Age of Heroes

Part fifteen of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, Young Justice or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs to DC, Warner Brothers, and associated parties.

"Monster Hospital,
Can you please release me?"
~Monster Hospital, Metric

Waiting, Superboy discovered, was something he really, really hated doing.

It hadn't been so bad for that week at New Bacave, but he'd had friends he trusted all around him, and everybody he'd cared about was safe. He was in no rush to get anywhere, and it didn't really matter just how long he hung around the island before given permission to leave by its leader.

But this was far different. It was a nerve-wracking and agonizing wait, a wait that he, for his all his powers, could do little to alter or speed up or help with, and he loathed it. Especially when what he was waiting for was the sight of his friend, his brother, waking up and finally being okay.

Wally had cut it very close, Connor had discovered, when he'd finally ducked into the medical facility at the colony—which he'd discovered very quickly was referred to simply as the Base—and handed his unconscious friend over to the medical personnel. They'd been stunned at Wally's condition, seemed genuinely surprised that he was still alive, and expressed concerns that for all their efforts the sick teenager might not make it.

But they'd done their best to help anyway, without even requiring any threatening or trade just yet, which Superboy was grateful for. The medical facility wasn't the best—Connor was sure it didn't even compare to the former Arkham Asylum, lacking equipment and manpower. But the people there were trained professionals at least, and kept a tight ship, meaning the place was protected, safe, and sanitary. They immediately put Wally on intravenous antibiotics and put him in a room with two other beds, both of which were mercifully unoccupied at the time. They didn't argue when Superboy flatly refused to leave his friend behind despite it violating protocol, just asked him to be quiet and respectful of the other patients and personnel, and they even offered him quiet smiles or understanding nods whenever they came in to check on Wally's status. That was good, because they would have had a very hard time attempting to move the Boy of Steel when he didn't want to go anywhere, and he point blank refused to leave that room until this entire mess was over and done with, one way or another.

And for a while it had definitely looked like it was going to go the route of 'another.' Wally had been so close to dying, and the medical staff had been gentle but realistic when they explained Wally's chances were very low at this point. Superboy had sat next to the bed and glared at Wally's closed eyes, as if he could will his friend to open them if he just tried hard enough. He monitored his friend's each and every shallow breath and weak heartbeat with his super hearing, more than a little afraid each time he heard the silences in between and wondering if they would just keep going.

But they didn't. Wally's eyes stayed closed, but he kept breathing, and his heart kept beating. By nightfall one of the nurses checked in on him and told Connor with a little more optimism than before that Wally was responding positively to the medication. He wasn't out of the dark yet, she warned, but he was doing better, and his chances had improved considerably. "He's definitely a fighter," the woman had finished, offering Superboy a quiet smile, before departing the room.

Connor smirked just slightly to himself, and glanced at Wally's blank face. "Did you hear that? She called you a fighter. Guess you still get to be part of the club. Maybe you'll even have a shot with her—she seemed impressed and you're not even conscious. I'm sure not even you can screw that up."

Connor suspected the leader of the Base had been keeping tabs on his entrance with Wally—probably the guards had reported the anomaly, which was irritating, but not surprising—because not an hour after the nurse's announcement that Wally could pull through, a small entourage of guards escorting a tired-looking but intelligent man came calling. Connor put himself between all of them and Wally's bed, shoulders squared and muscles tense, but willed himself not to make the first move—just make it clear that if they acted, he would react, and they would not like it.

They clearly had no intentions of starting a fight, though, and the man they were escorting stepped forward to speak. He had a military bearing to his posture and sized up Connor with an efficiency that spoke of years of combat experience, but there was no aggression in his stance as he nodded once to Connor and said curtly, "I am the commander of this colony. You caused that disturbance at he east gate, earlier?"

"I wouldn't call it a disturbance," Connor said flatly. "Your guards jumped to conclusions. They would have killed an innocent person if I hadn't acted."

"Yes," the man answered. "I...heard something to that effect. I apologize for their behavior. Things have been difficult here of late." His eyes narrowed, and he went straight for the throat a moment later. "I understand you have some relation to the late Superman."

Connor's own eyes narrowed at the words, and he wasn't sure what ticked him off more: the blatant reminder that Superman was dead, or the fact that this man knew he was related in some way. "Maybe," he growled back. "Maybe not." His eyes flicked to the guards standing behind the commander.

The man raised a cool eyebrow and waved one hand dismissively. "My personal guard. They are all trustworthy. You may speak your mind in front of them."

"I don't like talking."

"You are really going to deny your connection to the Man of Steel?" The commander looked just slightly incredulous. "You bear a suspicious resemblance to him."

"Lots of people look like other people."

"You gouged out a part of my wall and put three-foot cracks into the structure. It will take my men days to repair it."

"Lots of people are strong."

"You came down from the sky."

"I jumped." Not even a lie. Connor couldn't fly, after all.

The commander sighed. "Very well. You respect your secret identities even in this day and age, it seems. I don't really care about that." He fixed Superboy with a cold look, and said flatly, "I do not believe in beating around the bush, not after the apocalypse. What are your intentions here?"

Superboy's eyes widened a fraction. The man was putting on a good poker face, but Connor could hear his heart beating faster than usual. The man was nervous. And considering the first thing he'd done was bring up the 'disturbance' at the gate...Damn, Connor realized. He probably thinks I'm here to take over or destroy the place or something, after that stunt at the entrance. Wally always said the military and the Justice League were at odds when Z-day hit, and he's treating me like Superman, so...

Fixing the commander with a grim look, Superboy said flatly, "I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just looking out for family."

The commander looked more genuinely surprised this time, and glanced around Superboy at Wally's prone form in the hospital bed—or more specifically his shock of red hair and smattering of freckles—before looking back to Connor's black hair and slightly paler skin. "Family."

"Yes." Connor's glare dared him to argue.

The commander watched him for a moment, but then nodded as if in understanding. "Then you have no interest in continuing to wreck my walls?"

"Or anything else," Connor agreed, "as long as you don't pull any funny business on your end, against me or him." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Wally. "You hurt my friend in any way, though, and there'll be problems."

The commander nodded slightly, just once, and then said delicately, "We cannot give you special treatment because of your...status."

"I don't want it," Connor said flatly. Part of him still yearned to know what it was to be Superman, entitled and powerful and adored by trusting, hopeful citizens, but he didn't want it this way and he had no intention of stealing from other hard-working survivors just because of a man whose DNA he shared but never met. "I'll pay in trade or labor for anything I need for me or my brother. Fair prices. Don't think you can jack them up or try to cheat us out of the things we need because of my status, either."

The commander's brows rose again at this, and Connor couldn't tell because he didn't exactly have a lot of experience with people, but he thought he saw a glimmer of genuine respect in the man's eyes. "I take my duties here extremely seriously," the man said after a moment. "The mishap at the gate was a mistake, but I do not deny my citizens necessary health care, food and shelter, no matter who they were before the apocalypse came." There were no hidden tremors in the man's voice or heartbeat or breath, and Connor was inclined to believe him—the man was wary of the Kryptonian in his colony, but he had honor, at least, and would live by it.

After a moment, the commander added seriously, "I suggest we agree to a truce, then. You abide by the rules here, do not cause unnecessary trouble, and earn your keep fair and square like everyone else. In return I will ensure that you are not denied or cheated treatment or supplies and are otherwise given free reign to act as you please until you wish to leave." And at Superboy's narrowed glare he added, "Your friend is also under these terms and protections. I am perfectly aware of your over-protectiveness of him and have no wish to trigger your wrath again by harming him in any way. Does this seem fair?"

"I'll leave you alone if you leave us alone," Connor summed up, and nodded.

"Good. I'm guessing I don't need to ask you to be discreet with your...heritage?"

"No."

"Excellent. Then we have a truce." The man offered his hand. Connor shook it and was a little surprised at the firmness of the man's grip, even up against a Kryptonian. He responded accordingly and couldn't resist adding just a little extra pressure, until he felt the man's knuckles grind just slightly, just to warn him not to mess around with them. He had to hand it to the man—if the commander felt any pain from the shake, he concealed it remarkably well, and refrained from flexing his fingers or showing any expression on his face. They departed quickly, and Connor spent a long time going over the conversation as he sat next to Wally's bed again and waited. Had he made he right choices?

But it seemed he had, and the commander, while clearly not fond of the capes and cowls from the last generation, was as honorable as Connor had guessed and true to his word. Other than the assistance of the medical staff, neither he nor Wally were harassed by anyone in the colony. Connor had not been approached by anyone inquiring into his possible connection to Superman, either, meaning the commander had acted quickly to curb the rumors and had no intention of drawing attention to the Kryptonian in their midst. Connor was fine with that. In return he remained in the medical facility and ignored everything else around him, silent and unaggressive. The only times he ever bothered to move from Wally's bedside were to use the facilities or curl up on one of the empty beds for a few hours of rest, and the nurses were kind enough to fetch something to eat in exchange for some of his trade goods, so he kept his promises there too.

And with that potential wrinkle smoothed over, all that was left to do was wait on Wally. Which brought Connor full-circle as he realized more and more just how much he hated doing so.

That first day and night was uneventful, other than the nurse's announcement that Wally was responding to the antibiotics. He remained steadfastly unconscious and did not so much as twitch, mutter, or even seem to have bad dreams.

The second day had been better, in Connor's opinion, if admittedly disturbing. Wally had woken for brief periods of time then, which the nurses said was a good sign, but he'd been delirious and completely unaware of his surroundings. Mostly it had been harmless, and occasionally depressing when Wally called for family members that weren't there, or held conversations with what sounded like himself, as far as Connor could tell. One incident had been particularly alarming, when Wally had woken and apparently been convinced he was surrounded by zeds, prompting him to thrash and scream in panic; Superboy had been forced to hold him down until one of the nurses could administer some sort of sedative to knock him out. Connor had barely needed a fraction of his abilities to keep Wally pinned to the bed, but he had been startled at how hard Wally had managed to fight against his superhuman strength while sick, and had been legitimately concerned that his friend was going to wrench or break something with his struggling.

But by day three the nurses announced with much more optimism than before that Wally's fever had reduced significantly, and when Connor checked with his infrared vision after they'd departed he was able to verify that. It was the best thing Connor'd heard since he arrived at the Base, because it meant Wally was essentially in the clear. But it also made him more impatient than ever for his friend to finally wake up for real, so Connor could yell at him for being really, really dumb.

It was late afternoon on the third day since he'd smashed down at the Base's gate when Connor finally caught the first traces of Wally's breath altering as he shifted slowly out of sleep, and heard the patter of his heartbeat as it sped up just slightly. His eyes flickered beneath their lids, and just when Connor was about to complain loudly that Wally was doing this on purpose, the teenager's eyes cracked open slowly. He blinked several times, looking dazed, and his expression drew down into a slow frown of confusion. Then his eyes flickered to his right, and his gaze fell on Superboy, still sitting next to him.

They locked eyes for a moment, silent, and there was recognition in Wally's eyes. Then Connor smirked, just a little, and said, "Welcome back."

Wally looked deeply confused. "Did I leave?" he asked after a moment. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Near enough." Connor gave him a flat look, and then retrieved his water bottle from a second chair he'd been using as a table. He twisted the cap off, slid a hand behind Wally's head and shoulders carefully to lift him, and helped him drink. Wally gulped at the water greedily, and Connor scowled at him. "Hey, take it easy! Small sips. You've been out for days."

Wally gave him a weak but all too familiar cheeky smile, and said with a voice that was far less hoarse than previously, "This from the guy that gulped down my entire water bottle after sleeping for four years?" But he did slow down, taking smaller sips as ordered until he signaled he was fine for the moment.

Connor helped him lay back down and took his own seat again, watching as Wally looked around the room. The teenager looked exhausted, still, but much more alert than before, and frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings. He coughed once, and then asked, "Where...are we?"

"The Base," Connor answered. "Their medical ward."

Wally's eyes widened in shock. "The Base...as in, the Base? The one we were aiming for?" Connor nodded, and Wally stared at him in disbelief. "But...but we were so...how many days have I been out?"

"It's been three days since we got here and you started getting treatment," Connor supplied. "More like five and a half since the factory. Maybe closer to six."

Wally gaped at him. "You...you covered over a hundred miles through zed-infested territory in two and a half days?" he said incredulously. Pitching his voice high started him coughing again, although they weren't as bad as they had been, but it still took him a moment to stop. "Geez," he gasped, when he'd finally finished, "Maybe we should call you the Flash."

Superboy scoffed at that. "Please. I'm not that fast. Just stubborn. Told you we'd make it."

Wally shook his head, still looking disbelieving. "I'll never doubt you again, Supey—" he froze, looking alarmed, and glanced around.

"It's safe," Connor assured him, and then added with a scowl, "You doubted me before?"

"I...well, I mean, it seemed kind of...impossible..." He winced apologetically. "Sorry. I just...I mean, I really don't remember much, but...I mean, I knew I was doing bad, I really didn't think I was gonna last long enough to make it here..."

Truthfully Connor wasn't innocent there either; he'd been sure all his efforts were going to be for nothing more than once. But he'd never admit to it, and said instead, "Yeah, well, have a little more faith in me next time, got it? I'm not just any old human, impossible's what I was built to do."

"I have never been more aware of that in my life than at this moment," Wally said, shaking his head again. "Over a hundred miles in two and a half days. Carrying me. Geez."

Connor smirked.

Wally fell silent for a moments, and seemed to be thinking. Connor let him; if there was one thing he'd learned about Wally ever since breaking out of that pod, it was that his friend would always talk when he was ready, which was often. Sure enough, after a few minutes of silence, Wally finally said slowly, "Supey, I really don't remember all that much for the last part, but..."

"Yeah?"

"What you said...about your goal. Did you really mean that?"

Connor met his eyes. Wally was staring at him, wide-eyed but looking a little hesitant, unsure. Connor thought back to the words he'd said, that night he'd found Wally half dead and nearly set upon by zombies. Your goal is finding your family. My goal is making sure you do find them, got it? "Yes," he answered, without a shred of hesitation.

Wally blinked, like he was surprised by the straightforward answer, but then his hesitant expression melted into a genuine, thankful smile. "Thanks, Supey," he said softly, voice hoarse sounding again, and Connor suspected it had nothing to do with a lack of water this time. "I just...I've wanted to find them for so long, and this time I thought...I mean, I didn't think I'd...thanks. For...for everything."

"Sure," Connor answered, a little uncomfortably. He might have been around for a few months now but he still really wasn't sure how to handle displays of serious emotion, and it was one of the few things he really couldn't deal with by punching it, which left him out of his depth.

So he turned it into a confrontation instead, the only way he could cope with it. "But," he said, with a trace of a growl in his throat, "You'd better not think of pulling a stunt like that again, got it? If you do I'm gonna be really mad."

Wally had the grace to look a mixture of sheepish and deeply apologetic. "Yeah, that sounds kind of dangerous," he tried in a joking tone. Connor's glare intensified—he was pretty sure this was how his predecessor would have triggered the heat vision—and Wally's expression slipped to being purely sorry. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't want you to worry or anything. I mean, that's why I tried leaving, so you wouldn't—"

"—Which was stupid," Connor interjected. "What, did you think I'd just shrug and leave you behind when I found you gone?"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Wally said defensively. "I was sick and it made me stupid, okay? I just didn't want to hold you back or anything. I mean you were running yourself ragged trying to look out for me too, and I didn't want us both to get killed on this trip, you know? Especially when you hadn't even figured out what you wanted to do with your life after I got you out of Cadmus. And I figured you'd only followed me because you felt like you owed me for the whole Cadmus thing, or something."

Connor gave him an incredulous look, and Wally raised his hands defensively, if a bit weakly. "I know better now! I promise. I won't make that mistake again. And I won't do anything quite that stupid in the future. I'm sorry."

"You'd better be," Connor growled back. "'Cause if you do try a stunt like that again, I'm going straight to the top and telling Dick."

Wally looked horrified. "You wouldn't."

Connor nodded, and barely restrained his smirk. "You know I would. And then he'll keep you locked up at Arkham for the rest of your life for sheer stupid. I bet it's a kind of insane these days."

"Okay, okay! I'll be good. Zombie-scout's honor." Wally held up his fingers in a mock salute, and then said hesitantly, almost pleadingly, "You're not gonna tell him about this time, are you Supey? Right? Bro? Please?"

Connor snorted, pretended to consider it a moment, and then drawled, "I suppose I can forget to tell him this time...as long as you have learned your lesson."

"I have learned it so well if they had tests on it I'd be getting straight A's," Wally insisted. "We cool?"

"Alright. Just don't do it again."

"Promise." Wally looked a little relieved, like something major was off his chest, and then asked more calmly, "So...we've been here for three days. Uh, what do I have to look forward to?" He lifted his arm and stared at the IV line taped to his skin, and then looked back to Superboy.

Connor sighed. "You were pretty bad when we got here. They're honestly shocked you survived at all, but it means you're gonna be in recovery longer than usual too. They're estimating at least two weeks for the antibiotics to take full effect and stabilize you totally. Even after that, they said it could be a full month, maybe a little more, before all your symptoms totally go away. They've all been stressing how important it is for you to take it easy in that time—bed rest, light exercise at the most, no traveling. Especially since it'd be easy for you to get sick again for a while."

Wally winced. "Ouch. And it's what...late August by now?"

Connor nodded, and Wally's face fell for a moment. He didn't say anything, but Connor could practically see him doing the calculations in his head. By the time Wally was fit enough for traveling again, it would be anywhere from early to mid October—too late to venture out towards the mountain range and the potential hidden settlements within that had been the reason for the whole trip in the first place. The risk of being caught out in increasingly cold weather and potential snowstorms was just too high, and would be a great way for Wally to give himself pneumonia all over again—or half a dozen other injuries and illnesses that had nothing at all to do with zombies. It meant they would be forced to winter at the Base until spring, meaning Wally's chances at finding his parents or his aunt and uncle had just been pushed back half a year at least.

But Wally said nothing, and the unhappy expression on his face vanished almost instantly, replaced with a tired smile. "Well," he said slowly, "That sucks that we're stuck here. Like a lot. But I guess at least I'm alive, right? That's way more than I was expecting. I must be one of the luckiest guys ever."

Connor got the feeling that Wally did believe that, at least a little. But he also knew Wally wasn't quite as enthusiastic as he'd like to pretend. He knew his friend was happy to be alive, but he knew that the delay was also frustrating Wally to no end. And he knew, too, that Wally was trying hard not to voice just how much the news was affecting him, because he didn't want to appear selfish or ungrateful after Superboy force-ran himself over a hundred miles carting a nearly dead body just to make sure he lived to begin with.

It definitely gave Superboy something to mull over. But all he said for now was, "Yeah. Sure. It had nothing to do with the fact that you were traveling with a Kryptonian."

"Hey, I consider myself lucky to have even found a Kryptonian in the first place. That's like some of the craziest probability ever, you know?"

"Sure." Connor rolled his eyes. "I was supposed to tell a nurse when you woke up. Now shut up and let me do that."

"Make sure it's a hot nurse," Wally ordered. "I may as well make the most of this, after all."

Connor could only shake his head in exasperation.

After that, things started going a little better for them at the Base. Wally still spent a lot of time sleeping, but he was awake for longer periods at a time increasingly more often as the days passed. Superboy still spent a lot of time with him, especially when he was awake, keeping him company by chatting (or more often listening while Wally chatted at him) and playing cards.

But increasingly more often Connor found himself leaving the medical facility altogether to familiarize himself with the Base. He didn't really like leaving—much like New Batcave, the Base was crowded and exceptionally busy, and he preferred the solitude and quiet of the medical facility to the crowd of loud and demanding life outside of it. But it was necessary, for a number of reasons. Superboy felt that he ought to familiarize himself with their location, just in case; he was sure Wally was familiar with the place, but since Wally was bedridden, it would be up to Superboy to navigate for the time being. He also needed to start earning their keep, since his trade supplies would be running low soon. He'd rather have some backed up for emergencies, which meant he needed to find areas of the colony where he could work for food and start stocking up on travel supplies again.

Connor felt bad about abandoning Wally in the medical facility all the same, though, and the first time he'd made to leave he'd asked Wally if he was okay with it. Wally had only smirked and said, "Hey, with you gone it'll be a lot less awkward for that pretty blond nurse that keeps hitting on me. I think the third wheel thing makes her uncomfortable."

"You think she's hitting on you?" Superboy asked, giving his friend a flat look.

"Please. I know she's hitting on me. I've been getting the five star royal treatment, what else could it possibly mean?"

Connor didn't have the heart to tell Wally that he was getting the 'royal treatment' because Connor had paid extra in trade to ensure his adopted brother was well taken care of and comfortable, without any slip-ups or mistakes. Instead he rolled his eyes and said, "Uh-huh. Sure. Good luck with that, then."

"Hah. This man needs no luck when it comes to women!" was the last thing Superboy heard Wally crow arrogantly, as he stepped out of the room and headed for the outside.

Connor had been truthful enough with Wally, when he explained his reasons for needing to head out into the colony every day, and a large part of his time was spent working in exchange for trade goods or familiarizing himself with the Base. Much of it was similar to New Batcave, with organized facilities, a veritable swarm of civilians, and a strong feeling of life after so many encounters with the walking dead.

But things differed here too. The Base was landlocked, obviously, and possessed a lot more houses and apartments, as opposed to Arkham's more defensible but far less friendly-looking converted asylum feel. The guard was largely comprised of military members and the youngest amongst them appeared to be in the early-to-mid twenties, differing vastly from New Batcave's largely volunteer force that ranged anywhere from young teenagers to middle-aged men and women. The Base wasn't as well equipped for day-to-day living and lacked the vast quantities of electricity and communications opportunities that New Batcave possessed, but they had a lot more in terms of weaponry and firepower, which was probably what had let them hold off the swarms of undead in the middle of central US for as long as they had. All in all, it felt like an enclosed town, similar to the hundreds of towns Connor and Wally had passed through before but for the fact that it hadn't yet rotted away in the apocalypse.

It was sort of fascinating, in a weird kind of way, once Connor gradually started getting used to the crowds of people, but after the first few days it wasn't what interested him any longer. By then he was familiar with the Base's layout enough to be satisfied in the event of an emergency, and it was the people he focused on more. Because he had one more goal while he was outside the medical facility, and that was to start searching for some very specific faces.

Not long after Wally had arrived at the medical facility he'd been changed into a hospital gown, and the staff had returned his clothing and possessions to Connor—including Wally's wallet, balanced delicately on the top of the stack. Connor had seen Wally pull it out on their travels, often when he thought Connor wasn't paying attention, although he did it less and less frequently since Cadmus. Curious, Connor had poked through its contents while sitting by Wally's bedside. It was mostly empty, with a few crumpled bills of useless American currency, a torn museum ticket dated May 2007, and a gift card for some fast food restaurant that clearly would never be seeing any use.

Connor couldn't fathom why Wally would continue to look at such useless trash from the last generation. Then he flipped open the wallet's second fold and spotted the photographs.

The first was a family of three together. A woman with light brown hair sat in a chair, while a heavy-set man with darker brown hair stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. The man's other arm around the shoulders of what was clearly a much younger Wally West. All three smiled at the camera and Connor got the feeling that, despite it being an obviously styled portrait, those smiles were genuine.

The second photograph was of a woman with bright red hair that nearly rivaled Wally's. Connor could tell they were related from both that and the way their grins were the same.

The final photo looked more casual, and had been folded and refolded to fit into the wallet to the point when it was nearly falling apart. It was of a twelve-year old Wally grinning and hanging onto the shoulders of a smirking blond man. It took Connor a while to figure out the relation, until he realized the man's smile bugged him somehow with familiarity. On impulse he dug through their supplies and pulled out his League interview book—the only thing he'd brought with them that hadn't been necessary for survival or trade—and flipped the pages until he'd reached the Flash's photograph in his interview. The build and smile were right, and Connor surmised that this was 'Uncle Barry.'

All of the photos were well-worn, with the colors fading from age, but they were well cared for as well, and it was obvious these people meant a lot to Wally. Even without the obvious physical hints, it was clear these people were his family, the ones Wally had struggled for four years to try and find. The ones they were here for now. The ones they were forced to stop searching for until next year, due to unfortunate timing and worse luck.

Connor was stubborn, and refused to give up quite so easily as that. So while Wally was bedridden, Connor took it upon himself to look around for the people in the photographs. Dick's intel suggested they were still in that mountain range, if they were anywhere at all, but Connor suspected there was always a possibility that Wally's family could have made for the safety of a colony too. Wally himself had told Connor at the start of their trip that he hadn't been to the Base in almost two years, and anything could change in two years. So Connor memorized the faces in the photos, and carried the wallet with him in one of his cargo pants pockets to have them on hand for identification. He made note of every face he passed, paid close attention to every head of brown or bright red or blond hair, and searched for minute details that he'd never seen before in real life but was rapidly becoming intimately familiar with anyway.

Unfortunately, he found nothing. The Base was huge, as far as post-apocalyptic civilizations went, but not so huge it would take that long to familiarize himself with the locals. After a week and a half of keeping an eye out Connor was forced to grudgingly admit the Wests (and one Allen) were not present. The mountain settlements were rapidly becoming their only option, and while they were only a week into September, it was still painfully clear Wally would not be making the trip there before next year.

Connor mused over it for days. He hadn't been lying to Wally earlier; he really did want to make sure his friend reunited with the rest of his family. His near-scare with Wally's disappearance, and how his friend—his brother—had come so close to death, had been terrifying—and that had only been a matter of a few hours and a few days. He could only barely imagine how terrible it must be, to be separated from one's parents or kids or nephews for not a few days, but a few years. To wonder if they were even still alive, or if they were hurt, or if they were wandering the world as mindless, painless, twisted undead aberrations. It was difficult for him to try and comprehend—he had no concept of 'family' outside of Wally, and maybe Dick and Roy—and he still wasn't used to dealing with how he felt, which made it even harder. But he'd seen how much it hurt Wally to not know, and to wonder, and to be forced to push his search back still further, and Connor wanted to put a stop to that. To fix it. He had to be able to do something, right?

So he thought over travel plans, read maps, asked the locals quietly about the weather and conditions while playing it up like he was from farther South (and he supposed that last part wasn't a total lie—he had technically been 'born' in DC). But nothing seemed to work out. Wally wouldn't even be able to travel until mid October, and according to the locals it would be much colder by then; there was even a possibility that it could snow that early, although apparently it was more common in November. The threat of zeds would diminish with the freeze—a rare weakness of their undead state meant they had no body heat to protect them during the colder months, although they would thaw when temperatures grew warmer again. But it also meant animals would be scarce due to hibernation or migration, diminishing hunting, and most edible plant life would be dead. Between the severe temperature drop, difficult traveling conditions due to snow and ice, and lack of food, travel would be treacherous and potentially deadly for any human.

And then it became painfully obvious what Connor had been missing the whole time, to the point when he wondered how he'd been to blind to see it: it was potentially deadly for any human.

But Superboy wasn't human, at least not completely. He'd already proven he could travel in grueling conditions with little to no food or external support. He also knew he could make the one hundred miles to the mountain range relatively easily, and he wouldn't even have to push himself as hard this time because Wally's life wouldn't be on the line, so he could take it a little easier for himself. He'd never seen snow before, but he knew he didn't feel heat and cold the same way normal humans did, and he doubted the weather would make much of a difference now. Snowstorms and blizzards might be an inconvenience, if they were anything like the thunderstorms they'd encountered on the way here, but at most they'd just slow his travel; he couldn't get sick or hurt from them the same way Wally might.

And, the more he thought on the matter, the more he realized that once he got to the mountains he'd have an easier time searching than any human would. He'd listened to Dick and Wally discussing the dangers of mountain searches, when they recalled old stories and news reports about lost hikers or children in the wilderness to try and remember how the mountain rangers and volunteers did it. The mountains could be hazardous and deadly—that much Connor understood. But he had advantages that normal humans didn't. His super strength and super leaps would allow him to travel much faster and farther than people could. His invulnerability would shield him from any dangers or pitfalls or unexpected hazards. His infrared vision would let him sweep the area for signs of warm bodies or fires or other hints of humans living in the wilderness. And he had no fear of zeds, or even opportunistic bandits; the former he could smash easily, and the latter had no hope of harming him, no matter what weapons they brought into play.

He could do it, Superboy realized. He could be there and back before serious winter even set in. He could find news, search out potential campsites, make the journey there easier on Wally when they did set out in the future. Maybe even give his friend hope, something to look forward to, cheer him up. It would be a viciously rough journey, even with all his numerous advantages, and maybe it was a little crazy, but so what? So maybe he wasn't intended to be a hero anymore, but that didn't mean he still couldn't do the impossible.

It was what he was made for, after all.