"A test tube baby who's short a genetic donor," Lois threw up her hands in exasperation. "I really don't get you right now Kent. You're the last person I'd expect this sort of crap from. Look at it this way: The kid has the same genetic potential as Superman. If he doesn't turn out okay, it's all on whoever raised him."
"That's just it," Clark argued. "He wasn't raised. He was programed. He's not supposed to exist. He's not natural."
"I've interviewed Lex Luthor, I've seen what soulless looks like and it has nothing to do with how a person is born. That little kid? He's sweet. The teenager who's been showing up and trying to help out for the last few months? His heart's in the right place. Sure he's got his rough edges, that's part and parcel with being a teenager. He's not the problem. People calling him a weapon? That's a problem, 'cause if there's enough of that going around, it'd be pretty normal for a teenager to live down to people's expectations. My little sister and her race to self-destruction are living proof of that concept."
"Seriously Clark. Don't call that kid a weapon. Don't let him call himself one either. Letting him think like that about himself? That's horrible."
For a long time after Lois left Clark sat on the floor in front of the couch watching Superboy sleep. Without Lois cuddling him Superboy had curled up around a couch cushion and was sucking his thumb. Clark could argue with Bruce about how he wasn't the boy's father; genetics aside he'd had nothing to do with Superboy coming into existence. It was harder to answer Lois' accusation that he was hurting the boy by thinking of him as a weapon, even it were true.
When Superboy's eyes started to move behind his closed eyelids Clark found himself wondering 'Who programs a weapon to dream?' Superboy's dreams quickly turned unpleasant. He whimpered and pressed himself into the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible.
Clark reached out and rubbed the little boy's back comfortingly. The next thing he knew he had a lap-full of inconsolably sobbing child. "It's okay. It's just a bad dream. You're okay," Clark repeated as he continued rubbing Superboy's back.
Gradually the little boy calmed down enough for Clark to make out words. "Not a bad thing. Not a bad thing." Superboy kept repeating, kept pleading as he burrowed further into Clark's arms. 'Who teaches a weapon to want comfort after a nightmare?' Clark sighed as Superboy cried himself back to sleep, clinging to Clark with a desperate strength that would have been painful if Clark had been human.
Even asleep Superboy showed no sign of loosening his grip. After some time Clark pulled a blanket over both of them and went to sleep on the couch with Superboy cradled in his arms.
The next morning Clark was relieved when Superboy woke-up happy, his nightmares apparently forgotten.
The previous day's experience with feeding a small child fresh in mind, Clark opted to wait until after breakfast to dress Superboy in new clothes. He thought about calling his ma for advice on food that was child-safe. But given the effort he'd put into not discussing Superboy with his parents... But if Lois was right, and he was starting to think she probably was. If Superboy were a brainwashed child and not just a weapon that was going to blow up in their faces at any moment... Still he needed to think about how he was going to tell his parents about Superboy. Even if the boy wasn't to blame, even if he were a real person, he was still dangerous.
After careful consideration, without calling home, Clark settled on scrambled eggs as a relatively disaster proof food. He didn't consider the challenges of cooking without Krypto present to keep Superboy occupied. Clark got eggs out of the refrigerator, then he moved Superboy so that he could close the door. He took a frying pan out of the cupboard, then removed Superboy from a precarious perch on the top-shelf of his pantry. As Clark turned on the range burner he caught sight of Superboy crouching down in preparation to leap just in time to brace himself for impact as forty pounds of small child propelled by super-human strength crashed into him. Superboy scrabbled for a hold for a few seconds then pulled himself up onto Clark's shoulders.
"You really shouldn't do that," Clark sighed. "Especially not to someone near a stove."
"Why not?" Superboy asked. "I like being high. You're the highest place."
"If I hadn't seen you jump you could have knocked both of us into the stove," Clark explained. He decided that explaining how anyone else would have been knocked over, and probably injured, even if they were prepared was opening too big a can of worms.
"'Kay, I won't jump on anybody. 'Cept bad guys, you're supposed to knock them down," Superboy negotiated. "Can I stay? Since I already jumped and you didn't get knocked down?"
Clark decided it was probably the safest place in the kitchen for Superboy to be. "You can stay," he agreed. "But only if you promise NOT to jump on anyone else."
"Okay," Superboy agreed.
From his perch Superboy watched Clark crack several eggs into the frying pan. "M'Gann broke eggs on my head once," he announced.
"Why would she do that?" Clark asked.
"'Cause I only got two hands," Superboy explained then drifted off on a tangent. "M'Gann can have as many arms as she wants. And sometimes Wally looks like he has lots of arms, but he doesn't, he just moves really fast. Kaldur has webs on his hands and Robin and Artemis have white lines and hard patches. My hands are boring."
"So M'Gann cracked eggs on your head?" Clark asked feeling confused.
"NO!" Superboy exclaimed. "M'Gann wasn't using hands at all, she was thinking things at me. But I couldn't catch them all, 'cause I don't have enough hands. And the eggs broke on my head, and the milk. M'Gann was going to clean me up, then she turned red. Why does M'Gann turn red a lot when she talks to me?"
"She turns red a lot?" Clark clarified.
"All the time, 'specially if we're standing close or stuff."
"Er, she probably likes you," Clark explained.
Superboy rolled his eyes, unimpressed with Clark's logic. "M'Gann likes the whole team. I'm the only one that makes her turn red."
"How about you ask me again when you're not five," Clark suggested.
Superboy leaned around so he could see Clark's face without relinquishing his spot on Clark's shoulders. "You'll still talk to me when I'm not little?" he asked intently.
"Well, er, why wouldn't I?" Clark temporized feeling very uncomfortable. Superman avoided the clone, but Clark Kent hadn't even met him prior to de-aging.
"Batman, Canary and Reddy like me, even when I'm big," Superboy said, then his voice dropped to an uncertain whisper. "But other grown-ups are weird around me," his voice got even smaller, "'cause Superman doesn't like me."
Then he perked up. "But when Ba-Matches took me to the Planet place yesterday all the grown-ups were nice, even the one that yells, but not the smelly lady."
Clark decided to focus on the safe topics. "Cat does wear a lot of perfume."
"Everyone was nice, they talked to me and don't always got other stuff to do when I wanna ask something. But that's since I got little. Will you really talk to me when I'm big?"
Clark hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. If Lois were right... "Yes, I'll still talk to you." he promised. Then changed the subject. "The eggs are ready, lets have breakfast."
Breakfast completed with minimal mess, Clark decided, thankfully, that another bath could be foregone. As he looked through Superboy's overnight bag his eyes widened at the realization that every single outfit had the S-shield printed prominently on it. "Did you help Batman pick out your clothes?" Clark asked.
Superboy nodded. "He picked dumb clothes. Then he wouldn't let me wear my shirt. Too big, he said it would fall off. But it's my shirt! With my mark! I wasn't gonna wear any of his dumb clothes. So we got new ones that were better."
Clark chuckled softly at the mental picture of Batman being out-stubborned by a five-year-old. "Why does it matter so much to you?" he asked. "Why do you always have to wear that?"
"It's mine!" Superboy declared vehemently. He grabbed the nearest shirt and clutched it to his chest. "Superman didn't take it away."
Clark frowned, that his not objecting to the kid wearing the S-Shield had meant so much seemed wrong somehow. "Why is it so important to you?"
"Superman didn't take it away. So I'm not all bad."
Clark picked Superboy up and sat him on the dresser so they were on eye-level. "What do you mean 'you're bad'?" he asked.
"Cadmus was bad. I used to belong to them. But I won't be their's no more! 'Cause they were bad!" Superboy declared fiercely. Then he looked down sadly. "Superman didn't want me. I must be a bad thing too."
"Not a bad thing." Clark heard the echos of the nightmare that had left Superboy sobbing broken-heartedly. "Seriously Clark. Don't call him a weapon. It's horrible." It was his fault, the nightmare was his fault. "I'm not a bad thing," that was what he'd been trying to say, pleading for someone to believe him. "Why do you always have to wear that?" Because it was all he had. "Superdoggy likes me?" "Can I belong to you?" Clinging to any scrape of acceptance. "The League will figure something out," I won't. "I'm definitely available," but not for you. "I'm not his father," no one was. Angry and hurting and just a kid. A real child and so hurt and it was his fault.
Clark picked up Superboy and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry. You're not bad. You're not bad at all. I- he- Superman..." Clark took a deep breath. This was his mistake to fix. He put Superboy back on the dresser then took off his glasses and set them aside. He waited silently for a few moment until he had Superboy's full attention.
"You are not bad." He repeated staring intently into sapphire blue eyes there were exactly the same shade as his own. "I just didn't know you back then." He unbuttoned his shirt enough to reveal his own S-shield. "You were a surprise and I didn't react very well. It wasn't because you were bad. It was just because I didn't know you then."
"S-superman?" the little boy asked nervously.
Clark nodded seriously.
"I'm not a bad thing?"
"No. You are not bad."
"You don't h-hate me?"
"No, absolutely not!" Clark stated firmly. He picked Superboy up again and held him close.
After a moment Superboy hugged him back. "Can I belong to you?" he whispered uncertainly.
"Yes. You're my family. We belong to each other okay?"
Superboy nodded and hugged Clark as hard as he could.