trans_9 | Adjustment Period [open]

The first thing he'd insisted on them fixing was the clone brand, but the surgery to fix his arm had come first, to allow all the tissue to heal right. His tendency towards fast healing was taking care of the rest. Then they got rid of the stupid clone brand after.

His hand was gone.

It was still a thought he had to get used to. One second it'd been there and now it was gone. It hadn't even been all the dramatic, like things like that were in the movies. It wasn't some moment over a gaping pit, with a villain chopping off his hand and revealing he was his father. He didn't have to saw it off to escape from some deadly trap, horror movie style.

There'd been a fight, he'd fallen on the teleporter pad, there'd been a bright light in front of his face and that was it. Apparently, it could happen just that easily.

Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd lost a hand--that same hand, in fact--but after healing for a thousand years under the North Pole, all the damage from the fight that had killed him had disappeared, and the thing had apparently regrown. So losing limbs wasn't exactly something he never expected would happen, when it already happened once. This time, he was fairly sure it wasn't going to grow back, though.

Ultimately, he decided that was okay. He was a little freaked out about it, but he'd cope. You rolled with the punches, right?

Sometimes you have to roll with the accidental amputations, too.

It was war. This stuff happened, it was going to keep happening, and at least it hadn't been his head.

It was war, and people got hurt in wars, just like you made decisions you weren't sure were the right ones. Just like his decision to let Moses free all the clones was one that was weighing on his mind. (He was just WAITING to hear from Leon on that one).

Superboy sat upright on his bed in Medbay, arm bandaged and in a sling, and played Tetris on his omnicom one-handed. Hopefully, they'd let him out of Medbay soon, and then...then he'd figure out the rest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm fine," he lied. "In a little pain, and a little freaked out from the hand thing, but fine."

Lying was just natural when it came to feelings.

Rory rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Fine. I can see that, you're the poster boy for coping. Pretty soon they'll have your picture up in the underground, once it exists again. We need to find pain medication that works for you, son, if you insist on getting yourself injured every time we get off the ship. Scoot over, will you? I'd rather not fall, Amy will be cross." His ribs likely wouldn't take too kindly to further jostling either.

The bed was a bit small for two grown men to fit. But he wasn't leaving.

He sighed, briefly, ruffling Conner's hair gently once he'd settled. "Do you know what I was thinking, when we were in that room and Guy was thinking of turning them all out to fight?"

Kon scooted, shooting his adopted dad a wry look, but saying nothing.

He was fine. So there.

"No clue. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Cadmus had tried to make a super powered person who would go out and kill the world if they told him to. And instead they got someone who was willing to come back and try to save them, even after he'd escaped. And all I could think of was that having you there, having someone with your heart and mind and courage, would change everything for that world. Because you wouldn't just be content with changing it for one side, you'd make things change until everyone was happy." He wasn't looking at Conner, staring at the wall. "There aren't a lot of people like that in the universe. People who look at the world and think "I can make this better, not just for me, but for everyone." He glanced at his son. "I feel very proud to know one of them."

He reached out, putting an arm around his son's shoulders and ignoring the look.

There was a long time that Superboy sat there, leaning against Rory.

Then he teased, because he couldn't help it, "You know, I bet I could grind up all the corn in that last little statement and make the best corn bread this side of Kansas if I wanted to."

"You probably could." He ran his fingers through Conner's hair, remembering from when he was a child that he liked to be touched. "But I meant it."

There had been nearly two thousand years with him trying to keep it all together, and now he had Conner and Amy and Molly and there was nothing to be lost in telling them how much they meant to him.

"Now stop trying to play tough. It doesn't work, and I'll hardly tell anyone you were out of sorts."

Kon's face fell a little.

"Stop being good at that. The figuring out what I'm thinking thing."

Seriously, it was annoying.

Rory snorted. "That's my job, Conner. Part of it anyway, comes after bandaids and nightmares on the parental job description."

He kept the arm around him, letting him lean as much as he wanted and stealing half the back rest. "Nobody expects you to be unruffled all the time, you know? I've seen loads of folks you thought couldn't cry do so when they were hurt bad enough. You keep it all inside and it just sorta builds after awhile, builds and builds until when it finally comes out, you can't even control it. Letting it out in little bits keeps the pressure down."

Edited 2011-07-31 02:13 (UTC)

"I'm not that ruffled."

Total lie.

"Yeah, I can see that." His arm tightened very slightly around Conner's shoulders, shaking his head.

There were times to be strong, and there were times you just needed to have a blubbering fit.

On days like today, having a blubbering fit was actually immensely helpful to making everything seem a little less like it might consume the universe in one hearty gulp. "Won't even tell your mum, promise."

He wasn't going to have a blubbering fit.

He wasn't the type.

He did however, lean over and rest his head on Rory's shoulder, butting into it like he tended to do when he wanted a hug and was too embarrassed to ask for one.

Some day, he was going to find whoever it was that had taught Conner that expressing his negative emotions was in some way a bad thing, and they were going to have a talk.

He might not even resort to violence if they proved reasonable enough to see his point and inform Conner that they had been wrong.

He turned, ignoring the protests of his ribs and wrapped his arms around his son, tucking him close and for once not voicing a complaint about his height. "You did good, Conner. Better than anyone could think to ask of you."

"My clone died, I lost my hand, and I may have helped destabilize a whole world government."

It didn't feel like he did so good.

"Yeah. I know." Not about the clone, that made him wince, glad that Conner couldn't see his face. "You're not perfect, son. I think you're amazing and even I know that." He rubbed his back, folding his body into the most comfortable position he could find. "It was a bad day, but you did your best. Who could ask for more of you except for you? And yeah, we shook things up there good and proper, but they needed to be shook. They'd stagnated to the point that they needed an explosion to wake them up. We left them with a lot of good heads, maybe not level heads, but good people."

"I hope so."

Adjustment Period [open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject