zeegoeshere

First part here.


The next day, Dick wakes up fifty minutes earlier than he usually does. He bought the ingredients for this last night, and he's given himself a little extra time in case the recipe is harder to make than he remembers. He's watched Alfred do it dozens of times, and done it himself maybe twice, but that was a long time ago. He wants it to be good.

Alfred's recipe doesn't disappoint. The pancakes are perfectly golden, fluffy and thick, the chocolate chips melted and gooey, and he flips the last one off the griddle as Johnny walks into the kitchen with bags under his eyes.

Dick puts the plate of pancakes on the table, and Johnny's eyes widen. "Dude. That's--that's a lot of pancakes."

"Try not to eat them all too fast. You'll make yourself sick." Dick sits down across from him and drinks his coffee.

Johnny is already halfway through the first giant pancake. "You don't want any?" he says around his mouthful.

Dick shrugs. "I didn't make them for me," he says casually, watching Johnny for a reaction. Johnny pauses mid-chew, then swallows. He studies Dick for a second, then continues scarfing down pancakes. Dick's stomach rumbles.

Dick waits until the speed of Johnny's eating has slowed somewhat. He has no idea how to start this conversation, beyond just--well, beyond just making Johnny pancakes.

Johnny is licking syrup and stray smears of chocolate off his fingers.

"You don't remind me of Superman in the ways you probably want."

...that was not the right way to start this conversation. Johnny freezes mid-lick.

Dick tries again. "Your smile is the same as his was. When you're annoyed, you get the same line between your eyebrows that he did. You put off warmth in the same kind of way that he did, if not quite as *much.*"

Johnny swallows, and his adam's apple bobs up and down. "Yeah?"

Dick nods. "You... you remind me of who he was out of costume. You remind me of the man, not the hero. That's not a bad thing," he adds hastily when Johnny's face falls.

Dick reaches out to cover Johnny's hand with his. He has big hands, too big for the rest of him, signifying the size of the body he'll someday grow into. "I miss the man more than the hero," Dick says, and feels some of the tension in Johnny's body drain out.

Johnny's smile is shaky, but it's there. "Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

Dick moves his hand up to squeeze Johnny's shoulder. "I'm *scared.* I don't--god, I feel like the entire world has just been a giant mess since Superman died. The JLA, the Titans--we're all trying to pick up the pieces, but it never really *works.* And now there's you, and there's two powerful metas out there claiming to *be* Superman, except that they *can't* be because Superman never made me fear for my *health* around him." These are possibly not the best things to be saying to *reassure* Johnny, Dick realizes belatedly.

But he can't stop talking. "So, yeah, I'm--scared. And I reacted badly last night, and I didn't mean to tell you about your Luthor genes like *that.*" Johnny's body tenses horribly when Dick says 'Luthor,' and it just makes Dick squeeze his shoulder harder. "But I'm glad you know, because now you can get past it and realize that it really, *really* doesn't have jack to do with who you are."

Johnny snorts. "So says *you.*" He tries to look away but Dick puts a hand on his jaw and makes Johnny face him.

"Yeah, so says me. And you know, I'm willing to bet that I know you a hell of a lot better than whoever talked to you through a *test tube,* so maybe you should take my word for it, huh?"

Johnny meets his eyes and doesn't look away, not until Dick lets go of his face and his shoulder, slightly retreating. Then he stares down at his pancakes, and Dick watches as his cheeks turn pink.

"So you knew him? Superman," Johnny clarifies, as if they could be talking about anyone else.

"Yeah, I..." Dick laughs a little. "He's the one that gave me this costume. Well--not this one, exactly, but--he gave me the name Nightwing."

Johnny's eyebrows go up, and he grins. "Really?"

Dick nods. "It's from Kryptonian folklore and legends. Nightwing was a hero, back on Krypton."

"Wow. So you guys were, like, buds."

Dick grins, too. "Yeah, something like that. He was always there for me when Batman was being a dick."

"He didn't like Batman, either?" Johnny's voice is eager, and Dick has to laugh again.

"Um--it was complicated." They loved each other. "They were a good team, and they were good friends. Superman knew Batman better than--" anyone but me- "almost anyone."

Johnny goes back to staring at his pancakes. "But Batman doesn't like me."

Dick winces. "He took Superman's death pretty hard."

"And that's why?"

Bruce would give other reasons. He might be right, but-- "Yeah. That's why."

---

When Dick makes a Knights of Ni joke and Johnny just looks confused, Dick knows that something has to be done. Granted, the joke wasn't that funny, but it's mildly horrifying that Johnny didn't even know what he was talking about. The next day he gets off from the force, Dick makes popcorn and declares a Monty Python marathon.

The pattern of what cultural information the Cadmus scientists have and haven't given Johnny continues to mystify Dick. Mostly because, well, there seems to be *no* pattern to it: Johnny knows more current slang than Dick does, but he hasn't heard of global warming; he knows about the Cold War and Nixon, but not about the Beatles; he knows all the words to Bob Marley songs, but doesn't recognize the name Martin Luther King, Jr. And while they were investigating an english professor turned serial arsonist, Dick discovered that Johnny could distingish between a sonnet, a sestina and a villanelle--but he often had trouble spelling the most basic words. He can do some fairly advanced algebra, but not long division.

It makes working with him frustrating. Dick never knows how much knowledge he can rely on Johnny having, and Johnny can get defensive if he thinks Dick is treating him like he's dumb. If Johnny's going to be working alongside him, even if it's just temporary, Dick wants to help him be better--wants to start repairing the holes left by Cadmus. But it's an overwhelming task, and he doesn't know where to start.

Thus, Monty Python. Johnny is flopped on the couch, a giant bowl of popcorn balancing on his stomach, his feet in Dick's lap. Dick finds himself watching Johnny instead of the movie--like much of his generation, he practically has The Holy Grail memorized. Johnny seems to be more weirded out than amused by the movie, although occasionally he laughs hard enough to upset the popcorn bowl, scattering popcorn all over the couch and the floor.

When Tim the sorcerer shows up, Johnny abruptly turns away from the screen and meets Dick's eyes. "Dude, *what?*"

Dick starts. He hadn't realized he'd been watching Johnny so obviously. "Nothing," he says. "Sorry, I was just. Thinking."

"Yeah?" Johnny grins and flicks popcorn at Dick's head with his TK. "Pondering how I can possibly be so fly?"

Dick snorts. "Thinking about the Cadmus scientists, actually. About what information they gave you, and what you might still need to learn." He hadn't really meant to bring this up *now,* but he supposes it's as good a time as any; they can rewind the tape and watch the killer rabbit scene later.

Johnny's grin fades, and he looks back at the screen. "Oh."

Dick pats Johnny's ankle. "You don't have to look like I just brought up your execution. Why the long face?"

"It's just..." Johnny shrugs. "I don't think Cadmus finished my--brain. I mean, I'm not very smart, am I? Not compared to you."

"Compared to--" Oh, lord. "Johnny, I'm *older* than you. And do you have any idea just how much of my life I spent training to be as good a detective as I *am?* Uh. Don't answer that."

Johnny frowns. "What about Robin? He's my age."

"Don't compare yourself to him either," Dick says quickly, and then feels guilty. "I mean--I love the kid, but he's a special case. He's definitely not a normal teenager. Anyway--I wasn't thinking about how smart you are."

Johnny eyes him, a little warily. "Yeah? So... what?"

Dick shrugs. "Just... thinking about what kind of information Cadmus fed into your brain. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it: They just dumped a bunch of random facts into you, from what I can tell. I'm... not sure whether you would be more or less advanced than your peers if you were to attend high school, for instance."

Johnny snorts. "High school? Shyeah, whatever. I'm so past that."

"'Past that'? You're sixteen--biologically, anyway. What makes you think you're above basic schooling?"

Johnny rolls his eyes, radiating adolescent boy arrogance. "Dude, I'm *Superman,* or at least his clone. Why would I want to spend my time in a stuffy classroom listening to old dudes when I could be out leaping tall buildings in a single bound?"

Dick frowns. "It's necessary, Johnny. There's still so much you need to learn, and I can't teach you all of it."

"Johnny isn't even my *name.*"

Dick stiffens. "What?"

Johnny waves a hand expansively. "I mean, it's not the one I was 'born' with--it's just something you came up with off the top of your head. It's not like I was born Johnny Grayson or Johnny Smith or whatever, you know? Not like other people. I was born in a freaking *tube.* How the hell am I gonna fit in with other high schoolers?"

"I wouldn't worry about that. Finding a teenager who actually feels like he 'fits in' is pretty rare." Although Johnny has a point; most of them weren't raised in a tube. "I'm not saying you should start tomorrow or anything, but if you could consider it?"

"Hmph. Maybe." Johnny squirms. "Dude, that tickles."

"What? Oh." Dick looks down and discovers that he'd been absently tapping out a rhythm on Johnny's foot. He grins. "You're ticklish?"

"Uuuuuh. No." Johnny shakes his head vigorously, realizing the danger he's stumbled upon. "Not ticklish at all, nope--hey!"

Dick smirks and tickles the bottom of Johnny's foot again. Johnny squeaks and jerks, spiling popcorn on the floor, but Dick doesn't relent. Things degenerate from there.

---

The night is fairly quiet, considering. There's been plenty of crime, but--burglaries, some gang disputes, a fire to put out. No metas, no one with a mask or a reputation to deal with. And Johnny is in a good mood, which makes it impossible for Dick not to smile while he's doing his job.

He feels him lurking when they finish off a group robbing the art museum. Dick tells Johnny to keep patrolling without him and lingers, waiting.

It doesn't take long for Batman to come out of the shadows. "You're patrolling with him now."

Dick frowns. "Trying to keep him from coming with me was an exercise in futility. What are you doing here?"

"I suspected that you weren't being entirely forthright about Superman's clone. I came to see for myself."

"I've been completely forthright!" Dick says. "I don't--what are you angry about?"

Batman stares at him with a blank expression, the cape hiding his body language. "So far I've had to rely on your judgment, your instincts, with regards to the clone."

Dick clenches his fists. "And?"

"I'm not certain that judgment is still reliable."

Fuck you. "And why is that."

Another long look. "Why are you allowing him to patrol with you?"

"I told you--it was stupid not to. And this is the best and the fastest way to train him."

"You don't need to train him, you just need to keep him occupied until we find out what Luthor plans for him."

Dick scowls. "Training him is *helpful* to both of us."

"You're coddling him. You should be using your time to research his powers, his limits--"

"I *have* been--"

"If we knew how to remove his powers, it would be more efficient to neuter him than to lose you to babysitting duty. You've lost perspective--"

"I've gotten him to *trust* me, why can't you just--" Dick hears a noise, and whatever else he was going to say dies in his mouth when he sees a red and blue blur take off from behind Batman, flying away.

Batman is already turned around, batarang in hand, but it's useless; Johnny is already gone. "Hm."

He overheard. He-- "I have to go," Dick says, his throat dry, but before he can get to his bike there's an explosion and he's thrown back. He lands hard, and there will be bruises tomorrow but nothing's broken. He doesn't have to look to know that Batman was thrown as well, and is also uninjured.

The cause of the explosion is a slim, tall man dressed in black and cackling in a high-pitched voice. He's wearing a mask, and--this is probably the reason the night's been mostly quiet till now.

"One of yours?" Batman grunts beside him, already in a fighting stance.

Dick shakes his head. "He must be new in town."

The man calls himself Skinner, and Dick almost finds out why when Skinner's scalpel almost slices open his arm. Dick gets away before the knife can twist and curve in his skin, but he can see the intent in the way he holds the blade, in the manic glint in his eye.

Skinner isn't a meta, he's just fast, strong, precise and utterly insane. The bomb that blew up Dick's motorcycle doesn't fit with the scalpel M.O., and Dick makes a note to check that out later.

They take care of him reasonably quickly, although they could have worked faster and with more efficiency if Dick hadn't been distracted. Batman doesn't say that aloud, but he doesn't need to. Bruce has always been a master of pointed silences.

Batman finishes zip-stripping the criminal and stands up, looking at Dick.

"You're done here," Dick says when Batman opens his mouth. "Get back to Gotham. I'm going to find Johnny and explain to him that you have no idea what you're talking about."

Batman presses his lips together, and Dick is expecting a wrathful reproach, but he says nothing. There's just the swish of his cape, and then he's gone.

Dick spends the rest of the night searching for Johnny, but doesn't find him. When he finally returns home and falls into bed, the apartment feels far too quiet.

He sleeps fitfully, through hazy dreams of a larger-than-life Superman getting slowly killed by the weight of the kryptonite S on his chest. In his dream Dick is Robin, and he barely comes up to Superman's knees; when Superman falls, Dick is crushed beneath him. He jerks awake before sunrise, feeling exhausted.

His cellphone rings and Babs' voice is urgent on the other end. "Are you watching this?"

"Hang on." Dick rubs the sleep out of his eyes. When he turns on the TV, he doesn't need to ask what Babs is referring to--it's on every channel. An earthquake (or something: the newscasters are unclear on exactly *what* happened) has hit Coast City and its surrounding suburbs. Almost all of central California is in ruins.

Dick grabs his uniform. "Do we know what this is? It looks like--"

"Heat vision, yeah. The cyborg Superman is saying that it was that other one, the Last Son of Krypton. Watch the screen, Nightwing." And sure enough, when Dick glances back at the TV, the cyborg is telling a story of how he struggled with the Son of Krypton, trying to stop him, but he failed and the other Superman fled.

Dick frowns. "How much do you trust his story?"

"About as much as I believe he's actually Superman. Unfortunately, he already has the JLA--including Batman--on a wild goose chase, going after the Son of Krypton in space."

"Wonderful." Dick grabs his escrima sticks and his mask. "I need to find Johnny. He's still missing from last night--"

"--and you need to find him fast." Barbara's voice is suddenly urgent, and Dick looks back at the screen.

"--and the president has called on the new, young Superman to investigate this crisis!" A newscaster reports. "He will be accompanied by a GBS crew and the cyborg Superman..."

Dick's heart thumps in his chest. "No. No *way.* It isn't safe--"

"Sending Superboy off to deal with this is the mother of all bad ideas, yes. And if he's still sore from your fight last night--"

"He might be irrational enough to fly off to meet the cyborg without talking to me first. I know." Dick switches from the cell phone to the comm in his mask and takes the familiar route up to the roof. He can search Blüdhaven better from the air than he can on his bike. "Oracle, help me out here."

"I'm checking all my cameras in Blüdhaven. My system there isn't very expansive yet, but..."

"But?" Dick throws a line out and heads east, toward the areas of town he and Johnny haven't spent much time in--if Johnny is feeling resentful about him, he won't want to go anywhere that he associates with Dick.

He hears Oracle sigh over the line. In the robotic voice it sounds... odd. "False alarm. I've got nothing. You do realize, with his powers he could have flown anywhere by now, right?"

Dick flips and lands on a jutting window ledge. "He doesn't have much stamina, and he can't fly anywhere near the speeds of Superman."

"Still--I doubt that he's still in Blüdhaven. I'll check some contacts throughout the country, see if anyone's spotted him."

"I'll keep searching the city," Dick says, but it feels hollow. Once he knows for sure that Johnny isn't in the city he can get the Titans jet and expand the search, but if Johnny hasn't stayed within the city limits, he *really* doesn't want to be found.

Searching Blüdhaven proves fruitless, and when Oracle's voice crackles in his ear he's already heading back to his apartment, to get his bike and head to Titans Tower. "Please tell me you've found him."

"I have, but it isn't good. He's on the news beside the cyborg Superman, getting interviewed by GBS reporters."

"Fuck. He's in Coast City?" Dick lands and runs for his motorcycle, hopping on and taking off.

"Yes. And he--oh god--"

"What? What happened? Babs--"

"I don't know, the signal from GBS just went out completely. GBS is trying to cover it up, but something obviously happened in Coast City to cause that blackout." Oracle's voice sounds tense, rushed. Dick urges the bike faster, breaking speed limits as he speeds down the highway.

When he gets to Titans Tower, there's more news. Johnny and the cyborg are on every channel again, the cyborg claiming that they fought the Last Son of Krypton once again, and the news crew following them were, sadly, casualties.

Dick doesn't need Oracle to tell him that the TV broadcasts are bullshit. That's... that's *not* Johnny, even though it's close enough for anyone but someone who's been living with the kid to be oblivious. He lets Oracle work on deciphering the cyborg's fake broadcasts and urges the jet faster over the midwest.

He can tell how close he is to Coast City by how much smoke is in the air. It makes his stomach churn, and he has to use meditation techniques Bruce taught him to keep his mind distracted from gruesome images of Johnny, beaten bloody (or worse) by a rogue Superman or by *whatever* did this to California.

When he gets far enough in that all he can see is smoke, he loses contact with Oracle. Too many chemicals in the air, too much ionization--Dick doesn't have time to find the problem and fix it, so he flies on, switching to infra-red vision in the jet's view-finder to see a little better.

Then he yells and pulls up, as a gigantic, hulking structure seems to appear out of thin air. He narrowly avoids crashing the jet against its walls, his heart beating loudly and too fast in his chest. This isn't some half-destroyed building, a remnant of Coast City; this is something that's just been built, and as the smoke clears Dick can see more buildings just like it, rising half-finished out of the rubble.

So much for this destruction being caused by an earthquake. Dick circles over and around the building, and lands far enough away to avoid detection. He straps on a respirator and heads out.

There's no obvious entrance; for a bizarre moment, he thinks of the Wizard of Oz, wishing there was a giant gateway with an army of monkeys marching through that he could sneak in with. He shakes his head and finds a vent, sliding in and following it until he finds an empty room, dropping soundlessly down from the ceiling.

Footsteps in the hallway. Dick presses himself against the wall and listens.

It's the cyborg Superman, which is both sickening and unsurprising. He's speaking to someone in an alien language, but Dick catches the name 'Superboy' several times along with other phrases, and it seems like they're holding him captive... somewhere. The control room, if he can find it.

Now that he knows who built it, he can see how the cyborg's lair resembles a twisted parody of the Fortress of Solitude. Everything is made of the same bright, unearthly metal, and many of the hallways and rooms that Dick moves through have skylights, displaying the ruined horror of what used to be Coast City. Dick tries not to look up.

He reaches the room Johnny is being held captive in, and feels his throat go dry. Dick had assumed that the cyborg hadn't taken Johnny willingly, but Johnny looks like he lost badly. His face looks like raw meat; there's a deep cut on his forehead still bleeding sluggishly. His costume is torn up and Dick can see more ugly cuts in the exposed flesh, plus gravel in a deep wound on his shoulder. Considering what Dick knows of Johnny's invulnerability and ability to heal, he probably looks much better now than he did immediately after the fight. It makes Dick slightly queasy.

Dick pushes the anger and nausea aside and creeps up to him. Johnny appears to be dozing lightly, but he jerks awake when Dick puts a hand over his mouth. Dick presses his own finger against his lips in a shushing gesture, and Dick takes his hand away.

"How are you doing, kid?" he says, keeping his voice low.

"That cyborg guy isn't Superman!" Johnny's voice is too loud, a stage whisper. "He killed the Kryptonian guy, he's the one who took out Coast City--Dick, he's going to destroy the world--"

"Shh, it's okay, you can tell me later. Right now I have to get you out of here." And they need to do it fast: Dick doubts he managed to evade all of the security in this place. He frowns at the steel bars running over Johnny's shoulders, entrapping him. He can't see a traditional locking mechanism; getting Johnny out of this is going to be difficult.

"I don't know if we *can* stop him!" Johnny's voice is getting louder, tinged with hysteria. "I--I thought I could take him, but I'm only even alive because he *let* me live and this guy just *can't* be Superman--"

The blast throws Dick backwards and he barely manages to twist and land so that he doesn't break anything when he hits the floor. When his vision clears he sees Johnny surrounded by the wreckage of his restraints, looking pale and confused. Deja Vu, Dick thinks dazedly.

"Um. Wow. I so did not mean to do that," Johnny says. He sounds like he's not sure if he should be impressed or scared.

Dick grabs his shoulder when Johnny gets even paler and sways a little. "My guess is your emotional state fuelled your powers. We'll explore it later; right now we need to get out of here."

"Right, yeah." Johnny sounds breathless, and suddenly he's flinging his arms around Dick's neck, and Dick stumbles backwards a bit.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," he says to Dick's neck. "I'm so so sorry for going with the evil guy, I'm so *stupid*--"

Dick hugs him back quickly. "Apologize later. We need to leave, now."

Johnny's laugh is a little forced and sounds a little wet, and when Dick reaches up to pet his head, his hair is matted with blood. Dick rests his hand on the back of Johnny's neck to keep from clenching it into a fist.

He hears a sound from the hallway, and--he can't dwell on any of this right now. He pulls away, looking Johnny in the eye. "Can you fly? Because as lovely as this place is..."

"Totally." Johnny stretches, and tiny pieces of metal left from his restraints fall off him. "Yeah, I think I'm good, just let me--"

Dick hears another noise, and throws himself sideways on instinct as the airspace where he was gets blasted. Beside him, Johnny is yelling, and Dick twists around to see robots filing into the room, already firing their weapons. So much for escaping undetected.

"Superboy--" Dick puts an arm around Johnny's waist and Johnny gets the picture, shooting into the air. But he's not quite fast enough--Dick feels hot pain shoot through his leg, and his vision blurs.

When he comes to, he's on the floor of the jet and Johnny is kneeling over him, babbling what sounds like variations of "Oh god Dick oh fuck oh god". The pain is tremendous, and it's no small effort to force himself to focus and sit up as much as he can.

There's a wide second-degree burn running down the side of his thigh; Dick can smell burning hair and the plastic from his costume, making him queasy. He's lucky: the shot only grazed him--if it had hit its mark, he wouldn't *have* a leg.

The floor of the jet starts to vibrate, and Dick realizes Johnny is panicking. He grips his arm. "Johnny, calm down. I'm fine, it's only a second-degree burn."

Johnny throws his arms around Dick's shoulders. "Only? Jesus!"

Dick hugs him back carefully, hissing as a fresh wave of pain hits him. "We need to get out of here," he says, pushing Johnny gently off of him. "Help me get to the pilot's seat."

"But your leg--"

"I'll deal. The important thing is to get *out* of here before they catch up with us again."

Johnny's eyes are wide with fear and concern, but he swallows and nods, picking Dick up carefully and maneuvering him into the pilot's seat. His thigh barely brushes the side of the chair, making his eyesight go blurry with pain for a few seconds. He shakes it off and grips the controls, and if the take-off is shaky, well, at least they're in the air. He sets it to auto-pilot and leans back, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on his breathing.

"Oh, god." Johnny's voice sounds choked off and wet beside him, and his hand is on Dick's shoulder, petting him and shaking slightly. Dick grabs his hand and squeezes. "I'm sorry, Dick, I'm so--"

"Don't dwell on that," Dick says, as gently as he can. He glances down at the leg. "There should be a first-aid kit under the passenger seat, with pain killers. If you could--"

Johnny already has the kit open and the ibuprofen in hand. Dick smiles. "Great. Thanks." He swallows three pills and Johnny is still right there, practically vibrating with concern and the need to help. He follows instructions well, cutting the remains of Dick's costume away from the burn (his tights didn't get fused to the skin, thankfully) and grabbing a Titans' water bottle to pour water on it.

"This is all my fault," he says miserably. "I *knew* that going with the cyborg guy could be bad, and now you're *hurt* and like, *half* of California is dead and he's going to take over the world and it's all my fault--"

"You sound like a broken record," Dick says, interrupting. "We discovered his plan, didn't we? And we'll stop him." He squeezes Johnny's shoulder. "You got us out of there. I knew what risks I was taking when I went in after you."

"But you wouldn't have *had* to if it weren't for me. I--I can't believe how *stupid*--"

Dick puts a hand over Johnny's mouth. "We all do stupid stuff when we're just starting out. Angst about it *after* we save the world."

---

Dick sways on his feet, and squeezes Johnny's wrist. His leg is still throbbing with pain, and he knows he should get himself to a hospital at some point.

At some point, when someone *else* claiming to be Clark isn't standing in front of him, dripping wet and staring at them like the very fact of his existence doesn't warp the universe.

His costume is black. His costume is black, and he's staring right at Lois as if the rest of the world has just dropped away.

"We're sorry, but how do we know for sure that you are who you claim to be?" Lois's voice is shaky, but clear.

"Lois, I--" Clark glances around, as if he's remembering that the rest of them are still there. His gaze lingers on Johnny. "Can we discuss this somewhere private?"

Lois stiffens, and the man in the metal suit--Steel?--moves to stand in front of her, protectively. "If you think we'll let you just--"

"I don't mind talking with him privately, and I can handle myself." Lois steps forward, and Dick can't read the look in her eyes. "Superman--or whoever you are--shall we?" The new man claiming to be Superman follows her, and Dick thinks for a moment about bugging their conversation, but--just because it's something Bruce would do doesn't make it right. And he trusts Lois to be--well, to be as objective as any of them can possibly be.

He can feel Johnny shifting impatiently next to him. "We don't have *time* to worry about whether that random guy is Superman!" he bursts out. "Have you guys forgotten that Coast City is just *gone,* and that the other pretender is, you know, totally planning to kill us all?"

"We haven't forgotten, Kid," Steel says, sounding amused. "It's just that if this guy really is Superman, he can help."

Dick feels Johnny bristle more next to him. "You heard what he said: he couldn't even get here without that robot suit! How much help could he *be?* "

"If he is who he *says* he is, that won't matter." Steel is frowning now.

"What? Why--"

"We need any kind of help we can get, Superboy," Dick says. He squeezes Johnny's wrist again and lets go. "Especially considering that the JLA is unreachable."

Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and mutters. If they had time, Dick would talk to him, find out what has him so weirdly on edge, but--

"Let's go." Johnny jumps when Clark appears behind him, and it's one more thing to make Dick uneasy: Clark was never big on sneaking up behind people, and he never did it very well.

Dick frowns and catches Lois's eye. She looks pale, and she's staring at Clark as if--well, as if she's seen a ghost. But she swallows and nods at Dick: she thinks this is really him.

Dick feels dizzy again, and grits his teeth when another spike of pain from his leg hits him. "--if you're coming, great; if not, no problem," he hears Superman say, and he and Steel are in the air. Dick grabs Johnny's shoulder before he can take off.

"Are you insane? That *thing* nearly killed you the last time you went up against it, and you're still *hurt*--"

Johnny gives him a tight smile. "You said it yourself; they need all the help they can get. I gotta do this, Dick."

And before Dick can think of a counter-argument, Johnny brushes away his hand and shoots into the sky, flying to catch up with Steel and Superman. *Dammit.*

Lois's hand is on his arm. "Nightwing--god, what the hell happened to your leg?"

"I'm fine. I'll--I'll be fine." He needs to call Babs, needs her to find some way to contact Batman, the League--

"Bullshit," Lois says firmly. "I'm taking you to a hospital."

Dick knows better than to argue.

---

"Sir, I really don't recommend--"

"Save it, doctor." Dick tests his weight on the burned leg. It still hurts, but this is as good as it's going to get. Batman had taught him the right meditation and hypnosis techniques to ignore this kind of pain before he'd taught him how to throw a punch.

Dr. Burke presses his lips together, not quite frowning. "Fine. I can't stop you from walking out of here, Mr. Nightwing, but you're in for a lot of pain if you're thinking of doing anything with that leg besides propping it up."

Dick grins. "Thanks, doc. But I'll survive."

"That's what they all say." Lois is leaning against the doorjamb, eyeing the bandage on Dick's leg. "I'm guessing you want to head back up to Engine City, help take out that maniac robot wearing Superman's face."

Dr. Burke raises a questioning eyebrow at Lois, but when she narrows her eyes at him he backs out of the room. Lois shuts the door behind him.

"Yeah," Dick says. "I was going to take the jet--"

"You're taking me with you. I've already checked, no airlines are flying anywhere near where I want to go--not even the Planet's helicopters are willing."

Dick frowns. "Lois, you're a civilian, it's not safe--"

"I refuse to be lectured on safety by someone who was fighting crime before he hit puberty," Lois snaps. "You know me better than to try and persuade me otherwise, and you know the kind of story I can print about you if you refuse."

Dick does; Lois doesn't know his identity, but she can still drag up dirt on Nightwing if she chooses to. He's seen the kind of story she can write about Batman when he pisses her off.

Not that that justifies taking a civilian into the kind of fight Dick guesses is going on at Engine City. Dick's going to have to ditch her somehow, and then hope that she isn't mad enough to castrate him when all this is over. "Okay, let's go--I don't want to waste any more time."

Dick's bike is parked outside the hospital, and while he's ridden with civilians enough times that this isn't a completely new experience--it's still a little strange. Lois's fingernails dig into his ribs as he zips through traffic.

When her cell phone rings, she actually answers it, almost making Dick swerve when she elbows him getting her phone out.

"What?" She snaps. "Perry, now is not the time to--holy shit. Holy--stop the bike, Nightwing! Pull the fuck over!"

Dick screeches to a halt. "Lois, what the hell?"

Lois is already scrambling to her feet and pulling her helmet off. She's staring up at the sky, the cell phone dropping from her hand; Dick follows her line of sight, and sees... a dot. A fast-moving dot, growing in size and hurtling towards Metropolis.

Lois whips out a pair of binoculars from who knows where. "Oh, holy--" she whispers, shoving the binoculars into Dick's hand when she's done with them. Dick looks through, and the dot--

Is a fucking *missile* hurtling right at the city. A really *huge* missile, and Dick flashes back to Johnny babbling about the cyborg's plan to destroy Metropolis. He gawks, and there's another dot on the missile that he can almost make out, and--and Lois almost pokes him in the eye, wrestling the binoculars back.

"Holy *shit!*" she says, and he takes advantage of her confusion to grab the binoculars back. "Is that? I think it's--"

"It's Superboy," he says, staring. Because--because it is, because that's *Johnny* clinging to the side of a fucking *bomb,* and what the *hell?*

He lets Lois yank the binoculars back. "What is he even--oh my god, is he--he's trying to stop it!"

Dick's heart races. "Wha--how?!"

"Got *me.* Jesus christ, the fate of the city is in the hands of a teenager."

"He can do it," Dick says, his throat dry. "His telekinesis, he'll do--something--"

Lois gives him an incredulous look. "I'll bet you forty bucks that he can't."

Dick stares. "That's crazy. If you win, we all die."

"Exactly." Lois smirks. "So if we don't die, I'm buying you dinner."

Dick vaguely registers Superman's fiancé hitting on him, but the dot is getting larger. The air is beginning to roar; Dick can barely hear Lois yelling into her cell phone next to him. He thinks about getting to the jet, or trying again to contact the League, but there's no time: all he can do is stare up at the sky and hope that Lois doesn't win that bet.

"What do you *mean* Tana Moon is covering this story? She's not even capable--well, god dammit, if she's closest tell me what she's *seeing*--would I be *asking* you if I had access to live TV?!"

Dick feels his heart jump in his throat and grabs Lois's wrist. They don't need Tana Moon to see what's happening: the missile is turning away from the city and out towards the harbor, Johnny did it--

The bomb explodes above Metropolis in a blast big enough to block out the sun. Dick grabs Lois on instinct, shielding her and getting temporarily blinded himself by the flash. When the spots clear from his eyes, the sky is empty again.

"Superboy," Dick says dumbly. "Johnny..."

Lois's hand is on his shoulder, steadying. "He--um. The kid was your friend, wasn't he?" she says, her voice awkward. "I'm sorry, Nightwing."

"No, he did. He had to. He--" Pain in his right leg flares up again, and Lois moves like she wants to support him, but Dick steps away.

"If he fell from the bomb, he'll land near the harbor or in the ocean," he says. "Judging from his position holding it up before the explosion, he would have been propelled northeast."

Lois studies him for a moment, then nods. "I'll call the coastguard, they'll start sweeping the bay," she says, already dialing. "I assume that you'll take the ground-level search?"

"There's no time for me to get the jet and search from the air--he's probably hurt." Dick is already back on his motorcycle. "Lois--thanks."

Lois rolls her eyes. "This isn't something you need to thank me for. Now go find your superboy."

Dick is on his way to the harbor when he spots the giant furrow dug into the ground of the city dump--telltale sign of a crash-landing. Dick is ditching the bike and running before the thought finishes crossing his mind, and he *knew* it, knew Johnny can't be dead *couldn't* die--

When he gets close enough he sees a gloved hand rise shakily out of the hole in the ground; Dick grabs Johnny's hand, hauling him the rest of the way out. Johnny smells of garbage and dirt and what Dick can only assume is residue from the explosion--come to think of it, touching Johnny could be slightly toxic at the moment.

Dick hugs him close, laughing helplessly as Johnny goes "oof" against Dick's chest.

"You *idiot,*" Dick says into Johnny's hair. "You had to catch a ride back on a freaking *bomb?*"

Johnny squirms, and Dick realizes he's squeezing too hard, enough to constrict oxygen flow. He pulls back, keeping his hands on Johnny's shoulders. Johnny gives him a shaky smile. "Hey, faster than Delta, right?"

His voice sounds rough, exhausted, and there are more fresh cuts on his face and Dick is squeezing him too hard again. He lets go, but grabs him again when Johnny wobbles.

"Let's get you to a hospital," Dick says, brushing a piece of trash off Johnny's shoulder.

"No, 'sokay," Johnny says, grabbing Dick's wrist in what looks like an attempt to shake him off, but he ends up clinging. "'m good, need to go back, help Superman 'n Steel--"

"Like *hell,*" Dick says. "You can barely walk, let alone fly!"

"Can too!" Johnny pushes Dick's hand away this time and takes off, managing to get a few feet into the air before he faints, faceplanting on the ground.

Dick checks his vitals, and Johnny's pulse is even. He'll be fine, but he needs a hospital badly. Dick heaves him over his shoulder and makes his way quickly back to his bike.

He radios Lois. "He's alive and I'm getting him to a hospital. Any word from Superman?" Just saying that name without skepticism feels--uncomfortable, unwise. Dick shakes off the feeling; he can deal with it later. They'll all have to.

He hears Lois take in a sharp breath and knows that the same kind of thoughts are running through her mind--probably amplified. "No. Not yet. Did the kid say anything about what happened?"

"No. He passed out, and we're *not* going to wake him up to get information," Dick says sharply.

He hears Lois mutter something under her breath. "He's pretty beat up?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm taking him to a hospital. Nightwing out."

He props Johnny up in front of him, carefully wrapping an arm around his torso. He can feel Johnny bleeding sluggishly on him, and he knows that underneath the remains of his costume the kid is probably one giant bruise.

But he is alive. He's alive, and he stopped a bomb by himself. Dick squeezes him gently and takes off, riding to the hospital as fast as he dares.

---

Dick frowns at the glass window. Johnny is fast asleep on the other side, resting up from his ordeal. According to the doctors, none of his injuries are serious to someone who's half-Kryptonian; even the broken ribs will heal in, at most, a week. All the same, they've asked to keep him overnight, which Dick has no problem with. It will give him a chance to figure out just what, exactly, he and Johnny are going to do now.

"Explain to me again who this cyborg was," Dick says, glancing at Superman. He can't stand to look at him for very long; Superman looks like Clark again, solid and red and blue and *real.* Dick can't look at him without feeling thirteen again, that awe that came over him the first time Superman smiled at him and took him flying.

Clark gives him a tight smile and adjusts his cape. He looks like he's not quite used to the costume, which--makes sense. "He used to be a man--an astronaut--named Hank Henshaw. He was exposed to radiation and went mad, merging with machinary. I had to exile him from Earth, and... well, I don't know much about his time in space, but he came back with the power to take over my identity and build the monstrosity you saw in the place of Coast City." Clark presses his lips together. "I'm not entirely certain that he's dead, but he won't be a problem anymore. At least..." Clark's eyes darken. "Not one I can't handle."

Dick nods. "I see. Are you--" 'Are you all right' seems like the stupidest question in the universe, and Dick bites his tongue. Judging from the amusement in Clark's eyes, he heard it anyway.

"I'm alive. And I'm... still getting used to that." He glances at Johnny's sleeping form. "A lot of things have changed while I was away."

Johnny makes Clark uncomfortable, which is most likely a massive understatement. He's been tactful about it so far, but it's easy enough to imagine what he must be thinking: Johnny comes from Cadmus--from Luthor. If Dick had the history with them that Clark does, it might be hard to see Johnny as anything but a threat.

"You'll notice that he has a full head of hair, and doesn't seem to be planning world domination," Dick says dryly when Clark starts to frown.

Clark starts, looking guilty. "I--of course he isn't. I wasn't thinking--"

Dick steps closer, squeezes his arm. "It would be... understandable. If you were." If not admirable.

Clark gives him a look, and once again Dick gets the feeling that he heard everything Dick *didn't* say. "You've spent the most time with him. I trust your judgment. Not to mention that he saved my city, almost killing himself in the process."

"There is that."

Clark heaves a sigh and looks back at Johnny again. "I don't have any ill will towards him. He's just... unexpected. I--do you know that the papers are now calling him Superboy?" He laughs, a little helplessly. "I used to mock Batman for not being able to work well with others, but the idea of having a sidekick--er, partner--of my own, it's...."

Dick bites his lip and lets go of Clark's arm. "It's what?"

"Unexpected," Clark finishes, flushing. "Not something I've ever considered before. Especially with someone...."

"He's a *good* kid," Dick says, feeling oddly protective.

"I know. And--honestly, the stumbling block is not *Luthor's* DNA, it's... it's mine."

Dick raises an eyebrow. "He doesn't think of himself as your son."

Clark frowns again. "I know. That doesn't change the fact that 50% of his DNA is mine. I bear some responsibility for him. Not to mention that he wears the Superman crest and, I assume, is going to continue to wear it." Clark blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. It makes him look oddly boyish. "Do you think he'd like living in Metropolis? Or maybe Smallville..."

Dick bites his lip and thinks of the mess in Johnny's room, back in their apartment. "Not Smallville. I think... I think he'd like Metropolis fine. He wasn't particularly attached to Blüdhaven."

Clark gives him a sharp look at that, but nods. "And Supergirl is here, as well as Steel. He could learn from them, as well, not just me. He'd be welcome here if he wanted to stay.

Dick barks out a laugh. "Of course he'll want to. You're *Superman*--do you know how much he wants to *be* you?"

The corner of Clark's mouth twitches in almost a smile. "I have some idea, yes, considering he's been calling himself Superman since he broke out of Cadmus."

Someone who didn't know Clark so well might miss the resentment there, and Dick gives him an incredulous look. "Superman--"

"Lois has already beaten me up for thinking I could be replaced," Clark says, giving him a rueful look. "Forgive the thought, considering its truth."

Dick glowers. "Don't be an idiot."

Clark laughs. "Okay."

Dick punches him in the shoulder, carefully--he doesn't want a broken hand. "Have you been to see Batman yet?"

"Mm. Not yet. I'm not looking forward to the litany of tests he'll inevitably put me through to ensure that I am who I say I am."

"Consider it his way of showing he cares," Dick says earnestly, and Clark snickers.

"I should be going. Lois and I, well..."

"No need to explain," Dick says hastily. "Should I call you when he wakes up?"

"Could you? We didn't get a chance to talk, before." Clark bites his lip. "I suppose I should... start preparing for his stay, as well. Does he have a civilian identity, beyond the name you gave him?"

Dick looks at the ground. "No."

"Hmm. I suppose we can take care of that later." Clark abruptly claps him on the shoulder, smiling, and then he's gone.

Dick gets a cup of coffee from the vending machine down the hall, sits down next to Johnny's bed, and downs his codeine. It would be best to take care of the pain in his leg through focus and meditation and avoid the way medication could affect his mind, but Dick is too worn out. And the coffee--he doesn't want to sleep, not yet.

Johnny's face is clean, and the bruises are beginning to darken. There's a bandage wrapped around his forehead; the doctors would have given him stitches, but their needles couldn't pierce his skin. He looks sound asleep, and it will probably be at least a couple of hours before he wakes up.

Dick can wait. He sips his coffee and settles back, getting as comfortable as he can in the guest chair. He's grabbed a few magazines, and though reading them is barely more interesting than watching paint dry, it helps the hours pass.

It's almost dawn when Johnny stirs, his eyes fluttering open and his head tilting to the side to look at Dick.

Dick smiles, putting down the magazine. "Hey, kid."

Johnny blinks at him, sluggishly, and pushes himself up. "How long've I been out? Did we get that Henshaw guy? I should--"

Dick puts a hand on Johnny's shoulder, gently pushing him back down on the bed. "We got him. It's over. Calm down."

Johnny blows out a breath and lets his head fall back against the pillow. "So Superman won?"

"Yup. And *you* saved Metropolis."

Johnny grins at him, crookedly--his lip is still swollen. "I did, didn't I? That's kinda cool."

"Kinda, yeah." Dick squeezes his shoulder.

"And that Superman, he's the real deal, isn't he? I mean--I didn't know him, before. But--he seemed, you know..." Johnny frowns, apparently at a loss for words.

"I know. He's the real Superman--he's even got his old powers and costume back now. I don't really understand how he came back, but... it's him."

"Huh." Dick can't read the expression on Johnny's face, and he doesn't say anything else--just stares out the window.

He needs to call Clark, Dick realizes with a twinge of guilt. Clark will want to congratulate Johnny and talk to him about moving to Metropolis, and Dick should just--go back to Blüdhaven.

"I'm going to call Superman now, I know he wanted to talk to you--if.... you don't mind," Dick adds, when Johnny tenses hard under his hand.

Johnny gives him a tight smile and sits further up. "'Course I don't mind. Just--what does he want to talk to me about?"

Dick hesitates. He should let Clark say this, but-- "He wants to invite you to stay in Metropolis. With him."

Johnny stares at him. "Seriously? You mean--he wants to train me and stuff?"

Dick swallows. "That's something you'd have to ask him, but I think he wants... I think he would, yes."

Johnny chews on his lip; Dick still can't read his expression. A nurse comes in to check on him and Dick takes the opportunity to leave, ruffling Johnny's hair as he goes out.

He calls Clark and goes to get another cup of coffee from the vending machine, only to discover he doesn't have enough change. He leans against the wall, watching doctors and nurses wheeling other patients around. Several official-looking people eye the bandage on his leg critically, but no one drags him off to poke at him more.

He should probably stay out here for a while--give Clark and Johnny some privacy. If he really wants to know what they're talking about, well, he's fairly certain that Oracle has the room bugged.

He'll need to go back to Blüdhaven and get Johnny's things. Maybe he can help Johnny move in, to wherever Clark wants him staying. Maybe--

Dick thunks his head back against the wall. This is stupid. How can he be afraid of losing Johnny--Johnny was never his, to begin with. Johnny is Superboy, and his stay with Dick was always going to be just temporary, and.

It doesn't *matter* that Dick is the one who gave him his name. He's where he belongs now. He is.

Blüdhaven had never seemed particularly drab or lonely before Johnny came along. Sure, it hadn't yet begun to feel like home and of course it *was* something of a cesspool, but. Dick had resigned himself to that.

But Johnny--his very existence seems to cast the whole city in a different light. Suddenly it *had* felt like home, and Dick hadn't felt quite so exhausted after patrol every night. It's not something Dick has felt since he was Batman's partner, and it's not something he thought he could have again.

He scrubs his hands over his face. It's not fair to ask Johnny to stay with him, not to mention how huge the responsibility of looking after him and *training* him in the long term would be. Bruce would not advise it.

Dick finds himself walking back to Johnny's room and pushing the door open.

"--don't need a baby-sitter," Johnny is saying angrily, his face set in a stubborn expression.

"I don't think you do! I just--" Clark turns around when he notices Dick's presence, and flushes red. "Ah, Nightwing."

Dick raises an eyebrow. "Hey, guys. What's up?"

Johnny folds his arms across his chest. "He just wants me to be in Metropolis so he can keep an eye on me. I'm not a *baby*--"

"You're a month old," Clark says, exasperated.

"--and Dick told me you wanted me to be your partner!"

"I really didn't," Dick says hastily when Clark turns to look at him.

"This bites," Johnny says, throwing back the covers and getting to his feet. Dick bites his lip against a snicker, because he's still in the pink and white patterned hospital gown. "Dick, can we go back to Blüdhaven now?"

The snicker dies in his throat. "You--you want to come back with me?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if--if you wanted me to, I guess." Johnny looks suddenly insecure and lost, and Dick finds himself reaching out to touch him and squeeze his shoulder.

"Of course I do." The words are out of his mouth before he can think of him, and Clark--Clark is looking at him very intently. "Uh--Johnny, why don't you get dressed. Superman and I will wait out in the hall."

"You do realize you've just committed yourself to raising a teenager," Clark says once they're out of earshot.

"I--oh god. Clark, I'm--"

"Don't apologize." Clark smiles at him. "I am sorry that Superboy feels so--resentful, but... you seem to want the job more than I do. You're attached. Am I right?"

Dick swallows hard, and doesn't, *doesn't* think of how he's going to explain this to Batman. "Yes."

"Really, this will give me more opportunities to visit you," Clark says cheerfully. "I'm sure that will delight Batman."

Dick cringes. "I'm sure."

"I should go." Clark glances at the hospital room. "I remember how long my tempers could last when I was that age--it would probably be best if I waited a few days before trying to talk to him." Clark's hand is warm on his shoulder. "Good luck."

Dick feels dizzy. And then Johnny is there, poking his arm.

"Dude. Let's *go.* You still have that jet, right?"

---

"They're on Gonzalez' turf," Johnny says slowly, eyes fixed on the drug deal going down below them. "So if violence breaks out, it's probably going to come from--Marks?"

"That's right," Dick says, giving him a small smile. "Although it's when, not if: this whole situation is a powderkeg waiting to blow."

Johnny nods, his face serious. "Right, okay." The new mask does a decent enough job of concealing the emotions on his face, but his voice is still almost painfully earnest. Dick hides a bigger grin.

Really, he's proud: they've been staking this deal out for seventy-five minutes, and Johnny has barely even fidgeted. Dick hadn't expected him to be this patient.

Dick has a feeling that Johnny's recent seriousness is mostly a consequence of the guilt he feels about the burn on Dick's leg, no matter how many times Dick tries to convince him that it wasn't his fault. Dick makes a mental note to do something about that, because even if it *does* make Johnny less hyper, Dick doesn't want him to get hung up on it.

Of course, it's not as if Johnny has been *that* sober, Dick thinks as Johnny sighs loudly and rests his chin on his fist. "Can we go kick their butts yet?"

"No. We're waiting for Marks to make his move. We'll learn more about the dynamics of the group and what to expect from all sides this way."

"And by 'we' you mean 'you,' because I'm not learning anything," Johnny says petulantly, but he stills, staring down at the shady figures muttering in the street below them.

Dick lightly punches his shoulder. "Don't sulk. Do you wanna try that TTK move you showed me earlier on these guys?"

Johnny brightens, sitting up straight. "Sweet!"

Below, Gonzalez' belligerent voice gets louder, and he reaches into his jacket for a firearm. Dick nudges Johnny and stands up. "Come on, Superboy."

Johnny whoops and takes off. Dick grins, and follows.

---