Young Justice and Their Grandmother

Vesuvian Tempered Family Ties

-next part coming this weekend because I'm visiting my grandparents-

"What?"

"Sweetheart, you're my grandso—"

"I heard you!" He shouted, standing up sharply. "But, how? That's not possi—" he covered his ears, tensing and scrunching his face as if his thoughts were too loud. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, still angry, but slightly quieter.

"I'm sorry, I didn't really know the details, so I didn't want to rush you..."

"That's it isn't it? Thats those photos? That's superman? That's why you thought I was him?" The boy was speaking very fast, stumbling over his thoughts. "You've been weird and treating me so nice and talking to me like a child. Because I look like your son! You just liked that I looked like Superman so you didn't tell me—" His voice raised frantically, he was pacing fast enough to shake the floor, causing the glasses on the counter to rattle.

"Superboy?" Kaldur asked, following the shouting to the kitchen.

"Do you even like me? Do you just want me to be Superman?!" Conner gripped a glass waiting on the counter, he went to take a nervous drink, and heard a snap.

A long crack fractured its way down the glass. Conner, face and chest burning, threw the offending glass onto the wood, brushed with a very slight wave of serenity as the object shattered across the kitchen floor.

But that didn't sit with Ma at all.

"Hey!" The little old woman stood sharply, catching his eye contact and holding it. "We do Not do that!" She scolded, unafraid of the furious superhuman. She stormed closer, stopping just short of the shattered mess on the floor. "Pick that up right away, young man!"

Conner, stared back at her, his tightened stomach clashing abruptly with His fluttering chest. He felt sick. They hated him. Everyone hated him. He was going to vomit. The team, lead to the clatter, crowded in the livingroom door. Ma was inch's away, glaring upwards at him expectantly.

There was now way out. They hated him.

He trampled the broken glass. Luckily, the door wasn't locked, he nearly knocked it off it's hinges. He didn't know where he was going, but he needed to leave.

——————————————————————————————————

Voicemail. Again. 

Clark wasn't picking up. Neither was his boy, apparently. Across the table, Artemis lowered 

"He isn't calling you back, is he?"

She shook her head. "Nope." She wiped her nose and stood up. "I'm going to join the others, I bet we'll find him if we look long enough..." the girl said, though her tone faltered a little. "It's fine. He always comes home eventually."

"Does this happen often?" Martha asked, not sure if that helped or worsened her worry.

"Once or twice. I mean, not this, but once he ran away for about seven hours, but he had Wolf with him." She patted the beast's head, he ignored her. "And the other time he was MIA until the morning, but he had wolf again. I mean, they were both sort of unofficial missions he got wrapped up in... so I guess this hasn't really happened..." she admitted.

"I see."

"But it's Conner, he'll be safe." She said, lacking any and all luster. "Wolf, boy." She whistled, eager to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. "Let's go find Conner, huh?"

Wolf stood, towering over the two, and watched Artemis unlock the back door and grab her quiver. She scratched the dogs ear and swung her bow onto her back.

"Please be careful." Martha requested, she couldn't stand the idea of any of these children coming home Bruised and hurt from trying to fix a mistake she made. 

"I will!" Artemis slid her phone out and set it on the table. "Incase he calls back... or, if he comes home of his own accord. I have Robin on speed dial." She threw the door open. "Come on, Clifford!"

"What about—"

"Don't worry, I have a Handless communicator." She called. "See you later!"

Martha watched her bounce off across the field, chasing the dog into the early night darkness.

This was all her fault. She shouldn't have overwhelmed him like that. Clark said the boy was only about eight months old. No infant could handle that sort of stress, and when that baby is a teenager... a broken glass was inevitable. 

She knew worrying wouldn't bring him home, but she couldn't help it. He'd ran off alone, her only grandchild who she'd only just met. He was a child, a child who ran off alone, what if he was lost? What if he was hurt and scared?

She felt sick, she had done that, she had scared him away and he could be hurt because of her...

Her phong rang. She knew who it was "hello?"

"Hey Ma, sorry I didn't pick up, what do you want to talk about?" Her son's voice was edged with anxiety.

"Clark, the boy's gone."

"What?"

"Conner, what were you— Kon-El! He ran off!"

"Oh." Clark sounded a little relieved. "Batman complains about that, apparently he wanders a lot. Don't worry about it Ma."

"No, he didn't wander off... I—" she sniffled a little, which caused Clark to freeze over the line. "I tried to tell him I'm his Grandma, and the poor boy couldn't handle it..." she recounted the events, distraught. "The children are you looking for him now, but what if he doesn't want to come back? I'm his only family. We're his only family."

"What, uh, I can help looking for him maybe?"

"I just need you to accept the boy and get to know him. He needs a safe family. He needs to know that I love him, not just for looking like you. He needs our support."

"Okay, uh, I'll get stuff in line...." Clark said. "I need to figure out how to do this..."

"I'm sure it would also help if you looked for him."

"I'll join in if he's not back by the morning." Clark promised. "Right now I... I need to call Batman."

Martha set down her telephone and checked the oven clock, letting out a long, aching sigh.