Ch 17: Conversations

AN: I am so, so sorry. I thought I was going to get this done eary, then there I was, Wednesday night/Thursday morning, still finishing this thing. Flopsy and I both went back to school this week, too, so I wasn't able to do much until now. I'll try and post a little Wally-centric drabble I've been working on later this week as an apology.

That brings me to the important thing though; update day is changing. I still have to figure out my schedule, but assume I'm going to start updating on Sundays or Mondays.

Anyways, hope this was worth waiting for.

XxXxX

Tonight, the nightmare that has been his companion for so long has changed.

It starts the same as always; Flash is murdered. It always begins thus, though the method is the one part that has some semblance of variety. Tonight is particularly gruesome; the speedster is eviscerated by a batarang-wielding android as the League watches on in horror. It's only after the boy gasps his last shuddering breath that Clark finds the strength to break the iron grip of monkey robots that restrain them.

The android burns. The robots quickly follow suit. Bruce watches helplessly as his family loses themselves in their grief. Most nights he – barely – avoids following suit. However, is small comfort that Bruce sub-consciously believes he could resist that temptation. He has seen too many of his counterparts fall for him to be confident that he would not stand with the Lords.

Bruce's real fear, though, comes from watching those counterparts that do resist.

That is this scenario that haunts his nights. To suddenly find Diana at his feet, the Batarang in her heart the reason for the blood on his hands. John is just to his side, gasping his last breath as he chokes on fear gas. Shayera is slumped on his other side, bleeding out from the sliced arteries in her broken wings. J'onn's ashes crunch under his boots. Clark writhes in front of him, dying a slow, painful death from the Kryptonite Bruce shoved down his throat.

His head recites the numbers and says, 'It's better this way.'

His heart replies, 'No, it's not.'

Tonight, this is where things begin to change.

"Daddy?" A little boy in red, green and yellow stumbles upon the scene. Even through the child's mask, it is clear his eyes are wide in shock… and fear. He gasps out, "What did you do?"

Bruce tries to explain himself. "I… I had to. They were going to… and in every universe that they do…"

The boy is still open mouthed, shaking his head. He's denying Bruce the understanding and acceptance he so desperately needs. "But… but they're your family."

"I know… I- I was just-" He takes a step forward, reaching out to the boy. The child steps back the same distance, hands raised as if to ward off some great evil.

"No. Please! Stay away! Don't hurt me too!" He's moving away faster, half turned to run from the imposing Dark Knight. Bruce is faster though. He catches the boy by the arm and pulls him into a tight embrace.

"I won't, Robin. I'll protect you. I-" The bundle in his arms shrieks in pain and Bruce pulls back. The boy's skin is red and blistering everywhere he's been touched. As Bruce watches, the burns deepen and the boy begins to dissolve into ash.

The boy's screams ease enough for him to turn to Bruce and ask through his tears, "Why would you do this to me?"

Bruce can't help but scream as his son dissolve before him; even the ash is blown from between his fingers.

A hand lands on his shoulder. "Wow, Bats. You really do kill everything you love." Wally's looking down at him with a cheeky grin. His voice is as upbeat as it always is. "You're not going to save me, are you? You're not going to save anything."

It's then that Bruce notices the scarlet-clad corpse behind Wally, as well as his own lack of armor. Wally smirks. The hand on his shoulder moves with super-speed to backhand him. Bruce lands in the pool of his friends' blood, and Wally-but-it-can't-be saunters over to him. "You're going to lose this one, Bats," the thing hisses as its features distort, fading to black and red, "and it will cost you everything."

"No." Bruce denies, struggling as the monster pins him. His vision is fading out, his struggles slowing, but still he won't accept the things words. "No. No, no, no, no, no!"

"Bruce! Wake up! It's okay, it was just a nightmare!" He finds himself wrapped in a tight embrace. His so- Nightw- Di- The boy is holding him tight, rubbing circles on his back as if he were a child. He must have been the one to wake Bruce up. Bruce pulls his presence of mind together enough to push the other man away.

"Do you need something?"

Furrowed eyebrows obscure bright blue eyes in the boy's confusion (and that's too close to shock, too close to fear). "Wha- no! No. I just heard you struggling when I got up to get some water. It seemed unkind to leave you suffering."

That's… reasonably plausible. Bruce can allow this. Put it down to the boy's general kindness. Then he doesn't feel obligated to reciprocate; he doesn't have to care… "You did not need to embrace me." He responds gruffly.

The boy protests. "But hugs are good for you! They're clinically proven to chase away nightmares." The younger man crosses his arms and nods his head as if he were dispensing very serious wisdom for the ages. When Bruce doesn't acknowledge the boy's antics, he stops, shooting the older man a sympathetic look instead. "It's okay. My Bruce took a while to get used to them too. But I promise you'll sleep better!"

That's too far for Bruce. There is not going to be 'a while' of hugs and he will not 'get used' to them. The younger man has supposedly been working with Batman for years; he should recognize when he's not wanted.

Because it's not like Bruce liked the hug. It's not like being saved from his nightmares was nice. It's not like he need or wants a family.

Why doesn't the boy understand that?

"Was there anything else?"

"Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?"

"I would rather sleep than waste time with pointless inanities." He grits out. "Perhaps you should return to your room?"

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Get. Out." Batman's command makes the younger man flinch back. It has to be Batman, now, because Bruce fears he would break under that wounded blue gaze if he didn't have the vigilante's cool logic to hold on to.

"Right," The boy whispers, sliding off the bed. "I'll be down the hall if you need me." He says over his shoulder as he shows himself out.

Finally alone, Bruce slumps back into his bed. He can feel the emotions trying to break through to the surface, so he clings to Batman's strength and recites case files to himself until he falls asleep.

The nightmare is back. Wally's dead. Clark's dead. Diana, J'onn, Shayera, and John, dead. Nightwing – Dick – is dead. The dream is stopped there though. There's a whisper of a lullaby in a language his brain says is Romani. He's aware enough to feel something warm wrap around him, though his mind settles back into sleep without even returning to full consciousness.

He sleeps peacefully through the night this time.

XxXxX

Conner has been across the stars and across dimensions, but he has never found a better place for moon-gazing than the roof of the Kent family barn.

"I thought I might find you here."

Clark's head pokes over the side of the roof, and Conner doesn't call the man on his ability to find him instantly with x-ray vision. Clark always forgets about those things when he's being Clark rather than Superman, doing things the old-fashioned way instead.

He makes no move to come closer, so Conner holds out his hand, inviting Clark onto the roof. Clark takes it, accepting the help up, as if he wasn't floating just below the roof's edge out of courtesy.

"It's, like, three-thirty in the morning. Why were you looking?"

Clark grins and rubs at the back of his neck. "Ma said you weren't in bed when she went to check on you, and wanted me to look for you."

"I'm in my twenties! Or my teens, depending on how you count my age… Either way, I'm not even her kid!" Conner says with exasperation.

Clark chuckles. "True, but she's a mom. You just sort of have to go with it. I mean, she still checks on me in the middle of the night. Me." Conner can't help but return Clark's grin.

"That is funny."

"Maybe we'll understand if we ever get to be parents."

"Never going to happen for you." The banter falls out of his mouth is so easily. More easily than he ever could have dreamed in those first months after Cadmus. "At least, not if you're anything like my brother. Years he's been working with Lois, and he still can't man up enough to ask her on out when he's not wearing the cape." Conner does not miss the Man of Steel's blush. "Oh, Rao! You're the same, aren't you? Poor Ma's never getting grandkids. No wonder she has to check up on us."

Clark tries to defend himself. "Well, I doubt your Ma's prospects look any better!"

"Actually, they're light-years better than yours. If M'gann and I ever get to spend more than a few days together in the same dimension, I'm more than ready to pop the question. J'onn briefed me on Martian bonding customs and Pa helped me pick out a ring an everything."

Clark watches the younger Kryptonian. His face is wistful, and Clark's heart aches a little for his younger brother's pain. "You all really put your lived on hold for this mission, didn't you?"

Conner shrugs. "I guess. Our lives were all pretty screwed up by the invasions anyways." That's an understatement I fther ever was one. Artemis and M'gann were declared dead. Kaldur was outcast from Atlantis. Dick gave up everything, from his dreams to his loved ones, so earth could pull through the invasions. The others lost everything that wasn't the team. Of course, Conner's whole life has been the team from day one. "It's not really a big deal in the scheme of things. We've all died for less."

That gets Clarks attention. "You've all died?"

Tried to, more than once. But Conner can't say that. Instead, he backtracks.

"We didn't actually die. Our minds just sort of… thought we did. It was just bad luck that our bodies tried to follow suit."

Clark is still looking at him like he's sprouted a second head, so he tries to explain. About watching their mentors and family die, one by one. About taking the burden of saving the world upon themselves. About sacrificing their lives – whether willingly, under orders, or because of deception – for what turned out to be pointless resistance.

"That's cruel. How could your League have done that to- to a group of children?" Clark wants to hug his little brother. No. He wants to throttle this other League. To put these bright, happy kids through every Leaguer's nightmare… to make them live it... He can't imagine what they were thinking. Why didn't someone stop them? It's amazing Wally – and his friends – are able to be happy at all.

Or maybe they're not. Maybe they were just trained at such a young age that they're better at keeping up the act, like the good little soldiers the League wanted them to be.

Clark feels sick.

Conner doesn't seem to share any of his turmoil, though. He just shrugs. "Sometimes the League makes mistakes."

He wants to disagree – they were children, after all – but Conner's face is open and kind. The younger Kryptonian bears no ill will towards his mentors. Clark thinks of disarmed nukes allowing invasion, of fighting with innocent Captain Marvel, and of weapons built into the Watchtower firing on civilians, and finds he can't quite blame his counterpart without facing his own guilt. He can allow himself to watch the younger heroes closely, though. He owes them that much.

"You're still frowning. Don't hold that against them, Clark. They're not bad people."

"I know, I know. It's just… interesting how different things can be between universes."

"No kidding. Your Lex Luthor seems psycho." The words come out before Conner really thinks about them. It's one of the things he was up here to contemplate, after all.

"Yours isn't?"

"…He's not all bad."

"Seriously? You're going to stand up for Lex Luthor?"

"Look, I know Lex isn't a good person. He's a pretty bad one, actually, and I'll never forgive him for the things he's put my friends through… but he's not a complete monster. He's… he's human, you know?" Conner knows he should stop there, but the pressure in his chest wants him to continue so much… so he does. "And… despite everything, he's still the first person that reached outand tried to be my dad it."

This time it's Clark's turn to tense up. How could he say that about Lex Luthor?

Conner hurries to explain. "Look. I know Lex isn't good at it, especially when he's following his own agenda, but he does try care for me. In his own way."

"When I graduated high school? I got a Lex Corp scholarship offer the day after getting my Ivy University acceptance letter, without any application. When I got captured by the Reach? He organized an unnecessary rescue party for me as part of his scheme to take War World for the Light. When Apokalips invaded? The troops at my insertion point were the only ones without Kryptonite weapons. And every year, six weeks before the Fourth of July, expensive gifts show up at the League's hideout du jour with cards wishing me a happy birthday."

"That must give Batman an aneurism."

"Probably. Although with Batman, it's hard to tell if he's having a stroke or just trying to emote." Clark can't help but chuckle at that statement. It's not completely untrue. Still, though.

"Gifts don't make someone a good person.

"I'm not saying he's a good person!" Clark flinches back at Conner's vehemence, but the boy has already turned apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"No. I'm sorry. I've obviously hit a nerve." Ma always berates him for his stubbornness. He knows what his hatred of Lex Luthor could do, if it got out of hand. He knows he needs to control it. Yet here this amazing boy is, wrestling with his own demons while still trying to explain thigns to him, and Clark won't even hear him out. "Please, continue."

Conner is hesitant, but after a moment he nods. "I guess… the best comparison I have is with Kaldur. Black Manta did everything he could for his son. Defended him from other members of the Light, called in in all sorts of favors to heal his mind, always made sure his men used non-lethal force against him… Kaldur ultimately couldn't side with him, of course, but it still hurt both of them when that turned out to be the case."

If there's anything he's learned from seeing Artemis, from Kaldur… from Cam, it's that Dads can be evil and still care for their kids. Finding that it might apply to himself turned out to be the harder lesson. "The thing is… I'm pretty sure Lex would do the same for me."

"Mmm." Clark agrees, remembering his last heart-to-heart with his parents, discussing the blacks, whites and grays of morality. Was that only a week ago? So much has happened in that time. Clark has a wistful-looking little brother sitting next to him to prove it. "Do you care for him back?"

"…I don't want to."

"That's not a no."

"Look, I'm trying, okay?" Conner turns on him again. "Don't I keep saying I know he's a bad person? I mean, he got Wally killed! …Except that he didn't." Conner curls in on himself a little at the last admission, and Clark realizes what the real problem here is.

"And that changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Yes! Because killing Wally was that final, unforgiveable straw. I could finally say that Lex was irredeemable and that I shouldn't bother with him. That you and Ma and Pa are enough family. That he can't possibly be good, so I shouldn't want him in my life…"

Conner trails off, not wanting to go too far. This is not the kind of thing he's willing to cry over. Not when their lives are filled with so many real problems… It still hurts though.

Clark shifts closer so he can throw an arm around the smaller Kryptonian. He doesn't have words – he is not ready to stand up for Lex Luthor, but he can't dismiss his brother's pain off hand either – so they just sit there, watching the nighttime sky. It's so peaceful that Clark wished it were under better circumstances.

"Sorry for dumping all this on you." Conner mumbles after a while. It's more than audible to Kryptonian ears. "Normally I'd work this out with Dinah or M'gann, but with everything that's been going on… this has been my first chance to really breathe since we got Wally back." Clark gives him another squeeze at that. With his real strength, for once. It's nice.

"It's no problem," Clark says sincerely. "Isn't that what big brothers are for?"

"My Clark says big brothers are for making little siblings do their chores and eat their vegetables."

"Wise words. Think Kara would believe them?"

"Only if this world has weirder things happening than Lex Luthor having a heart." Conner's smile is weak, but Clark returns it anyways, in the kindest way he can.

"True, true. You ready to get off this roof? Ma'll have a fit if we're not in bed by the time she checks on us again."

"Yeah. Help me down?"

"Of course." Clark and Conner slip back into the house without further ceremony. Clark listens to Conner's breathing even out as the boy falls asleep. It takes him much longer to follow suit. His mind is racing with this new perspective of his arch-nemesis, and how it fits into Wally's death and the Question's doomsday predictions. He has a lot to think about.

For now, though, he can just tries to enjoy being home with his family, because having a little brother might be better than he ever dreamed.

XxXxX

AN:

Again, sorry this is SUPER late.

I don't know why this is a big deal to me, but it is. According to Askgreg, Spitfire's dog is named Bruce. *Head canon destroyed. Please wait for reboot.* Okay. Here's what happened. They're both on Wayne Scholarships to Standford, so they named him Bruce in B's honor. Yeah…. Well, gotto go fix 'Adaptations….'