Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Tomorrow
Chapter Four: Put Your Hands on Your Hips
Bart was thrown hard against the chipped and discolored tile of the station wall.
"Alright, Allen, talk!" Commanded the Demon. "And if you even consider running… Harper! Mahkent! Grab Neutron."
With slight confusion coloring their faces, each woman took one of Nathan's arms.
"What are we doing with him exactly…?" Asked Isabella, her ice-blue eyes blinking at the Demon's white-clad back.
"If Allen tries to run, hurt him." Replied the Demon as if this should have been obvious, not even bothering to turn around. One must never take chances with a speedster, they were to damn fast. "Now, talk! How much do they know? What did you tell them? What did they see?"
"What does it matter?" Asked Red Arrow. "Superman and the Commander aren't friends. Its not like he's gonna go out of his way to warn the guy."
This time, the Demon did turn around to glare at the Ruby Archer. "Don't you get it?" He asked in a voice full of quiet danger. "They came here with Allen, they came from forty years in the past. For all I know, the Usurper could have known my plans all along. Drake is a smart bastard! It wouldn't take many clues for him to put together an accurate idea of my plans. All he'd need were my intensions and the nature of our relation."
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At first it looked like a misshapen and disorganized mass of vaguely interlocking blue crystals jutting up from a gray and barren landscape. But as they drew nearer it became clear that the tilted and angled towers weren't random, they were part of a single structure, like off-shoots from tree. Surplus crystals growing up around a single colossal dome. Bart did say that 'Superman' built a new Fortress in Smallville, the Fortress of Paradise.
Descending slowly, details became clearer. Ash collected on sides of crystals, or clumped together and tumbled down the sides in bunches. The landscape around the base of the dome looked odd. Like someone had unevenly stacked darkly colored legos all around it. A tad belatedly, they realized they were structures, buildings and houses; all paneled in what looked like tank armor and high intensity shielding.
'Superman', or future-Kon (in tights!), landed just outside what looked like a blast-door, like the kind they used to have on Watchtower. From his bright red boot, the future-Kon pulled a small flat crystal on a keychain and inserted it into in a slot beside the blast-door. Two layers of panels slid aside to reveal a grungy and well-worn air-lock. Or, what looked like an air-lock.
"Seriously?" The time-displaced Superboy blinked. A whole new Fortress all to himself and he decided to make something as terrestrial and mundane as a front door and key. He could fly for cripes sake! "No roof access?"
His future counterpart just looked at him. It was the single most eerie feeling, receiving that look from his own face. "Nothing can penetrate the dome."
…And there was a silent warning under that. Not that nothing could penetrate the dome, but that he couldn't let anything penetrate the dome. That crystal structure they saw from the air, those white and blue spires all jutting up at odd angles weren't random off-shoots, or side effects of the kryptonian construction. They were a cross-hatching defense, to protect the outside of the dome. Superman-Kon gave Superboy-Kon a light shove on the back and he and Robin stepped through the blast-doors and into the Fortress of Paradise's entrance way, the panels slamming shut behind them with an ominous sheeing-CLANG.
The chamber was only slightly less dim than the world outside, lit by flickering florescent lights. They were blasted with jets of cool air, the ash and dirt and whatever else from the outside that clung to their bodies and clothing scoured from them and collected on the already dirty floor.
"What the-!" The usually calm and collected Tim jumped in surprise. Of all the possibilities he'd been running through in his mind for what to expect from a Fortress run by Kon, a decontamination chamber immediately upon entering had not been one of them.
"We can't afford any foreign microbes or bacteria getting into the Fortress." Superman explained. When the air jets were done, he inserted his crystal key in another slit in the wall and a side-panel slid away. "If a virus infected the herd or bacteria contaminated the crops… life's a precarious things these days. Its not like how it used to be."
"Clearly." Tim commented dryly.
Superman offered no comment. He led the Robin and his younger self out of the decontamination chamber and into what looked like a customs office in an airport –except without all the foot traffic. A woman sat at a booth, her legs thrown up onto the table, a very old and very beaten book in her hands. Its cover sported more duct-tape than actual cover, but it looked suspiciously like one of the later Harry Potter books and Tim reeled for a moment at seeing something so familiar from his own time here in this end-of-the-world future.
She marked her place with a dried cornhusk painted with an amateurish sun and moon motif, before looking up at them. "Welcome back, Superman." She smiled. Then added, "…and, other Superman?"
She looked from Kon to future-Kon and back again in stark confusion.
Superman ignored her questioning glance and pushed both boys forward, saying, "They're just visiting and need ration cards for tonight and tomorrow morning."
"Right." She lowered her feet from the counter and stowed her book, suddenly all business. "I'll need to know your height, weight, and age."
"Uh… what?" For the second time since entering the Fortress of Paradise, Tim was thrown. This didn't usually happen to him and he did not like this feeling of not knowing exactly what was going on.
"So that I know how many calories you need to take in daily." The woman explained. "So that I can draft an accurate ration card for you. No one eats without a ration card. Resources are limited and we've got to make sure everyone is provided for."
Tim supposed that made sense. Food would be hard to come by in this bleak, dark, ash-choked landscape. What foodstuffs that there were would be rare and precious. Most people would try and hoard them. But Kon, much like Clark in classic Boy Scout fashion, would try and share and make sure everyone got a little bit. It was just surprising to see such a level of structure and organization in a place run by Kon of all people!
On the other hand, this whole distribution of resources thing did feel eerily like a form of Socialism and Tim found it equally surprising that such a thing was being practiced on Superman's home soil. Superman was supposed to be the All American Hero. Smallville was supposed to be the classic 'small town America'. Now look at them. Oh! The irony! Tim almost wanted to take a picture, except no picture could convey the incongruitous humor he found in this. Instead he promised himself he'd tease Kon about it when they got back to their own time.
Tim didn't feel comfortable giving personal details like height and age to strangers. Things like that could ultimately lead one to discovering his identity. But they were forty years removed from everyone they knew and who knew them. Kon had a counterpart walking around, heck!, Tim probably did too. There was no reason to think anyone would connect him with the Robin, or Nightwing, or whatever alias he was using today (or if he was even using a handle) from this time. So, he told her he was fourteen-years-old, five foot two, and a hundred and forty-two pounds (it was all muscle, well, okay, maybe a little baby-fat still).
The woman took her time doing some calculations –long hand on a piece of paper with a pencil- then with a bold black pen filled out a small card for him. It was about the size of a standard punch card, the kind you get at video stores or coffee shops. Ten lattes and the eleventh one's free! She marked him down for two meals (a dinner and a breakfast) and then a miscellaneous snack (because he was still a growing boy). Each one was initialed in a different colored pen before the card was finally handed to him (to discourage forgeries, he assumed).
Kon's ration card didn't take nearly as long Superman-Kon just told the woman to use his own ration figures. She didn't even have to calculate anything, just jotted it down as if it were something she did all the time.
Then they were off, being lead down a corridor, around a corner, through a hallway, more turns, more passageways. When they met people, Superman-Kon would give a polite nod of his head and offer a greeting, maybe inquire about children, grandparents, siblings, or lovers. They responded with the same kind of polite familiarity, asked about the curious strangers he was with, everyone was particularly confused by the Superboy. Superman deflected their polite inquiries with a subtlety Tim did not know Kon possessed. Then he remembered that the Superboy was half-Luthor, perhaps this was a latent talent that manifested at some point within the past forty years?
One thing that struck Tim as strange, well… one of many things, but he didn't have the time ponder them all. One of the things that Tim found strange was that everyone seemed so relived when they saw Superman in the corridors. Almost as if they were mentally preparing themselves for the worst, but the moment they glimpsed future-Kon striding through the halls in his blue suit and red cape, the S-shield bold on his chest in black and red, they were reassured.
Even after the end of the world, the sight of Superman was a thing of hope. Bruce had once compared Clark to a god, looking at the way Kon's mere presence seemed to reassure and inspire people… it was remarkably easy to see how 'Superman' could be viewed as a messiah.
Finally, they turned one final corner. A door slid open for them. Superman took one step out into sunlight!
Bright, beautiful, golden sunlight!
Tim and Kon stepped out of the dimly lit and grungy corridor of the city and onto the Kent family farm. Rolling fields. Grazing cattle. Blue, open sky. Sky!
"Welcome to the Fortress of Paradise." Said Superman.
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The Comm-Set was still down everywhere outside the city, but within the Gotham Territory seat it was perfectly functional. Terry McGinnis was illustrating this fact by placing a call to his very patient and understanding girlfriend.
"No, I'm not trying to avoid you, Dana!" He pleaded into the transmitter. "I really have been busy. Working in the Nest is demanding and the Commander's been making us pull double shifts all day today. Didn't you notice Batman did two patrols earlier? I know… I know… this has been happening a lot. Well, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about that! Don't say that! Dana, you know I-"
He was cut off mid-thought when the teleprism on the consol beside the Comm-Set array suddenly faired to life. Terry would never understand how kryptonian crystal-tech worked. The Commander said the thing was powered by stored solar energy and could run for years. It relayed both audio and visual signals through a complicated particle wave that traveled at near light speed so that communication was instantaneous with absolutely no lag. The Commander had gone on to explain why that was, but it was long and boring and had big words. Long story short, kryptonian crystal-tech was shway and Terry wished they had more of it.
But he couldn't answer a call from the Fortress of Paradise with Dana on the Comm-Set. Terry McGinnis, volunteer, working in the Nest, doing chores for the bat-clan did not answer calls from Superman. But Batman did.
"Dana, I gotta call you back." He muttered into the Comm, knowing he'd pay for it later. Everything would just be so much easier if the Commander didn't have that stupid gag-order on his identity. He hung-up before his already irate girlfriend could reply. Pulling his full-face mask and cowl on with one hand, he flicked a finger over the mineral cluster that answered in-coming signals. Superman's face appeared in the central crystal, as if refracted from the inside. Dark-haired, blue-eyed, and looking as young as Terry was, though he knew the man was actually in his mid-forties.
"Oh, good, its you." He said.
"Superman." Batman acknowledged with a slight nod. "Would you like me to get the Commander?"
"No!" Superman snapped with a bit more vehemence than was merited. Then, in a much more controlled tone, repeated, "No. Just… just tell him, 'I have them in my custody. I'll bring them to Gotham tomorrow'. He'll know who I'm talking about."
"I'll relay the message." The Batman assured him. The Superman said nothing to thank or even acknowledge the young Bat's assurances. He simply ended the transmission. The teleprism flickered for a moment then went dark, looking like nothing more than an over sized paper-weight. Terry pushed his mask back from his face and heaved a sigh. He'd hung up on Dana for that! With an apprehensive groan, the switched the Comm-Set back on and dialed Dana, fully prepared to grovel.
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Superboy sat at the familiar kitchen table, in the familiar farmhouse kitchen, sipping watery tea from a familiar china mug. The table was older, more warn, its finish scratched and blemished and chipped. The kitchen likewise showed more wear and tear than Kon remembered. The floor scuffed, and in places completely replaced by crystal paneling. The counter was chipped and in places whole tiles were missing. The window drapes were faded and discolored. Even the mug he held was chipped, its bottom permanently stained with a dark ring, the design on the outside scrubbed almost completely away by forty years of washing.
Robin had slipped into 'inspect everything' mode and Kon could hear him upstairs, carefully opening every closet, cupboard, cabinet and drawer, and –very carefully- rummaging through it's contents before putting everything back exactly as he'd found it. Tim was quite adept at that, searching a room thoroughly and completely without leaving the slightest trace that he'd been there. 'Ninja training' Wally called it. Be he was mostly talking about Nightwing. With Tim it was more than just ninja training, the little Robin had an attention to detail that was almost compulsively obsessive.
Kon's future counterpart, whom everyone called 'Superman' had dropped them off at the Kent farmhouse before jetting off to some other part of the Fortress of Paradise. He told the little Robin that he could search and inspect every part of the house if he wanted to, he wouldn't find anything interesting. He said it with such an angry vehemence too; it left Kon wondering what in the world Tim –or maybe Tim's future counterpart- could have done to piss him off so much. Kon, that is 2016-Kon, knew perfectly well that so long as Timothy Drake was awake and ambulatory he would try to learn everything he possibly could about his surroundings, his situation and the people that figured into it. It was just one of those things that made Tim, Tim.
The afore mentioned Mr. Drake came tromping down the stairs in exasperation a few minuets later, looking disappointed. "Future-you lives like a freaking monk!" He said. "I couldn't even find any of your motorcycle-porn."
"Its not 'porn'. They're just magazines." Kon informed him for what was probably the eighth time since September.
Tim just gave him his 'I don't believe you, but I'm humoring you anyway' look, but said nothing. He pulled out the chair opposite the Superboy and flopped down. "I did find the action figure I gave you for your liberation day a few months back. It was all smashed up in a box with pieces from other figures."
"Aw, I'm sorry, man." Kon stood to fetch a second mug from the cupboard and pore a cup of tea for Tim. "Maybe it got broke in one of the fights with bad guys I'm sure we'll have between now and… now?"
"Now and then, maybe." Tim suggested. "Anyway, it was just interesting to see that you still kept it all these years. Seeing as how it was a gag-gift to begin with."
Kon shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe future-you still has that monster capture game I got you."
"Maybe…" Tim agreed. "But we can't focus on something so mundane as that right now. We still need to figure out how to get back to our own time, and now we're separated from Bart. I'm still not sure what's going one exactly. Who that 'Demon' was, why he wants to kill me, and what I'm gonna do to him between now and then that could make him hate me so much."
"Do bad guys need reasons to hate the good guys?"
Tim sipped the watery tea slowly. "I don't think he was a 'bad guy', though. Not really… Bart was a member of his 'League of New Shadows', and while we haven't really known him very long, I can't really see him staying with, or even teaming up with a group that had evil intentions. Plus, look at the world they live in, Kon. I don't think anyone can really afford to be 'evil' here. Self-serving, yes. Evil? I'm not so sure."
"Tim, he tried to kill you." Kon stated flatly. "Bad guys kill, good guys don't. Its as simple as that."
"We could launch into a long philosophical debate about that." The Boy Wonder informed him. "Just so you know."
"No." Kon shook his head. "because there's nothing to debate. Murder, bad. Life, good."
"Ah, but there's the crux of it." Tim leaned back in his seat, making the old wood creak, and steepled his fingers. "The word 'murder' is a legal term that refers to any unlawful or unsanctioned killing. It doesn't mean any death by the hands of another person as opposed to natural causes. I'm sure each territory and nomadic group would have their own system of laws and each might define an 'unlawful killing' differently."
Kon just glared at him from across the table. "I hate it when you do that."
"Do what?"
"Play devil's advocate. You go all scary-Tim and I don't like it."
If the Boy Wonder was going to say anything in reply, he didn't get the chance to. They were both distracted from the conversation, their attention drawn instead to a knock at the door. Future-Kon, or 'Superman', wouldn't knock before entering his own home, so it was a safe bet that it wasn't him. The two exchanged a look.
"Should we answer it?" Asked Kon.
"This is your future-house, why are you asking me?"
"Well then," Kon stood, "it would be rude to leave them standing out on the porch. Ma certainly wouldn't approve."
He crossed the living room to the entrance way and pulled open the door. …And was suddenly and instantly struck by the bizarre notion that he was looking at the amalgamation of Peter Ross and Lana Lang-Ross. The man standing on the porch had Peter's square jaw and blue eyes, but Lana's high cheekbones, strait nose and the devil's red hair. The knees of his well-worn pants sported fresh mud-stains and his fingernails were dirt-blackened. He glared down at the Superboy from a little less than a foot height difference, arms crossed over his chest, everything about his posture screaming irritation.
"Yes?" Asked Kon, at a complete and total loss as to what to do or say. "May I help you?"
"I'm very annoyed with you." He said. "I just want you to know that. People talk, Superman, and when you go rushin' off –in uniform- without the slightest explanation besides 'there's somewhere I have to be' people start talking about another invasion. Do you know what that leads to? Panic! That's what that leads to. I'm an engineer! I don't do crown control. Now, I don't mind covering for you and doin' a harvest every now and then, I'm a farmer's son and its in my blood. But I can't do my job with a fleet of workers who're scared shitless that the sky's gonna start falling again. You understand me?"
"Uh…" Maybe Kon shouldn't have answered the door and just waited for his future counterpart to get back. "Sorry. Who are you?"
The man's irritation melted out of him almost instantly. "Damn it, you got into red kryptonite again didn't you?" He placed the palm of his hand to Kon's forehead, then moved to feel under his chin and neck. "Well, it doesn't look like it affected you physically this time. I guess I'll just have to put up with some slight amnesia for the next forty-eight hours. You didn't happen to save the chunk, did you? So that I can put it in the vault with the others."
"Uh…" Okay, whoever this was, they were pretty well informed on kryptonians and how kryptonite affected them. Red kryptonite was like a roulette wheel. Each fragment caused a different effect which ranged anywhere from altering behavior to transforming Clark into a giant mother-fucking-dragon! Luckily, the effects only lasted between thirty-six to forty-eight hours, after which the red-K fragment was no longer effective against the kryptonian –ever. (Clark liked to keep the ones he had encountered in a vault in the Fortress of Solitude. Kon got into it one time, oh!, it was not pretty.)
Luckily, the time-displaced Supeboy was saved from continuing this awkward conversation by the appearance of his future –or would he be 'present-day'- counterpart. "CP, you've got the wrong Super."
The man –CP- looked between the two Kons. Then his shoulders slouched and he heaved an exasperated sight. "Oh, man… this is gonna be some freaky parallel dimensions mishap, isn't it?"
"No. But close." Superman strode past CP and placed a strong hand on Kon's shoulder –squeezing a bit harder than was necessary- and steered the Superboy back into the house. To CP, he called over his shoulder, "Do you have the numbers from the harvest for me?"
"Yeah. That's the real reason I came here." He followed the Supers into the house, closing the door behind him.
"Good." Superman commented dryly, forcefully shoving the Superboy back into his seat at the table. "Making unscheduled visits just to criticize my conduct isn't in your standard repertoire. And I'd be very annoyed if you started, goodness knows I got more than enough of that from Red Robin back in the day."
Tim raised his head slightly at the unfamiliar handle, wondering if something happened to him within the past forty years, or if Bruce had gone in for a fourth Robin, or possibly both. But Superman was not looking at him, so the young Boy Wonder did not ask. Instead his eyes flicked to Kon, his Kon –the Superboy- with a silent question. But there was no recognition on the demi-kryptonian's face. He was just as confused as Tim.
Clark-Peter's eyes flicked over the young Robin for a moment before asking, "And they are…"
"Visiting." Supplied the Superman shortly in a tone that made it clear no further elaboration would be given. "Just put the harvest inventory and reports on the table and I'll get to it when I have time. For the moment, can you take that one-" he pointed to Tim "-out for a bit. Nowhere specific, I just need a moment to talk to myself without him hovering. And, for the love of pie!, don't let him near any terminals."
"Uh, sure." Clark-Peter reached a hand into the pocket of his old and faded jeans and pulled out a round crystal sphere. This, he set on the table exactly as Superman asked. "Here the harvest numbers. C'mon, kid, lets give them their space."
Kon looked like he was about to protest. Sure, it was his future counterpart that had suggested it and they were in his own future-Fortress, but the Superboy did not like the idea of the two of them being separated in this bleak end-of-the-world future. He knew that if he was going to have any hope of getting back to 2016, he would need Tim's smartyness (not to mention he didn't want anything unpleasant to happen to his friend if he could have been there to have prevented it). But, at the same time, this was his future counterpart. Emphasis on the 'future'. Superman-Kon had already gone through all this and knew nothing terrible would happen between now and when Tim returned at the end of whatever conversation he wanted to have with his younger self. Kon was torn by conflicting instincts and he did not like the feeling.
Tim must have guessed his thoughts, because he shot the demi-kryptonian a reassuring look. Followed promptly by a flick of the eyes, a silent command to stay seated.
The young Boy Wonder didn't care much for being dismissed like unwanted and excess baggage. But he figured future-Kon was planning on doing something that might risk messing-up the time-stream –something both versions on him would assume Tim would disapprove of. They were right, he would disapprove, but only because he knew it would be a waste of time and effort. It would just create a paradox (as he already explained). Either that, or a self-fulfilling prophecy. Then again, maybe that was the plan. Maybe future-Kon was going to explain to 2016-Kon exactly how he had constructed this 'Fortress of Paradise' so that we would know how to make it when it was needed. Goodness knew, Conner Kon-El Kent, the Superboy, didn't have the patience necessary to actually study how to make it on his own.
These were Tim's thoughts as he followed the red-haired man out.
"I'm Clark-Peter, by the way." He said when they were standing on the porch. "But everyone just calls me CP for short. And you're who, the Crimson Kid?"
Tim just stared at him for a moment. "Clark-Peter? As in Peter Ross and Lana Lang-Ross' son?"
"Yes. So, then my parents were big names in your dimension."
Tim paused for a moment. He set aside his surprise at realizing that he was now being 'baby-sat' by the very same infant Kon often had to baby-sit for in their own time. It really shouldn't be all that unexpected. Who else would future-Kon trust as his right hand in this post-apocalyptic future? Instead, the Boy Wonder focused on Clark-Peter's assumption that he and his Kon were from another dimension rather than another time. If that was what CP believed, then he shouldn't have any reservations about chatting with Tim –beyond the normal reservations of a man who knew more about Capes and Masks than was common. Maybe, talking to Clark-Peter, he could get a better idea of what might have happened in the past forty years to make that 'Demon' person want to kill him.
"Uh, no, not really." Tim replied. "But they're friends of my friends. Kon –my Kon- baby-sits for you when you're parents are out."
"Huh, ain't that funny. Superman used to baby-sit for me too. 'Course, he wasn't 'Superman' back then."
"No." Tim agreed. Then, just because he was curious and liked to gather information, not because he had any misplaced ideas of changing events that had already happened, he asked, "How'd you find out Kon was Super…" Should he finish that with '-boy' or '-man'? "…person. How'd you find out Kon was a Super-person?"
"Through the usual way." He shrugged. "By accident. It was during the invasion, ya see. I was just a kid at the time, not even in my teens yet. The skies were still clear then, no ash, I mean. I remember we were crouching in a dike, Pa had his back to the levy reloading his shotgun while Ma took shots off her rifle. She had good aim, too. Head-shots every one of 'em, but they didn't do much. They kept telling me to keep my head down and stay hidden."
Clark-Peter sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the porch. They were older now, the paint all but gone, and there were no cushions to speak of. But Tim was pretty sure these were the same damn wicker patio chairs Clark had at the house back in 2016. He sat in the one opposite CP. The small table between them was new –well, new-ish. A segment cut from an old tree of one variety or another. Probably almost as old at the ash-clouds were since Tim hadn't seen any trees since arriving here in 2056 –not even here in Paradise. Poor future-Kon with no apples to make pie.
"I'm sure my parents thought we were gonna die." Continued Clark-Peter. "They didn't say it, but I could hear it in the way Pa kept chanting 'its gonna be okay' and the tightness in Ma's eyes. Then I see somethin' above us, not a Parademon or a hovertank. A flash of blue and red, and I shout 'look up in the sky'. And sure enough, there's Superboy ploughing through the swarm, knocking Parademons into other Parademons and such. And Red Robin's there too, like a shadow hopping from monster to monster, sometimes using some as living gliders, sometimes snagging one with his ropes and using it to swing from. It was amazing, seeing the two of them in action together. Power and Precision, working together. Just the two of them managed enough damage that the Parademon's retreated and when it was over, Superboy came down to check on us. Called my parents by their names; and Ma, she called him 'Conner'. That's when I knew."
To all of that, all Tim could say way, "Sorry, did you say Superboy was wearing blue and red?"
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The moment the door shut behind Tim and Clark-Peter, Superman whipped his younger counterpart's chair around to face him. Placing both hands on the boy's shoulders he stared him directly in the, crystal-blue meeting crystal-blue, and said in all seriousness, "You should end your friendship with Tim Drake."
There was a beat of silence in which the younger man only stared at him in dumbfounded disbelief.
Superman remembered this moment from forty years ago. Remembered being confused, remembered not believing his older self, and completely disregarding the warnings he gave. Superman knew it was a wasted effort and that nothing would change. But still… he had to try. Because he also remembered forty years ago, when Bart first saw his friend Nathaniel Tyron for the first time after returning to his own time, the speedster had commented on how he had changed. A scar and a collar. They were small changes and didn't affect the overall flow of the time-stream –like throwing a pebble in a river. But little pebbles built up. So, the Superman tried in the hopes of the off chance that something might change.
"What!?" The young Superboy blinked.
"Tim, Robin –when the Commander sends you both back to your own time, you should end your friendship." Superman repeated, exactly as he remembered himself saying forty years earlier. "Sooner is better than later. But you two can't afford to be tense and angry with each other until you're back safe in 2016. So you should wait until then."
"But… why!?"
"Because," and here he lowered his voice to a tone of grave seriousness that made his younger counterpart shiver with foreboding. "At some point between your present and my present, he is going to betray you, and that betrayal will change you both."
The young Superboy raised a quizzical eyebrow at his older counterpart. Superman remembered the thoughts that went through his head at that admission. Really? He was worried about a ruined friendship when the rest of the world around him had darkened and ash rained down from the sky. But then, he remembered how he felt after Kaldur's betrayal... and M'gann's. Whether by the hands of friends or lovers, betrayal cut deep and the stronger the bond between the parties, the more reprehensible act to break it, and the harder the blow to the heart when it did break. Hard enough to leave permanent scars. Hard enough to change them both. "What happened?" He asked. "Or, what will happen?"
Superman straitened. Removing his hands from his younger counterpart's shoulders, not trusting himself to touch the dopplegangar as the memories rose to the forefront of his mind. He took a step back. It would be almost twenty years ago by now… from his side of the time-stream. He still remembered the pungent smell of synthetic embryonic fluid cut by the sharp scent of antiseptic. 'What the fuck, Tim! What the hell is this!?' His knee on a broad chest bearing the pentagonal shield of El, but in place of the trademark S was a robin's head in profile, a stylized version of Tim's new 'Red Robin' symbol. TTK holding the body down as it struggled against his hold. The pop and snap of ribs as they cracked under the weight of his knee and telekinetic power. His hands around an unblemished alabaster throat…
'Kon, stop! You don't understand!'
Superman took a long, deep breath to calm his nerves. Held it in until the count of ten, then exhaled slowly. He did not look at the Superboy when he said, "One of these days, you're going to die."
"What?" Asked the boy, disbelieving. "That can't be right. If I'm dead, then how are you standing right here? Unless…" He trailed off, thinking. "Unless, you're not really me. Unless, you're… another clone?"
"I am you!" Snarled the Superman. "I did die. I was dead. But… but I got better. That's not my point. In that time that I was dead, Tim… failed to cope. He…" now it was the Superman's turn to trail off. "Tell me, at this point in your life, what is your opinion on cloning?"
"On cloning?" The younger Kon blinked. "Well, I am a clone, so I'm kinda obligated not to hate it, but… I really wish Lex would stop cloning Clark."
"And what if someone tried to clone you instead of Clark?"
The Superboy's face darkened. His mouth forming into one solid down-turned line of a frown. "That I don't think I would approve of. I never asked to be created and I wouldn't want another to go through what I've been through being a clone."
"These are opinions you would share with your best friend, yes?"
"Of course!" Kon nodded. "Tim knows how I feel."
"Now, what if I told you that over the next twenty or so years, those opinions only get stronger." Superman crossed his arms over his chest, still not looking at the Superboy. "Issues with Match, Red Arrow always at odds with Arsenal, the Lois-clone, Composite… Every time you meet a clone, you start to dislike them more and more, to the point where its almost like a hate; and sometimes you might even hate yourself simply for being what you are. And Tim… knows this, knows all of this. He's your best friend and your confidant, you tell him everything. Then you die. But rather than mourning your death like everyone else, he just replaces you. With a clone of you that he made himself."
'What the fuck, Tim! What the hell is this!?'
'Kon, stop! You don't understand!'
Superman shut his eyes against the memories that clawed up unbidden. "He's going to betray you." He said. "Tim's going to betray you, and when he does it will break everything inside you. That strong moral core you're so confident in right now, all that quaint goodness nurtured here in Smallville… it all just shatters and you break your rule. That one rule that you swore you'd never break. You finally become the weapon you were created to be."
"No." The Superboy bolted to his feet, a growl low in the back in his throat. A deep feral sound. "That will never happen. Nothing Tim… nothing anyone could ever do would push me that far. It just won't happen! You're lying! Making this up to test me, or teach me some sort of a lesson."
Now the Superman finally looked back at his doppelganger, meeting the younger man's crystal eyes that mirrored his own. He remembered the feel of unblemished alabaster skin under his hands, the impotent gasps for air, the snap and pop of ribs beneath his knee, the pull against his tactile telekinesis as the clone struggled against his hold. "I wish I were. But a lot will happen between now and then. A lot to change your views. But Tim… Tim's betrayal was the final straw. Tim was what broke me. So I broke his little doll, and I destroyed its body so there would be no resurrection."
At his sides, Kon's hands balled themselves into fists so tight his nails dug into the skin of his palms. "You… you're a monster! I'll never become you!"
"And you won't." Superman assured him. "So long as you end your friendship with Tim as soon as you return to your own time. If you end it now, you'll both have ample time to move on. Your death won't affect him as much. He won't clone you. You won't have to break your rule when you return. But if you stay friends with him, if you continue with your adventures and misadventures and become the 'Junior Finest' –as the papers will dub you- then, yes, you will become me."
A silence settled over them as the Superboy considered the weight and gravity of his words. His proclamations of doom and then Tim's earlier warnings and explanations of how one couldn't alter time. Event that have already happened have already happened. To change them would erase your original reason for wanting to change them so you would have no motivation to change them, so nothing would change. A Barjavel Paradox, Tim called it.
"But… wait…" Kon began slowly, remembering something else. "When we got to the League of New Shadows and met Nathaniel Tyron, Bart said he had a scar that disappeared, and a collar –an inhibitor collar, I assume. If Bart managed to change that, then that means that some things can be changed!"
At this, Superman smirked. "Now you understand."
"But I'll do it without sacrificing my friendship with Tim." Added the Superboy. "If I can change our fate, I will. But I won't cast him off just because he might betray me. I know it's coming, so now I can look out for it. I won't make the same mistake you make."
Superman sighed and shook his head. He knew even before he began that it was a waste of breath and effort. Nothing has changed. This little exchange went exactly as he remembered it. "Then you've already doomed yourself."
…