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.

Signals

Chapter Two: Watchtower

Mount Justice

Jan. 15 – 10:30 am

A robinrang sailed through the air and lodged itself squarely in the center of the TV screen. The machine died with a shattering sizzle and fizz of electricity and the scent of ozone filled the common area.

Conner traced the projectile's vector back to a very sheepish looking Boy Wonder.

"Oops." He shrugged by way of an explanation. "It slipped."

…

Batcave

Jan. 15 – 10:45 am

"You do realize, of course, that just getting rid of the TV is only a temporary fix, right?" Bruce did not turn to face his guest as he spoke; his full attention was focused back on trying to learn what information had been accessed during the computer hack. Still, that did not stop the World's Greatest Detective from lording the fact that he was smarter than his companion, kryptonian intellect be damned! "Whoever's controlling him knows where he is and if they're determined enough will find another way to get to him."

Clark pause in his back and forth pacing behind the Dark Knight's chair. "What kind of 'permanent' solution would you suggest?"

It took Bruce a couple minuets before answering as he was working on a particularly difficult set of codes. Damn, Dick made all this look so easy. Kids these days! "I'm considering several options."

"He should be removed from the Cave." Clark suggested. "Leaving him there where you claim the enemy knows where he is and how to get to him would only be putting the other kids in danger."

Bruce's keys stilled at the console. He turned his chair around slowly to stare at the Man of Steel. "Clark, that is a fantastic idea! And I know exactly where he could stay!"

Superman nodded and the World's Greatest Detective could not believe it. Perhaps his four-day stay at the Cave with the boy had been the kick in the head Clark needed to get it through his thick kryptonian skull that the boy belonged with him.

"We'll be able to monitor him much more carefully on Watchtower, we wouldn't give him clearance to use the teleporters or use a javelin so we wouldn't have to worry about him sneaking off, even if we did louse track of him we'd at least still know that he was on the station. And, J'onn could examine and monitor the boy's mind to try and figure out how to prevent this from happening in the future."

Damn it! Of course it was to good to be true, Clark wouldn't offer to take the boy. In fact, Bruce was pretty sure the idea didn't even enter the man's mind. Damn hard-headed kryptonian. Still… he did make some valid points…

"I'll consider it." And he would. "In the mean time, you're project is to see if you can track down the source of that tone you heard."

"The dissonant cord." Clark crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not sure if I can."

"Look, Clark, I don't expect you to be as effective as I am, but all sounds have a source. All you have to do is figure out what made the sound, then based on how common the source is start isolating possible places where it could have been either recorded or transmitted or both. Most synthetic sounds have a unique-"

"I don't think that's gonna work in this case, Bruce. The cord… it's not a sound I've heard on Earth ever."

For a second time the Batman turn his chair around to face the Superman. "Excuse me?" He said. "Are you telling me that aliens are controlling Superboy? Thereby implying that aliens funded the Cadmus project?"

"Look, you don't have to sum it up for me. I know how stupid it sounds." Clark resumed his pacing. "But I'm telling you, Bruce, that cord doesn't exist on Earth."

…

Mount Justice

Jan. 18 – 6:45 am

Conner was intercepted by Black Canary in the hangar just as he was leaving for school. He cut his bike's engine, lowered the kickstand and climbed off, nodding to M'gann to go on ahead without him.

"Yeah, Canary?"

"Conner," she began slowly, her eyes sympathetic, almost pitying if the genomorph didn't know any better. "About those blackouts you told me about…"

"Yeah?" Now he was worried. What if that was pity in her eyes. What did that mean for him? Was he really deteriorating like he feared? Had she detained him to break the news personally without M'gann or anyone else present? How much longer did he have to live, anyway?

"Would you mind if I asked J'onn to scan you mind?" She asked. "I'm sorry, I know how much you hate telepathy…"

Actually, he wasn't so adverse to it anymore.

"… but you can stay up on the Watchtower and you won't have to worry about school. That would make up for it, right?"

Wait, he was being invited to go to the Watchtower? The Justice League's not-so-secret base in space? And Batman was okay with this? Whatever it was that was wrong with him must be pretty bad…

…

Watchtower

Jan. 18 – (irrelevant)

Conner stepped off the transporter pad in the center of the Watchtower's main command bridge and then froze in awe. He stood in a wide chamber with floor to ceiling windows offering a three hundred and sixty degree view of the finite space around the station. Earth hung suspended in the void before him, a beautiful glittering orb of blue and white marble, behind him was the inky blackness of infinity and for the first time in his short life the genomorph realized just how small he really was.

"I'm whelmed." He whispered, using a term coined by Robin to best describe his feelings.

Beside him, Canary rested a comforting and supported hand on his shoulder. He had asked her to accompany him on his first arrival on the Watchtower because, of all the mentors, she was the one he felt most comfortable with. She was patient and understanding, gentle and sympathetic and yet still strong-willed and firm. The genomorph felt secure around her in a way that the other members of the JLA had yet to make him feel –not even Superman, his genetic parent.

"You'll get used to it." She assured him. "C'mon, I'll show you to your quarters and help you get settled."

The room she lead him to was by no means very big, of course, on a space station space was precious. It sported a window that was by no means as grand as those on the main bridge, but it was wide enough to offer a view or Earth and stars (depending on what point of the station's rotation it was), there was a narrow bed already made with boring looking standard issue gray and blue sheets, a bedside table and a desk, all of it bolted to the floor. Of course, if the artificial gravity ever kicked off it wouldn't help matters to have giant pieces of furniture floating around. But the oddest feature of the room was not the bolted down furniture, or the wide window, no, what made Conner raise his eyebrows in curious confusion was the light fixture.

"Why's the light red?" He asked. All the other lights on the Watchtower looked to be LED or florescent.

Canary heaved an exasperated sigh. "Because Batman's a paranoid little… word I can't say in front of you."

…

Watchtower

Jan. 19 – (irrelevant)

"How are you adjusting to the Watchtower?" J'onn asked as he placed the tips of his fingers to the boy's forehead.

"Well enough, I guess." Conner shrugged. He sat on the edge of the narrow bed in his quarters, the red light turning the martian's usually vibrant green skin a ruddy shade of brown. Batman stood behind his comrade, his back to the door, arms crossed over his chest, silent but watching. Conner wished Canary had stayed. "I slept almost eight hours yesterday. I've never slept that much since I left Cadmus. Is my… do you think my deterioration is accelerating?"

"'Deterioration'?" The martian blinked at him then looked back the Dark Knight for an explanation.

"You're going to be just fine, Conner." The Caped Crusader assured him. "J'onn, please continue."

The Manhunter nodded and the Superboy let out a sigh, forcing himself to relax. M'gann read his mind all the time, they communicated telepathically on a daily basis, not just for missions anymore but mundane everyday stuff too and sweet nothings, he liked their sweet nothings. Her uncle was just going to delve a little deeper than he was used to her going. It was for his own good. J'onn wouldn't abuse his ability as Cadmus had.

The Martian Manhunter slipped into Conner's mind uncommonly easily. At first he assumed the boy had opened his inner barriers for him but after a careful examination of the boy's Outer Web, the 'surface' of the mind where passing thoughts occurred and recent thoughts lingered, he found that Conner had no mental barrier to start with. There was nothing to protect his Outer Web from being penetrated. That was odd, almost all sentient beings had at least some form of psychic protection, regardless of whether or not they came from a race with psychic abilities (or at the very least psychic potential), if you were self-aware then you had some form of mental shielding, that was that. And yet, the Superboy had none…

Trying his best to respect the boy's privacy and not pry into the thoughts on his Outer Web to much, J'onn delved deeper. There was no mental barrier separating his outer Web from his Inner one either. That was even more disconcerting. He skirted the edges of Conner's Inner Web, flowing his own mind over thin threads of psyche that connected the Inner and Outer Webs. Nothing. There was no psychic landmark telling him 'you're to deep, GTFO'. The two webs were clearly defined and separate from one another, but there was no barrier dividing them, nothing to protect the Inner Web from a psychic intruder. This had been as far as the martian had planned to go in this first session, he didn't want to push the boy, but both his curiosity and his concern had been piqued by this oddity and he found himself slinking across the boy's Inner Web to the core of his being, a part of the Self his people called… well, the name translated to the 'Chalice'.

The Chalice was the center of the Self, it was the receptacle that held the parts of a person that made them who they were. Thoughts came and went, perceptions shifted and changed, but the Chalice was ever constant, the Chalice was what was left of a person when all the superfluous window-dressings were torn away and their soul was laid bare. It was the most private and most sacred part of a person's mind. On Mars only close intimates ever delved as deep as the Chalice, mothers to their children, close siblings and life-mates, those were usually the only ones that delved into the Chalice, not acquaintances that just happened to be uncles of romantic interests.

J'onn felt slightly ashamed as he crept to the edge of the Inner Web and peered down into Conner's Chalice, like a peeping-tom sneaking into the women's locker room. But the boy's mind thus far was so strange, so open and unprotected that he had to see in what state the Chalice was.

Again, he encountered no resistance between the Inner Web and the Chalice, just as there had been none between the Outer Web and the Inner one, just as there had been no resistance when he first entered Conner's mind. The boy's mind was an open book, quite literally open to anyone with the means to enter it. J'onn was rather amazed that M'gann had not noticed it. She was intimate with the boy, was she not?

The Chalice was undamaged, and that was a relief to the maritan. A damaged Chalice usually gave way to mental instability. Thankfully, the boy was fine in that regard. But there was another… something there. Not exactly another presence, not a second mind, no. To J'onn's inner eye it appeared like a black slithering claw wrapped around the boy's inner Self. It did not emanate from within the Chalice, that was a relief. This other thing, whatever it was, was not part of the boy, it was not a part of who he was. But it had managed to slither its way past his Inner and Outer Webs and coil itself around his center. That was worrisome enough. Tentatively, J'onn reached out one thin probing tendril of his own mind to the thing and he recoiled at the feel of it.

It was not malicious in intent, nor was it cruel, conniving or any other version of malevolent. In fact it wasn't much of anything, there was no intent to it. It was just there –waiting. A black aether wrapped around the boy's core. Disturbed but unsure of what to do, the martian withdrew himself from Conner's mind.

He straitened, lowered his hand from the boy's forehead and cleared his throat awkwardly.

The boy looked up at him expectantly.

"You're going to be just fine, Conner." He repeated Batman's statement from earlier. Then turning from the Boy of Steel to the Dark Knight, "A word, if I may."

The two slipped out of the room and traveled down the corridor until Bruce was secure in the belief that the boy wouldn't be able to hear them, red-sun lamp be damned.

"The boy's mind is unprotected." He began when the Batman nodded for him to speak. J'onn launched into an explanation of the absence of any of the natural defenses a person's mind usually has. He explained how easy it was for him to sail from Conner's Outer Web, through his Inner one and all the way to his Chalice. But when he got to the other presence he found there, the martian found that he didn't quite have the right words to explain it to one whom was not also a telepath. It wasn't exactly another presence per say… it was more like… "It was almost like a receiver of sorts." He tried using the best comparison he could find that fit. "A psychic receiver wrapped around Conner's inner Self."

…

Batcave

Jan. 23 – 11:45 am

Clark stretched as he commented, "Ya know? I think I've spent more time over here this month than at my own home."

"Which one?" The Dark Knight only rolled his eyes. When a person divided up their free time between three residences, all of them spread through out the continent, he kinda lost the right to complain about not spending enough time at them. Bruce was sure the robots he had at the Fortress would maintain it for him until Judgment Day (and possibly beyond), the Kent Farm in Kansas was more his parent's home that his and they had since become used to long absences from him. The only home of his that might suffer from a prolonged absence was his apartment in Metropolis and that only because it wouldn't be his home if he failed to keep up with the rent. Of course, Clark knew all this. He was just being difficult. "I asked you here to listen to this."

Bruce pulled up a file on his computer and a sub-sonic signal that he couldn't hear began to play.

Clark's crystal blue eyes widened in surprise. "The dissonant cord!"

He leaned over the Dark Knight's chair, listening intently. It was a very unpleasant sound, somewhere between a poorly tuned violin attempting to place an open A string against an open E string, or nails on a chalk board. Or perhaps it was the sub-sonic version of both. As Clark listened, though, the sound changed, tuning itself a step down and launching into a… a melody!

Yes, there was a clear pattern to the sound. A, E, A, E, A, E, E, B, C, G, A, E, A, E… Clark tapped his fingers on the plastic covered back of Batman's swivel chair trying to follow the pattern. It was an unpleasant tune that not even the most eclectic of listeners would appreciate, with fluctuating tempos and no harmony to speak of. The whole thing radiated dissonance, not just between the notes themselves, but the rest of the world around him. The notes did not belong; the melody did not fit, it wasn't pat of the Earth's natural rhythm, nor was it compatible with her. It was apart, other, alien; but not in a friendly 'last survivor of a doomed world turned great hero' sort of way, no. To Clark's sensitive ears the melody instead radiated a malevolent intent, 'I am lord, I am master, kneel at my feet or be crushed under my boot'.

Bruce switched it off.

"Where'd you find that?" Asked the Superman.

"This signal's been cropping up everywhere since we moved Conner to the Watchtower." Bruce explained. "Not just in TV static anymore, but imbedded in commercials, radio waves, phone static, even internet pop-ups had it. Someone is going through a great deal of effort to get in touch with your boy."

"He's not my-"

"But when I try to trace the signal to a source…" The Dark Knight continued, not bothering to give the Man of Steel the chance to indulge in a protest. "…I come up with this."

He pulled up his tracking software's history and showed Clark that the signal exhibited points of origin all over the globe, but none anywhere near where the old Cadmus labs used to be. Whoever was attempting to control Superboy was either hopping around the globe as he or she sent out their little 'dog-whistle' or else they had found a way to scramble even the World's Greatest Detective's tracking software. Superman didn't much like either possibility. Globe-hopping villains implied a level of funding and resources to rival the League's (either that or superpower, possibly both) and, though Clark would never admit it to his face, he had an almost religious belief that nothing could outsmart the World's Greatest Detective ("religious" here means "a belief without proof").

"Do you want me to check any of these out after I'm through with Watch duty?" Asked the Man of Steel. His turn for Watchtower duty had come up on the roster and he was do up at the station within another few hours.

"Don't bother." Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if there was anything to find –and I don't think there would be- the trail would be to cold by the time you get back planet side. I'm just glad we've got Conner isolated from their influence."

"Speaking of Superboy," Clark looked up. "What kind of security measures have you put in place to keep him under control?"

"You mean besides removing from the sources of the problem? He's confined to quarters and kept under a red-sun lamp to nullify his powers, the room's also been shielded to keep our own sun's radiation out. Oh! And he's across the hall from someone who I think can take him."

Clark flashed a lopsided grin. "I am so glad you're on our side. Who's staying across the hall from him, by the way?"

"Oh… you'll see."

…

Watchtower

Jan. 23 – (irrelevant)

Five days Conner had been on the Watchtower. He knew because he'd watched the sun pass through his window's view five times since arriving on the station. Its yellow glow didn't seem quite as vibrant or as bright though the window of his suit as it had through the massive cathedral-like walls of the main bridge. He supposed it could just as easily be the red tinge of his room's light fixture marring Sol's otherwise sonorous light. Or it could be that his window was somehow different from those he'd seen on the bridge. Maybe the windows in all the barracks were like this, he just didn't know. There were a lot of things he didn't really know about the Watchtower base, mainly because he wasn't allowed to leave his quarters.

He'd watched the sun pass five times, so he'd been here five days and in those five days the only time he'd seen the outside of his room was when he'd first arrived. His meals were brought to him, so he did not have to venture out to the mess hall, his suit had its own adjoining bathroom that was all his, J'onn came to him for their psychic probing sessions… it seemed the League had made sure that he had no reason to leave his quarters while he was in residence on the station. Conner was starting to feel rather much like a prisoner and he had to wonder, 'Why?'

…

Watchtower

Jan. 23 – (irrelevant)

Clark finished unpacking his travel bag in his stateroom on Watchtower. He usually viewed Watch duty as an annoying chore, one of the less desirable requirements of JLA membership, but this time Clark was actually rather glad to be over two-hundred thousand miles from the Earth's surface, if for no other reason than to get away from Bruce for a bit. He liked the Dark Knight well enough and had gone so far as to call the man his 'best friend' in the past, but that didn't mean that the man never got on his nerves.

It wasn't his insufferable cynicism that bothered the Man of Steel; Lois was just as cynical if not more so. Neither was it his obnoxious habit of always being right. All. The. Freaking. Time. No, Clark had gotten used to that. What had begun to grate on the American Alien's nerves, making him glad for the chance to get away from Bruce for a while was how he had managed to suck Clark into this investigation of his clone. Bruce had this idea in his head that just because the genomorph was copied from his genes that he was automatically Superman's responsibility and that it was now also Clark's job to not only figure out who was controlling the boy but also stop them.

He wouldn't have been so bothered by it had the Dark Knight made the investigation a League project, if everyone had to pull together, Clark would have had no problem doing his fair share. But Bruce had kept the League mostly insulated from the issue. Everyone was aware of the boy that was currently staying on the station and the possible danger he presented. But aside from that, Superboy was solely a World's Finest priority, which meant it was a Batman-Superman priority. But Bruce was making it seem like the clone was solely his priority. Calling the genomorph 'his son', 'his boy', etc.

It was nice to put a little distance between himself and the Batman for a couple of days.

His things put away, the Man of Steel exited his suit heading for the main bridge and nearly bumped into Zatara carrying a tray of food while exiting his room.

"Oh! Excuse me, Superman, I was just taking Conner a bit of lunch."

"Conner?"

"Mm." The magician nodded. He shifted the tray in his arms to punch a keycode into the door lock to the room across from Superman's own and the door slid aside to reveal a room lit by a red tinged lamp. From around the sorcerer he saw the clone stand from where he'd been reading on the narrow bed. He stood to greet Zatara and take the tray from him, but froze the moment he saw Superman.

Zatara looked from one to the other, shifted awkwardly, cleared his through and then excused himself. "I'll just let you two, uh… excuse me."

He left.

The boy stared at him from his doorway, holding his lunch tray forgotten in his hands. His eyes were fixed on the Man of Steel, his genetic-parent, his mouth twitched as if he wanted to speak, but no words passed his lips. He just stood there silently. Those few days Superman had spent as their 'den mother' he had wanted to speak to the man so much, but had no idea how to approach him. Whenever he had tried to speak to Superman in the past he only ever brushed him off, finding any excuse to get away. So, as much as Conner had wanted to speak to his genetic-parent he had not, opting instead to give the man his space since he obviously felt uncomfortable around him. He hadn't thought about running into him on Watchtower.

Clark stayed in his own doorway, not daring to pass within range of the red-sun lamp Bruce had rigged up in the genomorph's room. He should have known that the goddamn Batman would have pulled something like this. Across the hall from someone who can take him indeed!

"S-Superman, I…" The clone ventured meekly –hesitantly.

"I have to make a call." He turned from the boy and disappeared back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

…

Batcave

Jan. 23 – 9:30 pm

Bruce was just finishing his pre-patrol coffee when his JLA comm. buzzed. He set the empty mug down and answered. "This is Batman. Go ahead.

"You're an ass!" Clark's voice snarled over the channel and then hung up.

…

Watchtower

Jan. 24 – (irrelevant)

Conner lay on his narrow bed in his cramped suit in the Watchtower. He shouldn't have tried to say anything. Superman didn't like him, didn't want to listen to him, didn't want to even see him. The moment Conner had opened his mouth his genetic-parent had retreated back into his own suit citing yet another flimsy excuse for why he did not have time for the boy. He should have just stuck with the strategy he'd employed during those few days the Man of Steel had been the Team's 'den mother': He should have just left him the heck alone!

With a heavy sigh, Conner lifted himself up into a sitting position to poke at the food he'd set on his bedside table. He suddenly found that he didn't have much of an appetite. He nibbled at the meat a bit and swallowed a few of the vegetables, but otherwise left the tray untouched. He laid back down on his bed to brood.

He hadn't had any blackouts or memory lapses since coming to stay on the Watchtower, which was a relief. But he had been sleeping allot more, before the kryptonian genomorph barely logged four hours a night, here he was getting eight to nine hours every twenty-four hour cycle. But it wasn't just his sleeping patterns that were suddenly off, Conner found that his hearing wasn't as good as he was used to either. Before he could hear conversations not just through closed doors, but through closed doors and all the way down corridors as well. Heck! He used to hear people's heartbeats if he focused. Now he only seemed to be able to hear the sounds he made within his own room and sometimes a little bit from immediately outside it. He didn't feel as strong as he used to either, not that Conner had any way of accurately testing that in his tiny room.

The Boy of Steel wondered if the diminishing of his powers was another symptom of the clone-degeneration Conner assumed he was suffering from. Once again he wished Black Canary were here. He also wished Superman would talk to him, but that was never going to happen.

With a groan Conner rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. It was in that position that the Flash found him in when he came to retrieve the tray Zatara had brought the boy earlier. The elder speedster paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of the uneaten food and the prostrate boy, his face buried in his pillow as if crying. Barry sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over the boy's back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

"Hey ya, kiddo." He said. "How ya holdin' up?"

Conner rolled over and peered up at him.

"I'm fine." He lied.

Barry pushed his mask back to reveal his full face and he gave the boy his best 'c'mon be strait with me' face. It was one he had practiced often with Wally and it seemed to be moderately effective on his nephew.

"I'm just…" The boy began, paused, tried again. "Its lots of things."

The Flash offered a pat on the shoulder and wondered how best to comfort the boy. He didn't know Conner as well as he did his nephew or even Robin, or Kaldur. They had been the original three sidekicks and while he hadn't ever worked with the Boy Wonder or Aqualad directly, he still knew them much better than he knew the Superboy. Barry cast his eyes around the room for inspiration.

It wasn't right to keep the boy cooped up in here. Yeah, he was well aware both Bats and Supes believed the kid was the 'inside source' Sports Master had alluded to and Bats didn't want him freely roaming the Watchtower, the Justice League's secret headquarters. The red-sun lamp was to nullify his powers and the room had been shielded from letting in any of Earth's own sun's radiation to restore his powers when this side of the station was facing Sol, but wasn't that a bit overkill? Hmf, knowing Bats he'd say 'no', the concept of 'overkill' did not exist in Bat-world. Still, the boy didn't deserve to be confined to quarters like a prisoner. He was one of them, not an enemy. If Barry was sure to stay with him and act as chaperone it should be alright to let the kid out for just a little bit. If for no other reason then to stretch his legs.

Flash stood. "C'mon, kiddo."

"Huh?" The boy blinked.

"We're going for a walk." He took the kid by the hand, attempting to lift him to his feet. He might have his powers nullified by the red-sun lamp but he was still freaking heavy. Damn kryptonian bio-molecular density.

"But Batman said-"

Barry put a finger to his lips. "What Bats doesn't know won't hurt him."

The boy rose to his feet hesitantly. He was no stranger to blatantly defying orders; he'd done so often enough both during missions and in his off-hours. But for some reason, here on Watchtower, it felt different. Or maybe it was because Superman was here. Conner had no problem defying Batman, Red Tornado or Kaldur, but he wanted Superman's approval so much that he found himself reluctant to stray from where he'd been told to stay.

"If it makes you feel any better," Barry said, "every other member of the League has defied Bats at least once before. Its kinda like a requisite now, like… like an initiation!"

"Even Superman!" Conner gaped in wide-eyed skepticism.

"Oh, especially Supes!" The Flash pulled his mask back over his face before reopening the door. "Kid, the stories I could tell…"

And he did tell. As many stories as Barry Allen knew were recounted to Conner as they walked the corridors of the space station. He told the kid of a cruise in Bermuda where Batman and Superman had met other versions of themselves from a parallel universe, how they had to team up to fight a villain called Composite that was (supposedly) made from DNA samples from the entire Justice League (the boy was very interested in that case up until the ending, still it did shine a little light on why Superman seemed so reluctant to trust him, he'd had bad experiences with clones in the past).

They talked until they reached a windowed corridor that was currently facing the sun. Conner paused to admire just how vibrant the golden light seemed through this window. His own room's window made the sun seem so dim, its light somehow subdued. He walked right up to the transparesteel pane and gazed at the bright glowing orb, Sol, suspended in the dark void. It was beautiful, so beautiful –the center around which his world turned.

"You okay, kiddo?" Barry asked.

"Yeah, actually." And he was, suddenly, for some reason Conner felt more like himself than he had in the past week. "I'm feeling pretty good."

"Glad to hear it." The speedster nodded, suddenly he seemed awkward for some reason. "Well, lets keep going."

He steered the boy away from the window towards a corridor that cut through the center of the station. They walked a bit more for a time before bumping into Zatara, likewise stretching his legs since Superman had relived him from the main bridge. He gapped at Conner, unsure of how to react to seeing the boy out and about when he was supposed to be confined to quarters.

"Thought it wasn't fair to keep the kid cooped up all the time." The speedster said by way of explanation.

"Flash," said the magician, "would you please retire with me around the corner where we may speak in hushed tones?"

The two disappeared around the corner, leaving Conner unattended for the moment (perhaps not the smartest thing to do, but he was a fairly trustworthy kid). The genomorph leaned against the corridor wall with a sigh. Great, now he'd gotten Flash in trouble. And then, he noticed the most wonderful thing, he could still hear Zatara speaking with the Flash to spite their hushed voices and distance from where he stood. Somewhere between leaving his suit and now his super-human hearing had returned. Though he knew he shouldn't, they had moved away from him because he obviously wasn't supposed to hear what they had to say, the boy listened in.

"You know he's not supposed to be wandering about the 'Tower." The magician was saying. "He's a fine enough lad, but if he really is the mole that's been giving the other children so much trouble you know we cannot risk him learning to much about our base."

Conner froze. They thought he was the mole!

"Yeah, I know but…" The Flash sounded indignant as he defended his stance but Conner had stopped listening.

Did they honestly think he was the mole? He remembered how confused J'onn had sounded when he mentioned his clone-degeneration, like he'd never heard of it before. He thought about how he had seemed to louse his powers when he had come to the Watchtower, no… not when he'd come to Watchtower, when he'd entered his room! Batman (or maybe Superman) had done something to his room to ensure that he had no power there. And he was confined to that room like a prisoner. Yes, yes they did think that he was the traitor! But, why…?

He thought about his memory lapses and blackouts. There were big gaping holes in his memory about what he'd been doing for hours at a time. He woke-up in strange places and couldn't for the life of him figure out what he was doing there or how he'd gotten there. Could he have been spying for the enemy during those times? That time in the computer room, was he stealing information? That time in the snowfield, was he passing on YJ or JLA secrets?

Suddenly, everything made so much more sense and Conner was horrified.

Back when the Cave had been attacked by Tornado's 'siblings' and they had thought that Red Tornado was the mole they had all almost died. M'gann had almost died! What if the next time be blacked out he actually succeeded where the Reds had failed? What if he did more than just steal secrets and pass on information? What if he hurt someone? What if he killed someone? Conner reeled at the notion. What if it was M'gann? He didn't think he could live with himself if he hurt her. The genomorph suddenly wished it had been clone-degeneration! He would rather die than hurt her or any of his friends for that matter! If his options were betray his Team or death, the Superboy would gladly choose death. Anything would be better than living with the knowledge that he had been the cause of his own friends' (his surrogate family's) demise.

When Flash came back around the corner, ready to escort the boy back to his room, he found that Conner had gone.

"Damn it!" The speedster cursed. He knew they shouldn't have left the boy unattended.

Clark sat in a swivel chair on the Watchtower's main bridge, his feet resting up on the console; head tilted back enjoying the sunlight that cascaded in through the large cathedral windows. The station's Sentry program was running and would alert him to any planet-side disasters or other such emergencies but at the moment, all was quiet within the countries that has signed the UN Charter authorizing the League to operate within their borders. Clark was debating whether or not he should pull up the score for the last football game. It had been Kansas State Wildcats against Arkansas Razorbacks and the farm-grown hero was loath to have missed it. But that was what happened when the Batman decided there was more important work to be done.

The All-American Alien was pulled from his internal debate, however, by the sound of hurried footsteps coming his way. It wasn't Barry, his stride would have been much much quicker, but the footfalls were to heavy to be willowy and lithe little Zatara. Their heartbeat was also quick with agitation and both of them were seasoned Leaguers and not very easily excited. That left only one person on the Tower that it could be.

He didn't know how the clone had gotten out of his room but at the moment the Man of Steel really didn't care. If he was headed for the bridge then it was safe to assume that he was somehow once again under the enemy's control and coming to either sabotage to Watchtower or else steal some of the League's most guarded secrets. Either way, Clark couldn't let it happen!

Superman was standing with his feet planted, arms crossed over his chest when Conner entered the bridge. He hadn't really been looking for his genetic-parent when he'd taken off from where Flash and Zatara had left him but now that he was here, the boy found himself latching onto the man's arms.

"It's not true, is it!" He pleaded. "Tell me it's not true!"

"What?" The Man of Steel looked truly taken aback by the boy's words and actions.

"It can't be true." This came out in something that wasn't quite a sob but sounded like it was well on its way to one. "I can't be the mole, I can't! I would rather die than betray my Team." He looked up at Superman as if seeing him for the first time. "You can kill me…"

"W-What!" If he had been taken aback before he was thrown completely off kilter now.

"You have to kill me!" The boy repeated. "It was Robin and Wally and Kaldur who first rescued me from Cadmus, I'll die before I betray them! And M'gann… if I ever hurt M'gann I swear I'd kill myself and Artemis is a member of the Team and I love my Team, I don't want to betray them, I can't be the mole! But Batman's never wrong, so before I hurt them you have to kill me!"

"You're hysterical." The Man of Steel said. "You need to calm down. I'll take you to your room." And he would also damn well find out who it was that told the boy they suspected him of being the mole.

"No." Conner dug his heels in. "You need to stop me before I hurt someone!"

Clark stopped and looked at the boy, really looked at him. Superboy was his clone and was like him in every physical aspect from the cleft in his chin to the spit-curl of his hair, looking at the genomorph was like looking at himself back in high school (sans the glasses and perhaps a touch more moody). It was a similarity that had always unnerved the Man of Steel. The boy looked like him pulled out of his past, but he wasn't him. Bruce called the boy his 'son', but Clark had never thought of the clone as such. A son he would have taught his own strict moral code from the knee, a son would have learned by example from observing his father over the years, this boy had been taught by telepathic programming, this boy did not know his code of ethics, there was no way to 'program' morality.

…And yet, for the first time since learning of the genomorph's existence, Clark saw in him something similar to himself. Not a physical feature, the boy was identical to him in every physical aspect, but something abstract, ephemeral, something that couldn't be programmed. The boy was asking him to end his life in earnest, he would rather die than cause harm to the people he cared for. It was a feeling Clark was familiar with, having felt it quite often himself when he had been the boy's age (though, perhaps not quite as strongly). For the first time in seven months, Clark felt like he understood the Superboy.

He placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Alright, Conner, I'll stop you." The Superman found a nerve cluster where the shoulder met the neck and pinched just enough to stimulate the nerves. The boy's eyes rolled back and he went weak at the knees, Clark catching the boy before he hit the ground. "But I don't kill people."

He slung Conner over his shoulder like a sack of cornmeal and activated his JLA comm.

"This is Batman. Go ahead."

"Bruce, may I see you up here for a moment please." The Man of Steel said in a voice that practically vibrated with forced control.

"Problem?"

"Not rightly sure." Superman admitted. "But on your way could you swing by my Fortress and pick something up for me?"

Clark described the required item and where to find it. He then instructed the Dark Knight on how to bypass the door without having to use the gigantic key that rested on another mountain peak. When Bruce hung up the Man of Steel carried the unconscious Boy of Steel back to his room to lie down, to Clark's own room because he wasn't going to set a toe under that damn red-sun lamp that Bruce had rigged up in Conner's room. He laid the boy down on the scrap quilt his Ma had made for him when he had went off the college and knelt at the foot of the bed to pull off the boy's boots. He told himself he was doing so to keep the quilt clean, not out of any concern for the clone's own comfort while he slept.

…

Watchtower

Jan. 24 – (irrelevant)

Bruce materialized on the trans-pad of the main bridge to find a shame-faced and harassed looking Flash manning the monitors. He looked up at the Dark Knight from a bowl of popcorn and muttered a subdued, "Hi."

Batman only nodded in acknowledgment before making his way to the barracks and Clark's quarters. When he got there he found the door open and Conner asleep on the Superman's bed, laying on top of that ugly-as-all-get-out quilt the campy farm-boy loved so dearly. As his brain processed the full implications of that the Dark Knight took a moment's pause to wonder if the transporter beam had instead flung him into a parallel dimension.

Clark was sitting at his desk, his feet up on it, a portable datapad in his hands, and replays from last Monday's football game projected over the screen. The Superman paused the video and tossed the pad on the desk before turning his head to face his comrade.

"Why isn't he in his own room?" Bruce asked. He had left strict orders that he was not to leave the confines of the suit where the red-sun radiation could no longer effect him.

"Didn't want to leave him unsupervised." Clark lowered his feet from the desk and stood. "In case he woke up and tried to hurt himself."

"Why would he?" Batman blinked. What the hell had happened while he was planet-side? Honestly, he leaves for a couple days and everything falls apart without him.

"Someone let slip that we think he's the mole." Clark explained. "The next thing I know, he's begging me to kill him because he'd rather die than betray the Team. I knocked him out, but I don't know how long he'll stay down. Did you bring what I asked?"

Bruce passed the Man of Steel the small bottle he'd described. "What is it?"

"A sedative." Clark unscrewed the lid and withdrew a small eyedropper from the bottle. He mixed two drops in a glass of water he'd already set on the bedside table. "Its something I use on myself sometimes."

Batman watched as he replaced the lid on the bottle and stowed it in a drawer of his desk. And then, the Man of Steel did the most unbelievable thing. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of hair off the boy's forehead. Bruce saw it, he watched it happen, but he just wasn't sure if he believed it. Once again the Dark Knight found himself contemplating the parallel universe theory. That might be a Conner Kent laying unconscious in the bed, but it wasn't then Conner Kent from his Young Justice team, that might be a Superman who sat beside the boy with a face full of concern, but it certainly wasn't his Superman.

"Do you want to tell me more about what happened?" Bruce ventured.

"There isn't really much else to tell." Clark admitted. "He found out he was the mole and then freaked out."

That might be true, but the boy's outburst had obviously affected him. Batman crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the Superman to elaborate. The seconds ticked by between them. Then, with a dejected sigh the Superman began to speak. He didn't turn to face the Dark Knight, and Bruce knew that it was because the Man of Steel didn't want him to see the emotion that was clearly heard in his voice.

"How do you program morality into something, Bruce?" He began softly. The Dark Knight was about to respond with 'you can't', but Clark continued before he had the chance to. The question was rhetorical. "How do you make an intelligent self-aware non-human loyal to human beings? You can't, that's how. Morality is something that must be learned through experience, loyalty is something that can only be given away freely. When Superboy… When Conner first appeared I was weary of him."

"I know."

Clark seemed to ignore him. "Not just because he was created to kill and replace me, although that was part of it. But also because… because he's an intelligent self-aware artificial being with the potential for above human intelligence. But he's not human and can never be human. I thought that when he realized that fact the isolation that he'd feel, the alienation and estrangement he'd feel would drive him mad. He might let innocent people die when he could have saved them just for the heck of it because he would have no loyalty to human beings. I know this because… because I felt that way allot when I was his age."

If the Batman was startled by that confession he did not show it.

"I'm not human, Bruce, I've never been human and I never will be human. But I have a strict moral code which I adhere to and an indomitable loyalty to humanity because of how I was raised. I live in a world of creatures that will never truly understand me and there have been times where I just want to say 'fuck it' and let the world go to hell in a hand basket, but I don't. I didn't want to train Conner because when he realized he's never fit in and said 'fuck it' I didn't want him to have full command of all his kryptonian powers, I wanted the League to have every possible advantage they could have over him. But today he showed me something, something I didn't think could be programmed. It was more than just 'loyalty', Bruce, it was a depth of commitment that could only be called 'love'."

Now he did turn to look at the Batman and Bruce saw a churning sea of mingled guilt and pride in the man's crystal blue eyes.

"He would have rather died than betray his friends." He continued. "Bruce, he asked me to kill him because he was afraid he would hurt the Team. I… You know why I gave you that kryptonite ring way back when, right? When Conner said that, I saw… myself looking up at me through his eyes. Not just a clone of me but the part of me that makes me 'me'. And I realized, he really is… my son!"

…