Chapter Text
Alone in the room, Clark curls into itself, hiding its face in its hands. Takes a long, shuddering breath. Stays there for a second, digging its nails in just to be sure it’s still alive.
Control. That above anything else had been the most important - to prove it’s been trained, that it can behave, at least most of the time. Batman and Wonder Woman know the truth of it now. They understand what Lex had understood all along. Clark can only hope that they will also see, like Lex had seen, that it can be useful.
The risk of proving itself disobedient, now, is worse than the risk of proving itself disrespectful. Wonder Woman had put it in the chair. It needs to stay there. Clark’s hands tighten minutely on the chair as it hears the door open. It keeps its eyes down as Wonder Woman silently takes another chair and brings it around so that she is sitting facing it. Out of the corner of its eye, Clark can see Batman’s black shadow standing by the doorway.
“I apologize, Clark,” Wonder Woman says. Its eyes flick up. Not all the way up, it can’t quite meet her eyes, but what it can manage seems to be good enough for her. “We wanted our answers, and we pushed you too far.”
It’s not sure what to say. “I can cooperate.” Silence. Clark focuses on remembering to breathe slowly.
“I met Kon - your son - two days ago.” It’s only a quick flash of eye contact, a mistake, as low dread twists in its stomach. Clark shouldn’t have blurted out that lie; being related to it does Kon no favors. “We did not have time to talk much, but he seemed like a kind young man.” She smiles a little. “He has your eyes.”
Clark swallows, risks a glance to Batman, still looming in the doorway. “Kon is part human.”
“You asked us to help him.” Wonder Woman leans a little forward. Clark’s hands tighten again on the chair, reflexively. “Can you tell us more? Is he in danger right now?”
It needs to prove it can obey. If it can do that, if it can behave, that only puts Kon in a better position. So it offers its arms again, in the position the Lasso had tied it. She doesn’t immediately move towards it. She’s fast, though, it might not even see it coming-
“No. I will not bind you again.”
Clark hesitates. Behind Wonder Woman, it sees Batman shift slightly. The cue fills it with relief. A test. “I- I can cooperate. I want to cooperate. You need to know I’m telling the truth.”
She’s still just looking at it, not moving, with that indecipherable, unbearable expression on her face. She must want it to beg. If that’s what it takes to pass this test, it’s wrong to do that at this equal height, but it must prove it can obey. Its knuckles are white with the force of holding itself in the chair. “Please.”
“Very well.”
Clark braces itself as she approaches, but instead of binding it to the chair again, she drapes the Lasso over its right arm and sits back down. The rope brightens gradually, warming, as Clark stares at the Gold against the black of its suit. It’s only distantly aware of Wonder Woman winding the other end around her palm.
“Joined like this,” she says softly, “you will be able to feel the Truth in me as well. I hurt you. I am sorry.”
The Gold courses through her words right into Clark’s mind, leaving no room for doubt. The weight of her regret and sincerity hits it like a blow. Wonder Woman is telling the Truth. It can’t understand it, it doesn’t make sense, but the undeniable Gold embraces it. It lets out a shivering sound, pressing backwards instinctively, arms curling in, and just like that it’s alone in its mind again. Distantly it registers that the Lasso has slipped off its arm.
“Clark?”
“It’s too much right now,” a low gravel voice says. “He can’t accept it.”
“No, I can cooperate.” It forces itself to reach out, pick up the Gold. “I can cooperate,” it says again. The words come out gilded.
Wonder Woman watches it steadily, but it is Batman who speaks. “Assuming Luthor knows that you have been forced to expose him, what would his next steps be?”
Lex is a genius among humans, and Clark is… Clark. It doesn’t know what Lex will do.
“Let me rephrase. Do you think that Luthor will retaliate against Ultraboy?”
After a few moments of silence, the Gold begins to glow once more. It doesn’t hurt. It’s helping, easing the ache of Clark’s attempt at sorting through its tangled stupid mind. The fog of confusion lightens a little as the Gold winds through, a braid of truth, illuminating its solid beliefs. Lex is only doing what needs to be done. Kon is valuable to Lex. Kon is more valuable to Lex than Clark, now that Clark has betrayed Lex. From what little Clark has seen, Lex has been patient with Kon. Clark tries to put the pieces together, form no in its mouth. The Gold won’t let it.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” The words sort themselves out in the end as it stares at its lap, mumbling. “Not… Lex wouldn’t… he’s useful to Lex. Like I was.”
At the edges of its vision, it can see Wonder Woman glance to Batman, some sort of silent communication passing between them. “Lex hurt you,” she says.
Again, the Gold doesn’t move to take Clark’s mind. It isn’t demanding; it’s simply present, ready for any Truth it wants to speak. Clark closes its heavy eyelids for a second, feeling for its guidance. “He only hurt me to correct me.”
Batman makes an odd noise, and a jolt of unease spikes in Clark’s stomach even before he speaks. “Is that the Lasso’s truth?”
“It’s a truth of belief,” Wonder Woman says. If they don’t believe it despite the Gold - but she doesn’t look angry, and so far as Clark can tell, neither does Batman. “Ultraboy... Kon may not be in immediate physical danger, but given what we've learned he should be removed from Luthor’s custody as soon as possible. Considering how he was willing to treat you…”
She trails off, looking at its face.
“You’re not afraid Luthor will hurt him. You’re afraid that we will,” Batman says.
What little composure it’s gathered crumbles apart. It sucks in a breath. They wanted you to beg, earlier. So beg. “Please. I know- it knows it shouldn’t ask, but-” The words stick in its throat, pile up under its tongue. If even this one can be trained - if it can do good - Kon isn’t like it, Kon can be good - but then the thought of them using Kon rises in its mind and it can’t help but shudder, at least Lex doesn’t use Kon that way, Kon deserves better, Kon deserves so much more. But now they know, even Clark can tell they hate Lex and Kon is Lex’s, more than he’s Clark’s, and even if they catch him it’s better than being dead, it has to be-
“Clark,” Batman says. It digs its fingernails into its palms, looks at him. He’s stepped away from the wall to stand beside Wonder Woman. When had he moved? The underside of his jaw is lit in soft Gold, because he has reached out while Clark was busy being useless and unobservant, and taken hold of the Lasso as well, and now it loops between all three of them - wrapped in Batman’s gauntlet, held in Wonder Woman’s hand, draped over Clark’s wrist. “Neither of us want to hurt Kon.”
They are telling the Truth.
It can’t fit anything else around the feeling. It’s vaguely aware of Wonder Woman saying something about it, how she says they don’t want to hurt him either, and her voice is Gold but it can’t understand what she’s talking about, can’t take it in, staring down at the dark fabric of the Super-Man suit, steadily becoming darker as wetness runs down its face and drips down its chin. The Gold is still in its head and it doesn’t hurt but it’s just too much to understand beyond the enormity of they won’t hurt Kon. It doesn’t matter what happens to it. They won’t hurt Kon.
“Everything else can wait until the morning,” it catches Wonder Woman saying, and it feels the Gold sliding away as she begins to wind the Lasso.
Clark grabs for it. “Thank you,” they say together, the Gold and Clark. “Thank you.” It’s nothing next to everything it will do for them, but it hopes they can feel its gratitude through the Gold as clearly as it’d felt their sincerity. It lets go right away, even though Wonder Woman has stopped winding. The Gold falls from its fingers, just barely brushing the top of its boot.
“You do not have to thank us, Clark,” Wonder Woman says.
“Can you stay on the Watchtower for now?” Batman asks. Something passes over the impassive line of his mouth, softening it a little. “Or do you have a place you want to stay on Earth? Besides Kon, do you have any family?”
After their kindness, their reassurance, Batman’s question is like ice. He does not command the Gold; the faint glow still tracing through its mind only helps Clark look inside itself, see those truths in it like twisted roots.
It shakes its head, even as the Lasso slips off its boot. They wouldn’t want you back.
—
The knock at the door startles Clark awake. It’s pulled itself into a kneel before it can even wonder at the strange novelty of an advance warning.
No one enters. Clark frowns. The knock comes again. “Super-Man?”
Robin’s voice. Clark clears its throat. “I am here.” It comes out more a question than a statement. It seems good enough for Robin, though, who opens the door.
“You don’t have to kneel, you know.”
“Thank you,” Clark murmurs. As it adjusts its posture, it realizes why Robin looks so strange. He’s still at the threshold. He is hesitating. In all the time Clark has seen this Robin, he’s moved decisively. Even his pauses had a certain definition to them. Now, though - he shifts his weight a little. Then, in a sudden motion, he enters the room and shuts the door behind him.
Clark keeps itself still.
Robin doesn’t advance, though. He stays across the small room. And then, a little half-smile crosses his mouth, and he leans back against the wall. “Just between you and me, I thought Batman was crazy.”
His posture is an artificial kind of ease, but his voice - there’s a note of rueful amusement in it. Clark doesn’t know what’s more incomprehensible, the words he’s saying, or the fact that he’s saying them to it. Belatedly, it realizes it’s staring, and drops its eyes to his feet. “I thought there had to be another explanation. You don’t really have a do-gooder reputation. But Batman refused to throw the theory out. Even after… well, that doesn’t matter.” Robin straightens from his lean, takes a step towards Clark.
Still. Stay still. Nowhere to go. You’re already in a corner.
“He said he didn’t ask last night. More important things to clear up, I guess.” There’s a bitter undercurrent to those words. Clark braces itself, but Robin’s next words are softer. “But you did save me.”
Clark doesn’t know what to say to this young mercurial Robin. It strikes it that although he is still human, still a master - he is also a subordinate to the Batman. In a way, a kindred spirit.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“I did,” it says finally.
Robin breathes out. “Why? I need to know.”
It looks at its hands. Lex had sometimes explained the whys of things, when its missions had been complicated, or when he could tell that it was too stupid to understand the importance otherwise. But this mission - there had been nothing normal about this mission.
“Tell me why. Please.” There’s a sharper edge to Robin’s voice, nothing polite about the please. Clark twists its hands. Can it guess at an answer, like it had with the Gold? Robin’s stepped closer still, and it’s trying not to edge away, trying not to press itself into the corner because there’s nowhere to go.
“I - don’t know,” it blurts out.
Robin stops.
“I was told to. I’m sorry. I don’t know why they sent me-”
There’s footsteps coming closer. Clark breaks off, tense at the realization that it can hear them. “They?” Robin asks, voice sharp like a whip, but the footsteps stop right outside, and Robin straightens up, surprised, turns towards the door as it opens again.
“Robin,” Batman says, his voice icy, his shadowy bulk blotting out the light.
Clark flinches. Robin’s turned away, so he doesn’t see, but Batman does; his head shifts just a fraction to Clark before returning his attention to Robin.
“I was getting him,” Robin says. Clark bites its cheek. Mulish, sullen tone of voice, not deferential, not enough-
“You were taking some time about it,” Batman says, low edge of danger in his voice. “We are on a schedule.”
“My bad. I just wanted some answers about the time I almost died. You know, since you forgot to ask him about that.”
Clark digs its fingers into its knees to stop its hands from shaking. Maybe it’s - it can learn how the Batman corrects his Robins, it can steel itself for the same, it can try to figure out some way to put itself through whatever punishment -
“And you didn’t get what you wanted, because you trapped a man conditioned to behave as a prisoner in the corner of what he thinks of as his cell,” Batman snaps. “Calibrate the Zeta.”
Robin’s gloved hands curl into fists for a second, but he subsides. Batman stands aside to let him pass. “I got more information about the incident than you did,” Robin says, his young voice hard, a parting shot framed in the entryway. Then he is gone.
Clark can’t help but listen to his footsteps, quiet in the hum of the satellite. Making him calibrate the instrument of his punishment… Clark swallows, but its attention snaps back to Batman as he speaks. “Luthor changes many of our assumptions. I’ve spent the last several hours trying to ensure the League’s communications aren’t compromised. I find it safe to assume that he knows you are here. He certainly knows my team captured you, from that camera we took out of your uniform.” He pauses, seems to be waiting for something. “Do you understand?”
A briefing. Clark nods.
“Good. I plan to stay here and continue work on this end. The Robin that you’ve met will return to Gotham and assist my team from there.” Something in Batman softens a little. “He should not have cornered you.”
Clark swallows the words that threaten to make it out of its mouth, but Batman notices anyway. “What?”
“He… just wanted answers.” Please don’t punish him because of me. He’s - he’s so young.
Batman takes a few seconds to reply, and when he does his voice is slower. “I train my Robins to recognize fear, when to create it and how to use it. Training I suspect you’re familiar with. Fear is a tool, and Robin mishandled it in this situation.” Those emotionless white slits look at Clark a few seconds. “The extent of his punishment will be reviewing body language in interrogation tapes until I am satisfied he can tell a productive nervousness from an unproductive fear.” His voice is a little softer still. Less gravel, more… human. Clark is not sure whether to believe him.
They watch each other for another moment before Clark decides to risk speaking again. It knows nothing about securing communications, but it has kept Lex company as he’d worked on things Clark didn’t need to know about. “Is there… would you like me to… do anything? For you?”
Batman looks at it silently, and although his expression is hard to read, Clark gets the feeling it’s said the wrong thing. Finally he speaks. “You’re thinking a lot about what you should do. What’s expected of you. Right?”
It nods, grateful for an easy answer.
“What did you like to do on your home planet?”
Clark tries, but it can’t stop the shudder of revulsion at the thought of the planet that had thrown it away. Besides, even if it could remember that far back, it doesn’t matter what it likes and doesn’t like. It’s a question from its new master, though, who’s turned his head a little, watching it struggle to answer. “I’m sorry. I… don’t know.” It knows it isn’t enough. “I will try to come up with a better answer.”
The corners of Batman’s mouth are turned down, but his head lowers a bit too. Not anger. Rather, it’s like he’s tired, or sad, even, at the response. Clark’s stomach twists. It’d been a bad answer, it knows that. But the soft exhale of Batman’s breath…
“My opinion,” and there is a certain cautious precision to the way Batman says the word, “is that you should focus on resting and recovering. Food, sleep. We do not have much understanding of your metabolism, but you seem malnourished. Let’s address the food first. Were you responsible for preparing your own meals under Luthor?”
Clark shakes its head.
“Come with me.”
Batman waits at the door until Clark has ungracefully clambered up. It follows the nearly silent swish of his cape as they move down the familiar hallway into a room at the end, cramped with equipment. With a start Clark realizes that it’s almost seen the entirety of the Watchtower; the famed headquarters of the League is much smaller than it’d imagined. Robin is there, standing next to a person-sized cabinet humming with electricity. Batman ignores him, turning instead to the left. There’s a small fridge, a futuristic microwave. “There’s not much choice up here. It’s all either frozen or MREs. Take what you want from the freezer, here, or the cupboard, here. There are directions on the packets. I’ll get some more choices up here soon.”
The humming across the room is slowly shifting up in pitch, in a sort of discordant slide. There’s a pulsing inside the tone, a confused muddy sound that is slowly becoming clearer and clearer as the pitch shifts. Clark isn’t surprised when Robin speaks up. “One minute to alignment.”
“Alignment is our Zeta teleportation window. For five minutes every nine hours the frequency of beams align with orbit and the League can teleport between Earth and-“
“There’s an incoming signal,” Robin interrupts. He looks up sharply, his young face underlit by blue glow. “Robin One.”
Batman straightens. “Stand back,” he orders Clark, and joins Robin at the control panel.
There’s not much further to stand back; Clark moves back into the hallway, wondering if it should go back to its cell. If Batman had wanted it to retreat that far, would he have said…?
The pitch slides higher still, the pulse in it slowing down, from a steady clock-tick to a slow wave. And then below them, a shudder passes through the satellite, and the cabinet lights up in blue.
“Robin.” Batman’s voice is sharp, loud enough to cut through the stabilized reedy tone.
“You’re needed in Gotham, B.” Two latches are thrown from inside the cabinet, and then the door pivots open to reveal the first Robin. “I took two sprained wrists, grade one, nothing-“
And then his eyes meet Clark’s, and his face goes cold, and in less than a second he’s brought his hands together, made some sharp jerking motion as he vaults over a panel, and brilliant Green spills out between his fingers.
It slams into Clark like a blow. It folds into itself, collapsing to the cold floor. The raw pain - it had nearly forgotten how much it hurts, its stomach roils and it retches -
The Green cuts off. Words are hurled above it, fast and angry. Something touches it. It flinches away. The terrible whine is still there. Another touch, a hand on its shoulder, pushing gently. It follows the order, turns over. Batman is there, the first Robin is there. Sound slowly starts making sense again even though their figures swim a little in its eyes. “Every time I’ve seen him he’s been trying to kill one of us so excuse me for trying to protect you-”
“Clark.” Suddenly Batman is right there on the ground next to it. It flinches again, trying to press itself backwards against the wall.
“The Super-Man’s name is Clark?” the elder Robin snaps. “And you’re on a first name basis with him?”
“Clark has been acting under coercion from Lex Luthor,” Batman says tightly. “He is responsible for one death. The rest were orchestrated by Luthor for unknown purposes. I’ve been working on securing our communications, on the assumption they’ve all been compromised. Why are you here.”
“You shut your comm off. Mad Hatter has taken over half the staff at Arkham and is threatening a breakout unless you personally hand over your cowl.”
“You can handle it.”
“I can’t. Two sprained wrists, still working with that concussion, got stabbed in the thigh-”
“You were in the field with that level of injury.”
“You weren’t answering your comm.”
The younger Robin’s voice is tense. “Two minutes remaining in alignment. Should I-”
“Go down,” Batman says, straightening up.
Robin hesitates. “I can stay-”
“No. Go.”
“I came up to relieve you,” the older Robin says tersely, as the younger enters the cabinet and the device shivers in blue. “I can’t pull off a costume swap, but I can guard a prisoner. Or what I assumed was a prisoner.”
Batman looks down at Clark, who struggles to pull itself upright. “I’ll be back.” It tries to nod, but the room sways around it. Through the dizziness, it hears Batman's voice again. “Do not harm him unless he moves to harm you first.”
The pitch in the background is sliding again, and there’s a faint rumble throughout the station as Batman sweeps to the cabinet. “You think I’d-?” Robin starts, as Batman unlatches the door.
“I’m not saying that out loud for you. I’m saying it so he knows.” Batman nods in Clark’s direction, and then shuts the door, and with a burst of blue light and one last tremor the alignment is over.