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trans_92011-07-30 03:11 am
so-pregnable.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-07-30 03:11 am
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.
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.
no subject
It was hard to explain the dichotomy.
"What it comes down to is my ideas about human nature don't dictate my actions completely. I don't treat every single fight or situation the same, because the people in them could be good, bad, or somewhere in between. The right thing to do is never exactly the same. And just because most people are capable of being good or at least harmless doesn't mean that some people aren't above faking being good to take a cheap shot."
Words often failed him and they were right now.
"People are complex, so how you deal with them has to be complex, too. You go too simple and either you write off everyone when some are actually worth saving, or you open yourself up to a world of hurt when maybe some are actually pretty rotten."
It'd taken him a lifetime to start to understand shades of gray, but he was learning.
no subject
To himself, Howard asks, what's the point in even having a view on human nature if you're not going to act on it? But isn't that just what he did on the battlefield, broke from his deeply fatalistic view on others to get his job done? What does that make him?
Where does Kon get to tell him he's living life too guarded, writing off too many people, when Kon's the one in a hospital bed, missing a hand?
"That's a pretty big assumption, to say that just because I think you're going through unnecessary, stupid risks that I'm too simple to take context into account."
no subject
A greater impetus seemed to be that he'd been in love with Moses or something. And the arguments people were making.
As for the hand, well, he'd been suspicious of the Council from the moment they did the swabbing and all that. All the distrust in the world didn't save his hand.
"Why do you care if I'm taking on the risks so other people don't have to? We don't really know each other well enough that you'd care about me yet, except maybe beyond some general altruism enough to save my ass. So what's this all about? Are you trying to understand me or...?"
A pause.
"Or are you trying to understand yourself?"
It was strange, that he was talking like people weren't worth saving and yet he ran across the fight to help him. Twice.
"You saved my life. The way you talk, it's like you think there's no one worth giving a damn about, so why'd you help me? Do you even know why?"
no subject
His cheeks are a bit flushed and his excuses tumble on out. Kon's put his finger on it, and Howard doesn't want to admit or acknowledge that.
"Whatever. If you want to get all Doctor Freud on me, I'll just go talk to someone else, thanks. You're not turning the tables on me the way you think you are."
Not a dumb jock after all. Surprising. Howard passes the coffeemaker as he storms off, unplugging it and taking it with him.
no subject
Finally, he had some peace.