Author's note: guess who forgot about Hall of Justice existing in jlu and had to rewrite a section.
Catching Icarus
Chapter three: Birds of a Feather
Black Canary visited him the next morning.
He wasn't sure if this was a peace offering from the league for the previous day or not. But the sight of the heroine had brought him comfort.
Even if her expressions don't quite fit.
His Black Canary was steady, calm, patient. Everything he wasn't and envied. This one seemed younger, more frazzled, less experienced.
But her smile was still the same. And for now that little bit of home was enough.
"Hi," she greeted. "How you feeling?"
"Like I'm in another universe," he offered.
She made a squeak and looked away embarrassed.
"I meant I heard you got hurt."
Superboy liked down at his appendage immediately. Superman has been right, a day under the sunlight had repaired the damage done to his hand. And he had managed to remove the cast an hour earlier. "I'm okay."
None of the leaguers had spoken to him since his last conversation with Superman and for that he was grateful. Batman, Superman and the psychic who he assumed was Martian Manhunter especially. They had witnessed his weakness first hand. And all he felt was a bottomless pit of shame.
He was interrupted from his spiraling when his stomach rumbled and Superboy sighed. Realizing it'd had been over forty-eight hours since he had eaten anything. Just some ramen and a handful of M'gann's only semi burnt cookies before he had been sent here.
Black Canary smiled. "When's the last time you ate?"
"A while," Superboy said.
"Let's fix that shall we," she said linking her arm with his before he knew what was happening and led him out of the room.
Black Canary gave him a short tour of the watchtower as she guided him to the cafeteria, bathrooms, libraries, training rooms. Pausing for several minutes to take in the stellar view he couldn't do earlier. She introduced him to passing Superheroes as they walked. Some he recognized like Plastic Man and Blue Devil. Superheroes that weren't part of his world's league but still public in their fight against injustice. Others he never heard of like Atom Smasher and Obsidian. Some hid their unease better than others, but he could feel their discomfort radiating off them from a mile away.
The strangest interaction was when Black Canary introduced him older man in a black suited superhero.
"This is my mentor—"
"Wildcat," he finished.
The man seemed surprised that her knew his name but rebounded quickly. "Glad to know I'm a big deal on every earth."
Superboy was going to say he was was long dead. Unlike Alan Scott, Wonder Woman and Jay Garrick, his powers didn't slow down his aging after his exploits in World War Two with the Justice Society. But the voice in his head that always sounded eerily like Kaldur advised him against it. Telling someone of their own death was probably not the best way to ingratiate himself to others.
"You're a war hero in my world." He said diplomatically. "Everybody knows who Wildcat is where I come from."
This immediately cheered up the older man and he slapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "I like this one." Superboy was surprised at the contact. Outside M'gann and Canary, he was rarely touched outside spars.
After several minutes they managed to take reach the cafeteria. It was a large space filled with dozens of wide circular tables, the majority already occupied by heroes he did and didn't recognize chatting away. The scent of food strongest from a doorway in the back. As he entered the cacophony of noise silenced abruptly as every eye turned towards him. Superboy glared back and felt increasingly like a animal on display.
He was hungry, but he could wait a few more hours when the room cleared out. Anything better than their stares. As he was about turn around. But a firm squeeze from Canary kept him still.
"Just ignore them." Raising her voice, glaring at the lot of them, she said. "It seems some people forgot it's rude to stare."
Withering under her gaze, they looked away ashamed. And Black Canary dragged Superboy towards the doorway. Dropping a tray in his hands as she piled plates of steaming eggs, waffles and toast and jam onto it. Foods that he recognized from his education but not properly tried out himself. She dragged him to the table farthest away from the rest of the cafeteria's inhabitants. Tucked into the corner. A pitcher of orange juice and syrup already waiting along with salt, pepper and assorted condiments. Superboy took a seat with his back to the wall, to avoid another incident of turning his back on people he couldn't trust. Canary sitting immediately beside him.
Despite Canary's chastisements the silent observation didn't stop. The particular gaze of a teenage girl in blue, the strongest in the bunch. Superboy looked away turning his attention own at his plate, splattering his scrambled eggs with a thick layer of ketchup before he noticed the shadow of a third figure taking a seat at his table opposite of him.
"Hey, you two," Hawkwoman—Shayera greeted. It still felt strange calling her that. Her yellow costume exchanged for a white version this time.
"Hi, Shayera," Black Canary said.
Superboy mumbled a greeting.
"You know my wings are feeling pretty cramped," Shayera announced loudly. Extending her furled wings to their full wingspan, blocking his view of the rest of the room while hiding him from theirs. The action stops the awkward silence and forces the other occupants to stop looking at him, returning to their conversations. And Superboy let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problem, kid." Shayera said, winking at him. "Go eat your meal. "
The first bite of his waffle was heavenly. For Superboy who spent his first month being fed a series of TV dinners and other instant foods in between M'gann's failed experiments. Food was just something to keep him going. Not particularly pleasant.
Between his hunger and the taste he dug into his plate with a fervor that would have made Wally—hisWally blush.
"Slow down," Shayera said, offering him a glass. "If I didn't know better I would have thought you never ate waffles before."
"I didn't."
Shayera's smile froze. Shayera and Canary shared a look he didn't quite understand. Having a silent conversation between them.
"Superboy," Canary asked lightly. "How old are you?"
"Twenty weeks." Superboy said. Robin referred to his age as a in pod and after pod. With his first sixteen weeks not counting his pod as a equivalent of a womb. He disagreed with it he was fundamentally "born" by the time he entered the pod that raised him. But to makes things clearer, he added. "Only four if you count outside my pod."
Canary squeezed his shoulder and placed a fresh pile of eggs on his plate.
"I can read, I can write. I know the names of things," Superboy elaborated as he saw Shayera's open concern.
"Well that certainly puts you ahead of Flash," Shayera teased.
The reminder of Wally brought Superboy down to earth.
"Have they figured out how to send me back yet?"
"The league is looking into it. But we're waiting for Doctor Fate to return from his off world mission," Shayera explained. "Dealing with magical accidents like this is kind of his wheelhouse."
He knew vaguely about the hero from his exploits in World War Two, Earth's strongest magic user.
"If anybody can bring you home, it's definitely him." Shayera assured.
After breakfast, Superboy was finally rewarded with a transfer off the watchtower. Despite the view of the space, he didn't like Watchtower. Robin, Kid Flash or any of the rest of the team probably would have loved to trade places with him to experience the building for themselves. But the space station lacked any of the warmth of the mountain. Everything he saw of the building was cold and sterile to survive in the vacuum of space, reminding him too much of the Cadmus.
"Hall of Justice is a lot catchier than Metro Hall," Shayera said as she lead him inside the familiar building. Black Canary having to leave due to a sudden fall from another heroine. Huntress? Superboy thought he heard. But he hadn't been paying much attention. "Maybe we should change it."
"Is there a Mount Justice in this world?" He asked hoping to get a piece of home back.
"Sorry," Shayera said as his face fell. "This league only has two bases."
The woman led him a room tucked away in the back. His temporary bedroom was a simple one. A bed, a desk, chair and closet with a adjoining bathroom. The room is significantly smaller than his own in the mountain. But it's the doors that bother him the most. The doors slide down exactly like his pod and Superboy felt once again a sense of the walls closing in on him, trapping him in a prison of concrete. His chest tightening like a vice.
"Can we—can we keep it open?" he asked when the door shut for the first time. Shayera mere inches away from him.
Noticing his suddenly pale complexion, Shayera nodded.
It takes practice messing around with the unfamiliar system, Shayera nearly threatening the lock with her mace at one point but between the twos of them they managed to keep his door permanently open. The sense of freedom comes with the added catch of being gawked at by everyone who passed his room. But it would have to do.
"I hate closed spaces too. Terrify me, really. Had a panic attack blast time a villain got me in one." she said in sympathy as she noticed his suddenly pale complexion. Guiding him to his temporary bed, taking a seat beside him."Feels like everything's suddenly got too small and you're just too big, right?"
Superboy nodded. Taking the explanation, she offered like a lifeline. It was easier to explain than his terror of being returned to his pod. Losing his status as a real boy. Being reduced to a it. Every time he heard the hiss of doors opening.
"Slow breaths help. They center you." Shayera advised. She placed a hand firmly on his back and rubbed it in small circles. "Close your eyes and visualize big open spaces. It'll help take the edge off."
Superboy closed his eyes and imagined the beach of Mount Justice. The waters lapping against the sand.
"Inhale through your nose. Exhale through your mouth." She commanded.
After several minutes, his chest started to loosen.
"Good," Shayera said as color returned to his face. "Just do that every time. It'll be okay."
Superboy filed it away.
It's an odd experience but talking to her. Of all heroines to help with his problem. He'd probably put her dead last. In his world he had barely her ever speak, outside hushed tones with her husband. Even his implanted knowledge had placed her as secondary to Hawkman. His sidekick, his partner, his wife. The terminology of relationship ever shifting. A brief foot note in the history of Katar Hol. Even though they both were cops that were forcibly transported to earth during a job.
The red haired woman in front of him was none of that. Her green eyes sparkling with life. Superboy didn't even know she had green eyes to begin with. Her mask obfuscating their color to a dark black.
"Thanks," he said pausing for a moment he asked. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
None of his leaguers outside Canary, Red Tornado and Batman had even spoken to him before.
"I have a bit of experience being stuck in a alien world, you know?" Shayera said, flapping her wings slightly. "We exiles have to stick together, don't we? Isn't that enough?"
The Hawks of his world had found their world after joining the league with the help of Green Lantern.
But it seemed this one wasn't so lucky.
"At least you're not alone," he offered in sympathy. "You still have your husband with you."
"My what?"
End chapter