Superman frowned at the bay entrance as the small medical response craft landed, powering down with a sharp cessation of it's thrusters. As soon as the bay door was shut, it's main boarding hatch opened and the ramp extended. Martian Manhunter solemnly levitated the yellow stretcher behind him, while a medical assistant checked the bags and lines already running to the patient below. Superman didn't spare a glance for the other figures trailing behind; his eyes riveted on the wan, dark head peeking out from the emergency blanket wrapped around him.

"What happened?" he demanded, alighting in front of the stretcher and turning to J'onn for answers as soon as he realized Conner's eyes were shut. "Did he change his mind?"

J'onn gave him a steady look and shook his head. "That is difficult to answer. He has yet to be properly lucid and I cannot be sure he even understands where he is right now."

"But he called," Superman insisted, hovering in sync with the small procession. "The communicator Batman gave him logged a call an hour ago. If he didn't request evacuation-"

"I called."

Superman whipped around to see Lex Luthor. He trailed behind Wolf, somehow looking more disheveled than he had on the deck a week ago. His stubble had grown thick and almost beardlike, the dark circles under his eyes were nearly as prominent as the ones under Conner's. Gone was his full business suit, leaving only a rumpled white shirt, half open to reveal his containment vest, and a creased pair of black slacks- all of which had been slept in for at least two days, his sense of smell assured him (though he doubted anyone needed super senses to glean that). He looked about as wrecked as Clark felt. With a slosh of its contents, the former CEO of LexCorp dug out a flask from his pocket and took a short swig.

Clark sucked in a deep breath and didn't allow himself the indulgence of an open scowl. "Luthor. I thought you were determined to keep him away from us for the rest of his life. What's changed?"

"First of all, I did no such thing. He makes his own decisions. I can only take credit for encouraging some of them." Lex's look was cool, but that did little to conceal the hostility swirling just under the surface. "Secondly, you're what's changed. I don't need to hear whatever excuses you've prepared for your manhandling of him, but it battered his organs internally and accelerated his condition significantly. I hope you're proud of yourself."

"I didn't even know he was sick! I was trying to help him." Superman jabbed a finger at him.

"Well, he certainly looks helped, doesn't he?"

"You-" Superman set his jaw and moved to halt Lex, stopping him short and drawing himself up to his full height. "No further. Not another step. You shouldn't be here. Conner can stay-and I promise we will take excellent care of him- but you have no business on the Watchtower. The last thing I'm going to let you do is use the opportunity to plant a virus or whatever else you've got up your sleeve."

"I'm not here to do anything except keep my damn kid alive." Lex clenched his fists, but his smile was slow and venomous. "You know, as much as I've always accused you of being a cold hearted alien with a human fetish, I really did think you'd put more effort into not harming your own child. I shudder to think of you holding an infant-"

Clark was suddenly nose to nose with the other man. "Get. Out."

Martian Manhunter and the medical assistant both halted, the stretcher floating uncertainly between them as they took in the fist-fight waiting to happen. As much as Conner needed to be in a medical room yesterday, the fact remained that Superman could snap Luthor like a glow stick before anyone could realistically intervene.

Lex, of course, seemed immune to all signals that he should stop talking. "Not a chance. Conner needs me-"

"No, he needs absolutely anyone else but you. His real friends and family," Superman said, folding his arms and staring down at him. "Not some selfish lunatic who convinced him to delay treatment so you could play house with him. I won't let you use him like this. I won't allow you to prey on him any longer."

"I don't want to prey on him, you imbecile. I'm trying to save him. Why do you think I'd be willing to step foot on this floating ode to-"

"You didn't care about his quality of life when you made him, so what in Rao's name makes you think I'd believe you care now?" Superman nearly trembled with the effort not to grab Lex and pitch him back up the ramp of the ship. "Leave. Now."

"Superman."

Batman's voice sliced through the moment like a knife through twisted cord. Superman blinked and turned to look behind him, realizing a small crowd had gathered to witness the altercation. The last thing they needed was more gossip, but Superman was nearly beyond caring at the moment. What arrested his attention was the rigid set to Batman's jaw. Years of knowing the man meant Superman could correctly equate it to the thunderous, teeth grinding scowl it would manifest as on anyone else's face.

Seeing it directed at him was like being slapped with kryptonite.

"J'onn, medical room thirteen has been prepped. Please proceed," Batman said, with a sharp nod to the floating stretcher. It began moving immediately, the crowd parting to make space. "Luthor, you may accompany him while he's being situated."

"You can't be-" Superman ground out, as Lex triumphantly strode around him.

"League protocol dictates that civilian next-of-kin and immediate family members are permitted in the medical bay while the situation remains below a class six emergency." Batman turned back to the crowd, giving Flash a pointed look. "The situation is under control," he announced to the bystanders, barely needing to raise his voice in order to command their attention. "You are all blocking access. Disperse."

As a red flicker suddenly began darting around and cheerfully redirecting League members and personnel alike, Batman turned his cowl's white, narrowed eyes back to him. "A word, Superman."

Superman felt his eyes blaze as Luthor caught up with the stretcher, disappearing as the entire group rounded a distant corner. "He-"

"In private. Now."

The world was hazy and dull, full of bright lights and loud sounds he couldn't make out but sent thudding waves of pain through his head. He was moving? Flying? He knew for certain he was on his back, he could feel it pressed up against something hard, but it wasn't cold enough. It was so hot, he couldn't stop shivering-

Everything shifted suddenly. The thing he was laying on disappeared and he found himself on a new surface. Softer. Wider.

"Please relax, Conner." J'onn's voice said. Something sort of heavy draped over him- something that inspired a memory of Kaldur- right, that cooling vest, only in the form of a blanket, settling over him. His feverish body calmed. His relief was short lived. Sharp pricks of pain made him gasp, signaling needles being inserted into his arms. "That should be more comfortable for you."

UV lights flashed on abruptly, directed at him. He flinched.

Why was J'onn here? Conner felt his face crumple and let out of wet exhale, unwilling to open his eyes for more pain. He was at the Watchtower- the only place he didn't want to be. He'd signed the papers saying he didn't want to go but somehow they didn't listen. How did this happen? His dad promised to take care of him, to keep his friends from watching him die while Conner was trapped in space and pain-

There was a ragged cry. It took a few seconds for Conner to realize it was coming from himself. "Dad."

"I'm right here," Lex said. Conner felt a pressure in his hand, squeezing. "Everything's fine."

"'m at the Watchtower…"

"I called them. I figured out what's wrong with you. Trust me, I hate being here every bit as much as you do but they have what you need. I'm here to make them give it to you."

"Don't want… my friends'll see…."

"This again?" The hand on his patted it. "Don't worry, Wolf will bite all extraneous visitors." The was an affirmative woof. "To give the mutt his credit, he knows his strengths…."

If he finished that thought, Conner missed it as he slid back out of consciousness.

The auxiliary monitor room was rarely used, but quite secure- as it really only became necessary during periods of high alert and given how it was tucked into a less used corridor of the main area of the tower, it was unlikely that they'd be stumbled on or interrupted. The flickering lights on the panels danced as Batman turned to face him.

"What the hell was that?" Clark demanded before Bruce could get into it. "It's Luthor. Luthor. We have no guarantees he didn't get Conner sick in the first place, if it isn't a hybridization failure. This could all be part of some plan-"

"Of course it might," Batman snapped. "That's why every means of surveillance has been trained on Lex since he stepped foot on our medical shuttle, much less arrived at the Watchtower. It's why Mercy wasn't permitted on board with him. It's why Conner won't be left unattended with him for so much as a bathroom break. He could easily be up to something heinous. That's obvious, but what isn't obvious is what in the ever living hell is wrong with you?"

Superman pointed to the bay they'd come from in outrage; even if Bruce couldn't see through walls, he'd get the gist. "What do you mean? You heard what he was saying-"

"Yes. It was the same asinine posturing and cheap shots he normally employs when nervous, drunk, or scared, only he typically doesn't get this much traction. We both know he has said far, far worse to you without you so much as batting an eyelash. If he's gotten under your skin, it happened before you almost attacked him in full view of a dozen witnesses, so again, I'll ask you, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me?" Superman demanded. He couldn't believe it. "How is it not obvious? Conner is dying and it's Lex's fucking fault and he wants to roll in here with him and play daddy-"

"Let him. He's grieving, even if it's selfishly. Bad parents are still parents; Conner didn't seem to mind when I took him back to Lex's bolt house. He had less to say about your argument than you did, but it's not hard to guess which topics you disagree on." Bruce pinched the bridge of the cowl's nose. "As much as we all hate Lex, letting him stay is a necessity. He's run more tests on Conner than anyone and has brought all of that data here. He's an expert on his genome. He's providing us Cadmus research we didn't recover when we raided the labs. Also, unfortunate as it is, Conner is his dying son. If even a scrap of that sorrow is real, I'd expect you to compassionately-"

Superman choked, pressing his hands to his mouth. "It's you too."

Batman hesitated as the other man snatched up the nearest chair. "Clark…"

"I'm so sick of it," Superman snarled, hurling it against the glass. Nothing shattered, of course; it was over two feet thick and designed to keep the interior safe from the vacuum of space even if a star exploded beside it. The chair still thunked satisfyingly against it and clattered the ground, crumpled where his hands had gripped the metal. "I'm so sick of everyone expecting me to be perfect every minute of the fucking day!"

"No one expects you to be perfect."

"Bullshit," Clark said with far more vehemence than either of them expected. The profanity tasted so pleasant on his tongue, somehow more so because he could feel the weight of his cape. "That's utter bullshit. Everyone expects it. I'm not allowed to be otherwise, because my powers make people afraid. Even you, don't deny it. I can lose fights, but not my temper. Every time I screw up or act impatient or furious or normal, suddenly there's news conferences and Lex Luthor gets interviewed on prime time to discuss whether it's ethical or permissible for me to exist. "

Batman studied him, shoulders tense. "The pressures of the spotlight are hard, but nothing new. You signed up for this when you took charge of the League. We discussed what it would mean."

"I know that! Do you think I don't know that? For a long time, I could handle it, because I had Clark Kent to fall back on. Every time the pressure of being Superman began to be too much for me, I'd put on my glasses and suddenly I could breathe again. Clark gets to be uncertain and impatient and judgey all he wants. He gets to be chronically tardy and dodge hard assignments and complain about the coffee in the breakroom without anyone issuing an international statement in condemnation or support. Coffee bean farmers in Peru won't lose their jobs because Clark Kent doesn't like Folgers or whatever. Everyone might get annoyed, but it doesn't make them hate him. He's just a person. For whatever portion of the day I got to be him, I could keep my sanity. It wasn't foolproof, but I had this completely separate life that was just for me and then…."

Batman sighed. "And then Conner was… born."

"Exactly. That one thing keeping me sane, I had to give up for a kid I didn't want. Suddenly Superman wasn't off the clock when he went home because Conner and his kicked-puppy-eyes followed me there, even when I wouldn't give him the time of day." Clark let out a ragged exhale and folded his arms. Stepped back to lean against the wall, feeling it steady him.

"It's a struggle," Bruce agreed. "But an unavoidable one. Look around the League. Look at the fact that the Team itself came to exist. There is an intersection that cannot be prevented, between our personal, family lives and our professional ones. I can't think of a single hero who wanted their children to follow them into this work, but rather was forced to accept that these worlds aren't separate. Not forever."

"I needed it to be. I really needed it to be." Clark dragged a hand across his face, scrubbing at it. "And then it wasn't and before I could figure out what to do about that, everyone had cast me as a villain. I wasn't perfect immediately. That was my crime."

"Clark. Don't you think that's a little-"

"Don't you get it? Everyone judged me for not diving headfirst into fatherhood with zero warning, including you. Like, most guys get nine months and I got nothing. I didn't even realize I was his genetic father! I thought he was my clone- you know, like a twin? Even when we found out he was half human later, my mind went to 'modified twin', not son. But everyone made up their minds overnight. Within a week, I was a deadbeat dad. Not only was I stuck frantically trying to figure out if he was going to kill me or infiltrate the League, much less if he had a soul or a personality, or what this would all mean for Clark Kent and Lois, but everyone was disgusted with me. Condemning me. Even you! Like it should have been simple or easy to become a father in less time than it takes to prepare a sandwich."

Batman remained silent, jaw working.

"I had to deal with all the painful parts alone," Clark dragged out. "Because no one I talked to had any sympathy. They'd already decided what I should do and I hadn't already done it. Not only did my genes get stolen and raped for science again, but I wasn't allowed to be upset about it. Superman isn't supposed to be a victim. People can't even wrap their heads around it and, at first, neither could I. I didn't understand what was happening or what it all meant and it was terrifying and I couldn't ask anyone for help. Not even you." He slid down the wall, glaring at his boots. "But I didn't do it perfectly, so I'm still hearing about it. To my dying day, I will hear about it."

"I'm sorry. You're right. That was… unfair to expect of you the way we did." Batman took in a sharp inhale. His boots clicked softly on the metal floor as he came to stand beside him. "We're too comfortable piling pressure on top of you without asking ourselves if it's reasonable. Of not being as understanding of you as we demand you to be of everyone else. Your friends failed you. I failed you."

"Is it messed up that I'm more disappointed in myself?" Clark shrugged and covered his eye sockets with his palms, digging his fingers into his hair. "I feel so guilty all the time. Like I should have been perfect and adopted him right away. Everyone else thought so. I already felt awful for hurting him. He was twenty minutes old and he looked up at me with that proud-hopeful face, and I reacted with visible horror. He was a newborn, Bruce . What apology covers that? 'Sorry, I had no idea what was happening and was surrounded by every colleague I had and I wish I'd had the chance to panic in private.' It won't help him. Even if I could've overcome the shock of it all to step up to parent him, how could've I trusted myself to? I made him need months of therapy the very first minute we met because I looked at him wrong ." Clark dragged in a breath. "Rao help me, I still tried to make him a part of my life. Tried to give him a family. Tried to make this situation something I could live with. He could be such a pain without meaning to and I didn't want to deal with him most days, but I told myself that everyone was right and that I just needed to try harder. It didn't work. He isn't better off at all. He hates me, Bruce. He's dying and he hates me and I can't fix any of it."

Bruce eased to the floor beside him, crossing his legs. "He doesn't hate you. He's hurt and angry, but that's not hate. Not yet."

"He told me to get away from him when I went to save him from Lex last week. That he didn't want anything to do with me." Superman gave his friend a humorless smile. "It's all such a mess. Everything in my life is broken and now I have to deal with Lex while Conner dies and still be perfect. Without disappointing everyone. It's impossible, but I still have to do it. I thought Conner would have to learn to live like this too, but he'll be saved from all this unwanted responsibility by death. Lucky him, right?"

Bruce pulled off his cowl, dark eyes meeting his. He put his hand on Clark's arm. "Listen to me. You don't have to be perfect, Clark. Not even as Superman. The world won't fall apart."

Clark folded his arms, throat working. "I wish that were true."

"It is true. Like it or not, Connor's arrival was a double edged sword. It did a lot of damage to you, yes, but it also proved something else." Bruce's hand gripped his arm, shaking it gently. "You're right about everyone judging you harshly. Everyone thought you were a huge asshole."

Clark let out a despairing snort. "Thanks, Bruce. You really know how to raise a guy's spirits."

"My point is," Bruce continued. "you weathered that. You didn't lose any friends. The world didn't explode. The League didn't demand you step down. No one trusts Superman less to save them from burning buildings because his relationship with his illegal-clone-kid is fraught. Your parents didn't disown you-"

"They don't know," Clark admitted, voice low. He'd never been to a confession booth, but he supposed this small dark room was kind of like one. If he stretched his imagination, Batman's dark cape could pass for the cloth of a priest. His steady, familiar heartbeat like the recitation of a well worn prayer. "They don't know he's my son. I told them he was my twin. They don't even know how long he was in the League before I could bear to see him more than once a week, much less take him to the farm."

"Christ, Clark." Bruce nodded, lips pursing slightly in thought. "Okay. That can be dealt with."

"What about the baby? I shouldn't be anyone's dad. That can't be dealt with."

"You still have time to prepare, Clark. To do better. To resolve things with Conner so you-"

"I don't want the baby, Bruce," Clark confessed, meeting his eyes with almost rapt attention. The admission tasted like the bite of an apple, forbidden fruit. "I never did."

Bruce's eyes widened in shock then hardened almost as quickly. "What? There's no way- You and Lois did all of those fertility treatments-"

"I used to want kids. White picket fence. A dog. The whole setup," Clark mused. "And then I realized that they'd be stuck in the same perfect mess I am, if they had powers. I knew Lois really, really wanted kids, though. That it would only hurt her to hear that I'd changed my mind. We were already trying, but she kept having miscarriages during the first trimester and since I didn't think we could have children by that point, I just never told her. Tried to steer her away from having my children. I thought eventually she'd come around to adoption or a donor."

"Why didn't you tell her before J'onn did the implantation?"

Clark gave a helpless shrug, feeling the pain fixing his faint smile to his face flare with the movement. "When we learned it was possible, she was so overjoyed she cried. For days. She'd just be standing in front of the sink or the balcony or something, and she'd just burst into happy tears. I couldn't possibly say something then, to take it all away from her at the last second. I thought the best thing to do was to do it for her sake. Trade my happiness for hers. I blamed Conner. J'onn would have never figured out that pH problem with human wombs if it hadn't been for those Cadmus notes…"

"That isn't his fault."

"I know. I just can't stop myself from resenting him and Lex for it anyway." Clark drew up his legs to his chest. "It sounds so selfish and petulant, but I never get to do anything I want. To not run who I am through a dozen filters first. I can't stop being Superman, so that won't ever change. The world is always watching. Superman could never not want his own baby, can't have a political leaning, or controversial opinions on even something as benign as TV shows. Can't be openly bisexual or pro-choice or support the decrimilization of drugs. Can't publicly accuse dictators to their faces. He can't disappoint people and now Clark Kent either. Conner didn't mean to erode that protective barrier when he came into my life, but he did and I kind-of hate him for it."

"Are you done? Any more self-pity to throw on the pile?"

Ah. Batman was ready to dish out biting criticism. Clark supposed he deserved it, even though he felt like a dried up husk inside. Empty.

He let out a sigh. If he was going to complain and whine, he might as well do it properly while he was at it. "Almost. I'm mad at the universe too. I tried so hard to be a good person who never hurt anybody and I couldn't. It's unfair. Like I was set up to fail. I didn't want to be a bad person, yet here I am." Took a deep breath. "Also, I'm sorry I haven't got any fatherhood chops. I know it's important to you and I've probably lost your respect. It's one of the reasons I didn't tell you any of this before. Okay. Now I'm done. Go ahead. Let me have it."

Batman held up a finger. "Good. First, you're an idiot."

Clark's voice was muffled by his knees. "Of course. Appreciate it, B."

"Second point. Did you really think I can't handle you being a bad father? Really? Me?"

"Well…"

"I got my second child killed, Clark. Mistakes happen. I don't mean that in a forgiving way: that is a fact. People are disappointing and occasionally awful, we're just other things too. That's part of being one. There's no getting around that. Remember that point I made earlier about everyone thinking you were an asshole to Conner?"

"Vividly. I look forward to that popping into my head right before I fall asleep at night. I was just thinking how much better off I'd be if only I had more full body cringes before bed."

"You lost whatever respect of mine you were going to then. You're still my best friend. Get over yourself."

"Oh." A pause. "I haven't given you a full accounting of how I've been an ass to Conner."

"I'm sure you'll construct a detailed list and recite it to me in excruciating detail, whether I want to hear it or not."

"You're not wrong. This is your fault for getting me in a sharing mood. And for accepting me, apparently. Thanks for that."

Bruce held up another finger, undaunted. "Third point, you're not a bad person."

"I think you might have selective auditory amnesia because if you listened to even a minute-"

"You're kind more often than not, you're dependable to a nearly unhealthy degree, and to call you loyal would be an understatement. You also worry compulsively, set unrealistic standards for yourself that others shouldn't encourage, and quietly churn your guilt over the people you can't save. On the whole, that makes you a flawed, but good, person. The only kind of good person that exists, actually." Bruce gave him an annoyed look. "But you also used to be optimistic about the future, tolerant of personal chaos, and open to criticism. You've gotten so mired in this perfection-failure-denial loop that you've begun to implode from the inside out. Hence your more appalling behavior."

"I haven't been in denial."

Bruce gave him an exasperated look. "You've been lying to yourself for years. Years. You have made up for a lack of skill at it with blind commitment. We both know it. This goes beyond Conner, he just reminds you of all the things you hate about your life and, when he wouldn't help you keep up the pretense, made a convenient target for your blame."

Clark rubbed his face. "He said I was pretending all the time. That he had to too."

"That does not sound inaccurate. He's smarter than people give him credit for." A faint smirk curled at his lips. He nudged Clark. "He didn't get that part from you. Your genes saved his hairline, though."

Clark laughed in spite of himself. "What am I going to do, Bruce? I don't know what to do. I've ruined everything."

"Don't overestimate your destructive capabilities. You're only okay at being an asshole."

"And you would know?"

"Obviously. I'm an expert." Bruce sighed, looked up at the black wall of space visible on the other side of the glass. This part of the tower was currently turned away from the earth, showing them only the black vast of the expanse, punctuated by distant stars. "This goes beyond Conner and it won't die with him. You have to stop lying to yourself first.. It's going to be hard for you, putting it right. It'll also be alright, eventually."

Clark stared at his friend, feeling better and also… terrified, ashamed, tired. Mostly those feelings.

Better was still applicable, though. Oddly, at the bottom of this terrible place he'd gotten trapped in, he suddenly felt like himself again. Just a little bit. Enough to remember when he'd liked who he was. He offered Bruce a wan smile. "Thank you. I'd forgotten why I'd corner you and barf my emotions on you until you helped me sort myself out. I wish I'd never stopped."

"Now I've done it," Bruce muttered, glancing away. Clark could hear the faintly relieved tinge to his voice despite his affectation. Wondered if Bruce had missed Clark's old self as much as he had. If he'd missed the evenings spent confiding intimate knowledge of each other's lives, before their worlds had splayed so far apart. "No way out but up. I'll help you figure it out." He pushed himself to his feet and offered him his hand. "Come on. We'd better remind Lex that he can't treat our staff like he treats his own. Our HR department isn't as good."

Clark levered himself up and gave Batman a sharp nod as the other drew his cowl back over his features. Sighed. "Yeah. I probably should check on my brother-son. This is going to be a nightmare. Let's get to it."