zeegoeshere

The Compass That You Gave Me
By Zee

It's not necessary to be Superman to be a hero, but Dick has trouble getting the new kid to believe that. PG-13, Gen. Take A Breath That's True #1.

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.

Notes: Takes place during the Death and Return of Superman storylines and spoils those storylines, but you (hopefully) don't need to be familiar with that storyline to read this. So many people audienced this, and even more listened to me whine about it, and you're all awesome, but especially brown_betty, petronelle and basingstoke. And I just want to link to Audrey's fanart for this again, because it makes me happy.




It's raining. Of course it's raining; he's in Blüdhaven on a day that ends in 'y'. Night, technically, and--

Dick shakes his head to clear it and jumps off the edge of the building, shooting out a jumper line. He's losing his focus, letting his mind wander. It's not new; he's felt this scattered, this lost ever since Superman died. It's been months and the universe still doesn't seem right--Dick knows he's not the only one feeling unfocused.

Not that it excuses his sub-par performance. He frowns at himself and lets go of the line, somersaulting and landing on his feet in a dark alley. He wishes there were something for him to hit, but the streets have been quiet, aside from a few muggings and attempted rapes; the rain is making things miserable, apparently even for crooks.

He hears the clanging sounds of a fight coming from an alley nearby. He's in the air again and swinging towards it--and so much for being bored. It's another one of those damn robot-dog-beast things that escaped from Dr. Corsica's lab last month. He thought he'd seen the last of those, but this one is trading blows with someone wearing red tights and a leather jacket, and then he's got the someone (the kid, he's just a *kid*) by the neck, and Dick is too far away to help. He throws a birdarang, but it bounces off the cyborg's neck harmlessly.

The kid gasps something--sounds like "heat vision"--and then Dick feels himself get thrown by a blast of *something* and he tucks and rolls to avoid doing damage to himself.

The blast of whatever-the-hell-that-was doesn't last, and Dick springs up. The robot.... is in pieces, and the kid is just standing there. The blast, Dick realizes, came from *him.*

And he's wearing the S-crest.

"Who *are* you?" Dick says, but the kid sways on his feet and passes out.

Dick sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Dammit. Blüdhaven's had its share of Superman wannabes, but none of them had superpowers--and none of them were so *young.*

And now this one has passed out at Dick's feet, in the rain. Whoever he is, he doesn't have the right to wear that crest, especially now that Clark's.... gone.

He crouches down to get a closer look at whoever this is. He looks even younger than Robin, and his face is muddy from faceplanting onto gravel. He was fighting with one of those definitely-evil robot beasts, which means he's--probably--a hero. Or at least attempting to be.

Dick can't just leave him here.

---

He dumps the kid on his couch. He's skinny, too skinny considering that he was holding his own against that robot; wherever his strength comes from, it's not from muscle mass.

He debates calling in sick to work. It's close to four in the morning and he can't go off to work in a few hours with a strange metahuman on his couch.

He could just toss the kid out before he has to go off and be Officer Grayson, but--

The kid whimpers in his sleep and shivers a little bit. Dick goes to get him an afghan and calls in sick.

He snaps a few pictures of the kid and sends them to Oracle, but she can't find a match. He sends her some DNA samples, too, and still nothing. It's like he just appeared out of thin air.

The kid sleeps for hours, and after talking to Babs Dick has nothing to do, so he makes breakfast. The big kind of breakfast Alfred used to make for him when he was younger, when he and Bruce would come back from patrol late enough that it was actually early: bacon, scrambled eggs, fruit and yogurt, oatmeal, orange juice. Coffee. The kid is still asleep, so he makes waffles as well.

The waffles are barely done when he hears the kid begin to stir, and he heads back into the living room. The kid is sleepily rubbing at his eyes and yawning; Dick crosses his arms and puts on his best 'I am an officer of the law' face.

"Did you sleep all right?" The kid jerks up at Dick's voice, and he looks alarmed. Dick wonders what happened to make him so jumpy.

"Who're *you?*"

"I'm officer Dick Grayson. I was off-duty and saw you take out that robot before you passed out. The Blüdhaven PD doesn't have a protocol for things like this, so you're at my apartment." He raises an eyebrow. "Now why don't you tell me who *you* are, and what you're doing in my--in Blüdhaven."

"I'm *Superman!* Geez, can't you tell from, you know, the giant S?" The kid actually puffs out his chest, and it would be funny if Clark was actually here, if Dick could share the joke.

"You're *not* Superman." It comes out close to a snarl, and the kid's eyes widen. His eyes that are really incredibly blue and too big for his own good, and--they are kind of Clark's eyes. Not that that proves anything, of course.

"How the hell would *you* know?" And now the kid's defenses are back up, and he's standing up, hands balled into fists at his side.

"Well, for one thing--" Dick feels his lips twitch into a smile, he can't help it. "You're kind of scrawny to be Big Blue."

The kid scowls. "I *am* Superman. The folks at Cadmus just--didn't get a chance to finish." He deflates somewhat at that, looking down at his boots.

Cadmus as in Cadmus Labs. As in Luthor. As in... crap. "Get a chance to finish what?" he asks, as if he doesn't already know.

"Cloning me. I was supposed to be--" The kid shuts his mouth with an audible click. "I should get back to Metropolis. You know, citizens in need, all that."

"Oh, that's right. You can hear them from here, can't you? With your super-hearing." Super-hearing, Dick is willing to bet, that the kid doesn't have.

The kid actually *blushes.* It's like interrogating a twelve-year-old. "Uh--right! Yeah, my super-hearing. I, uh, can totally hear this woman screaming, she's being attacked and needs my help. Right now."

The kid turns to fly out the window, but Dick grabs his shoulder. "Hang on there, sport. From the looks of the scene where I found you, you got pretty slammed. You sure you're all right to fly?"

"Of *course* I can fly!" The kid levitates off the floor to prove it, but then his eyes roll back and he passes out in mid-air, sagging against Dick's arm.

Dick curses under his breath. He lays the kid gently down on the couch and gets the smelling salts.

The kid wakes up easily enough this time, and sneezes. "I--I just need to recharge my powers with sunlight, okay?" he says, preemptively defensive when Dick looks at him. "And I still have to go to Metropolis. I'm *needed.*"

He sounds as earnest as Clark ever did when talking about his responsibility to the public, and Dick feels his chest clench uncomfortably.

Dick pushes him down with a hand on his shoulder when the kid tries to get up. "You're not going to just walk to Metropolis."

"Sure I am. I--I'll get directions--"

Dick has to bite his lip hard to keep from smiling. "This is the second time you've passed out on me. Superman or not, you need to recuperate." The kid tries to stand, but Dick pushes him back down. "And *don't* try to stand, I don't want you fainting again. I've got orange juice and waffles, and you're going to eat until you've got me convinced that a stiff breeze couldn't push you over. Got it? "

The kid opens his mouth to protest, but shuts it again at Dick's glare. "Do you have maple syrup?"

---

The kid eats a lot. Really, really a lot, and Dick ends up making more waffles. He catches himself wondering if this is what Alfred felt like, and then he stops because that makes him feel incredibly old.

Of course, a toddler would feel old and wise next to this kid. Dick watches him dip his bacon in syrup out of the corner of his eye.

"So, kid, you got a name? What should I call you?" Dick dumps another waffle onto his plate.

The kid swallows a bite that looks like it should be too big to fit in his mouth. "I told you, I'm Superman."

Dick snorts. "And I can't call someone who's barely hit puberty Superman, sorry. What *else* can I call you?"

The kid just shrugs and digs into his waffle. "I dunno. Call me whatever you want."

Dick looks away. "The scientists at Cadmus didn't give you a name, did they?"

The kid shrugs again like it's--like that's no big *deal,* and it makes Dick want to throttle the morally suspect jerks behind this. "Nah. They were sketchy, you know? I think some of 'em were afraid of me. That was the impression that I got from being in the tube, anyway--I ran away as soon as the Newsboys got me out of there."

And--that's alarming, because if the kid ran away, it's likely that Cadmus wants him back. Dick makes a note to get the full story about that. "Right. You need a name; what did the Newsboys call you?"

The kid makes a face. "Superboy, but I'm *not* Superboy, I'm--"

"Superman, right, you told me," Dick says dryly. He tilts his head, studying the kid. He looks kind of like a Jay--except, god, *no.* He can't give him that name.

The next thing that comes to his mind is John Doe, which is almost as bad, but... "How about Johnny?"

The kid's eyes light up. "Johnny's cool! I could totally be a Johnny. Not John, though; John sounds like it should be the name of, like, someone's Dad." He finishes off his third glass of orange juice, and Dick holds back a flinch.

"No. Not John." There are few people Dick has met that remind him less of his father than the boy sitting across from him. And now that he's thinking about it, Dick almost wants to take the name back--what does this *child* have to do with Dick's family, his legacy?

But the kid is murmuring his new name under his breath, thoughtfully trying it out on his tongue. "Johnny it is, then."

---

It takes a while to get the full story of what had happened at Cadmus out of Johnny, mostly because he seems to be fuzzy on the details, and had a tendency to spend too much time talking about how he'd 'whipped' all of the scientists trying to enslave him, and not enough time talking about things that were actually useful, like where the lab exactly was or what the scientists had said to him when he was in the tube. He finally got something sort of coherent out of him by lunchtime, and then Johnny was hungry again. Dick made him chicken noodle soup, because he still looked way too pale and his hands shook a little, and Dick remembers Alfred telling him that chicken noodle soup cured all ills. Dick had believed that when he was twelve and needed something, anything, to dull the pain of his parents' death--even if it was just chicken noodle soup. Part of him still believes it now.

While Johnny slurps down his soup, Dick goes into another room and calls Oracle, giving her all the relevant details of Johnny's story.

"I'm going to call Batman," she says. "I think you should bring him up to the cave, let--"

"No," Dick says sharply. "I mean--no, I think it's better if he just stays with me for a while. He's not dangerous, but he is a little skittish, and I... don't really think he would react well to Batman poking and prodding at him."

"Nightwing--Dick, you do remember who we're dealing with, right?" Babs' voice manages to be gentle and sharp at the same time. "I'm sure the kid is very nice, but this is *Cadmus.* They probably designed him to be some sort of superweapon, and who knows what he could be programmed to do?"

The thought had crossed Dick's mind. "I know, Babs, but--trust me on this, okay? I can handle myself, and anyway, right now he's too worn out to try anything."

Oracle is silent for a few moments. "Dick, I know he looks like Clark, but--you know he *can't*--"

"Of course I know that," Dick snaps, then closes his eyes, forces himself to calm down. "Really. I'm not letting that color my judgment. Promise."

Oracle is silent again. "Okay," she says finally. "We'll follow your lead on this one. But you need to take him up to Gotham eventually."

Dick nods. "I will. In the meantime--keep digging for information?"

Babs snorts on the other line. "I always do." She hangs up.

Dick wanders out to the balcony. The city smells clean after all the rain--even though he knows how polluted Blüdhaven's skies are, and that last night's torrent was more acid rain than anything else. He can see most of west 'haven from here, and his skin itches with wanting to be out there again, moving. He wishes night would get here sooner so he could.

He hears feet shuffling behind him, and turns around to see Johnny shrugging his jacket back on. "Okay Mr., uh, Grayson, thanks for the food and all but I'm off. Evildoers to stop, you know?"

Dick steps in front of him. "I don't think so. You still don't have your strength back, you don't know what powers you have and you have no control over the powers you *do* have." Johnny flushes and opens his mouth to retort, but Dick puts up a hand to stop him. "And you're a dangerously powerful metahuman in *my* city," he says in his best Nightwing voice. "You're not going anywhere."

Johnny scowls at him. "So, what, you just expect me to sit here all day, doing nothing? Shyeah, like *that's* gonna happen."

He has a point. If Dick tells him to just sit in the apartment while Dick goes on patrol.... well, he's a teenager. There will at *least* be property damage.

Dick doesn't exactly entertain many teenagers here. Only Tim, and then they usually spend their time training or discussing Bat-stuff. But even so--

"I have some video games. I'll bet I can beat you at Megamaster Death Rage XVII."

"Oh whatever," Johnny says, even though Dick is fairly certain he can't possibly know what that is--unless the scientists picked really strange information to upload into his brain.

Dick does beat him--the first two times. But Johnny learns eerily quick and though it hurts Dick's pride, it's kind of fun to watch him whoop and punch his fist in the air every time he kicks Dick's ass.

---

Johnny is snoring lightly on the couch when Dick leaves for patrol that night. Dick catches himself ruffling his hair before he can stop himself.

It's more of a relief than it usually is to put on the costume and get on his bike. Not that Johnny is bad company--far from it--but hanging out with him is... draining. It's not like hanging out with Tim (does Tim even qualify as a teenager?), and it's not something Dick is prepared for.

Dick frowns and revs the engine, tries to concentrate on the road. Babs does have a point: he shouldn't get attached to the boy, because God only knows what Cadmus has planted inside him. The thought of a sixteen-year-old boy being used like that isn't a pleasant one, but he knows just how possible--likely, even--it is.

He rounds the corner and--yes. Predictably, there's a drug trade (cocaine, specifically) going down between two Blüdhaven gangs, and as he watches from the sidelines, violence breaks out.

Dick grins.

They put up a good fight. Some of them have a fair amount of training on top of the usual mediocre thug instincts, and it's easy to lose himself in this, to relax and go with the rhythm of kicking, dodging, punching, dodging again. He should probably be using his escrima sticks (it would be easier on his knuckles, for one thing) but using his fists and feet feels better--or at least more nostalgic. It lets him feel like he's sixteen again, at least for a while.

He feels the man behind him raise the wrench, and twists around to disarm him, but--

There's a whoosh and a red-blue-black blur, and then the man is on the ground and Johnny is floating several feet above Dick's head, twirling the wrench in his hand and grinning. Dick blinks.

"Dude! You could've *told* me you were a superhero," Johnny says, and Dick groans. He turns to deliver a vicious kick in the gut to the next man assaulting him, instead, and with Johnny helping him the fight is over far too soon.

Dick zip-strips the last gang member and turns to glare at Johnny, who is floating next to him like he has no idea just how out of place and garish he looks: a baby Superman, flinging primary colors in Dick's face amidst of all the gray dirt and grit of Blüdhaven.

"How'd you find me?" Dick says, fighting to keep his voice even.

Johnny shrugs, and fiddles with the yellow bands on his thigh. "I woke up and you weren't there. Which was kinda strange, 'cuz most people *sleep* at night, you know? And then I realized that I could fly again, so I took off, and I was just kinda flying all over when I spotted this going down." He gestures to the unconscious gang-members. "I didn't realize it was you first, but there was the hair and your body, and--" he squints at Dick. "That mask totally doesn't hide that much, dude."

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose. Goddamnit, two days ago this kid didn't even *exist* and now he knows Dick's fucking secret identity. Hopefully Johnny isn't programmed to go evil, because--Dick doesn't want to think about it.

"Okay, fine, you know my secret," he says finally. "We're going home. Now."

"What?" Johnny's face *falls,* and--and it's just not fair. "Why? C'mon, man, I have powers and you don't, I could totally help you out--"

"No, you couldn't. At least--not like that, and not tonight." He heads toward his bike, and Johnny hovers beside him.

"That's not *fair.* I totally saved your life back there-"

"--no, you didn't--"

"--and what, you think I'm just gonna sit and stay like a good little boy because you told me to? Screw that, there's crime to fight, and--"

Dick whirls around to face him. "I'm not going to say this a third time. You have no idea what the extent of your powers are, you have no idea how to use them, you're two days old and you're in *my city.* So yes, you're going to go back to the apartment and *stay* there until I figure out how to help you!"

Johnny shuts his mouth. His eyes and the line of his jaw are still defiant, but he ducks his head and doesn't protest.

Then he notices the motorcycle. "Oh, *dude,* that is a *sweet* ride. Can I go with you?"

Dick gives him an incredulous look. "You can *fly!*"

"Yeah, but dude, *motorcycle,*" Johnny says, as if that explains everything. And--considering his age, it pretty much does.

Dick sighs. "Yes, all right, fine. Climb on behind me, don't distract me while I'm riding, and hold on."

Johnny's thighs are snug against Dick's ass, and he holds on dutifully as Dick speeds away. He whoops in Dick's ear, and it *is* distracting, but Dick smiles anyway.

---

"You're not a real cop, are you?" Johnny slurps his hot chocolate noisily, reaching out with his tongue to grab a marshmellow near the rim of his mug. "You just said that to explain why you had me at your apartment."

Dick snorts and sips his own cocoa. "No, I am--it's my day job."

"Shyeah, *right!* Why would anyone who can kick ass like *you* can want to be a boring old police officer? You're totally messing with me." Johnny grins at him and leans back in his chair until only two of the chair-legs are actually touching the ground. His hair is falling over his forehead (god, he has an S-curl) and there's whipped cream from the hot chocolate on his upper lip.

"I'm not messing with you. I can show you my badge if you need proof," Dick says.

Johnny's eyes light up. "You have a badge? Dude, do you have, like, a bulletproof vest, too? What about a gun?"

Dick winces. The idea of letting Johnny handle a gun... no. "Um, yeah, I do, but.... maybe I'll show those to you later, okay?"

Johnny shrugs and finishes off his hot chocolate. "Yeah, sure, okay. Hey, I just thought of something--" He narrows his eyes and points a finger at Dick's chest. "You were there when I creamed that robot dog, weren't you? I mean--you weren't there as *you,* you were Nightwing. You were right there before I passed out!" Johnny stops, and gives him another suspicious look. "You didn't knock me out, did you?"

Considering the sedatives in the cocoa Johnny just drank, the question gives Dick a twinge of guilt. "No, I didn't. I think you overextended yourself with whatever you did to take out that robot. Which, I might add, is nothing I've ever seen Superman do."

"Yeah? How would *you* know? Not like S-man hung out in Blüdhaven all the time," Johnny snaps, rude in the way particular to teenaged boys. It makes Dick think of Jason, and--he abandons that train of thought.

"I saw Superman in action often enough," Dick says quietly, and watches as Johnny's eyelids droop and he yawns without bothering to cover his mouth.

"Man, I'm wiped," Johnny says through another yawn, getting up and stretching. "I'm just gonna--yeah...." For a second Dick is afraid that he'll pass out before reaching the couch, but he stays upright long enough to flop onto his makeshift bed, and Dick hears him snoring softly mere moments after his head hits the pillow.

Dick hadn't wanted to sedate him, not after seeing the kid faint twice, but after one look at Johnny when they'd arrived home it had been clear that the kid was bouncing off the walls and not going to go to sleep without some help. It wouldn't have been a problem if Dick hadn't needed rest badly himself, and no way could he have slept with a hyper teenager bouncing around his apartment.

He takes Johnny's boots off and removes the ridiculous straps on his legs and hips (they look like they can't possibly be comfortable to sleep in) and make sure he's covered by the afghan. Then he strips down to his boxers and falls into bed, mildly surprised at just how exhausted he is--he's gone without sleep for far longer stretches of time, before.

Three hours later, the harsh buzz of his communicator wakes him. He grabs it from the night stand and hopes he doesn't sound too groggy. "Nightwing here."

"Dick, you need to bring Superboy to Gotham. Now." Oracle's voice is concerned and sharp on the other line, and Dick sits up, fully awake.

"Why? What's going on?"

"The tests I ran on his DNA came back. Half of his DNA *is* Superman's, but the other half--Dick, he's a clone of Lex Luthor."

Fuck. "You're certain? I--why would Lex want to clone *himself* and Superman?" Dick's already out of bed, grabbing his costume.

"That's what we need to find out. Either way, you need to get the kid up here *now* so we can keep an eye on him and figure out more."

Part of him wants to argue--Johnny has already been poked and prodded in the name of science too much--but he knows it's pointless. This could blow up in all their faces in any number of ugly ways, and the faster they find out all they possibly can about Johnny and his origins, the better.

"All right, I'm on my way. Nightwing out."

Dick tucks the communicator away and goes to the living room. Johnny is curled up into a fetal position under the blanket, and appears to be drooling a little on the pillow. Dick nudges his shoulder.

"Hey, sport. Rise and shine. We're gonna go on another ride."

Johnny stirs and sits up, wiping hastily at his mouth. "Uh. What? What time is it?"

"5:30 am. Come on, superheroes don't get to sleep in." The kid gives him a sleepy glare, and Dick bites back a grin. "Batman needs us in Gotham City."

"Batman?" Johnny's eyes go wide, and he doesn't look sleepy anymore. "Seriously? Why?"

"You're Superman, aren't you? He worked with Batman all the time." And okay, that was mean, but it does the trick. Johnny blushes, nods fervently and follows Dick without asking any more questions.

It takes forty-five minutes to get to Gotham, and surprisingly, Johnny stays quiet throughout the entire ride. Dick's not sure what thoughts are running through his head; he doesn't know how much information about Batman Cadmus implanted in Johnny's mind.

For all he knows, Luthor programmed him to hate and mistrust Batman and the rest of the Justice League.

Dick hates thinking like that. He hopes he doesn't have to, that they get to the bottom of this and discover that Johnny is just a normal boy who happens to have superpowers, not a cleverly disguised bomb just waiting to go off.

---

"So where's the big bad Batman? I don't see him anywhere." Johnny's bravado is back, and before Dick can hold him back he's exploring the cave, flying loops around the giant penny and peering at some of the more mysterious-looking computer equipment.

"Don't touch that." Batman speaks from the shadows and Johnny jumps in midair in surprise, flying hurriedly back to land behind Dick.

"This is the clone?" There isn't a trace of Bruce about Batman, and his face is utterly blank as he stares at Johnny. Dick feels his heart sink further--this isn't going to go well.

"Hey! I'm not just a clone. I'm Superman, got it?" Johnny's voice is indignant, and Dick wants to tell him not to bother, not to try because Bruce hasn't been anything but cold and immovable since Clark's death.

"You're *not* Superman." Batman is already turning away, and only someone who's known him for as long as Dick has could recognize the fierce lines of tension running over his shoulders, beneath his cape. For the hundredth time, Dick wants to reach out and tell him that he *understands,* that he knows what it's like to want to shut everything off because the Clark-shaped hole in the universe is just too huge. But he knows from experience just how useless and counterproductive that would be--Batman already *has* shut everything off.

Behind him, Dick can feel Johnny deflate. Dick frowns and crosses his arms. "What tests did you want to run?"

Batman ignores his question and turns back around, syringe in hand. "Take off your clothes and lie down on that table," he says to Johnny. "I'm going to sedate you."

"Uuuuh, *what?* I didn't sign up for anything kinky!" Johnny is hovering beside him, hands clenched into fists. Dick puts a hopefully-calming hand on his shoulder. *Damn* it, Bruce.

"He's just going to examine you and run some tests," Dick says, keeping his voice low and soothing. "We need to find out more about who you are and where you came from."

"Why? I *told* you who I am, I'm Superman's clone. I told you everything. Why don't you believe me?" Johnny's face is angry and hurt and confused, and Dick feels like he's just kicked a puppy.

Dick opens his mouth to comfort him, but Batman answers before he can. "We have no reason to trust you. You're not the first Superman-imitator to crop up, and we need to make sure that you're not a threat. Then there's the question of whether you're even worthy to wear that symbol."

*Dammit*, Bruce. Dick grabs Johnny's other shoulder and squeezes. "Ignore him. I *do* trust you, okay? And I'm trying to help you. I have reason to believe that Cadmus may have sabotaged you in some way, and with Batman's help we can get to the bottom of it."

Johnny scowls at Batman over Dick's shoulder. "Maybe I don't *want* his help."

"You don't have a choice," Batman says, and Dick entertains fantasies of punching him.

"Johnny, please," he says, forcing himself to ignore Bruce. "I know Batman seems like kind of a jerk right now, but that's just because we're all confused by the other Supermen that have showed up." Johnny still looks pissed, and he's not meeting Dick's eyes.

Dick tries a different tactic. "I need you to cooperate with me on this. I need you to help me make sure that Cadmus can't hurt you." Any more than it already has.

Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and scowls more, but Dick can tell he won't give them any trouble. "All right, fine. But no funny business!" He says the last part to Batman, and Dick manages to disguise a laugh by coughing.

Johnny makes them look away while he takes his uniform off and gets under the sheet, and Dick uses the opportunity to grab Bruce's arm and yank him to the side.

"That kid's been through a *lot* in the past few days," Dick hisses at him. "He's passed out on me twice, and--christ, he didn't even have a *name* when I found him! He's skittish as hell and I don't want him running away on us, so would it kill you to be at least *civil*?"

Batman just stares at Dick with an extraordinarily blank expression. Dick glares back, and squeezes Bruce's arm hard enough that he should feel it through the armored suit.

"Uh, so'm I just gonna lie here naked all day or what?" Batman walks past Dick to Johnny, and Dick doesn't stop him.

"Lie still," Batman orders. He sedates him, and Dick watches as Johnny's eyelids flutter closed.

---

"I still don't see what you're worried about," Tim says.

"Don't you? Tim, you *know* what Bruce has been like lately." Dick puts the plane on auto-pilot and leans back in his seat, grabbing a sandwich from the open cooler next to his seat. Ham and swiss--his favorite, and Alfred even cut the bread in triangles the way Dick liked it when he was eleven.

Tim snorts and finishes off his own sandwich. "Yeah, I know. Trust me, he hasn't been the easiest partner to work with since--um. You know."

Yes, Dick knows. Idly, part of his brain wonders when it's going to stop hurting. "Right."

"I just don't see what Batman's mood has to do with the Superman clone, that's all."

Dick shakes his his head. "You haven't met him yet, Tim, but--trust me, the kid is nervous, jumpy and insecure. I managed to get to him before he could get into any real trouble, but I'm worried that if Bruce is enough of an asshole to him, he'll run off and do something stupid."

"If he's as unstable as you say, maybe it's a *good* thing he's under Batman's eye," Tim says, and Dick knows he's thinking of a certain green glowing ring in Bruce's possession.

"It's not like that," Dick protests. Tim gives him an inscrutable look. "He doesn't seem to be dangerous--at least not yet. He really is a kid, you know? But if Bruce treats him like some kind of weapon--" Dick stares down at his sandwich.

Tim's inscrutable look gets more so. "You seem to have already gotten... attached," he says, his voice careful and even.

"I'm not--" Dick scowls when Tim smirks at him. "I'm just worried, okay? He *is* powerful, and right now he's on our side, and I don't want Bruce to screw that up because he's feeling moody."

Tim smiles at that. "Okay, point, but..." he shrugs. "Bruce knows not to take it too far."

"I hope so," Dick mutters. They're still twenty minutes away from Cadmus--at least, where Dick *thinks* Cadmus is; their intel is spotty. Twenty minutes to try and avoid thinking about what they'll find there, twenty minutes to go over Batman's behavior in his mind and worry about how Johnny's doing.

He hasn't told Tim that he gave the kid a name yet.

"What do you think we'll find at the labs?" Tim has pulled out his laptop, probably double-checking the information they already know about Cadmus and seeing if anything new info has magically turned up.

"I have no idea. Luthor's mixed up in this--it could be anything." Though nothing good. "But the kid did give me the impression that he broke out of the tube before the scientists could 'finish' him--implant controls in him, that sort of thing. So I don't think that Luthor succeeded in whatever he was trying to do with him."

"Umm, if you say so." Tim looks like he wants to say more on the topic, but he turns his attention to the computer screen instead.

Dick drums his fingers softly on the arm of his chair and tries not to fidget too obviously. He knows why the others are suspicious of Johnny, of course; he knows that he probably should be, too. Considering the three other powerful beings that have cropped up claiming to be Superman, it pays to be cautious right now.

It doesn't matter. He still doesn't want to do this, doesn't want to leave Johnny unconscious with Batman or sneak into Johnny's birthplace to search for information to incriminate him.

It should be 'innocent until proven guilty', right? Clark had always been willing to think the best of people almost to a fault, and... he's not thinking about that.

Beside him, Tim hums a little as he types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Dick plays with a loose thread on his uniform.

---

When Dick gets back to the Batcave, he almost gets bowled over by the blur flying past him.

"What-"

"What the hell kind of freak are you?!" Johnny is yelling at Batman from forty feet up in the air, very naked. Dick hears Tim make a small, choked noise behind him.

"Nightwing, if you could calm Superboy down, please." Bruce has his back to him, putting away whatever tools he was using.

Dick narrows his eyes. "Batman, what did you--"

"I'll tell you what he did!" Johnny swoops down to hover behind Dick. "I woke up and he had some *thing* up my-"

"Dammit, Batman, I thought we agreed that you wouldn't--"

Dick can feel Batman's glare from across the room. "I *didn't.*"

"Nasal rape! Nostril violation!" Johnny is on the ground now, pointing a finger accusingly at Batman. "Do you know how much it hurts to wake up with a giant metal *thing* up your nose?! Up my *nose*, geez, what the *hell.* Dick, you left me with a freaking *nut!*"

"You told it your *name?*" Suddenly Batman is standing right there, looming above Dick as much as he can and looking pissed as hell.

Dick cringes. "I *didn't*--"

"What *else* have you compromised?" Bruce's face is stony and furious, and Dick feels himself flush.

"If anyone's being *compromised* here, it's me!" Johnny says loudly, and Dick hears Tim choking on laughter behind him.

Johnny whirls around to scowl at Tim. "Who the hell're you?"

Tim raises an eyebrow at him. "Robin. And you would be....?"

"Uh-- Superman," Johnny says, after a quick nervous glance at Batman. "And. Um. ....I'm gonna go put my pants back on."

Bruce pulls Dick aside before he can move to try and comfort Johnny. "What do you think you're doing here?" Bruce is tight-lipped and his voice is harsh, as if Dick is just another criminal--someone for Batman to intimidate and control. Dick feels his own anger rise, and hee jerks his arm out of Batman's grip.

"I'm trying to *help* someone who's in need of it!" He barely remembers to whisper, and god he hopes Johnny really doesn't have super-hearing. "You can't treat him like this, Bruce, he's--"

"He's what?" Bruce's voice comes out a bark. "Safe? Real? Superman?"

"I didn't say--"

"He's not *him*."

Dick shuts his mouth. Somewhere in the cave he can hear Johnny's voice, chattering at Tim. Bruce isn't looking at Dick, staring at a spot on the ground instead, his jaw working.

"I know," Dick says, finally. "And I don't trust this kid just because of a superficial likeness. I think he could be a lot of help, if we don't scare him away."

Bruce is silent, and then he draws himself up again and Batman says, "Fine. But he stays with you in Blüdhaven, and you don't let the media get wind of him. Try to keep this as under wraps as possible until we know more about the situation. And if you could do your best to avoid letting him find out any other identities, I would *appreciate* it."

Dick hates it when Batman gets sarcastic.

---

"You're *not* the boss of me."

Dick feels a headache coming on. They're back in Blüdhaven. Johnny is hovering above him, his face and body language radiating pure teenaged boy belligerence. "Johnny--please. It's not safe in Metropolis right now, okay? You've seen the news, you know how its been shaken up by the other men claiming to be Superman."

"Exactly! And since I'm the *real* Superman, if I could just go there and teach them a lesson--"

"*So* not a good idea. The Super-guys we've seen on TV all look like they're at least twice your size." Not to mention that at least one of them seems willing to kill, which to Dick is proof enough that Clark isn't back.

Johnny pouts and flips over, floating upside down and resting a toe on the ceiling. "I could take 'em. Metropolis is my *home*--or it's supposed to be." The last part is muttered, and Dick isn't sure if he's supposed to have heard it.

Dick bites his lip and tries to say this as gently as possible. "And where do you plan on staying in Metropolis? Are you going to go back to Cadmus? Or just pray that the good citizens feel charitable enough to take you in?"

"I--" Johnny blushes and doesn't meet Dick's eyes. "I'll find someplace, okay? I don't need you. Or this." His voice is still stubborn, but his shoulders have slumped.

Dick flips and does a handstand on the couch arm so that he's balancing upside-down as well, face to face with Johnny. "I'm sure you don't. But I have this whole place to myself, and Blüdhaven needs a hero as much as Metropolis does, if not more. So why pass up a good thing?"

Johnny's eyes widen as he takes in Dick's acrobatics, and then he smirks. "Do I get to stay in *your* room?"

That comes out of left field, and Dick feels his cheeks turn red. "Um--no. I mean, I have a guest room..." Johnny's grinning at him, and Dick isn't sure how much of that was a joke. He flips off the couch and lands on his feet.

"So--that's my offer. What do you say, Superman?" Please say yes, Dick thinks. Please say yes, because if you say no I have to find some other way to keep you in Blüdhaven. Probably against your will.

Johnny flops down on the couch. "I guess I could stay here. Blüdhaven isn't so bad." He brightens. "So can I patrol with you tonight?"

Oh lord. "*No,*" Dick says on reflex, and winces internally when Johnny's face falls. "I mean--let's just take it slow, okay? I think we should find out more about your powers before we hit the streets together." And oh, god, he can't believe he just said that. He is *not* setting himself up as a partner, he's barely ready to take on Blüdhaven by *himself*--

"Sweet!" Johnny doesn't just bounce, he levitates. "Wanna play another round of Megamaster?"

Living with Johnny is a bit like taking a time machine journey into the past. Every time he turns around he's met with a teenaged boy with blue eyes and black hair, leaving dirty socks on the floor and playing his music too loud and making the apartment buzz with kept-in energy. Johnny has a way of making him feel very old and very young simultaneously, even though Dick realizes there isn't *that* much of a resemblance between Johnny and himself at that age. It's disconcerting all the same.

And then there's the damage control. Living with a teenager with superpowers is exactly as chaotic and dangerous as Dick had feared it would be, and it makes him wonder how the hell the Kents managed with Clark. After all, they didn't have a billionaire benefactor that could repair the ceiling every time a super-powered kid sleep-flew into it, or buy a new kitchen table when the old one was destroyed by a stray TK blast.

Dick enacts the 'No powers in the apartment' rule on the second day, but of course accidents still happen.

After the first week, it becomes clear that trying to make Johnny stay home while Nightwing goes out on patrol is pointless. Johnny pretends to sleep and then follows him, and if Dick doesn't *let* him find him then there's an inexperienced metahuman wearing the S-shield flying around his city, getting into trouble and attracting too much attention. It's better to keep him at Dick's side, even if he does make stealth jobs almost impossible at first.

It isn't something that Dick feels good about, considering the kid's age and lack of knowledge of his own limits, but he can't spend *all* his time training him--Blüdhaven still needs looking after. At least the kid is mostly invulnerable, which eases Dick's guilt somewhat.

It's amazing just how much Johnny flips his life around. When he's at work, Dick finds himself thinking during dull moments about Blüdhaven high schools and which one might be best; when he's on patrol as Nightwing, there's no solitude and no silence--even when he's not talking, Johnny still seems to radiate tension and impatience and *noise.* Dick buys groceries for two, spends far too much money on video games, and tries not to think about where all of this is going.

It's a temporary situation, while he and Oracle and Batman try to find out everything they can about Luthor and Cadmus. So far they've been met with dead-end after dead-end. The fact that Johnny's origins are shrouded in so much mystery and misinformation does nothing to ease Dick's fears and suspicions, and all the time he's spending with Johnny does nothing to make it easier to view him as a potential enemy.

And then there's the business in Metropolis. It seems like every time he picks up the newspaper he sees another article about 'Superman' (any of the three of them) and the latest criminals that have been killed in his new war against crime. It's somewhat comforting to see that public opinion is still deeply skeptical that none of the impostors are actually Superman. Not that it's a big comfort, considering it means that there are two new metahumans on the scene with no compunctions about taking a life, and they both appear to be at least as powerful as Clark--had been. Batman and Oracle are working overtime to find out all they can, but Dick has his hands full with trying to keep Johnny out of trouble.

Johnny always wakes up early enough to eat breakfast with him, no matter how late they're out patrolling together. He eats froot loops and idly kicks Dick under the table, trying to see how long he can annoy him before Dick looks up and snaps at him.

Dick sighs, and puts down the paper. He was reading an article about a fisherman in Alaska who claimed to see Superman swimming beneath his boat, and it's too depressing to read this early. "Was there something you wanted, Johnny?"

Johnny squints at him. "You don't look so hot, man. Have you been sleeping?"

Dick frowns down at his coffee. "Of course I have."

Johnny laughs, and Dick feels their knees bump under the table. "Whatever dude, you totally never sleep, do you? Betcha learned that from the big scary Bat."

"I get plenty of sleep." 'Plenty' is possibly overstating it, especially since Johnny came into his life, but still.

"Uh-huh. Right. Suuuure. Well, you should get more rest--you can totally get cancer if you don't sleep enough."

Dick doesn't bother fighting the smile. "How do you know that?"

Johnny hesitates, and then looks thoughtful. The expression looks odd on his face. "I don't really know, actually. I... I think it might be part of the information Cadmus put in my brain."

Dick files that under creepy-things-Cadmus-did-to-Johnny in his mind, and downs his coffee. It's still a little hot to drink, and scalds his tongue, but he's running late--he has to be at PD headquarters in fifteen minutes. He stands and grabs his jacket.

"Put a baddie behind bars for me," Johnny says, around a mouthful of cereal.

Dick snorts. "Right. And you can try to avoid blowing up the apartment while I'm gone."

"I don't know if I can manage that, boss," Johnny says, his expression faux-serious, and Dick cringes.

"Please don't call me boss. I'd rather not feel fifty years old, thanks," he says, and Johnny just snickers.

---

Dick is riding his motorcycle back from work on a Tuesday when he sees the flash of cameras and hears paparazzi shouting questions. The closer he gets to the commotion, the more people he sees around him with wonder on their faces, excitedly whispering and pointing and looking up in the sky. With dread, Dick follows their gaze.

Johnny is hovering above a cloud of reporters, decked out in the full Superboy costume Dick found him in that first night, complete with the round sunglasses. He's grinning from ear to ear, and winks at Dick when he sees him.

Fuck.

He keeps his head down and prays that Johnny doesn't try to acknowledge him publicly beyond that wink. There's no reason for Officer Dick Grayson to be associated with Superboy, and Dick won't be able to give any answers if the press asks him how he knows him.

He should have had the conversation about secret identities and the danger of exposing too many parts of yourself to the public with Johnny sooner. He *should* have covered that on the first freaking day, and his only excuse is that there just hasn't been *time.*

Which isn't an excuse at all. Dick should have made time, because now Johnny is grinning at the press and in five minutes Cadmus will know where he is (if they don't already), and the entire *nation* will know that another half-plausible Superman has cropped up. And Dick can feel a headache coming on.

"Do you think the other beings claiming to be Superman are fakes?" It's amazing how much more annoying reporters seem when Dick knows that Clark isn't among them.

Johnny smirks and puts his hands behind his head, lounging in midair. "Oh, I dunno; they seem like all right guys, I wouldn't mind getting to know 'em, but it's tough to say right now." He springs up and throws his arms out, the smirk turning into a grin. "'Course--*I'm* the only one who was made with Superman's DNA to be the big man himself!"

He's obviously been practicing that last soundbite in his head, and the paparazzi and the onlookers react favorably, smiling and cheering. Dick feels his stomach clench.

"Well, time to go," Johnny says, cutting off another round of questions and soaring higher. "I've got citizens to save and buildings to leap in a single bound, so I'll catch all you guys on the flip side!"

And--heh. That might be funny if--well, no. It's pretty much not funny at all, except that Dick still kind of wants to laugh hysterically.

Johnny catches his eye really *obviously,* and then he flies off. Up, up and away, Dick thinks, and wonders if he could make the murder look like an accident.

Probably.

He shakes it off and gets back on his bike, heading away from the crowd and the excited chatter of discovery. Johnny will definitely make headlines in Blüdhaven, and probably Metropolis; hell, he could be the biggest news item across the country. No doubt Johnny would think that's a *good* thing.

Dick thinks about Bruce picking up the morning paper tomorrow and cringes.

"Dude, how freaking *awesome* was that?" Johnny zooms by Dick's ear, and Dick reaches out to grab his ankle. Johnny yelps, and for a second Dick is worried that he may have pulled a muscle or dislocated something by stopping so fast, but he doesn't look pained.

"Back to the apartment. Now. And do it *away* from me," Dick says, not bothering to hide the growl in his voice. Johnny stares at him wide-eyed for a few moments, then nods and flies off again when Dick lets go of his ankle, flying back to the apartment from a different angle.

Dick puts his head down and takes an indirect route home, more for the need to let his temper cool than to shake off anyone who might have seen him and made connections at the press rally. He's not--quite--that paranoid.

When he gets home, Johnny is sitting on the edge of the couch, and he's still in his Superboy costume.

"Hey," he says. "What did I *do?*" And--there's nothing but plain confusion on his face. He has no clue why Dick would have reason to be angry with him. He's chewing on his lip, and it's not easy to *stay* angry. Stern is the best Dick can manage.

"Johnny, I *told* you that going out during the day as Superboy was a bad idea. I asked you *not* to--"

"Super*man,*" Johnny corrects, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Right, fine, whichever." Dick is too tired to argue about that. "The point is, I *knew* something like this would happen if you--oh, god. Tell me you didn't go *looking* for press."

"No!" Johnny says indignantly. "They found *me*--because I saved a whole family from a fire downtown." He gives Dick a look that's so earnest Dick knows he's faking it. "Should I have let that family *die?*"

That logic isn't *fair.* "No, but--"

"There were *tiny babies,* Dick."

Really unfair. Dick bites his lip. "The story you gave the reporters is going to be in newspapers across the nation tomorrow. You're going to be--"

"Really?" Johnny brightens. "D'you think I'll make front page?"

Dick *resists* the urge to bury his face in his hands. "Have you thought about what could happen if Cadmus finds out where you are and decides they want you back?"

Johnny's expression falters, but then he lifts his chin in defiance. "So what? I can take those guys--I broke out of there, didn't I?"

Dick glares. "So you're willing to risk--never mind. The point is, you just--you didn't *think.* This is going to have consequences, and *you're* going to have to deal with them, and I don't know how much I'll be able to help you."

"I can take care of myself," Johnny says, his tone more vicious than Dick's ever heard him before. "I got along *before* you decided to play babysitter, 'kay?"

For all of *two days*--he doesn't say that. "I'm not your babysitter. But there are *reasons* I didn't want you going public as Superman, and--"

"What reasons?" Johnny is yelling, now. "You don't want me out there because you don't *trust* me to be Superman, you don't--I know how you and Batman talk about me!"

"You're *not* Superman. Half of your DNA is Lex Luthor's." And this is nothing he meant to say, not right now or like this.

Johnny reels back. "Half--what? What are you saying? That's not *right,* I'm not--"

"You are." Dick hopes that it's easiest for Johnny this way, like ripping off a bandage all at once. "The scientists that created you wanted to create an... ally" (he does not say weapon) "for Luthor at least as much as they wanted to create the next Superman."

Johnny stares at him, and then his gaze slides down to the carpet. "Oh."

Dick takes a breath and makes himself continue. "We... Batman and I are looking into it. We have suspicions that Luthor still has plans for you, no matter what innocent face he's showing the world at the moment. That's why I'm cautious about letting you be seen in public; that's why it's not good for your face to be on the front page of the Daily Planet."

"Oh," Johnny says again, and sits back down. Dick moves to go to him, and feels himself stopped by an invisible aura.

He frowns. "Um..."

Johnny looks up, and the aura abruptly disappears; he blushes faintly. "I--sorry. I didn't mean to..." Use his power like that. Dick understands.

He sits next to Johnny and puts an arm around him. "It doesn't matter. Not to who you are. You're just as much Superman as you were before."

Johnny laughs, and it comes out sounding slightly choked. "Which is not a whole lot, right?"

Dick opens his mouth to protest, but Johnny cuts him off. "Save it. I know I'm nothing like--like he was. You totally knew him, didn't you? You and Batman both did. And he--" Johnny swallows, and it looks like it hurts. "I'm nothing like him."

"You're wrong," and Dick doesn't realize he means that until he says it. But it doesn't matter; Johnny has already shrugged off Dick's arm, and now he stands and floats over to the window.

"Whatever." Johnny's voice sounds flat and bored, typical of any apathetic teenaged boy. "Sorry for fucking things up so bad."

Dick isn't sure how Johnny can take him from righteous indignation to guilt in the space of one conversation. "You didn't," he says, and his voice sounds exactly as pathetic and small as he feels.

Johnny gives him a look and floats to his room, shutting the door behind him.

---

Part two here.