Chapter 11: Together

a/n: this is yet another development chapter, so countless apologies for slow pacing. Things should pick up shortly in the following chapters. Also, today, June 28, is my birthday, so as always, here's my gift to you all! Happy reading~

Not beta'd, we die like men. Unless someone volunteers to edit, of course. :)

It was bright and sunny, but it didn't fit the atmosphere he'd prefer. On days like this, gloomy, gray, and cold would've been perfect—but the reality never followed the picture-perfect fantasies. It was a realization he'd suffer the entirety of that first year, as he'd grab and find that side of his bed so cold and empty.

Cold and empty, it was easier to bottle it all up.

To pretend that he was an unfeeling man, his emotions his literal weaknesses.

He learned that lesson so harshly so long ago, his powers—these alien instincts overtook his logics and ruined the world. For a moment it felt like he was God, smiting those who wronged him—but instead, his eyes gazed over the crevices of these beautifully debossed letters, he'd destroyed thousands of innocent lives from his nonsensical grief. So angry was he that barely even magic can overcome his wrath, his mind all but gone.

So, another god came, to interfere with the storm of his hellish fury.

"Clark," came a soft voice. Muted crinkling of grasses followed from behind and Clark's brilliant eyes fell close at the gentle press of a slender hand on his back, "I thought you'd be here."

He hummed, leaning into her touches, "Diana." It was curt and brief, but Diana barely blinked.

Wonder Woman, one of the most powerful Amazoness warriors and the youngest daughter of the Olympian King-God, came, bearing a voice of reason to bring him back to his senses and forced a green stone over his chest to cripple him. In his darkness she reached him and brought him back to light, to the reality he did not remember creating. He'd gone numb and dead inside, his body moving in motion to clear the debris and dregs and to relieve bodies, if any fully intact, to be properly identified and later buried, from the mass of stones and twisted burning metals. They were the undeniable proof of his madness and grief.

The great and esteemed Justice League spun a tale that Superman was brainwashed and under a foul man's control. Very few thought twice on it. In many ways they didn't lie.

But they also lied. It was quite paradoxical. It mattered little now.

Since that day, Clark Kent no longer existed as a happy man—a good-hearted hero. In his place was simply Superman, who rarely went without a grim line on his lips. His alter human self, it was easier to pretend, died in the grave destruction of that day. Clark Kent was doing his job, he was in the middle of his reporting, when the building crumbled into pieces and split his body.

That was the tale he had conjured.

It was a reckless decision back then, but Clark hadn't cared.

He hadn't cared in years, his heart strangling by black, thorny ropes of grief and confusion.

Until she made him care, to want to find peace and happiness for himself. To be selfish again.

He was on his way of being happy again, to finally, finally make his peace with it all.

Until…

"Clark," he clasped onto that hand he never expected to adore so much when it slithered onto his chest and sunk the fingers into his shirt. Her embrace was warm, thawing that coldness that frosted over his beating heart, "I know you're scared," Diana buried her face into his back, his leather jacket nearly stung her face from the heat of sun beating down on him, "but you have to keep trying." She drew him in tightly.

Clark contorted his face, to suppress that rising flood of emotions from choking him alive again, "…What am I supposed to do?" The mental images of that boy who wore anger on his face (he resembled a wrathful lion, almost, as if he was fully intended to quench his bloodlust and consume him whole) and that woman who looked at him with emotions he was oh so familiar with.

She looked at him with contempt and fear.

He didn't need to ask. Clark knew what she was. Only a person who survived literal hell could've wore that heart-rending expression—and she'd looked at him like he was the devil. She wouldn't be wrong.

Somewhere along the way he forgot one main ingredient of forgiving himself and to finally make his amends.

Sighing Diana nuzzled, appreciating the solid muscles that laid underneath the black leather, "You already know." Her tone was heavy, weary—reflecting sameness in his mind at it all.

She clenched onto him, wrinkling his clothes, at his minute trembling, "I…I can't. I just can't." Clark clenched his teeth, his eyes nearly boring holes in the granite he kept polished, "I thought I'd be ready b-but I'm not." Clark could feel his heart desperately trying to climb its way out from his throat and it tasted as bitter as ever.

"Clark…" Diana, keeping a fist on his person—as if he wouldn't be able to run away from her, slipped away from his back to circle around to face him. She frowned when she saw he wouldn't meet her eyes, the color of his eyes dull. She hated that color, it never suited Superman but had become his norm, "Clark, look at me."

With that authoritative inflection in her voice Clark knew better than to defy Diana. It took a moment of hesitance but before he could test her patience he lifted his head and saw those icy blue. Such a strange color to exhibit such fiery wills, but he couldn't imagine any other to suit the Wonder Woman better.

Cupping his face Diana wanted to wilt, but refused to allow herself to. He didn't need anymore enabling and she will not allow him to dig his own grave further from his despair, "Clark, maybe you should take some time to re-examine yourself. I told you this before, but," she dropped down the hand and sighed, "you're still missing the bigger picture here." Clark furrowed his brows in complete puzzlement, "I think Doctor Higurashi," she didn't miss the obvious recoil at that name, but Diana pressed on, "will help you with that."

"And give herself a nervous breakdown again?" Clark grimaced and tried to pull away. He was held taut by Diana's grasp, his shirt nearly tearing at their physical conflict, "I've caused more than enough pain, Diana."

"You have to let your wounds to air out and breathe sometimes," Diana reminded, "so does her own. She's not that different from you."

Something quenched sickly inside of him at those words. An ill laugh bubbled from his throat but it never reached his tongue, "Not that different?" He echoed, and for a scant second Diana saw his eyes burning with self-hatred before it was replaced with despair. Clark shook his head and clasped his face, hiding himself, "I-I'm sorry but I can't. I just can't. She's not a villain—I was. I was the one who destroyed her."

"No you didn't." Diana cut in and grappled onto his forearm, her colored nails burying into his diamond-hard skin, "You were not yourself. You were as much as a victim as they were! Clark, you promised you would stop thinking yourself as a villain." She pleaded. When Clark's hands drooped slightly from his forehead Diana saw a flicker of doubt, "We don't want to see you lost again. I don't want to see you lost. Do you have any idea how much I missed those smiles of yours?"

As if he hadn't heard her Clark chuckled ruefully, "…what am I supposed to do?" Hunching over he drew in a shuddering sigh and roughed his hair, "I saw that face. It was one of many faces that haunted me. How am I supposed to forgive myself when there's still people like her out there?" Underneath her palms Diana felt him shaking, his skin jumping with utter bleakness, "It'd be better if I stay a cowa—"

Clark flinched when he found himself jerking upward and saw a pair of flaming blue, "Do you want me to ruin this holy land by slapping you across the face and beat you into a bloody pulp through the ground?" Diana snarled, her fingers tearing through his shirt, "Because I fucking will. Stop."

Sullen Clark obeyed, though he tore away from her face and refused to meet her eyes. He remained where Diana repositioned him to, waiting—for what he didn't know nor did he care enough to bother himself with petty worries. If Diana wanted to slap his brain out, that'd be fine with him.

Heavens know he deserved it.

But Diana didn't.

Rather than standing tall as she was prone to be—she was a proud woman, Diana wilted against his chest, "Clark—Kal-el, please. Stop. It was never your fault." She murmured, "You couldn't save her. No one could've seen that coming."

Clark's arms twitched at the temptation to wrap Diana into his embrace, but they felt like lead too heavy to lift. So he didn't offer comfort. When her words registered into his slow mind his face twisted, nearly breaking into pieces, but years of practice had dulled his emotions enough that he barely thought twice to reset his expression back to its usual plainness, "I…held her in my arms. I remembered thinking she'd be okay," Clark reflected and Diana snagged at the bottom of his shirt at the faraway distance in his voice, "but…she wasn't. She was gone without a word." His eyes fell close, "I don't remember anything else afterward."

"You didn't know," Diana parted long enough for her to look up to the face she thought was a face of god's for the longest time, "we didn't know. You never had to grieve such a heartbreaking tragedy before." She gave in to the urge to caress his face, reaching up to cup his face, "…she wouldn't want you to be trapped in your own torment forever, Kal-el. There's nowhere else to go but up."

Clark sounded his disbelief, his chuckle dry and short, and Diana just knew that her words weren't reaching to his mind, muddled by terrible memories. There was a sense of defeat emerging, but she was nothing if not determined, "…Stay with me for a little while longer then?" If Clark isn't going to rescue himself, she could at least throw him a lifesaver and make sure he wouldn't drown.

From her quiet pleading Clark's despair was disrupted and he found himself nodding, "I wasn't planning on leaving you, Diana." His voice was soft but sincere. How could he refuse Diana's beseech to remain by his side?

Drifting away from Clark, Diana rested her hands on his wrists, "…I won't let you be alone, Kal-el." She glanced backward. Sourness drenched her tongue at seeing that name that still brought a wink of pain.

She almost expected him to leave and find his shape drifting into the sky, becoming tinier and tinier as he added distance from her, but Clark stayed. He wouldn't turn back on his words, that was one of few original character traits kept true to him yet. Diana swerved at his thick fingers wrapping around her slacking wrist and had her palming over his chest, the strong heart drumming against her hand, "I'm still here, Diana," Clark murmured, "I promised I'd keep trying. It's just—"

Diana allowed a small smile to form onto her face and pressed her face against his collarbone, "hard. I know." She saw no need to say anything else.

Silence whistled throughout the landscape, and for a moment, it felt like harmony had returned to the earth—as it should be. Birds were chirping their love songs, the clouds floated on by across the perfectly blue horizon, and the world still turned.

Clark shifted on his shoes, "So…now what?" He flustered at the awkwardness that expanded from his question.

Brightening at the rare vision of the boyish awkwardness Superman often aired in the past Diana grinned. There is hope yet to see him happy again. "Well," she rolled back on her heels, "you said you'd buy me coffee…was it two weeks ago now?"

"…So I did," Clark murmured thoughtfully, absently noting that Diana had hooked onto his fingers, "I hear there was a good café nearby." He curled in his digits.

Diana noticed something out of ordinary and sheepishly tugged on it, "…sorry about your shirt." She tried straightening it, to hide the shredded holes she left earlier. To her dismay she had no such luck, when the flaps still draped over from the holes she made and displayed some of his solid muscles to the entire world.

"Not a big deal," Clark at least looked somewhat amused, as his hands went to the bottom of his jacket, "I'll just zip up my jacket."

Laughing, grateful for the awkwardness that flooded the atmosphere instead of the initial gloomy one, Diana sighed at the sound of zipping, "Still, I'm really sorry about your shirt—it was a nice shirt too."

"I have a bunch. Like I said—not a big deal." Clark shrugged, checking his wrist watch, "It's going to be rush hour soon so we should get there before lines get bad."

A breeze twirled her hair into its current and attempting to keep her bang out from her eyes she thought she heard a familiar voice grateful for their presences. Diana paused and gave Clark a sad smile, recognizing it was from a ghost's, "…Lets have our parting respect before we go." She turned to face the sculpted granite and gazed upon the ever-too familiar carved letters. There were nothing else needed to be said.

Clark barely had anything to share with her in a long time now. Silence was the only company he could offer to the gravestone. He tipped his head downward in acknowledgement.

They lingered but not for long.

Turning his back Clark intended to walk to the exit, but his hand was held taut. Curious he craned to Diana, "Ah, sorry, I forgot I have something for her." She smiled and untucked a long stemmed rose from the inside of her jacket. Breaking away from his grasp Diana hurried to meet the gravestone.

Dropping down to her knees to reassure the flower would be snug in places among the bouquet Clark settled over the well-kept grass, Diana glanced upward. She paused, her mind eerily quiet. Absently she petted over the polished marble and sighed, rereading the name.

Lois Lane
Bold and Brave, she is relentlessly loved.
June 21, 1981(*1)–June 12, 2004

She nodded firmly to it—to her, to remind herself to see things to end well for Clark. Satisfied with the rose's placement Diana straightened to her feet and hurried to the waiting man, accepting the elbow he politely offered. Although Diana tried to keep her smile somewhere inside of her knew there'd be a long and turbulent storm ahead.

The sun stung on her back.

July 16th, 2010
Dr. Higurashi's Apartment,
Washington, D.C.,
11:23 EST

It still felt like a dream.

"Thanks for coming with me—" keys chattered against one other as she inserted one into a brass doorknob, she raised her head and smiled, "you didn't need to, but it's really appreciated." There was a squeak as the door swung slowly from its lock, revealing the gaping darkness inside.

Clearing his throat from a strange glob that formed over time he rubbed the back of his neck, "It's really not a problem, Doctor," that glob was quite persistent. Why did it always came back every time he was with his Doctor? "You took care of me, it's only fair that I do the same." Superboy murmured, readjusting the flattened cardboards underneath his armpits.

He insisted to carry the stack for her, not willing to accept her protest.

Was his Doctor truly with him? That she was finally more than just a kind voice?

Dr. Higurashi, still smiling, shook her head and slipped inside her old apartment, "Still, there's not much to pack—they," there was a strange ting in that word, but Superboy understood. Dr. Higurashi was still trying to keep herself neutral and was working on undoing her old opinions—something she had been clear since the second day she stayed with him, "did most of the work for me."

Cocking his head Superboy batted his eyes when the light flooded what was the most saddest looking apartment he'd seen. It was still in excellent shape, but it was so…empty, as if no one lived in it for months. Grey.

A thick layer of grey coated the furniture. Couches were dusted into pale shades of their former glory. The floor gave a rough texture beneath his feet with every step he took, puffing against the sole of his boots. His eyes drifted to the footprints on the hardwood floor that scattered across the apartment. They left bare spots in the veil of dust.

They belonged neither to him or his Doctor. He doubted that those strange looking swipes of hands on heavy furniture were theirs either. His Doctor hadn't been to her apartment in months and he himself never stepped a foot in a fancy condo likes the one Dr. Higurashi lived in before.

(Though, frankly, the only residences he'd visited and touched was Wally's home and now his dorm in Mt. Justice.)

Those, he recognized, were the evidence of recent invasion of Justice League members—probably undercover too, to avoid gaining attention on Dr. Higurashi. They were packing up the essentials for her, he remembered, even though she hadn't used the place in months. Granted, her old necessaries were probably gone with the damages the facility sustained. Regardless, Dr. Higurashi had objects and clothes she still wanted to keep that the JL members forwent.

Reading his wide eyes his Doctor laughed, sheepish, "I practically lived in the facility ever since I got the job. I don't know which is sadder," she sounded wistful as she closed in to the large open-spaced kitchen, "that I was still paying the rent for a place I haven't visited in months or that I let everything else to consume me whole."

"Doctor…" Superboy murmured. After shutting the door he tailed after her, his eyes still intaking the entire picture of this lonesome apartment. There weren't much that told him that it was actually his Doctor's home. It was simply…a place of residence that meant nothing to her. Sans perhaps some small knickknacks here and there sitting among some typical surfaces—like what looked like a baseball was sitting on atop of a faced down framed photograph on a shelf.

Curiosity almost lured him away from his initial intention, before he caught a sigh and remembered, "Do you really regret—" his tone brought Dr. Higurashi to a yelp, stopping her from spoiling her appetite from taking a peek in the state of her then-bare refrigerator.

(She'd left in some milk and spoilable foodstuffs in it last she remembered.)

Twirling her feet to face Superboy, Dr. Higurashi shook her head and palmed his chest, "Oh my goodness, no! You're the best thing that came out of all my messes." She wilted and curled in her fingers, parting away, "The…best thing. I…just wonder if I am…" Dr. Higurashi thought better of sharing her thinking process, "Well, never you mind. It's just me being silly!"

Before Superboy could produce a word she clapped her hands and bounced on her heels, "So! I should get to packing up rest of my stuffs—help me box them up?" Dr. Higurashi spun away from the fridge, her appetite saved from being ruined at the grisly sight within.

Clicking his teeth close Superboy wilted and found himself wishing they'd brought Tiny with. Over few short days the little assistant proved himself useful by frequently breaking the ice and starting subjects Superboy wasn't able to start. He hated how awkwardly shy he was.

Tiny tried, encouraging him to be brave and start a conversation he wanted to have, his attitude surprisingly paternal in a strange sort of childish manner. The undersized gnome tried quite hard, even going as far as to leaving him a basic script for Superboy to follow via telepathy. But, he simply…couldn't move his tongue, flustered far too easily for reasons he cannot understand.

Whatever happened to that confidence he had back in the pod? Where he was bold enough to refuse his Doctor's pleas to leave her behind? Or the time he hugged her at their reunion after many days apart without much prompting?

There's so much he wanted to ask that he wounded up finding confusion on where to go and as more time spent in his Doctor's company, harder it became for him to speak. Slumping his shoulders again Superboy readjusted the stack of cardboards underneath his armpit and tailed his Doctor from the kitchen. In few short steps he stopped when she did.

"Here should be a breeze." Dr. Higurashi sighed, rubbing her neck. Guilt was plain on her face as she scanned across the living room, sparse in even decoration, "Don't really need these furniture…" she eyed a modestly sized flat screen monitor sitting on a small dresser. She dropped her hand, "and we already have everything we needed back at the base. So, we can just leave heavy stuffs here for next tenants, I guess."

Dropping down on a knee Superboy set the cardboards down. Untucking a new roll of thick, clear tape from his pocket, he tugged one box from the stack. With quickness his Doctor wasn't aware he had, he expanded the cardboard and folded each section until the box formed into its signature cube shape. He glanced up to Dr. Higurashi and ripped a long strip from the roll to pin the box into places, "So, uhhh," Superboy cleared his throat, "where should I start?"

She blinked, impressed at how intimidating her ward looked with something as simple as tape stretching across from the roll to hand—as if he was going to tape a villain into submission, "Ah," Shaking away her amusing (packing tapes isn't the most intimidating object there was but it was quite a hilarious mental picture) Dr. Higurashi pointed towards the sparse collection of belongings spread across her apartment, "Take your pick. I'm going to look through the drawers for my old paperworks."

"Okay," he murmured back, shutting two folds together and sealed it. Spinning it upside down so the opening would face upward, ready to take in objects, Superboy stood up and dusted off his grey-caked knee, abandoning the stack and the packing tape to the side for later usages.

His eyes trailed back to that little corner shelf.

That faced down frame was calling his name.

Glancing back to his Doctor, he saw she'd turned her back to him as she was rummaging through a drawer. Furrowing his brows, Superboy shook his head and made his way to that curious object. If she didn't want him to touch anything, she'd say so.

Curling over his thick fingers to grasp the white ball—it was no bigger than his palm, he wondered if it was a strange thing to have right on the back of a frame. Precariously it balanced on the closed stand, looking as if it'd roll off any second had he not taken it in his hand. Placing his thumb against a side of the frame Superboy caught a glimpse of something on the white leather.

Blue ink characters reflected on the side. They were somewhat slanted and the curves had more of a rigid edge to them—clearly the work of someone who was used to writing by hand.

"…Japanese?" He said in a breath.

Furrowing his brows and ignoring the slight bitter taste of guilt at how slow it took him to remember his Doctor's mother tongue, Superboy took a second to decipher it: Hideki Matsui. Reeling back, he remembered what he'd been taught. That was the name of a famous Japanese baseball player, one of numerous proud member of the elusive Hall of Fames. The name on the baseball was an easy connection to make, but…

Why would his Doctor harbor such an object in her home? She expressed lack of interest in following sports and their long histories, though she was happy to involved herself in these lessons for him. Puzzled, Superboy craned his head over his shoulder to see her, but he found her gone from the room.

A slight ruffle, a sound that should've been nothing to anyone else, lured him to another awaiting threshold and caught a sight of movement. Within a blink his vision changed and he saw the warm shape of his Doctor shifting to her knees through the wall. Bending down to dig through the underside of her bed she was too distracted to pay much attention on what he was doing.

Frowning Superboy redirected his attention to the frame. Firming his thumb he didn't think twice and turned it upright. Superboy blinked at the unconcealed image before his eyes.

He darted to a very familiar face, so much softer in a way that told him his Doctor was younger then. Pulling it closer, Superboy realized in awe—at how different she looked and even how she positioned herself. Dr. Higurashi never forwent a day with her hair down and hadn't worn any outfit beyond business-causal and that white jacket, her style all but fixed. The light summer jacket his Doctor was wearing was probably the most outside her norm he'd seen from her. He never imagined her wearing anything not formal or sleek, the soft colored sundress meshed perfectly with her gentleness and youthfulness.

In this picture, Dr. Higurashi was missing that edge, that harsh jaded edge, in her eyes and in her carefree smile, as she childishly held up two fingers behind a teenaged boy's head. Bunny ears, he recalled from Wally's explanation over a character's behaviors in a movie, as a teasing joke—common especially with siblings.

Siblings. So, this must be his Doctor's brother.

His eyes strayed away from the boy's face—he couldn't be any older than 16, healthy and fit but lack of maturity still presented in his skinny shape and somewhat round face as he stood some inches taller than his sister—his then Doctor, to another. Off from his side was a woman, with dense hair on her head, her smile serene and maternal in spite of having specks of frozen treat on her cheek. She was the very picture of a proud mother. There were blatant resemblances among them, their eyes sunny and their expressions betrayed none of their tight knit bond.

On the opposite side of the picture was an old man who was roaring in amusement at the siblings' antics, his grey goatee streaked with some bit of ice cream. It was easy to assume that he was the grandfather, though an eccentric one given his foreign robe and a long coil of purple and brown beaded rosaries on his wrist. Even through his peculiarities there were nothing but warmth in his laughter.

It was the beautiful picture of a happy family.

There was no happiness or any family to be seen in the very presence of this room sans this photo. The photo Dr. Higurashi had faced down on the shelf—almost as if she was ashamed to be happy since.

A twisted kind of sickness curdled in his chest and veins in his arms throbbed. Maybe…maybe this was why his Doctor became into the person she is—was now? Superboy found his throat dry and even coating it with a nasty glob of saliva hadn't helped the scratchiness of it. She was…so happy that it felt wrong to see it gone and be replaced with bitterness and helplessness.

"Superboy…?" He jerked upward, nearly jumping into midair to hide his possibly perceived act of evil. He turned his head around and saw his Doctor closing in from behind him. She slowed and curled in a hand to her chest, registering where he was facing and his position, "Ah." Dr. Higurashi grimaced, with a streak of pain flashing behind her eyes, "I…see. Well, if you don't mind, go ahead and toss them down in the box."

"Doctor…" Superboy whispered and nearly wilted into himself. What could he even say?

Drawing in a sigh, a remarkably well-controlled one, Dr. Higurashi shook her head, "We should pack up soon, we got an appointment to meet up with others in couple hours or so." She reminded as she dropped down on a knee to settle in a stack of yellow-tinted papers and folders into the box, "I don't much feel like skipping lunch and," she blew a stubborn strand of hair away from her face, "dealing with that Canary woman anymore than necessary either."

He screwed his lips and nodded, his grips on these two important objects were careful, "Understood, Doctor." Despite what his Doctor said, Superboy shuffled the photo and the baseball into the box with utmost tenderness and tucked them in between the gap the stack of papers and the cardboard wall of the container.

Superboy made sure to plant the image against the cardboard though—the last thing he wanted to have her to see it and be sad.

Being there were such few keepsakes in this residence, it was easy for Superboy to pick things clean from the living room and filled up exactly one box. He'd unfolded another for his Doctor's paperworks and important notes though he hadn't found any further reason to need another container. Superboy was still looking though, being as thorough as possible. He moved on to the kitchen, well aware there were probably no knickknacks being kept inside of it. But it couldn't hurt to check.

Drifting to one of the overhead cabinets, he found nothing but glasses of different kinds, mostly flutes and shot glasses. They all were arranged neatly and despite being untouched in months, they were still glittering in the light and relatively free from dust. This momentarily struck Superboy as odd—there were such a considerable collection that it told him nothing good. Alcoholic?

Dr. Higurashi hardly seemed like a socializing type, her persona firm and so work-driven that any relationship beyond professional wasn't a blip on her mind. That was until he came in her life, she later told him with a smile that was almost grim. So, these glasses…there were so many of them that it filled the cabinet to brim.

Hesitating he shook his head. No.

He remembered one of the movies he genuinely hated for how uncomfortable it made him. Its' plot expanded on addictions on drugs and alcohols and the sicknesses and tragedies behind the majorly of the cast. Even the ending was gruesome, not in sense of how gory it was but to broadcast the miserable fate that no one in the main cast would ever come back clean from. That everything could've been avoided had they made a different choice instead. The main characters were suffering from terrible withdrawals and their mental states were all but gone, washed with images of artificial desires, racy, almost seizure-inducing visions settled him almost ill. Superboy learned many things from his inhuman teachers and his Doctor, but they were a little more than bland documentaries at best.

That film was not a documentary, but harsh reality some individuals faced in the real world albeit under perfect lightings and being in front of oversaturated cameras.

Over one discussion revolving around reasons behind villains' actions during his stay with the speedster, Wally decided to share one film in particular. But, he refused to show it on the television in the living, not willing to expose it to his parents, and not even the one in his own room Wally was generous enough to share with Superboy. Instead Wally propped the dvd in his laptop and ran it. He then thrusted it into Superboy's hands and told him that he was not interested into watching it again so Superboy'd have to watch it alone. In the dark. And to save his questions in the morning when Wally wakes up.

Wally actually gave him a sincere apology for it, something he didn't understand at first.

Superboy understood why perfectly after the credits rolled. (*2)

It was a sickening movie to watch, but it explained clearly on why addictions could've make for a perfect motive for some villains. That not all villains were inherently evil, but desperate. A thin frown formed.

Sounded familiar, he realized, but that was not his Doctor.

Dr. Higurashi was too good for such a failing.

With that in mind he stepped away and was about to pin the cabinet shut, but something caught his sight.

Way back in the back, covered completely in the darkness, Superboy would've missed it if not for a strange coloring that separated it from the rest of its crystal kins glinting from the light. A golden band. Narrowing his eyes he also realized how much bigger and taller it was. Intrigued Superboy reached over, mindful of the collection underneath his arm, and plucked it by its long neck and brought it closer to his face.

It was a large bourbon bottle, empty but it felt too large for even his Doctor to store in her home. Knitting his brows Superboy pulled away, "What the…?" He examined the thick band of golden trimmed black label. Something else caught his eyes, peeking out from underneath what little glass to be seen under the label.

Blinking Superboy rolled the bottle to get a better visual.

A picture?

Before he could get a better look, a sigh interrupted him, "Superboy, give me that please." Stiffening and feeling a sense of being in trouble Superboy spun around and flustered at the weary expression Dr. Higurashi wore. She held out a hand in obvious expectation.

"Doctor?" He meekly rested the bottle onto her palm, not wanting to anger his Doctor.

Dr. Higurashi shook her head again, nestling the object to her chest, "You're fine, Superboy. You're not in trouble or anything." She chuckled when Superboy slumped with relief, "Tis was my fault that you went out looking without my directions. Don't worry about it." She turned away, her feet carrying her to the boxes that laid across the floor.

What was going on? Why did his Doctor even have such a poisonous thing in her apartment? Superboy was not content on letting things rest—not when his Doctor is being troubled, "Are…are you alright, Doctor?" He tailed her closely.

"I'll have to be," Dr. Higurashi smiled, kneeling down to create some little room she could find with the keepsake box for the bottle. When Superboy's expression grew more tensed at her tired statement, she sighed and separated her eyes from his, "like I said, you're the best thing that came out of my messes, Superboy, so I'm going to be a better person."

"I—Doctor…"

"If it's any consolation, this isn't mine. It belonged to the onl—friend of mine who passed away four years ago." Melancholy thickened in the air, permeating from Dr. Higurashi's hunched form for a brief minute. She sighed before Superboy could start a string of apologies for bringing up a tragedy and rolled to her feet, the glass slotted barely in the box, "I kept her favorite bottle around as a reminder to myself, to, well, keep myself dry—so to speak."

Chewing on the insides of his mouth Superboy nodded, though he was puzzled more by her wording, "I—I'm sorry about your friend, Doctor."

"I am too," she lifted the corners of her lips—but he couldn't consider it as a smile. It was too grim to fit and he hated the look of it. Her wordings had him in a pause but he dropped a brief nod. Not of understanding, but of acceptance.

He wanted to pry, but he respected his Doctor far too much to break through her defense to sate something as petty as his curiosity. Not yet, anyway. There was one thing though he didn't really understand, "I…have a question." Superboy felt silly for asking for permission to ask, but how does one respond to an uncomfortable subject?

"You know you're always allowed to ask me anything, Superboy," Dr. Higurashi teased lightly, the somberness in her lips softened. She was sincere, being more like the Doctor he remembered she was.

Superboy flustered again and rejected the urge to scratch an itch on his head, "I—I know, it's just…I wasn't sure if it's okay to ask," at his Doctor's impatient quirk of her brow, he hesitated, "why is there a picture inside that bottle?"

"Ah," she closed in and patted on his bicep, "I suppose I can answer that," Dr. Higurashi kept her hand on him, a small comfort Superboy found, "I put it there because I needed to remember."

He waited for an explanation but as Dr. Higurashi removed herself from him and resumed her initial search for one last folder she needed, Superboy never got one. Cocking his head and frowned, he kept few steps before his Doctor, "What…do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it, you'll figure it out sooner or later." She glanced back and brightened, encouraging Superboy's better mood, "Just few more things and some clothes to pack up and we can go eat! What are you in the mood for, by the way? Italian? Pizza? Maybe burgers?" Dr. Higurashi stopped at a threshold, waiting for an answer.

"…Japanese?" Superboy weakly suggested—he vividly remembered his Doctor's admittance that she was missing her cultural foods. Perhaps she'd be happier then.

Dr. Higurashi eyed him, "I'd be fine with anything, you don't need to try and cheer me up—"

"I never had Japanese," Superboy blurted, startling Dr. Higurashi.

She glued her wide eyes on him, slowly blinking, "I…beg your pardon?" It never occurred to her that Wally wouldn't be able to expose her ward to everything. Something she'd later realized is a silly notion. Of course he wouldn't—he's a hyperactive teenager who thrives on a steady diet of junk foods and sugar-ladled pops.

Her ward averted his eyes, "I never had Japanese foods, Doctor."

"Well, in that case, we'd need to remedy that, do we?"

For the rush hour he was rather surprised at seeing how slow this restaurant was, having been seated quickly upon entering. Granted, it was a little out of the way than most in this city and Dr. Higurashi had done her research (via a quick googling), so it was convenient just the same. Eyes straying over the trifold menus, weight tugged at the corners of his lips.

Superboy knew what each of those meals looked like—or had an idea of what they were, but he had no idea where to start. It was his first time eating a meal sitting in an actual place, since all he had were pizza, burgers, cheap Chinese takeouts—just about everything one could order under the sky with delivery/pick up options. Probably not the best experience to start someone with literal no life experience off with. A laugh pulled him out from his discomfort, "Having trouble?" Dr. Higurashi smiled, her menus tucked away to the side of their table.

"…Yeah, really not sure what to pick." He flustered, sheepish and guilty, his menus folded over his sausage fingers. Superboy glanced upward to his Doctor, "What if I don't like it?"

Dr. Higurashi waved his worries away, "Don't worry about it, I'll help you to narrow things down." She tugged the menus in front of him downward and prodded it open, "Some good options to start you off with would be," despite the menus being upside down for her Dr. Higurashi had no troubles finding the one she was looking for and trailed her nail down to a line of text, "Champon, it's a noodle dish with pork, seafood, and veggies. The favors are pretty seasonal, so there's always surprises with this one. Great for food adventurers." She supplied easily, before moving on to her next suggestion, "Hoto is a pretty dense miso soup with some meat in it—I think you'll like this one more than Champon because it'll fill you up right quick."

Cocking his head, Superboy couldn't help but to appreciate her patience and calm, soothing voice, as she continued, "My last suggestion is the one I'm going to get: Miso nikomi udon. I'm pretty homesick for this one," Dr. Higurashi's tone softened to a sigh, "it's a chicken noodle soup with a lot of businesses going on inside of it," she teased, her lips quirking upward. Superboy relaxed at this quick change, her weakening voice had set him at unease, "there's fish cakes and udon noodles in the miso broth? I think, it'd been some years. You can get eggs, mushroom, tofu—things like that. Every bowl is a bit different, but," she shrugged, "it's sure to be great. It's a personal favorite of mine."

The choice was obvious to him, "Ehem," Superboy nodded, firmly, "I'll try the miso nikomi udon."

His Doctor smiled brilliantly, "You'll like it—I do hope so, that is." She chuckled, her humor quiet. She then paused, her eyes examining him, and a curious look took form. Superboy blinked, "You are a big fella and I know we're going into the arena today so," Amusing her thoughts aloud she slacked her back flat against her seat, "Do you think you might need some more food? I'm only getting the udon and green tea, but…I don't know if that'd be enough for you."

"We can just ask for…more, right?" Superboy peered over, subconsciously searching for that approval. Her growing smile satisfied him.

Dr. Higurashi nodded, "That is true, you can ask for extra portions. You're good with your choices then? What's about drinks?" Craning her head over the seat, her eyes searching for a waiter, "They serves sod—"

He hadn't meant to interrupt, but his mouth moved on its' own, "I'll try the tea."

Pausing the Doctor threw him a look, before she break his tensions with an amused look, "Alright, green tea and udon it is. Oh," a young waitress appeared by their sides, her outfit impeccable as the restaurant's atmosphere, "hello there!"

"Konnichiwa," she tipped at her waist, "are you ready for your order?"

Superboy was content to allow his Doctor to take over the reign, supplying the waitress their orders. She radiated polite confidence, clicking easily with the younger stranger. It looked natural on her, the same way it looked right to have the sunbeams dancing across her hair and shoulders when they stepped outside together.

To imagine her being trapped in a dark, lonely lab felt wrong somehow. "A large bowl for the big gentleman?" Thick accented voice drew him away from his Doctor and he blinked, registering the waitress' inquiry, "Oh, yes, please." Superboy flustered at being caught by the quirk of the amused lady's brow. 'big gentleman?'

He wasn't that big, was he? Though, he liked being taller and bigger than his petite Doctor…

Scribbling down the orders on her notepad, the waitress tipped her head, "Would that be all?"

"He might be interested in another helping later," Dr. Higurashi added, and at the hostess' nod, "but otherwise, yes, that would be all. Domo arigato."

"Yes, yes, your meals will be ready shortly!" The waitress bid her department with a practiced smile that doesn't look quite right (*3) and set him another glance. He averted his eyes, embarrassed.

But, now Superboy was alone with his Doctor again in their booth.

Dr. Higurashi reached over to pat his arm, "Food'll be here before you know it." Her touch didn't linger long, to his disappointment, "It'll be worth the wait, I promise!" She encouraged, excited that her ward was trying her cultural food.

Superboy nodded, finding it hard not to rip his gaze from her blue eyes, "You said it's good to try new things," he murmured. It felt like those eyes were piercing through his chest with her warmth.

"That I did." Dr. Higurashi disregarded her table manners—there were no food yet so she was perfectly content slacking for a minute, and rested her chin on her palm, "Speaking of, have you found any hobby you liked doing?" Superboy paused. Had he found anything he liked doing?

Seeing his expression changing, Dr. Higurashi coughed, "Sorry I didn't ask earlier, I was distracted with…certain things, so I hadn't had any chances to ask. This is good time to ask without interruptions, right?" She perked up, pleased to finally have a proper conversation without responsibilities weighting down on her back.

Pinking darker, Superboy chewed on the insides of his cheeks and picked on the napkin. She was right, she'd been kept away to take care of whatever responsibilities he hadn't been disclosed to by Batman and others in Justice League. Neither had much opportunities to chat without distractions. Ashamed, Superboy looked away, "I…liked watching movies, but that's not a hobby, isn't it?"

When Dr. Higurashi opened her mouth, he remembered one detail about himself, "I liked the books you got me though." He finished Stephen King's The Green Miles yesterday and it was a good read. But, he'd feel twitchy if he had to sit still for hours to finish a book.

He was pretty sure that sitting through all of those movie marathons ruined his attention span because he struggled staying put.

"Oh! Reading is a good hobby to have," Dr. Higurashi agreed easily, though a frown took root, "but that's only one hobby—well," she reconsidered her words, "you do have all the time in the world to find them."

"That is…true." Superboy considered slowly.

Dr. Higurashi peered closer and Superboy pulled away at her nearness, his shyness an impulse. Her lips were drawing into a thin line, thoughtful, "You might be interested in vehicle restorations. You seemed like the type…and constructions too." She added absently.

The sound of those weren't half-bad, so Superboy mentally stashed that suggestion aside for later consideration, "Good ideas, I'll give those a try."

"Ah, Superboy, you don't have to take everything I suggested seriously, you know…" Dr. Higurashi winced, folding down her arms, "but as long as you're willing, I suppose."

His paper napkin nearly in pieces, Superboy wanted to rub his head to ease away the embarrassment he felt, but didn't, "They don't really sound that bad though. It's kind of like playing with a big puzzle, isn't it? Parts, tubes, engine, all that…and rebuilding things might be fun too."

"We'll look into getting a project for you then." As she tucked in her hand under her arm, Dr. Higurashi set him a look and screwed her lips together, "Superboy…"

"…?" He rose his eyes, a hint of pink dusted his cheeks at the sound of his name. But, he furrowed his brows at the edges of his Doctor's lips lowering, "Doc—?"

"I can't keep calling you that." Troubled, she pressed her back against the cushion, "I need to enroll you in school and ingrain you into the society—"

Superboy reeled back, interrupting her, "Why would I need to go to school? I've already learned all I needed from you and the genomorphs." He was baffled.

He was taught every single piece of recorded history everywhere from the largest country to the tiniest island, every spoken and written language known to the mankind on this planet he was born to protect, entirety of science, down to the most complex math. The genomorphs were nothing short of being thorough. Surely there were no benefit Superboy could've gained from attending some public school?

Sadly shaking her head Dr. Higurashi articulated gently, "For one, it's mandatory for children and teenagers to your, ah," she cleared her throat, "physical age, to attend schooling of some kind." Before Superboy could argue she continued, "While I know you're well educated, your life experiences are…lacking to say at least." Dr. Higurashi shot him an apologetic look, as she explained further, "High school would help with that. There's more benefits too—you'll have friends, new understanding of other people, abilities to ingrain yourself with ordinary bodies, and list goes on." Her voice dipped, ashamed, "There's so much I haven't covered with Dubbliex…"

Something inside of him burned, Superboy accidentally torn another piece of napkin off, "Can't I get GED? I can socialize with other people in other places." He did fine in the mall with Wally, he felt.

Although, perhaps he was giving himself too much credit. His mind was washed with an immediate flashback of his overreaction at being called someone he wasn't. The bridge of his nose crinkled.

Again she shook her head, releasing a pained sigh and Superboy felt an instant surge of guilt, "No, high school is the best way. Let me put it in this way. All of us," Dr. Higurashi emphasized by pressing a hand on her chest, "are like diamonds. Countless facets of experience, from happiness, friends, sorrow, regrets," her voice hitched a tad, "family. Every decision we makes from good to bad, every action we choose from selfless to selfish, all of those made us who we are. Your name, your history, the League, Dubbliex, and I can't be the only facets in your life." She cupped over his clenching hand on the table, "It's not fair to you. Our world is so much bigger than you think it is. Public school," his Doctor relaxed her grasp, "is one of the gateways of this giant world of ours."

When Superboy still kept that troubled expression on his face, Dr. Higurashi smiled weakly, "I know the American educational system isn't perfect—Hell, Japanese's have its own set of problems too. (*4) But," she pleaded, "it'd pose situations where you can learn how to overcome, no matter how ordinary it might've looked. They'll have all sort of people there, from the cheeriest to the loneliest, from all walks of life." She tilted her head, "Having experiences dealing with those people can help you to tailor to support someone better, whether if it's just a friend, a stranger, or someone you saved. It'd be a heroic thing to do."

Superboy met his Doctor's eyes and slowly nodded, "I'll…think about it." He'd rather not to, but if she think it was best for him to go…

"Alright," Dr. Higurashi ceased away with a deep breath. She then shot him an mildly amused glance, "sleep on it. I don't want you to feel forced. But," a warm laugh bubbled, "that doesn't solve our naming troubles. Have you had any names you might've liked?"

"Not," his voice cracked, "really?" Was he supposed to think on which citizen name he'd like to have this whole time?

Humming his Doctor didn't seemed to be too bothered by his answer, "We've some time. School is still on summer break here so it's not a big deal."

"Am I going to high school there—in Happy Harbor?" Superboy blinked. Wouldn't that seem quite suspect for him, who is living in Mt. Justice and isn't a human, to be attending an institution so close? It didn't sound at all practical, posing some uncomfortable risks.

Her entire disposition drooped and Dr. Higurashi rubbed in between her eyes, mindful of her glasses, "Yes. I'm well aware of this questionable decision on the location." Her sigh was a long one, "I still have the final say because your inputs matter more than theirs and mine, but they were," the Doctor grunted a tiny sound of disbelief, "highly insistent on keeping you close. In other words, they're not going to take no from me."

"…that's stupid." Superboy wrinkled his nose, "Hiding in plain sight is one thing but," he furrowed his thick brows, sweeping aside the pile of torn pieces of napkin, "there's too many risks to factor in, weren't there?"

"Considering we had an recent attack, it's a sure thing whoever headed this incident already know where you lived." Folding her hands and settled it under her chin, Dr. Higurashi glanced outside the window and admired how bright it was outside, "The League might as well have painted a big red target on your back." Before Superboy could inject his commentary, she continued, "But, I can see where they're coming from. I'm certain they know it's far from idealistic, it was probably the best possible decision they could've make. They needed to keep you safe—"

Superboy protested, "I can handle—"

"Regardless of your skill levels. As well trained as you are," her sharp gaze had him clicking his teeth close, "you don't have enough experience yet, so they decided the best way to ensure your safety is to," Dr. Higurashi frowned, "ensure that you'll have someone capable nearby at all time when you needed help. Thus the Happy Harbor location."

Sniffing he snarled quietly, "This is a complete nonsense, Doctor." Superboy tried not to break the edge of the table.

"I know, but they have good arguments," Dr. Higurashi's apologetic face had Superboy feeling a heavy weight of guilt in his stomach and eased his grips, "and I don't much like it either. They were decent enough to give us some room to discuss over it. If you don't want Happy Harbor, I'll fight for you to go elsewhere, okay? I'll take responsibility one way or other."

Tapping on his knuckles Superboy dropped his shoulders and cast his eyes onto the plain table, "…Sorry."

"Why would you be sorry?" His Doctor blinked. She reached over and stopped his thumbs, her hand so much smaller than his, "It's my job to do what's best for you. Whatever you wanted and needed, I'll make sure you'll get them one way or another."

Superboy grimaced—he was her burden and he didn't like it, "I—"

"Arigatou gozaimasu," so distracted was he that Superboy nearly jumped from his boots at a large bowl settling down in front of him. He glanced aside and saw the same woman they had previously shifting drinks next to their latest meal. Readjusting the platter from her shoulder to under her hands, the waitress pushed another bowl to Dr. Higurashi with care not to splatter herself with, "your patience is very appreciated, missus and mister." Patting down her apron the waitress bowed and minded the metal circle, "Would that be all?"

Dr. Higurashi shook her head, "Osoreirimasu, yes, we're good!" She brightened at the sight of her beloved soup she hadn't had in months. Maybe years, even. She couldn't remember when was the last time she had udon! Unconsciously, she grappled her packaged chopsticks.

"Great," the waitress cheered and turned at her feet, "please do call upon me if you need anything else. Enjoy your meal!" She was gone.

Superboy blinked at his Doctor's glowing face and her clicking the chopsticks she freed from the paper wrapping, "Idadakimasu!" He couldn't resist a smile from growing on his face—his Doctor deserved all the happiness in the world, "Idadakimasu." Superboy returned, following her example and plucked the packaged eating utensils from the wooden table. Peeling the paper off was the easy part.

But, awkwardly fumbling around with the sticks, trying to position them in his fat mitts were apparently the hardest part. Superboy was sure he was becoming a tomato in front of his Doctor, "Uhm—" Humiliating himself on their first meal together…

Midway in her third bite she initially cooled with blowing air on it, Dr. Higurashi smothered a giggle before it'd choke her to swallow her soup the wrong way down. Coughing to clear her airway, nearly crackling at how adorable Superboy looked, she finally composed herself, "Having troubles?" (*5)

"…Yes?" Superboy wilted.

"You can use forks and spoons," she offered, gesturing to the cloth-wrapped silvers next to Superboy's bowl, but at the lowering brows on his forehead, Dr. Higurashi smiled instead at his stubbornness, "I'll help." Setting aside hers on the cloth napkin on the table she reached over the bowls and minded her elbows.

As her fingers readjusted his and repositioned the sticks, Superboy finally agreed after a moment of silence, "I think I get what you mean by life experience." He murmured, relishing in the brushes of her warmth.

His Doctor made it to looked so easy with the chopsticks.

Dr. Higurashi paused and slid a hand down to his wrist, "Pardon?"

He gestured at his hand with a tilt of his head, "I never learned this while I was in the pod." Superboy, with hesitations, clicked his chopsticks at the soft sound of her understanding 'ah', "…Like this?" It felt uncomfortable, foreign—but isn't everything outside that pod of his?

"Try picking up a bigger piece with it. Bigger it is, the easier." Dr. Higurashi encouraged and returned to her utensils, "Like so," she pulled a piece of meat from her udon and demonstrated her finger positions. She then popped it into her mouth and chewed it, "it's harder with noodles but you'll pick it up pretty quick after few practices."

Splatters sounded and Dr. Higurashi giggled at Superboy's bark of surprise at a tiny splash of golden broth on his arms. Flustering and with a quick wipe down on his skin from the udon's residues, he refused to cave and tried again. His technique was clumsy and his chopsticks were skewed, but the chunk of what looked like a half of a semi hard-boiled egg stayed, "You're getting it," she cheered, brightening when it disappeared into his mouth, "…what do you think?"

Superboy gulped, the egginess (really, he only had the chicken broth-soaked egg) drenching his tongue, "Pretty good—only had one bite though." But out of all the meals he had, it was definitely the most appetizing one.

"Well, I'll ask again when you finished it!" Dr. Higurashi beamed, an expression that had Superboy smiling in turn, "Oh and you can 'drink' it too. Noisier the better, it's a compliment to the chefs." She said, without a beat, before she dug in.

Superboy blinked, before he coughed a laugh at his Doctor's appearance and little sounds she made, "Noted, Doctor. I'll be sure to do that."

She was…really cute.

"What?" Dr. Higurashi paused at his chuckling, a thick weave of noodles was pitched in between her sticks.

He shook his head, aiming for a piece of chicken drifting in the noodles and broth, "Nothing, Doctor." His lifted cheeks told Dr. Higurashi otherwise, by a quirk of her brow. But, she didn't say a word and returned to her long lost love of a meal, her smile still glued on her lips.

Superboy decided it was quite a good lunch, his choice on picking a Japanese restaurant sound.

It felt good to make his Doctor's day.

"Robin,"

Shit.

"Wally." Wally visibly deflated only for Robin to see at Kaldur's silk voice floating from behind, "May we have a talk?" Craning their heads over their shoulders told them their gilled friend wasn't pleased to be left out of the loop, his pale eyes narrowing.

"Oh," Robin dropped a weak chuckle and invited Kaldur to the couch, "sup?" While they knew Kaldur wouldn't be upset, he still radiated an aura akin to a father or like a big brother—no one wants to disappoint their big responsible brother.

He probably wouldn't agree with their reasonings, but…Robin flopped an arm over the back of the sofa, his body language controlled and unreadable, Kaldur is the type to accept as the way things are.

Wally fidgeted, "Yo," he threw a wave, "what's going on?"

Accepting the invitation Kaldur seated himself next to Robin and settling his elbows on his knees, he eyed his younger friends, "It's regarding what you two told M'gann to lead her to misunderstand Dr. Higurashi. Would you two mind explaining why you mislead her?"

Robin thumped Wally's chest with his knuckles, "You started it, you explain it." He said frankly, resting both of his elbows over the back cushion.

"…You're a douche, bro." Wally muttered, his reply quiet. Under Kaldur's dubious gaze, he groaned and rubbed his face. "Fine. It was because of how obsessed SB was with the doc, okay!?" Wally threw his hands off in a sudden gesture, his words sharp with frustration.

Kaldur blinked, before he rose a brow, "…Obsessed? I'm sorry, but I am not understanding what you mean."

It was true that Superboy's behaviors completely changed when Dr. Higurashi returned, but Kaldur saw nothing out of ordinary. Superboy was respectful toward her, if not shy in his speech. Although, Kaldur reconsidered, there had been odd mannerisms, from when Superboy shadowed her around in the Cave to the way he emanated a hint of possessiveness—but Superboy wasn't a human.

Although alike in many ways, Kaldur's species differed from humans in many ways as well. One prime example he could think of is the courtship, instincts manifested seasonally, similar to wildlife. It was males who provoked females' interests, rather than females broadcasting their wants for children as were norm with most, if not all, species.

It shocked him to see that humans had no such seasons and could procreate any time they'd like. Unfortunately, humans also lacked instincts to treat others equally, domestic abuses sadly a common occurrence on the surface world. Physical mistreatments of their partners were unheard of in Kaldur's underwater home, their instincts barring them from laying their hands on their spouses to prevent harm on their children's developments. Though, emotional and verbal abuses does exist, but great many kept it subtle.

So, Kaldur understood the differences between humans and nonhumans better than most. He saw no reasons to dwell on Superboy's particularities, especially when he was causing no harm to anyone with those said particularities. It was likely that Superboy saw Dr. Higurashi as a very important individual in his life and monopolized her as a child would to their mother.

"Dude," Wally chipped in, cutting his thinking processes, "you weren't there, when Superboy talked about the Doc nonstop. He talked about literally everything about her—"

Kaldur shook his head, "That could be because she was all he kno—"

"No, you don't get it," Wally tried, hissing to keep his voice down, "he ain't talking about her like she was his mom—"

"Again, that could be jus—"

Wally snapped, irritated with Kaldur's denseness, "he legit worships her! I'm pretty sure that ain't normal, my dude."

A pregnant silence stretched. Robin scuffled with a slight cough, folding in his arms, at the volleyball of replies he was trapped under and shrunk himself from their views the best he could. Kaldur sighed, breaking the tension, "Superboy isn't a human, Wally. His logics differs from ours—yours in particular."

"I mean I get that—!" Wally sputtered, and expressed annoyed sounds when Kaldur disregarded him again.

"That told me nothing of why you two misled M'gann though." Kaldur eyed both of his friends, Robin in particular.

Wally threw his hands up, surrendering himself from the disagreements, and tucked his arms in to his chest, "I freaking gives, my guys." He muttered to himself, sulking into the cushions.

"…You're seriously ditching me to the lion?" Robin grimaced, twitching with an urge to hit the speedster. His reply was an annoyed shrug.

Kaldur hummed, mildly amused by their shenanigans, "I believe so—now, please explain."

Throwing a thumb over to Wally, Robin huffed, "He got an ulterior motive. What else is new?" He grinned, cheekily at Wally's cursing.

"Fuck both of you." Wally slapped the armrest, hopping to his feet so to sulk away to pout in private, "You know that ain't the why, Rob! MM is going to get hurt."

Keeping himself from rolling his eyes, Kaldur frowned when Wally neared to another threshold, "That'd be something she will have to learn, if Superboy indeed doesn't return her feelings, Wally—"

"Sorry for being so sensitive!" Came Wally's retort. He left the room, huffing all the way.

"…So he does have an ulterior motive. Hm." Kaldur palmed his face, releasing a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or shake his head at his friend. Both also sounded like a viable option.

A squeaky voice jumped both Kaldur and Robin to their feet, its words echoing in their heads, "You all fight so funny," their eyes darted to the black leather chair furthest from them and saw Tiny, "you no worry if Wall-e's right?" He wondered, as he continued to groom himself the best he could with his bulbous head. His little toes kept him at the very edge of the top of his chosen chair, talons pricking into the faux.

"Jesus!" Robin rasped, readjusting his dark glasses, "Don't scare us like that, little dude." Though, Tiny's awkward pronunciation of Wally's name was awfully cute.

Kaldur relaxed his tensions and found guilt on his tongue for forgetting the small creature's existence, "Apologies, we didn't know you were there," he caught Tiny's beady red eyes glancing back at him, through his skinny limbs, "if—if," Kaldur emphasized, "Wally's correct in his reasonings, then we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Hmm, 'kay, if you says so, Kalkal." Tiny jumped off, his size making it easy for them to miss where he was going.

"…Kalkal?" Kaldur rose a brow.

Robin wheezed.

Not ignorant to the smothered noises, he turned his attention to Robin, "Keep laughing, friend," Kaldur warned, "Tiny'll give you a name just as unattractive."

"Hey, don't jinx me!" Robin sniggered, not at all against the idea. Tiny was quite a cute little thing, and he suspected that Tiny is smarter than he appeared.

Scoffing, Kaldur nestled into his seat and crossed his legs, "Regardless, everything's cleared up for M'gann, so there's no reason to dwell on this now." He wanted answers, his curiosity was killing him.

Still, he was disappointed in Wally for being so shallow.

Typical.

"So, now it's a waiting game?" Robin slacked his head against the back of the sofa, already bored. His thumb brushed across the sleek glass surface of his phone, considering playing an online game he'd modded for his amusement. He was bored.

Kaldur glanced over from the side of his eyes, "For Black Canary, Superboy, and Dr. Higurashi, you mean?"

"Yea," Robin sounded his confirmation and curled in to his lap, his phone illuminating his glasses. He caved to the temptation of his game.

He shrugged, closing his eyes and rested his head backward on the cushion, "Shouldn't be too long, they're of the punctual sorts." A brief nap was in an order.

Neither Kaldur's napping or Robin's game lasted long, when a door hissed open. Roused from their inattention, they heard her before they saw her, "…Have Superboy and the Doctor gotten back yet?" Black Canary quirked a brow at the pair and then noticed the absent members, "Where's Wally and M'gann?"

"We haven't seen them, no," Kaldur corrected his posture and frowned at the following names, "and Wally is in another room somewhere. As for M'gann…" He pulled to his feet, straightening his shoulders when Black Canary approached, her heavy boots' filling the lobby with its clacks.

Tucking away his phone Robin pocketed his hands and mimicked Kaldur's actions, "I think she went shopping for some ingredients, shouldn't be long. She said something about blondies?" At Kaldur's puzzled look, Robin reminded, "Ya know, like those yellow brownies?"

Understanding dawned and Kaldur nodded, "Ah." He wasn't familiar with most of the surface-dwellers' cuisines, so it was a treat when he was able to savor them. M'gann's cookings opened some of those doors for him, something he more than appreciated.

"Hm," Black Canary's brows weighted to her eyes, "why don't you two get in touch with Wally and M'gann while I check on Superboy and the Doctor?"

Robin blinked, "They're not really late though?" He checked his wristwatch and saw they had about 15 minutes remaining before they were due to see her.

"No," she agreed, pulling her phone out from her jacket and woke it from its sleep, "but something came up so the drills would be cut short today—and I still do aim to test Dr. Genesis before Batman stopped by tonight."

Robin perked up at this implication, "We've a mission?" Kaldur rose his chin at his friend's breathless words, his pale eyes piercing the woman's back.

Black Canary paused, before she set Robin an amused look, "Good catch—which is why I think it'd be good for everyone to know more of the Doctor's capabilities." She tilted her head, "So get everyone here—"

"They're here!" Tiny's excited squeaking exploded in their heads.

Black Canary jolted, swiveling for this invisible threat and she shifted into a defensive posture, "What—"

"Yup, that's Tiny." Robin patted his chest, whooshing, "Might need to work with him to chill a bit and learn how to knock on the door—so to speak." He remarked, dropping his hand back into the pockets.

Black Canary blinked owlishly, "That…was the cute little gnome? He…wasn't this loud before, with J'onn." Her form slacked and she frowned, rubbing her forehead where the hammering of a mild migraine was, "Good lord…!"

"I'm assuming Tiny is saying Superboy and Dr. Hig—Genesis is here," Kaldur gestured toward the direction of where the Zeta Beam awaited, "so shall we go see them? I'd daresay Kid Flash've gotten the same announcement and if we're lucky," the doors slid open and the familiar green-skinned girl glided in, her arms full with brown bags, "so have Miss Martian."

M'gann darted over to the kitchen island, to set down her grocery, "What's going on?" She chirped, already packing away her hard-won purchases to their appropriate places, "I heard Tiny."

Climbing up the short flight of stairs, Black Canary's lips curled upward, "Everyone's here, wonderful. We should get started."

"People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built."—Eleanor Roosevelt

1*Her actual birthday is ambiguous due to multiple canons and other factors, so I went with a mix of dates suggested by Smallville wikia and adjusted the year to match up the timeline better. June is also a good month because it'd be quite a sad tragedy to die just days before your birthday. I've debated on whether if I wanted Lois to be older or younger than Kagome, but I decided she'd be slightly younger by a year. No real reason behind this decision and it doesn't really impact the actual story.

2* This movie is a reference to the 2000 film, Requiem of a Dream. I've never watched it, I never had a gut to, but I've heard inputs from some close friends of mine. Was said to be a good film but you'd need to have a strong stomach and you will never want to watch it again. However, it's a good intervention film for people who is struggling with drugs or are considering taking drugs or other substances, from what I understand, and would scare them straight. Thought it'd be something Wally would share. He'd feel terrible about sharing it but decided it'd be for the best to teach somewhat naïve Superboy the reality of what some criminals faced.

3* If I understood the Japanese culture correctly, smiling to strangers isn't standard in Japan. They found it strange and confusing with smiling because, to them, it represents not strictly happiness but rather everything in between anger to embarrassment, while in America, smiling means happiness and solely that. Plus, Japan emphasized importance on humility and emotion suppression. In the waitress' case, assuming she's born and raised in Japanese culture, she had to learn how to retail-smile because she's living in America. Of course, it could be because of work, since jobs will drain your soul.

4* Japanese school system, while one of the top performing system around national wide, carries a deep-seated unhealthy work culture with high suicide count/risks and bore multiple cases of bullying where the board of education commonly and purposefully overlooked. It's considered a great shame if your grades even dropped even half-letter in some families. It's nuts, but in a lot of ways can be comparable to our American systems with bullying and pressure. However, I hear in recent years the institutions are finally cracking down on the bullying issues due to the high suicide counts. So, things are looking up.

5* This scene is inspired by a gift fic I received forever ago, Chop-sticks by Julia N SnowMiko. If you really like SuperboyxKagome fluff, I highly recommend checking it out and give that uper cute story some well deserved love.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, hhhhh, but I won't provide excuses beyond adulthood. But hey, today's my birthday and I finally made it with this chapter! As per tradition, here's my gift to you. *hearts* Anyhoo, here I go on this chapter!

Well, now you know Superman's side of the story—or just bits of it. Consequences, while it does focus on Kagome and Superboy mainly, is also about Superman (by proxy, I suppose, on most parts). Honestly, I never had any intentions to portray him as a villain, especially when I've always seen Superman as the relentlessly good guy (I'm refusing to accept Injustice is a good comic, miss me with that nonsense). However, what is a good hero without flaws?

Plus, this story he actually had good reasons why he's avoiding Superboy (or rather, avoiding the subject of him and Kagome altogether) rather than the piss poor excuses we were given in canon. I imagined it'd be hard for anyone to face the reminders of your traumas (Kagome) and those who genuinely wanted to separate your head from your shoulders (Superboy). Add in a double whammy, the latter happened to be your clone who was created to destroy you. So, there's those basic reasons—made more senses to me than the canon, anyway.

This story should broadcast my attempt in making Clark more complicated and rounded—just like every good character should've been. Whether if I am successful, you be the judge and tell me. I'd like to see how I did and if needed, how I can improve from there. I'll try to divide my attentions a bit among the main cast (namely the Team and a small number of Justice League members) beyond Kagome and Superboy, but there's only so much I can do without dragging out the main story.

Otherwise, you readers got to see how our favorite duo are adjusting to each other, to other people, discovering some small details about certain characters, and actually interact like real people! About time, eh? As usual, hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and feel free to leave me your feedback! Critiques and suggestions are always appreciate~See you in 6+ months! (I may or may not be joking…lol)