Conner swallowed for what seemed like the fifteenth time in a row, feeling a fresh surge of nerves flood his stomach. He'd already been dressed in an even flimsier version of his earlier hospital gown (seriously, this thing was made of blue paper) and had his dark hair tucked into a matching scrunched cap before he'd been wheeled into a small prep area just outside the surgical theatres doors. They were probably prepping tray and trays of saws and scalpels and all sorts of curved sharp things designed to score his flesh specifically and cut through his bones-
He squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths, hoping it would help.
Nope. Nothing.
Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn to the spot on his arm where he'd been injected just a few minutes ago. A small bandage covered the puncture, though there was a chance it had closed already. Conner didn't like needles as a general rule (if they were his concern, something had already gone very wrong) and he liked the look of the chemical injected into his bloodstream even less; bright navy blue, like someone had tried to wash cheap denim jeans in mouthwash.
Something had to be wrong. He could feel it, looming above him like the threat of an invisible tidal wave.
"Alright, Conner," Dr. Cross said, throwing a paper sheet across his chest and holding it up so that Conner couldn't see anything past his own clavicle. "Let me know if you feel a pinch…. No? Nothing. How about now? No? And one more… nothing? Excellent." He settled the sheet back down and gave Conner a reassuring smile. "Well, my dear boy, I am happy to pronounce you good and numb."
Conner cleared his throat with an effort. It seemed determined to weld itself shut. "I'm not asleep," he choked out.
"Let's give that a few minutes. I don't want to give you another dose of blue kryptonite quite yet."
Tears pricked at his eyes and with monumental effort, Conner crossed his arms over his face to hide it. It was hard to tell how successful he was, because he couldn't feel it and was now unwilling to open his eyes to check. His breathing sounded loud to his own ears.
"Hey, now, let's try and calm down." Dr. Cross hovered over him uncertainly. "There's a few minutes yet. Is there someone you want to wait with you?"
Conner dragged in a wet, ragged breath. "Dad. Get my dad."
Another hesitation. "Oh. Alright, uh, give me just one moment." There was a soft set of steps before a door was shoved open, followed by the rustling of the flaps of plastic decontamination curtains being pushed aside. Either the room was nearby or his super hearing had made an oddly timed return. "Conner's a little stressed from the early effects of the anesthesia. He's asking for his dad to sit with him?"
"Move over, Supercad, he means me," Lex snapped (and oh god, but Conner couldn't stop a chuckle from slipping in. Lex was such a dick- no, like a mean cheerleader stereotype). Padded steps.
"Is he okay? Nothing's gone wrong has it?" Clark asked.
Dr. Cross again. "Probably not. Panic attacks are a common reaction typical to anesthetics-"
The plastic curtain flapped again and then the footsteps drew closer. "What's on your mind-?"
"Something's wrong," Conner blurted out, only half aware of the words leaving his mouth. His heart had started racing, thudding in his chest and making his fingers twitch with adrenaline. "It's all wrong, I can feel it. It's not right- the kryptonite isn't working and I'm going to die-"
"Everything's fine, son," Lex said, voice low and calm. "I could spend an hour detailing all the triple-checks I've done for this procedure, but it's beside the point. Anesthesia is just terrifying. You don't really get used to it."
"No, you don't understand, it's wrong. Something's gone wrong, I'm not falling asleep and-" his voice trembled and hitched, too high for his normal self, and dammit, he really was crying now. Good thing he was still hiding his face beneath his arms. "-and they're going to cut me, they're going to cut inside of me , and I'll bleed . I'm still awake and I'll know it's happening and there won't be anything I can do except lie there and get cut-"
"Listen to me, no, listen. You will not be awake, you just haven't fallen asleep yet. I will not let you in there until you are thoroughly unconscious, do you understand?" Lex paused until Conner trailed into something hiccupingly close to silence. "You won't remember falling asleep because that isn't how it works, you just wake up confused. Trust me, I've had my fair share. Now, the best trick is to think about anything but what you're doing. We can talk about whatever you want. History. Philosophy. Current events. Speculate unflattering things about the profession of the mother of whoever decided this was an alcoholic beverage free wing-"
Conner pressed his mouth shut, successfully stifling a new sob. "Tell me about yours."
"My mother?" Lex snorted. "Now there is a soothing topic. Letitia was about as maternal as Lady MacBeth and twice as-"
"No. The maid. What was her name?"
"Her name?" There was a short pause. Lex seemed to actually be pondering the question for more than half a second. "No idea. Saw a picture once. My father paid her a decent sum to go away, so I never knew more than a handful of things about her."
"Like what?"
"It's a safe bet she was decent looking, of course. Not particularly educated. Malaysian, believe it or not." Lex scoffed and grinned crookedly at him. "That's why we're a touch more beige than the average caucasian and a little chink-y around the eyes, son. Don't worry, like a proper man of his time, he banged the whitest looking Malaysian maid he could find."
Conner let a ragged, involuntary laugh. It came out as half a groan. "Oh, god. You're racist too. How did I miss it?"
"Don't judge me," Lex insisted, tone more indignant than when he'd been complaining about the lack of an open bar in the medical ward. That alone pulled a stray chuckle out of Conner. "I didn't race-evaluate my maids and rank them on a list of most fuckable. That's on your grandfather."
"Oh, no." Conner sighed heavily. "There was an actual list, wasn't there?"
"Found it in his desk when I was five. Also, you're one to talk."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Lex was definitely amused. "Don't go giving yourself too much credit for branching out into Martian territory. That's very colonialist of you for one-"
"It is not ."
"-so don't think you're off the hook. If anything, you take after Lionel more than I do. I can't help but notice that despite dating outside of your species, you still went for- wait for it- a white Martian."
Conner gave an outraged scoff. "That's not how it works! I didn't-"
"Wait." Conner blinked against the sudden influx of light. UV light, actually. He was back in his room, Wolf staring at him from a couch someone had thought to drag beside his bed. Lex sat in the chair next to it, scribbling something onto a clear digital tablet with a scowl. "Is it over? Did we cancel the surgery?"
Lex glanced up and smirked, clean shaven and dressed in matching loose gray shirt and sweatpants with the League's logo on them. Had he been dressed that way for a while? Conner hadn't actually gotten a look at him before-and it was absolutely hilarious to think he'd been wearing that the whole time. "I told you it would be a matter of waking up confused." He raised an eyebrow at the now-giggling Conner. "And apparently high."
"Is that what this is?" Conner laughed and trailed off, the grin not quite leaving his face. "I feel so floaty. Like my insides are made of sunshine and balloons. It's nice."
"Don't say I never did anything for you," Lex told him. "Consider it my apology for never being able to experience cocaine. That's a custom blend of blue and silver kryptonite, formulated by yours truly to sneak around that pesky biological child-lock you complained of. A soft periwinkle, if you'd like to get specific about colors. Enjoy the trip, son."
Conner flopped his head back against the pillow, laughing again. "Don't be ridiculous, Dad. I'm not going anywhere."
"Not right away," Lex agreed mildly. "It's a little early to say definitively, but your surgery went well. Extremely well, actually. Dr.s Palmer and Cross were able to clear out the vast majority of damaged tissue and route the nanobots through to the most heavily affected areas. According to your last scan, your bio cellular matrix is around twenty percent active. Before, it was at about two percent. In fact, all of your damaged organs have shown measurable improvement and it's only been about two hours since the procedure."
Conner beamed down at the bandages he could see poking out from under his new hospital gown. His chest was probably a mess of stitches beneath it. "So I'm better now?"
"You're getting there. You'll still need a few days to recover from surgery, but after that, the rest can be done as outpatient treatments. More stem cells, until you're producing enough of your own that they become redundant. Plus, we have to sort out your inert skin cells once you're recovered enough from surgery that a little green kryptonite-cocktail exposure won't do you significant harm." Lex gave him an amused glance. "Surgically flaying you seemed excessive, so I've drawn up a few alternatives. Martian Manhunter and I favor micro-shards of kryptonite encased in a gel-like medium, designed to slough off the top layers of skin and increase turnover. Think of it like an exfoliating-scrub spa treatment."
Conner laughed. "Why not? That sounds fun. Slammin'."
"Never say that word again. Also, that's the drugs talking, son. You won't think that when you realize all the places you're going to have to apply it. That suit covered most of your body. Think on that a moment."
Conner considered that for a moment, devolving into snickers. "Nope. That sounds fine. Seriously, I don't think anything can upset me now."
"Fantastic. You'll get to test that theory," Lex told him, standing. "You've got a line of visitors forming and most of them are mad at you for not telling them you were sick in the first place. I bet you a nice bottle of gin that the scanners have already alerted Martian Manhunter to your awakening and they are being arranged in order of most furious now. Lucky you."
"Maybe it'll be a nice visit." Conner grinned at Wolf, then registered that Lex was gathering his shoes. "Wait. Are you leaving?"
"I'm going to review some cell cultures and run some synthetic simulations on how to more quickly remove that useless light radiation out of Kryptonian skin cells. Slow and steady works for your treatment, but Batman wants something fast acting for Little Boy Blue out in the field and I'm not getting off this orbiting justice jamboree until that's resolved." Lex grimaced. "So yes, I have to go to deck five for a few hours."
"But I'll miss you!"
That actually startled a laugh out of Lex. "I'll be back later. A word of advice-" he reached over and pressed a small switch connected to an IV line into his palm. "-push that as soon as you realize your friend's jokes aren't that funny. Press it twice if your chest starts to tingle. I wish I could stay and help manage baby's first high, but needs must." He turned to Wolf and stabbed an imperious finger at him. "You're on bouncer duty. He yawns once and that's your cue to drive off the rest of them. Once, Mutt."
Wolf gave a non-committal flick of his tail.
"For the last time, Kaldur. I understand." Dick let out a steadying exhale and glanced at the closed door to Conner's room. "We keep it low key, find out how he's doing, and ask if he wants any more visitors today. Standard hospital stuff."
Kaldur nodded. "Just because J'onn says the surgery went well does not mean Conner will be in the mood to receive or entertain visitors. It's been a stressful day. We need to be respectful of what he can handle and make sure he is not overwhelmed. More importantly, it will be up to us to ensure that we correctly set the others' expectations for how to approach him. With J'onn tied up, it falls to us to safeguard his recovery from unnecessary stress."
"Please, Kaldur, don't you think this is a little much? It's Conner. He's not exactly the kid-gloves type." Dick folded his arms. "Besides, I want to ask him about Lex. What was he doing here? J'onn said he was consulting but they seemed awfully friendly. I'm shocked Wolf didn't bite him."
"That is exactly what I am saying we should not ask him about. This is not the right time."
"Of course, of course. It's not going to be the first words out of my mouth. We ask how he's feeling first and go from there."
Kaldur tried not to sigh. As much as he wanted to convey the changes their close friend had undergone over the last few months, he wasn't sure he could do it without violating said friend's privacy. It wasn't Dick's fault, of course. As far as he and any of their friends knew, Conner had simply had a short but ultimately fruitless reconnection with M'gann and decided to travel shortly after that fell apart. All of the former teammates had dropped off the map for a few months at a time between various educational and personal obligations outside of work; it was hardly alarming for arguably their most reticent member to take his turn. The news that Conner was deathly ill hadn't really penetrated in their minds even if the idea of surgery had been greatly upsetting.
It had been hard enough for Dick to believe the invulnerable Super could be seriously unwell and he'd seen it with his own eyes. Kaldur had watched Conner deteriorate for weeks. Some things just couldn't be conveyed.
There probably wasn't any non-privacy violating things he could say to prepare them for Conner's most recent headspace- especially when it came to Lex. Dreadful as it might be, they'd just have to wade in and hope for the best. "Be that as it may, J'onn said the surgery was a very upsetting experience for him. He isn't used to being vulnerable and the last few months have been hard in ways he was unprepared for. Today was the culmination of all that distress. We cannot expect him to be as he is when operating normally."
"I suppose you have seen him more than I." Dick gave him a thin look. "Don't think you're off the hook for keeping this a secret from us. Seriously, man. Not cool."
"It was not mine to tell." They stepped up to the door, Kaldur glancing at Dick and staring pointedly at his crossed arms. "Calm and non-confrontational. Let us embrace the good news before addressing any feelings about the delay in notification or asking him questions."
"Got it."
The door slid open.
"Hey, guys," Conner said, flashing them a delighted grin and waving.
Kaldur stared. A mere six hours ago, he had been on death's door and it had shown, but now their friend was propped up in bed, hair sticking up a little, and beaming at them like a toddler at a puppy parade. His warm skin almost seemed to glow a little under the ambient UV lighting, as though denying even the rumor of sallowness that he had seen with his own two eyes.
Well, J'onn had said the surgery had gone better than anticipated.
"You look pretty good for being fresh off death's doorstep," Dick said, coming over to give Wolf a scratch behind his ears. "I tell you, even for minor surgery I come out of it feeling like I've been hit by a freight train."
"I feel amazing, but I don't think that's what being hit by a freight train is supposed to feel like." Conner put his chin in his hand, brows furrowing as he seemed to more seriously contemplate the thought. Looked back at Dick. "Unless you're joking?"
"Um, I guess? I've never been hit by a freight train. I mean, yet."
"Hm," was all Conner said, brow still furrowed as he pressed a button at his side with a slow, deliberate click.
Kaldur and Dick exchanged a long look, mingling concern and tentative bemusement. "I know you only woke recently," Kaldur said carefully. "But J'onn says you are allowed as many visitors as you feel up to receiving. Is now a good time or would you prefer to rest?"
Conner scoffed but it morphed into a smile at the end. "Oh, don't worry, I have lots of energy. It's mostly the drugs. Lex gave me drugs. Not cocaine, though. That was a different time."
"What kind of drugs, buddy?" Dick asked, before Kaldur could formulate a reply.
"Periwinkle kryptonite," Conner laughed, waving his injector switch. Kaldur had never observed so many expressions of even mild joy on his face in the years he'd known him. He looked completely unlike himself. "Isn't that ridiculous? It comes in different colors. Green feels like throwing up dizzy, but periwinkle feels like I'm made of balloons and white static. And also that I want to eat cheetos, popcorn, and trail mix. All together. Like in one bite. That sounds really good right now."
"Hm," was all Kaldur could think to say to that. It would obviously be another few hours before Conner was properly lucid. At least he didn't have to worry about Dick pumping him for information- Conner was barely coherent enough to know where he was. "Perhaps we should wait before bringing in anyone-"
"Absolutely not!" Dick announced, a somewhat manic gleam in his eye. He smacked Conner lightly on the shoulder. "If Conner says he feels fine, Kaldur, we should go with that. Let him set the pace. A body knows, right?"
Kadlur gave him the dirtiest look he could muster. It didn't seem remotely effective.
"I do feel very whelmed," Conner assured them both, the unspoken conversation going completely over his head. He made a heart with his hands. It took a few tries to get his fingers to coordinate. He peered through the gap. "Like that. Happy whelmed."
"Well, then let's get the band back together," Dick said, already at the door. "Let me go set their expectations and I'll bring them right in. Kaldur can wait with you here. Be back in a sec."
"Guys!" Dick skidded to a halt in the small break room that both serviced the handful of full time medical techs and functioned as a mid-deck waiting area for League members. His former teammates and friends (awesome, his phone tree sure had taken off) alike all looked up in surprise as he waved for their attention. "He's awake, surgery went great, J'onn says visitors are okay now, blah, blah, and…." Dick spread his hands with a wicked grin, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. "Conner is high as a kite, guys. Seriously. I've seen more sober hippies at Woodstock."
Will gave him a disbelieving stare, bouncing Lian on his lap. "What were you doing at Woodstock?"
"Not important!" Dick gestured frantically back down the hall towards the hospital room where one of his dearest friends was in a position to royally embarrass himself . The window for payback was closing (Conner was one hell of a salty designated driver); one they may never get again in their lifetimes. "Come on. We all know how fast his metabolism works. Hurry!"
Tired, blinking faces stared back at him from where they'd been busy sitting for the last few hours in uncomfortable positions on the floor or on the hard plastic chairs lining the lone table and walls. For a split second, Dick began second guessing himself before, in a sudden flurry, everyone rose, hands grabbing at bags and coats in their haste.
"Oh, wow, everyone's here," Conner said, as he blinked at the steady stream of people flooding in (his old team mates he'd expected, but even Zatanna, Roy, Rocket, Karen, and Mal had made it; a few of the younger members like Jaime, Virgil, Cassie, and Tim seemed to have tagged along with a few senior Leaguers like Barry and Hal). Quite the group to cram into such a small room. Grinned again at all the greetings and scattered hellos. "Slammin'."
Artemis dropped a diaper bag beside the bed to evict Wolf unceremoniously from the couch, motioning for Will to join her. "Yeah, well that's what you get for not dying: visitors. We'd have brought balloons and cards too but somebody-" she said, jabbing an accusing finger at him. "-didn't give us any warning that he was going to be having surgery. And, by the way, no one will tell us even what kind of surg-"
"You have a beard. And a baby," Conner gasped, looking between it and Will with wide eyes. "Where did you get a baby?"
"Jade gave it to me," Will said as though that were a perfectly adequate answer, managing to keep a straight face. Dropping onto the couch beside him, Artemis nodded as if to say 'I was there, I saw it myself' .
"Really? That was so nice of her." Conner eyes dropped back to it, dressed in a fuzzy pink hooded onesie with fluffy bear ears. She looked like a little stuffed animal. He held his arms out. "Can I hold it?"
"Oh, my god, yes," Artemis said before Will could finish raising his eyebrows. She stood and grabbed for the squirming bundle. "She's starting to teethe and I swear to god, she's only slept two straight hours this week. We haven't been able to put her down much longer than that."
"You sure, Conner?" Will asked, Lian half out of his arms. "She might be a little fussy-"
"Oh, I love babies. They are so cute." Reclining as he was, Conner did his best to draw the baby into a hold against his chest while Artemis wound his IV lines out of the way. (Actually, it made his stitches tingle a bit. Remembering Lex's advice, he took the chance to hit the switch two more times.) He stared down at the soft, warm mass, almost going cross eyed at the close angle. To be perfectly fair, she looked back up at him seemingly in the same predicament. "Hello, tiny human. Why are you so little? It's ridiculous how tiny you are."
There was a series of soft snorts and stifled giggles. More than one person discretely pulled out smartphones, apart from Dick, who had been filming since the beginning and was narrowly dodging Kaldur's half hearted attempts to get him to stop.
"Seriously, baby." Conner kept going, still talking to the baby with a decidedly amused, yet relatively conversational tone. As though the infant might offer a reasonable answer unless condescended to. She let out a warning warble, brows furrowed and tiny lips creased, evidently undecided on whether or not she was fine with this arrangement. Conner bounced her a little, poking her hands gently and watching them unfurl like starfish. "I've seen walnuts bigger than your fists. Your fingers are like tic-tacs. Those can't hit anything. Whose idea was that? What are you going to do?"
Ollie and Dinah chose that moment to file in: the Green Arrow unable to stifle his guffaw. "Oh, geez. Please tell me someone's record- ow," he cut off, taking a well trained elbow to the ribs.
"It's ridiculous," Conner repeated, tone taking on a faint indignance bordering on a chide. "You can't do anything like this. I was born ready to punch a bear or something and I wasn't sure I'd make it. It's just bad planning making babies this small, even if you are cuter this way. That disguise won't work. Don't worry. I got your back. Can help you punch bears-"
"As heartwarming as this may be," Batman said, materializing at the door with Captain Marvel peering over his shoulder and J'onn impassively on his heels. "Whose idea was it to put a baby directly on top of Conner's surgical stitches?"
An official break from visitors was shortly declared, mostly for the sake of giving the senior league members a chance to confirm with their own eyes that Conner was still alive as J'onn quickly checked him over, while also allowing Batman enough time to decide how much he wanted to chew out the group as a whole.
(It was a moderate amount.)
(Conner had only petulantly and with great reluctance surrendered the baby, imploring, "But we're friends now. What if there are bears? Her outfit is cute but it won't fool a real one . She smells like a regular baby." Only Will's assurances that Lian would still be friends with him when she got back and that Artemis would keep an eye out for bears in the meantime had mollified him.)
After J'onn pronounced him extremely inebriated but no worse for wear from his impromptu cuddle session with what was essentially a soft, squirmy bowling ball, Conner found himself alone with Wolf, who reclaimed the couch without hesitation. His chest felt perfectly fine and no one had told any jokes in a while, so he wasn't sure if they were still funny or not, but Conner clicked the stay-high button just to be safe. He wasn't giggling at every single thing, but neither was he capable of dwelling on the same thought for more than a moment or two. 'Mellow' might be the applicable term.
He glanced over at Wolf and gave him a lopsided smile. "When did you last eat, bud? You better go have a snack. I'll be fine on my own for a bit." His eyes widened with realization. "You can bring me something back from the kitchen! Like M&Ms. Or brownies. Or brownies with M&Ms inside. Whatever's convenient. I trust your judgement."
Wolf had given him a considering look before flicking his ears and trotting out of the room.
Conner watched him go. Did Wolf remember where the cafeteria was? Probably. Someone could show him if he got lost- Wolf was great with directions. Could find true north like a champ. It'd be fine.
There was a soft rap of knuckles on metal. "Knock knock?"
Few people Conner knew were that Midwesternly redundant with their manners.
"Hey, Clark," Conner said, glancing over.
"Hey…" Clark said, hovering a little furtively in the doorway. He glanced around at the empty room. "Um, I know this is a bad time, comparatively speaking, but can I have a minute? I just need to say a few things. Normally, I'd wait until you were feeling better but-" he took a deep breath and gave him a weak smile. "-but I need to have some conversations with people tonight and this is the one I need to have first."
Conner grinned. "Sure. Now's a great time actually."
"Yeah?" Clark stepped in, the door sliding shut behind him. "How're you feeling?"
"Amazing," Conner told him with utter sincerity. "I'm on these periwinkle painkillers and it's fantastic. Everyone visited, and I got to hold a baby. But then my stitches got disturbed and she had to leave. We're still friends though." He looked down at his lap, suddenly. Looked back up. Squinted. "I don't think I caught her name."
"So you're high."
"Very." Conner gave him a bright thumbs up. "Which is why it's the perfect time for whatever it is you gotta say. I dare you to try and crush my soul. Seriously. There is nothing you can do to spike my blood pressure. I'm zen. I feel like the Dalai Lama on quaaludes."
Clark snorted and rubbed his neck as he sat in the chair near the end of the bed. "That so? Well, how can I turn down such an invitation?"
"It would almost be ruder not to," Conner agreed. "Tell me what's on your mind."
"Alright. First, just- you don't have to say anything, if you don't want. I don't want to pressure you into something because you happen to be high. You can just listen. Or yell. Or swear at me. It all works."
"Noted."
"It has come to my attention that I..." Clark began. He grimaced, looking away briefly before himself to meet Conner's eyes. "Have been a massive asshole to you for basically your entire life."
Conner let out a peal of laughter. "Yeah. You really have."
"You're right," Clark muttered, staring at him for an entire second before shaking his head with a dry smile. "This is the best time for this. Alright, there's more. Hear me out. It's also entirely my fault, the way I've been acting. I don't want- I need you to know that it wasn't anything you did. You're fine. When we found you, I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't really understand what everything meant and when I did, I panicked. For a long time. You remember, I'm sure- you were there. It was awful. I was so afraid of being a father- especially a bad father, that I became the worst one. Now, I've probably even ruined brothers for you too."
Conner laughed a second time. "I've got a bunch of brothers. All genomorphs are brothers. Don't worry, it averages out."
"Oh, Rao." Clark covered his face with his hands, bowing forward under the weight of realization. "I'm averaging with Lex now, aren't I?"
"I wouldn't complain too much, Clark. It's helping your score."
"So do apologies, I hope." Clark took an intense, fortifying breath. "Where was I? Right. I had panicked. Instead of telling you that outright and dealing with that fear and uncertainty together, I handled it in the worst possible way. That's on me. Entirely. Even though I blamed and took it out on you. Which I am very sorry for- not that I can ever truly make it up to you. I mean, in terms of the hurt I've caused you. It's a lot. Obviously, if there was something I could do to make it up to you, I absolutely would-"
"The stem cells were a nice gesture."
"That's never going to be enough and it shouldn't be," Clark said firmly. "I know I fucked up, and have been since the very beginning, but instead of dealing with that, I decided to lie to myself. And to others. Like you said, I forced you to pretend with me, too. You were right."
"Cool."
Clark gave him a crooked smile. It only reached his eyes for a second, but faded naturally, like he wasn't trying to hide the sad thing underneath it. "So, no more pretending. It's gonna suck, but the truth is that it already sucks so I might as well be honest about why. I might like myself again. That'd be nice."
"Damn, Clark. You sound pretty sincere."
"I am. I don't blame you for doubting that. I've earned it by not being honest with you."
Conner gave him a wry look. "Batman make you do this?'
"No." Clark sighed, then added, "Kind of. He made me admit a few things to myself, then explained how I was being an idiot."
"He's good at that."
"He is. Most of this is from me, though. I've realized a lot of things in the last week. The last day. I don't know if I can fix any of it, but ignoring it hasn't done either of us any favors. Hell, you ended up taking help from Lex because you knew better than to ask me. That was a wake up call." He cleared his throat, staring at his lap. Struggled with the words. "So I'm going to talk to Ma and Pa tonight, then Lois. I've got a lot of things to clear up, especially before they come to see you. If you do want them to visit. I know I've been a big reason why you never really felt like part of the family."
"Yeah." Conner hummed quietly to himself, turning that thought over. "What are you going to tell them?"
"The truth." Clark heaved a sigh, not even bothering to hide his apprehension. "That you aren't my twin. That I didn't find you three years ago. That the reason it's been so hard for them to get to know you is because you've been stuck giving half answers to their questions so you don't accidentally contradict something I lied about. That I've been excluding you in other ways. To name a few topics. There's a lot. I'm writing a list- I can show you when it's done. Anyway, my goal is to at least make sure that you don't have to explain anything to them if you don't want to. Obviously, you're welcome to, it just shouldn't be your responsibility to start all these difficult conversations with them when it was my fault we wound up here. Sorry again."
"Okay." Conner beamed. "They can visit. Ask Ma to bring pie?"
It was Clark's turn to laugh. "Sure, sure. I'll ask." He sighed, a little wistfully. "Pie sounds great right now, actually."
"Doesn't it? I hope it's blueberry lemon. No, chocolate strawberry. Oh, or her raspberry rhubarb."
"Don't get me started. I might drool." Clark gave him a sidelong glance. "Have you tried her peachberry?"
"No. Is it good?"
"It's amazing," Clark assured him. "She uses this Canadian champagne in it. It sounds crazy, but it kind of flambes a little as it bakes. I'll ask her to make it sometime, but she only does every few years. It's a lot more work than her regular ones."
The door slid open, the click of Wolf's nails against the flooring heralding his arrival. Clutched carefully in his maw was a folded canvas shopping bag with navy hearts on it. He whuffed quietly around the obstruction, rearing up on his hind legs to drop it on Conner's blanket wrapped feet before reclaiming his spot on the couch.
"They literally sent you with a doggy bag?" Conner laughed again and tipped it open with a happy gasp. A handful of bags of mini trail mixes (at least three kinds), followed by an array of snack sized cheeto bags, followed by a large fairground sized bag of kettle corn. At least a dozen cellophane wrapped brownies dropped down on top of them, complete with chocolate chips- probably the closest thing to M&Ms Wolf could find on such short notice. "You are such a good boy," Conner enthused. "No- you're the bestest boy."
Wolf yawned and settled down for a nap.
Clark whistled, staring at the pile. "Your dog has good taste."
"He has a refined palate," Conner told him, ripping open the bag of kettle corn and sending dozens of kernels pattering to the floor. Oops. Oh well. He grabbed a handful from his lap, unconcerned. "Among many other fine qualities."
Clark looked at his hands. "This talk is actually much better than I thought it would. I even managed to say it all in one, awkward go."
"It's 'cause we're high."
"No, you're high. I'm sober. Remember?" Clark laughed and shook his head. Brows furrowed again. "Though I do feel a little strange."
"Did anyone explain how they've been knocking me out and keeping the pain at bay?"
"Well, I know blue kryptonite compounds were used for the surgery, but I didn't ask about your-" Clark paused. "Oh, no. Periwinkle?"
"Blue and silver kryptonite, Lex said." Conner flicked his clear IV line and pointedly pressed the button to make a show of the pale blue liquid's movement. "And I'm assuming the Watchtower doesn't stock lead shielded IV lines. I mean, some of the medical techs seemed kind of freaked by the whole injecting kryptonite thing. Unusual practice, I take it."
"Oh, my god. I'm high." Clark's eyes narrowed, a hint of outrage creeping into his tone. "And you didn't warn me."
"Nope."
"On purpose?"
"Yep."
"That's why you let me come in and talk." Clark covered his face with his hands and smashed himself face first into the mattress at the foot of Conner's bed. His voice muffled, somewhere near Conner's left foot. "Dammit. I bet I'll be flying crooked on my way to see Ma and Pa. I better get out of here while I can still walk a straight line."
Conner laughed. "Just enjoy it. You might as well."
Clark seemed to drag his head up with an effort. "Promise me your new life philosophy is not 'drugs are the answer'."
"Of course not," Conner cackled. He flopped back against his pillows, sending another wave of popcorn to the floor. "But it can make things easier. Being in pain. Saying hard things. Feeling less fear. Maybe it'll get you off to a good start for the next conversation. It doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to say it."
"I'll try and remember that," Clark sighed, getting to his feet. "That's one of my biggest problems: perfection. Well, and being terrified of being a bad person. It made me a bad person."
Oh, god. No wonder him and M'gann had circled each other like passive aggressive tomcats. What was that saying about boys dating women like their mothers? Conner almost laughed. "Say that again with a straight face. Try not to think about how many orphans you've saved this week. Go on. I'll wait."
"I'm an asshole," Clark amended.
"Yeah, but you're other things too." Conner plucked the biggest brownie from his pile and handed it to him. "Here. You've had a bad day."
Clark blinked rapidly and looked away, trying to hand it back. "Nowhere near as bad as yours."
"Yeah, but I get to be high and hold babies and have treats brought to me," Conner said sagely as he tore open another brownie and took a massive bite. "It helps a lot. Besides, you're too hard on yourself. You fucked up and it hurt me, but that doesn't make you a terrible person."
"I'll have to get your read on that when you're sober. You might not feel the same." Clark gave him a weary look. There was a small sparkle of warmth in it. "If you want to, that is. I'll understand if you want me to stay away. No pressure."
Conner couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Part of him knew that this was serious, that Clark was bearing open and bleeding wounds for Conner's benefit. That Conner's entire history was punctuated with pain the other man had caused, both with his presence and his absence alike. The other, bigger part of Conner didn't really have the capacity to worry about it that much. He might be Superman's son, but he was other things too now. Had been the whole time. "Seriously, Clark, stop with the self-flagellation. I'm mad at you, not filing a restraining order. We were both in a fucked up situation we didn't deserve and neither of us handled it well. You might have hurt me, but you are not the villain of my story. So long as you stick to even half of what you've promised, I expect to see you at Christmas. I demand half-sibling cuddles when the baby is born. It can be awkward and painful to see each other sometimes and that's fine. If the idea of that makes you want to claw your eyes out, say something now."
"Of course it doesn't." Clark's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. "You really still want a relationship with me?"
Conner shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I love Lex and he's an objectively awful person. The thing I want most is to not pretend. Followed by being loved. And having a family. That's about it. You can be an asshole in between that stuff. I'm easy."
Clark gave a soft huff of almost laughter, looking at the floor and smiling a little. "Yeah, I guess you are. Shame I was bad at giving you all that stuff for the last six years of your life." He took a few steps towards the door. It slid open for him. Paused. Stared at the brownie in his hands. "I do love you, you know. Maybe not enough or not in the right way or whatever, but I do. I didn't realize it until yesterday, but there it was, buried underneath all of my own bullshit."
"Okay. Love you too, asshole. Fly safe."
"Conner?"
Conner inhaled sharply through his nose, yanking himself out of his doze and turned to the door. He must have been out for longer than he thought- his chest was a dull throb and while he felt okay, his easy amusement had faded. He should probably get on that pain sooner rather than later, though. Gave his switch a single press. "M'gann. Gar. Glad you could make it."
"I'm sorry we're so late," M'gann said, standing uncertainly at the door as she met his eyes. It struck him suddenly, the similarities between her and Clark- not just their fears, but the reason for them: two unusually powerful people, surrounded by the vulnerable. Still stuck with the same flaws and learning curves as everyone else, only with consequences magnified to match their impossible strength. "We left as soon as we heard. I mean…"
"We were on Mars! You should have seen it, dude. It's way colder than it looks," Gar said, seemingly not picking up on his 'big sister's' hesitation. Conner suspected he was actually just ignoring it, for the sake of taking the pressure off her while he defused the tension. He was a good kid. Lots of social smarts. He strode forward and dropped himself on the couch next to Wolf. "Not sure the shifting lessons helped, though. I'm still limited to animal forms, but now I've got some cool Martian inspiration. Anyway, how are you feeling? M'gann said you'd been sick for a while, but she won't tell me with what."
"It's not really any of your business," she chided the teen gently, stepping closer to join him. "Privacy is important."
"Thanks, M'gann," Conner said, before turning back to the green boy and smiling. "But I'm not really keeping it a secret anymore. It actually wasn't even what we initially thought it was."
Gar paused in the act of scratching Wolf's neck. "What did you think it was? Cancer or something?"
"We assumed it was cloning problems, actually." Conner shrugged and immediately regretted it. Winced, dropping a soft hand to his chest. "Sorry, painkillers wore off. No, it actually turned out to be a bunch of different things that all worked out together to almost kill me, years afterwards. Seriously, listening to Lex explain how he figured it out was like hearing a summary of a House episode."
"Lex?" Gar asked.
"Luthor." Conner raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm half human, right? Lex is my other dad."
Gar stared, flummoxed. "That sounds… confusing."
"I think the phrase you're looking for is 'existential nightmare'," Conner said with a chuckle. "Anyway, he's been helping me out the last few weeks." He glanced up to see M'gann watching him, with oddly indecisive concern. Like she was afraid she didn't have the right to ask. Unsure if they were still really friends.
He didn't blame her for wondering. She'd probably gone crazy worrying about him but had kept his secret anyway, despite him essentially ghosting her for four months. Perhaps he should find a moment to clarify that his radio silence hadn't been some sort of punishment. Yeah, he'd spent a lot of that time stewing in bitter anger at what he'd chalked up to her pity, but as it faded, he'd belatedly realized it had made him an unjustly harsh critic of her character. Yes, her pity had been genuine, but so was the rest of her: her friendship, her trust, her care, her love for him that just maybe wasn't the happily ever after kind despite however much they both wanted it to be.
M'gann was more than one thing and just because their relationship hadn't been perfect didn't mean it didn't have value.
He smiled at her, trying to mentally radiate his genuine happiness at seeing her, glad when the tension left some of her stance at it. "You might want to sit down. It's kind of a long story."
Conner rubbed his chest absently, after grabbing the side of his bed railing to haul himself upright. It was deep into the night, close to four AM, though Watchtower time seemed to exist in it's own reality despite the dimming of the lights with the hours according to Greenwich standard time. Tired as he was and finally alone, he couldn't do more than doze in the quiet.
It was just as well, he supposed, yawning as he turned to look out his room's window. Whatever alignment of rotations meant he could see the top half of the earth with a vivid clarity. Could make out the white swirl of clouds over landmasses, the flicker of lightning storms like elusive fireflies.
"Still awake?" a voice asked.
Letting out an affirmative grunt, Conner shifted in his bed to see Batman. It was odd sometimes, seeing him without his cape. Less formal, in a way. In his arms was a white plastic container which he set on Conner's tray table. He tipped it forward to show Conner the collection of cards, stuffed animals, and even a lone potted cactus inside. "Some of it's from people who've already visited," he explained. "But wanted to make up for lost time. J'onn's been stopping people for the last hour from bringing it to you directly. It's almost enough to make us consider enacting official visiting hours."
Wolf's whine was a grateful, unexpected noise. He'd gone back to curling up beneath Conner's hospital bed, evidently done with the couch and it's magnetic pull on people who wanted to fondle his ears rather than let him sleep. Conner might still be lingeringly high, and thus tentatively willing to entertain any idea, but he could relate.
Conner carefully plucked the cactus free and swept open the folded slip of paper attached to the side. Figured you deserved a plant as hard to kill as you and about as communicative. Pick up the damn phone next time.-xoxo Artemis, Will, & Lian.
"Oh, the baby's name is Lian," Conner said aloud, after a moment. "Didn't catch that before."
Batman snorted. "I suppose we can take that as confirmation that the bears haven't gotten her."
Conner turned somewhat pleading eyes on Batman. "Oh, god. Everyone's heard about that, haven't they?"
"Dick came close to crashing the discretionary wifi network sending that video to everyone he knows," he was informed. A small twitch of lips. "I had to route it through the official League connection."
"Traitor."
"I did have to intervene when he attempted to upload it to Youtube, however."
"I take it back. You're the best."
Batman hmed as if to dismiss his gratitude. "A few frames had imagery or background noises that I feared could compromise the League. We edited them out first. Congratulations. You are now 'baby bear high guy'."
"Traitor."
"Since you don't seem to be asleep anyway," Batman went on, glancing at Conner's charts. "I was wondering if you felt up for two more visitors tonight. I explained that you would be resting until tomorrow morning at the very least, but they insisted on coming, even if they got stuck in the waiting room for the next twelve hours."
Conner felt his forehead wrinkle in spite of himself, looking down at his hands. He'd only been in the Watchtower for about a day, tops. Who would want to see him that badly that hadn't already-?.
Oh.
Swallowing, he stared up at Batman from beneath his unbrushed fringe. "Depends. Did they bring pie?"
This time the twitching lips formed an actual smile. "I believe they did."
Ma and Pa's conversation with Clark had been fruitful, Conner gathered, though they never mentioned it outright. It wasn't exactly hard to guess, though, given how Ma swept in with a cry of, "There you are! You nearly gave your grandpa a heart attack. Tell him, Jonathan."
After a lot of fussing and confirmation of pulmonary distress (though something to their stances suggested that at least some of that probably had to do with Clark's possibly inebriated confession), both of them settled in to listen to him give a somewhat distilled version of his surgical adventure. Followed immediately by concern for his health, which prompted another whole separate set of assurances that he felt much, much better now.
It wasn't perfect. In fact, it was a little awkward. It was the best visit Conner had ever had with them, because he didn't have to hedge for the sake of anyone else.
When he was done, Ma didn't even give a cursory glance to check for nurses before serving him a massive slice of pie. "Now, this Lex Luthor you've mentioned- he's your other father? The one who made you?"
Apparently, Clark hadn't skimped on big details. "Well, yes, technically."
"Technically?"
"Yes, he's my dad, but technically, he didn't make me himself; I was grown by Cadmus scientists in DC. According to his official statement, he was one of several board members and didn't directly contribute to the project in 'any knowing or meaningful capacity not limited to the theoretical.'" Conner shrugged. As awkward as it was to explain, it was really, really nice not to have to lie about it. "That was more about dodging the legal ramifications for making me. Even the people who have read the official report find it suspicious that Lex has such specific knowledge of my genome and development, aside from the fact that I just so happen to be half made of his own DNA. They just can't prove otherwise. Why?"
"Is he still around?"
Conner squinted at her. "You mean in my life or in the Watchtower now? Because the answer to both is yes."
There was a steely glint in his grandma's eye. "So it's him I need to talk to about baby pictures."
Conner yawned, watching his reflection do the same in the little personal mirror a medical tech had left for him. It was the most time he'd ever spent in front of one. He just looked so… strange. Beyond the tiredness blinking in the corners of his eyes or the somewhat lank nature of his unbrushed hair. Lex had been right- he wasn't identical to Clark after all, beyond a cursory glance. The differences were small, yes, but with a little searching were easy enough to spot: he was a little (he grimaced) chink-y around the eyes, as promised. His nasal bridge a bit narrower. Cheekbones a little higher than they were sharp. Irises a little more lagoon than cobalt.
He scrunched his whole face up, first wrinkling his nose, then smiling as hard as he could and twisting his lips to either side. Nope. No dimples.
Thank god.
He pushed the mirror away. Somehow, recognizing that his face was a blend of two separate sets of features had helped him realize he was neither. Kaldur would be proud.
Carefully stretched his arms out. His stitches protested, but didn't quite flare into actual pain. Whether it was the adjustment of his painkillers (both Batman and J'onn had given Lex dirty looks when they discovered an "error" in his calculations that had resulted in Conner having more periwinkle in his IV than was deemed "strictly necessary") or his suddenly functional healing remained to be seen. His surgery had only been a day and a half ago, but already his skin had fused itself back together and only a click of periwinkle every four hours was now all it took to manage the pain. He'd gotten out of bed to use the bathroom himself this morning, though he'd been sternly instructed to be extremely careful with his movement and not bother his stitches.
(He'd waited only until J'onn had left the room to pull off the bandage covering the stitching so he could admire/be creeped out by the scar while he still had it. Lex guessed it'd be gone by midday tomorrow with an amused, clinical glance.)
"What are you working on?" he asked Lex, yawning again.
Propped up on the couch, Lex glanced up from his tablet with a furrowed look. "Hm. Oh. It's just another treatment proposal. I've already discussed it with Manhunter. I'll show you-" he flicked his stylus along the screen. In response, the wall across from Conner's bed illuminated into a digital screen. There was some sort of cross section of a tiny spherical cage with many retractable layers. "Early design for something to replace your kryptonite injections. The periwinkle compound's radiation should still be effective externally, so these lead layers control the dosage from your pocket. J'onn says you can be released tomorrow, though he'd prefer to keep you under observation at one of the League locations until all of your organs have reached at least seventy five percent functionality. That'll probably take a few more stem cell injections to get you there, but those will be spaced further out. Once you're fully recovered, we'll treat your solar saturated skin cells. That's a separate set of mockups."
Conner blinked. "How many designs have you given them since you got here?"
That warranted a long suffering stare. "Son, I just pioneered an entire form of radiological Kryptonian medicine, not to mention it's hybrid human subset." Lex grimaced down at his tablet. "And the answer is seventeen, with nine in the works. Don't get me started on the dozens more they will no doubt extract from my notes when all is said and done. It's appalling, really, how underprepared they are for this sort of thing. Evidently, their current approach to Superman's medical care is to remove any visible kryptonite and stick him in a sunny room. Like a wilting houseplant that keeps prattling on about morality and interventionism."
Conner gave only a bare shrug in response to that. "I mean, it works?"
"That's exactly what's so appalling about it."
Conner snorted and glanced around at his little room. More cards and gifts seemed to have migrated onto the counters, creating a neat little outpouring that he couldn't stop himself from being surprised by. Nice as it all was, Conner was looking forward to getting out of here and back to…
Actually, that was a decent question. One Conner had only been poking around the edges of as he'd come down from his periwinkle haze. All of his decisions for the last few months had been centered around the certainty of dying and now that it was no longer likely (his latest scans confirmed that, even if he'd had to have it explained to him four times before he dared believe it), he realized he had no other goals.
The universe had abruptly handed him his life back and he didn't have the first damned idea what to do with it.
He hadn't been lying to Lex on the deck that night- he wasn't sure he even wanted to be a superhero anymore. Maybe he'd feel differently when his powers came back at more than a trickle, but he doubted it. He'd wanted to leave even before he'd known he was sick, though the thought had only just crystallized a few months before his diagnosis. There hadn't been time to figure out what else he wanted to do. If Lex was right and the solar saturation had a hand in his non-aging, technically, Conner could begin planning for an adult life. Could grow up, at last, into whatever kind of man he wanted to be.
It was terrifying in a thrilling sort of way.
He turned back to Lex, who'd lapsed back into his work. "What about you?"
"Questions require context, son. You're going to have to be a little more specific."
"Are you really stuck here?"
"Legally speaking, no: even a cheap lawyer could easily make a case for wrongful detainment and while the League could rustle up some plausible excuse, it wouldn't hold up for more than a day or so." Lex rolled his neck out, wincing with every soft pop. "Unofficially speaking, I might as well be. I've made them paranoid for very good reasons, so they will do whatever they can to keep hold of me until they can confirm I won't be selling anti-Superman lightbulbs out of vending machines by next Tuesday. Cutting me out of the loop from your care was the initial threat, though that's significantly harder now. Still, they could make some trouble for me by leveraging my past and current associates; I might not be without power and resources, but I also don't want to spend those or my time fighting unnecessary wars. It's simply more beneficial for me to play along with their unacknowledged house arrest. For now."
Conner chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Sorry. I know I forced you into this position-"
"You did no such thing." Lex said, giving him a rankled look that he didn't even try to pass off as sincere. "Nobody forces me to do anything. Besides, I imagine it'll be less than a week before they cheerfully cram me into the fastest shuttle home."
"You're that close to a solution already?"
Lex shook his head. "Easier. The radiation that locked your cells doesn't seem to be problematic to his. Superman's cell cultures release the useless energy almost immediately, rather than trapping it. It's hard to know why, but for the sake of me leaving unharassed, it doesn't matter. They just have to confirm the findings. Otherwise, everything else I've learned is only damaging to you."
"No profit in anti-legacy light bulbs, I assume."
"It's not a lucrative business model." Lex raised his eyebrows and gave a oh-so-casual prod to his tablet's screen. "Have you thought about what you're going to do when you're discharged?"
"Apart from keeping up with my many outpatient treatments or being yelled at properly now that I don't have enough tubes in me that anyone feels bad about it?" Conner eased back on his bed. "Not a lot. To be honest, I've put a lot more thought into dying on my own terms than living on them. Why?"
Lex pursed his lips and shook his head in an almost shrug, still looking at his tablet with unconcern. "Just curious. I have plenty of apartments scattered around the metropolis area, plus another few properties here and there. You're welcome to stay at any of them while you decide what it is you want to do, especially if it helps you avoid getting saddled with babysitting the Just Kids League in your downtime."
Conner laughed at that. "I might take you up on that. Except I kind of miss them, too. I might do part time, once I'm a bit better. It's complicated. I'll have to think on it."
"Take your time," Lex said, settling back into his seat. "You won't be rid of me for a while. I'll have to supervise your treatments, of course. And the solar saturation problem. Probably a good idea to track your growth from there- we don't want any aging powers to put strain on your system."
Not remotely fooled, Conner added, "We could also go out and see movies or get brunch like normal families. You know. For variety."
Lex gave him a smug glance, flicking something on the screen decisively. "Well, if you insist. No flannel."
"No drinking at brunch."
"Some flannel."
"Deal."
Conner's future was still pretty nebulous, but bit by bit it was taking shape. There'd be more health stuff, sure, but there'd also be visits with his friends, plus now whatever the hell brunch with Lex amounted to. Clark was an uncertain (but not unwelcome) concept in his mind, as was Lois and the baby, so he wasn't sure what to expect from them but Ma and Pa seemed relentless in their quest to bludgeon him with Kansian familial love. He'd been promised Peachberry pie for Thanksgiving, too, which was definitely-
Oh, god, was Lex going to want to celebrate holidays with him too now? How would that work? Conner tried to imagine him around the farm's kitchen table and failed. In fact, there were probably all sorts of Luthor traditions he'd have to become acquainted with, at least half of which he could safely anticipate filling him with dismay. Yeah, maybe separate celebrations were the way to go, if he could figure out how to schedule it… Surely there was protocol for this sort of thing. Surely, there were bitter, divorced parents in the world whose animosity compared to arch nemeses. Surely their children had some sort of system worked out.
Right?
Actually, his future was looking pretty complicated. Conner couldn't bring himself to mind.