Gotham

July 25th

Just outside the city, proper Arkham Asylum loomed from its hilltop.

Its gothic design made all the more oppressive by its high cement walls and razor wire. Even the sunny weather could not make the building seem any less gloomy.

Still, Superboy stood outside the main gate that Saturday afternoon, hesitation gluing him to the ground. Inside the building in front of him was a woman for all genetic purposes was his mother. A woman who was apparently eager to meet him.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't feeling very much the same, but still, he hesitated. Partly out of nerves that he was bull-headedly ignoring. Another part, a very large part, was because of who the woman was.

A criminal. A terrorist. A suspected murderer.

What did it say about him that he was so eager to meet such as a person? That he shared genetics with such a person?

"Hey, kid, you coming in or what?" The gate guard asked, sounding more bored than anything else.

Giving the man a brief glare Superboy rammed his hands into his pockets before stomping his way inside.

-0-0-0-0-0-

She was shorter than he thought she would be.

Obviously, he had read her file before he came and had skimmed over her height along with her other personal information. Still, he somehow expected the woman to be more… imposing was probably the best word.

Instead, the redhead before him looked positively tiny in her state-issued orange jumpsuit. Though upon seeing him enter the room she seemed to bloom as a smile grew on her face and stood as far as her restraints would let her.

"I, hello!" She started, still half raised from her seat, "Thank you for coming."

He gave a grunt, unsure what else to say, and sat down across from her. His eyes flickered to the guard in the corner of the room before landing back on her as she retook her seat. He didn't like that someone else was there, invading the moment.

"Does she have to be here?"

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder the green-skinned refocused her attention in front of her, "I'm afraid so, I've asked. But never mind that. I'm happy you decided to come." And there was that smile again. Bright, friendly, and tinted with something he couldn't quite identify.

He couldn't help but smile back.

The woman's hands started to work against each other as a silence started to fall over them. "I, ah, so what should I call you? Your file didn't say your name, so…"

"Superboy."

The woman flinched back, "I suppose I deserve that."

"Deserve what?"

"Not knowing your name." She supplied with a helpless, mournful, shrug. "I am a criminal after all."

"My name is Superboy." They both blinked at the other's confusion.

"No, that can't be right." Her mind unable to fully wrap around what it was putting together. "What do your friends call you.'

"I keep telling you, Superboy." He was getting irritated at that point.

"That's not a name." She said, emotion rising in her voice, "Superboy is an alias, at best. A project name at worst. I mean I don't go by Poison Ivy every second of the day. I have a real name… you should too."

"I guess…"

She bit her lip, "Do, you… Would it be alright if I gave you a name?"

His chest warmed and his face stretched into the widest smile he had given in his life, "I think I'd like that."

-0-0-0-0-0-

Unbeknownst to the room's two occupants, their conversation was being observed via closed-circuit TV. One of the viewers let out a thoughtful hum while the other watched with a blank expression, or so one would assume.

"What do you think Doctor?"

"Well," the man rubbed at his chin, "I'd have to consult her usual therapist, and collect more data but I think this is a positive sign. Dr. Isley never had much of a support structure before and now that she has the foundation of one, a hopefully strong and a moral one, I can only assume a real road to rehabilitation for her."

"Hmmm, keep me notified."

"Of course sir."

-0-0-0-

AN:

Thoughts? Opinions? Possible names for Superboy?