Chapter 23
A/N: hey everyone, welcome back! Good to see y'all here again! Remember, I just own the story, nothing else is mine.
/comms/
Telepathy/flashbacks/whatever
Mt. Justice, October 18, 17:21EDT
"Recognized: Batman—02."
"How are they doing?" the Dark Knight inquired, striding up towards where Manhunter and Captain Marvel stood watching several video feeds, showing the group of teens curled up in the living room.
"I am still shaken by what we have wrought," J'ohn replied. "One can only imagine how these youths fare."
Batman looked up to the camera feeds. None of the teens were talking to each other, each child lost in their own thoughts. Each looking shell-shocked.
Guilt twisted in his chest. What had they been thinking? Putting already traumatized children through an exercise like that? How on Earth had no one considered the repercussions?
He gave a defeated sigh, "I know our simulation went awry, but I was hoping the Team would rally by now."
"Trauma tends to linger. Something I know you know well old friend."
"Black Canary?
"She has her work cut out for her."
-.-
The Cave was painfully quiet. Since the exercise the other day, everyone had been rather gloomy. Even the adults seemed broodier than usual.
It wasn't that he blamed the others for their reactions. No. If anyone understood what it was like to die and come back, it was him.
It was just, for some reason, this whole fiasco just didn't bother him.
He just…didn't feel anything about it.
Which was one reason he was hiding away from everyone else. They were all suffering and he…he was just fine.
Sure, they all died. But, at the end of the day, it hadn't been real. So, there was no reason to be upset about it. It happened, but it was just better to move on and forget about it. There was nothing they could do to fix it anyways; it hadn't been real. Besides the odds had been stacked against them from the start, it only would've been a matter of time before they lost anyways.
Frankly, he was kind of surprised they all survived as long as they did.
But, he didn't voice those thoughts out loud. He didn't want to make them feel worse.
So, he was just going to use the free time to work on hunting down his father. At least until Canary hunted his ass down for their talk.
Pulling up the files, he opened the digital copy of the notebook, scrolling back to where he last was. Upon his initial glance, he could see that the writing was not the methodical notes his father took during an experiment. Must be one of the instances where something pissed off his father. That was the only time he wrote like this.
Something is wrong. I don't understand why though. Everything had gone exactly better than I could have ever envisioned. At long last, Michael had finally made his first kill. It was sloppy, more exposed to witnesses than my own first kill had been. But he is new, mistakes happen. I suppose I should've seen this coming. Michael was going through another aggressive phase because of the recent treatment escalation. I should've been there to corral him for the time being, at least until I could've found him more suitable prey.
It's a pity. The Illusion Disc experiment was going well too. At least I still managed to collect some useful data. And I just started his remnant treatment too. So that was a waste.
But still, Michael had made his first kill. He should be more excited. I had been. I couldn't wait to feel that rush again.
Instead, he has lost all progress he's made. He isn't eating, he's sobbing like Evan always had—thank God I won't have to listen to that anymore—he hasn't left his room since the plug was pulled, and he's even fallen behind on his remnant regimen because he's not sleeping. Michael seems to have become just as weak and pathetic as he had been when I started treating him.
All that work down the drain. What went wrong? I did everything perfectly! I trained him to be strong. I molded him to be a man. Not a weak sniveling child. I showed him how to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Taught him to kill. He had enjoyed it when we killed those elk on our hunting trips. He had no problem when I taught him how to gut a fish. People say that the first human kill is the hardest, but seriously, it's just like killing anything else. He enjoyed it then. Why not now?
I know Michael had been a stupidly sensitive child, but the remnant should've taken care of that. He should be fixed. So why is it he seems more broken?
Perhaps I have been too lenient in disciplining him. Michael does need a strong hand to guide him. I'll need to redouble my efforts. And I'll have to increase the doses, that should crush whatever old weaknesses are trying to reappear. Going hunting more often should also help get him used to killing again. At least until I can work him up to human kills again.
Mike felt his blood turn to ice as he reread the entry. His dad…his dad had wanted him to kill someone. No, he had been expecting it.
All those camping trips, all the hunting they did…it was to get him used to killing. They were supposed to make him like taking a life. Get him used to seeing innocent people as little more than lambs to be slaughtered.
His father hadn't been pissed that Michael had killed his baby brother. No, he'd been pissed that he hadn't enjoyed it.
Mike felt sick.
His father had been trying to turn him into a killer, into…into a monster.
And, in some way, he had succeeded. After all, only a monster could murder their own brother in cold blood. Only a monster could go through something like what just happened in the simulation and feel nothing.
One of his best friends had died right before his eyes, and he had felt nothing.
If he felt anything at all, he'd felt pissed. Not because she died. But because everyone else was acting normal. They all had been grieving and all he could think about was the next part of the mission.
His friend had been killed, and all he could think about was how everyone else's emotions were going to get in the way.
Something was wrong with him. Something was deeply, fundamentally broken inside of him. Because no normal person would act like that. No normal person would be mad at their friends for grieving.
Glass dug into his hand as the tablet broke from how hard he was squeezing it. Jumping back from his seat in surprise, he dropped the components, watching as they shattered on the floor, making a mess. He…he hadn't even noticed he'd been squeezing that tight. What if it had been someone's neck? He would've killed them. He just could've killed someone without noticing until it was too late.
Maybe…maybe he really was a monster.
-.-
Dinah leaned back in her seat, watching as the fourth child of the day sat down in front of her. So far, she would say these sessions had been going moderately better than what she'd come in expecting. While Artemis had been rather reluctant, they did have a, an albeit small, breakthrough. Wally was just in straight up denial. And Conner…he just needed time to work things out at his own pace. It was perfectly natural for some people to need time to process before they could talk. Several of her other patients were the same way. She would be there when he was ready.
But, right now, she needed to focus on the teen in front of her.
Kaldur looked just as rattled as both Conner and Artemis had been. The normally stoic Atlantean boy had large bags under his eyes and was visibly slumping in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Hello Kaldur," she smiled gently. "How are you holding up?"
Across from her, the young man sighed, "As well as can be expected."
An honest answer. Good. That was a great start. "I see. Do you want to talk about it?"
The boy nodded. "I…When I started this, I always knew there was a chance for something to go wrong," he said, looking down at the floor, "it was something that stuck with me since my mandatory military training back in Atlantis. I thought I was prepared for it. But…"
"But?"
"But, instead…" Kaldur took a deep, breath, trying to calm himself down as he rest his forehead on his palm, "instead, I let two of my friends die under my command. I should have told Artemis to retreat, ordered M'gann to use her telekinesis to destroy the incoming ship, or I could have used my waterbearers to take the ship down. Instead, I let her die."
"Kaldur," Dinah spoke, "focusing on the what-ifs never helps. Believe me I know. But, unfortunately we cannot change the past. However, that doesn't mean it was your fault. You were thrust into a position you never should have been in, in circumstances that never should have happened. I know you did everything you could."
"I was the General. I was in charge of making sure my team survived, making sure we completed the mission," he replied. "And I didn't even notice one of my friends hadn't even made it inside until it was too late. I acted as a soldier. I am not fit for command…I—I think I should resign as team leader."
She didn't blame him. Who would want to be in command after that? It was perfectly natural for Kaldur to be more hesitant now. "Who would you recommend to take your place?"
The Atlantean boy, interlaced his fingers, still looking at the ground. "Artemis is too raw and untrusting. Kid Flash too brash and impulsive. Miss Martian remains eager to please. And Superboy carries too much anger."
"Leaving only two options: Robin and Remnant," she finished. Canary did her best to not show her surprise. She knew Robin was the logical choice. But, Michael was a surprise, if not welcome contender. She was at least proud to see that her protégé had gained the confidence of his teammates.
Kaldur nodded. "Yes…Remnant has on occasion acted as a second. He notices problems the others tend to overlook. But," the teen sagging in his chair, "he's much like Superboy at times. He lets his temper get the better of him."
Now that sounded more like her apprentice. "And what of Robin?"
Kaldur's head snapped up to look at her, his pale aqua eyes wide. "But he is too young—"
"Kaldur," she interrupted gently, reaching out to pat his knee, "you're all young."
Still, he shook his head. "I cannot shift this burden to him. Not yet," the boy sighed, sitting up to lean back in his seat, "It seems I must withdraw my resignation."
-.-
Michael sat in a corner of the library, arms wrapped around his knees as he stared at the broken tablet on the floor. He needed to clean it up. Preferably before someone noticed. He didn't want to get in trouble. But he just couldn't bring himself to move.
Instead, he just sat there, staring at the mess he'd made.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. His tears had dried some time ago.
Now, he just felt empty. He didn't know why though. He knew his father was a monster. He should have seen something like this coming. His father hated his guts. He made it clear time and time again that he was worthless to the man. A mistake that should've never been born.
It wasn't like he was wrong, anything Mike got involved in always seemed to end in disaster.
Seriously, he was so pathetic that William never gave him attention unless he wanted something or needed a good punching bag.
It wasn't like he was good for much else.
But, then again, nothing he'd ever done had been enough to please his father.
William had been probably just been planning to throw him under the bus first chance he got. Though it wasn't like he would have even made a good patsy. He'd always been a terrible liar.
His gaze landed back on the broken tablet. He probably needed to clean that up soon.
-.-
"Hi M'gann," Canary said, opening the door to let the girl in. "How are you doing?"
The normally bubbly girl didn't answer, merely floating to the chair and sitting down in it, knees hugged to her chest.
Dinah's heart sank. She knew that out of all of them, M'gann was likely going to be taking this the hardest. Poor girl probably blamed herself. "I see," she mused stepping over to sit across from the girl, she rested her elbows against her knees. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"I…I don't know…" she whispered, hugging herself tighter, "what is there to talk about?"
"Well, we can start with how you feel about what happened in the simulation," Dinah offered. "Or, if you don't feel comfortable talking about that right now, we can talk about something else. Work up to it? Does that sound ok?"
M'gann nodded.
"Ok. Where do you want to start?"
"I-it's just…" she hiccupped, wiping her eyes, "it's just what am I supposed to think? It was all my fault. Hello Megan," the girl smacked her forehead harder than Dinah had ever seen M'gann do it before, "who else could turn a simple exercise and turn it into a nightmare?"
"M'gann," she said, reaching out to grab her hand, "listen to me: it was an accident. This was not your fault. The blame lies on us for even thinking of this idea. We didn't consider the repercussions. So please, don't punish yourself for this."
"B-but it was my—I-I traumatized my friends!"
"Honey," she interrupted the poor girl's rambling, "it was not your fault. If you need to blame someone, M'gann, blame us. Because you are in no way responsible for this."
The Martian didn't respond, but her skin did change from its normal green to a pale, freckled tone.
"You—you turned white," she said, quickly shoving down her surprise. She had to remember, Martians worked different than humans. J'ohn could be seen changing skin tones sometimes depending on his mood. M'gann must've been going through the same thing.
Or at least she would have believed that had it not been for her visibly horrified reaction. "No!" Shooting to her feet, the girl's eyes were impossibly wide as she stared down at her hands. "Oh…" she sighed, taking a deep breath, slowly sinking back into her chair, "oh, you mean Caucasian." She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her legs, her long red hair obscuring her face, "Y-yeah. I'm fine being Megan. But, right now, I don't think I can trust myself with my other powers."
Canary's heart sunk. That's what she'd been afraid of. "M'gann, you're a Martian. You refusing to use your powers is like me refusing to speak," she said.
The girl didn't reply.
"You know, I once tried that: not speaking."
M'gann looked up at her, bright orange eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"It had been my first day of school and I was so nervous I had my first Canary Cry. I nearly deafened my entire first-grade class. So, I understand what it's like, being scared of what your powers can do. However, denying a part of yourself is never the answer. It will only make u feel worse. Trust me. I know it's going to be hard, and it will take time, but the feeling of guilt will eventually go away. And, I'm sure your uncle would be more than happy to help you. You just need to take your time, pace yourself, practice until you regain control and build back your confidence."
-.-
Blood dripped onto the counter as Mike pulled shards of glass out of his palm with a pair of tweezers. He supposed he should've been more careful cleaning his mess up. But he had been more focused on making sure no one saw his lapse in control. Besides, he didn't mind the pain.
It actually helped clear his head.
Pulling out a particularly large shard, he dropped it in the wastebin, running his hand under the cold water washing the blood away as his cut slowly stitched itself shut.
That had been embarrassing.
Seriously? What the fuck? He'd read entries much, much worse than that. He'd spent hours analyzing entries describing the torture and mutilation of dozens of innocent people, seen pictures of what his father had done to his victims, read about how the man had murdered the rest of his family and had been treating him as his personal lab rat and punching bag. So why did that entry affect him so badly?
Not even the entries regarding his mother's or Lizzie's murders had bothered him this badly.
Honestly, it really shouldn't have been a shock his father had decided to turn him into his personal hunting dog. The man had already made him his personal punching bag and servant waiting on him hand and foot. Why not make him his personal hitman on top of it?
Yanking another shard from his hand, he grit his teeth. It wasn't even the worst thing that had ever happened to him. But of course, his self-centered ass freaked out the moment the journal mentioned more ways the man had been tormenting him.
It was just another thing to add to his no doubt mountain of trauma.
What was wrong with him? He shouldn't have been freaking out so much. It was pathetic. He was a grown up, he had handled himself alone for years in Gotham City. He hadn't needed anyone then. He didn't need anyone now.
Michael wasn't the weakling in those journals anymore.
Glaring into the mirror, he ignored tears burning at the corners of his eyes as he saw William grinning back at him.
-.-
Any job had its good and bad days. For Dinah, both as a therapist and heroine, this was a bad day. Don't get her wrong, she knew it was only a matter of time before the team would be ordered to have sessions with her. But, she hadn't been expecting it to be after such a traumatizing situation, let alone one that the League had caused.
They were their mentors. They were the people who had been meant to protect them from things like that, to allow those kids to maintain their innocence for as long as possible. And instead, they had done just the opposite. They had recklessly chosen to allow them to do an exercise that would permanently traumatize the most mentally stable adult.
She felt so stupid.
What the hell had they been thinking?
They had put several traumatized children into a situation where they would be forced to watch everyone they cared about die before their eyes. They had forced these kids to relive their worst nightmares.
Now children were paying the price for their oversight.
M'gann no longer felt safe using her own powers and had guilt eating her from the inside out. Artemis was blaming herself for causing the disaster, despite the fact it hadn't been as much her fault as it had been anyone else's. Kaldur's normally unshakable confidence was now cracking as he questioned his ability to lead. Robin was now terrified at the thought of taking charge and causing people he cared about to die. Wally was still in denial. She still had yet to speak to Conner since he took off mid-session. And Michael…well to say she was worried was an understatement.
No one had seen the boy since he arrived at the Cave earlier that day.
Down the hall, she heard something shatter.
That couldn't be good.
Jogging over, she bit her lip knocking lightly. "Is everything ok in there?"
There was a thud on the other side, "It's fine."
Dinah pursed her lips. Yeah, that was a lie if she ever heard one. "I'm coming in."
There wasn't any protest as door creaked open, stepping inside the first thing she noticed was the mirror. Large cracks fragmented the reflective surface, and several fragments were shattered on the counter and floor. It looked like someone had punched it.
The next thing she noticed was the small trashcan sitting on the counter. Stepping forwards, she peering inside, brows rising as she saw bloody pieces of glass.
"Sorry."
Turning around, she found Michael sitting on the floor. He looked worse for wear. "Bad day?" she asked, sitting down beside him.
Mike shrugged, "…Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He opened an eye, the normally bright glow noticeably dimmer. With a silent shrug, he leaned forwards, resting his cheek on his knee. Using his forearm to hug his knee close, looking towards the broken mirror. "I'll clean that up."
She grabbed his shoulder as he started to get up. "Don't worry about it," she said, gently pulling him back down.
"But—"
"Mike, it's ok. We don't mind fixing it," Dinah reassured. "It was an accident." Taking his hand, she grabbed the first aid kit lying out, pulling out the glass fragments. "So do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong."
"And I'm sure that mirror cracked itself," she countered. "So what's going on?"
The teen sighed, leaning back against the wall, running a hand through his hair with his free hand. She couldn't help but notice the small, dried spots of blood on that hand too. "I…I don't know."
Canary set the tweezers aside, grabbing a bottle of peroxide to pour over the cuts before they fully healed over. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion. "Then let's start with the cause of all this," she winced sympathetically as her protégé hissed as the disinfectant was poured onto his hand, "I know the exercise would've been hard for you. Even if it hadn't gone wrong."
Beside her, Mike scoffed quietly, "Because I had to watch people die or I had to die again?" He pulled his hand away, wiping it on his shirt. "The truth is…" he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, "the truth is, it didn't bother me. It wasn't like I didn't care, but…I just—I just couldn't feel anything." The boy hugged his legs closer to his chest. "Everyone else was hurting and I…I just felt annoyed."
"Annoyed?"
He nodded. "It was just…I…it wasn't like…I don't know!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air in frustration. "I knew the risks when I signed up for this. Hell, I took one look at the news feeds during the simulation and knew it was a suicide mission. They killed the entire League, what chance did we have?"
"So, you went in assuming someone was going to die?"
"Well…yeah. I knew it was only a matter of time."
That made sense. In fact, it was frighteningly similar to Bruce in her opinion. The Dark Knight always went into a mission expecting the worst outcomes. It was what made him so capable of handling a situation when it went sideways. He was mentally prepared to detach himself from the situation if the worst came to pass so it wouldn't affect his performance.
Make no mistake, it was nowhere near a healthy coping mechanism. Bottling stuff up that way typically ended badly; especially considering all the pressure from holding it back built up until it finally burst. But, during a mission or in an emergency, it had proven time and time again to be an invaluable skill.
Mike must've learned to compartmentalize similarly at some point in his life.
Which explained his outburst. Something had just been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.
"So it annoyed you that the others didn't make the same assumptions?"
Her protégé frowned in thought. "I mean, a little bit, but I think I was just more frustrated that they had been letting their grief distract them." Mike leaned back against the wall with a shaky breath, "Wha—what does that say about me? My friends were in pain and all I could think about was how much of a liability they could be if they didn't pull themselves together. Who does that?!"
"Someone," she interrupted, grasping his shoulder firmly, "who has been through more than anyone their age should ever have. It's a defense mechanism you developed to protect yourself."
"Oh…" he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes. "So…so I'm not a monster?"
"God no," she said. It was perhaps a bit harsher than she intended, but this needed to be addressed immediately. Her protégé already had a low self-worth when they met, it had taken months to get him where he was now; thoughts like these would obliterate all the hard work and progress he had made. "Michael, what you experienced, that's normal. I won't say it's the healthiest coping mechanism, but everyone has their own ways of processing grief. Some react in the moment, some, like you, can push it aside to let the main problem or emergency pass before they handle it. You are not a monster. What on earth put that idea in your head?"
The teen visibly flinched back, hugging his legs tighter. "I—while everyone was—well, since I wasn't well…feeling bad about what happened, I decided to try to get some work done…"
Dinah's stomach dropped. Oh God no. "You investigated your father's case. Didn't you?"
Mike didn't meet her eye as he nodded. "Yeah," he murmured thickly. "I—I thought I could help. Maybe see something in the entries I hadn't read yet that would suggest his next move or find where he was." The teen slammed his fist into the floor, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes "I don't get it! I've read worse that that stupid entry! Why am I freaking out?! What the fuck wrong with me?!"
"There's nothing wrong with you," she reassured, scooching closer, wrapping her arms around him. "Listen to me, believe it or not, this has probably been building up for a while. You've been under a lot of stress the past couple days. It was probably just a matter of time before something pushed you over the edge. So," she sat back, "what happened?"
"Father. He was…" Mike sighed, running his fingers through his hair "I think he was trying to make me like him. Trying to…"
"Trying to make you a killer," she finished upon his hesitation.
She wasn't surprised. When she had finally harassed the Dark Knight enough to let her look through the books, she had done her best to be as thorough as possible while being fast enough to satisfy the Batman's lack of patience. Despite her best efforts, she knew there were clues to Afton's behavior she had missed. The fact that William had been actively grooming his son to be his replacement or patsy was one of those things. She had felt sick when Bruce told her. It made her wonder what other kinds of nightmares hadn't been documented in those cursed pages.
Honestly, Bruce better pray to God he found that bastard and threw him into the deepest pit in Arkham before she could get to him. Because at this rate, after everything she'd heard and seen, there was a good chance she was going to make sure William Afton would never be able to live outside of a prison hospital ever again.
She sighed silently. That definitely had been Mike's final straw for this week. A discovery like that combined with recent events; it was no wonder he had a breakdown.
Her protégé nodded. "He was trying to make me a monster, and…and I think he succeeded," the young boy whispered, "partially at least."
"Mike, what happened to your brother was not your fault," Dinah repeated. And she would keep reminding him until the day he could see that he had been just as much his father's victim as his siblings had been. "And, the fact you still blame yourself, the fact you're talking to me about this, the fact I can tell you're terrified of becoming like him proves you are not anything like that man." She brushed back a dark lock behind his ear, "I know you're scared, but you don't need to fight this battle alone. All of us, your uncle, me, Batman, the rest of the League, and your friends, we're here to help. You just need to ask for it."
The teen gave her a small smile. "You sound like someone else I've talked to recently. Though he wasn't as nice about it."
Whoever they were, Dinah was going to buy them a drink.
