More Young Justice Trash

Withdrawal

-Conner-centric part Ft. Lex Luthor's A+ Parenting- 

He was starting to get closer with superman; they'd meet, they'd exist together, it was nice. But Conner didn't know if he was safe to confide in yet. He certainly couldn't confide in him about this...

First he was impatient, even more so than usual; he paced busily and wrung his hands.  Then the itching started, he scratched his shoulders, stomach, and thighs until they were raw and bloody. His mood and energy had dropped violently, he could barely get around the mountain, let alone feed himself or wolf.

There were still shield-shaped imprints on his stomach, thigh, shoulder... each surrounded by vicious scratch marks. He tried coffee, a lot of it, but nothing was quite enough. He tried nicotine patches, but to his disappointment, they were nothing similar to his other patches.

Ah yes, the point of the matter; patches. He needed patches.

"Red, I'm fine."

"Superboy," The android lifted him up from the floor and set him on his feet. "You aren't well."

"I'm fine!" He snapped.

"What's wrong?" M'gann hovered by the door, gripping her school bag; they were running late as is.

"It seems Superboy is suffering from overwork." Red Tornado diagnosed. "I advise you stay home today."

"I don't need to!"

"I'll be calling you in sick." 

Dinah didn't know what was wrong, but she tried to help. She saw his scratched-raw skin and the nicotine patches, the irritability-- oh she knew him well enough to know the difference between Conner's normal irritability and irregular irritability-- she saw him miss school days and barely hold his own in training.

She asked and pried and offered counselling, but the boy was cagey and distanced. So she tried hopelessly, worrying that it was only a matter of time until he went off the rails again. She had to admit she was fond of the boy, but he lived in a cycle of crisis and recovery. She just wished she could stop the crisis before it happened.

"Hey, I hear you aren't feeling well?" She tapped on the door to his closet, it swung open an inch. "...Conner?" She ripped the door practically off its hinges. "Conner!" But he was gone.


"Clark." She said into the phone, crouching against Wolf's heaving chest, laying aside her grudge for a minute. "are you and Conner meeting today?" Dinah toyed with her hair nervously. Wolf snorted and lay down. "He didn't tell me, usually when he's meeting you he's up the night before pacing and-- well. Are you meeting?"

"No?" A tired voice replied. "Dinah, I'm at work--"

"Conner's not here," She snapped. "is he with you?"

"No, we met last Thursday. I thought he was mad at me actually, he couldn't sit still." Clark replied, and frankly she was sick of him. Conner might be willing to forgive, but Dinah could never after what he did to the boy. "What's wrong?"

"Come in, son."

Conner didn't waste time questioning how Luthor knew it was him. "Give me more."

"More of what?"

"Shields!" He grunted.

"And why, pray tell, should I give you what you want after that stunt you and your little friends pulled on new year's eve?"

"I need them."

"The shields? or your friends?" Luthor shook his head with an amused smile. "No, we both know which one you were talking about. I have something you need." Lex sat on the corner of his desk, toying with an atlas. "So, you need me?" Conner didn't respond, the man dropped the atlas act. "You need my help, don't you?"

"Yes." He forced out. "sir."

"Sir? You are desperate, aren't you?" Lex tutted reproachfully. "Why so tense? relax; it's only me here..."

"Why would I trust a villain?" Conner stated.

"Oh dear. Now that's quite concerning, isn't it?" The man began to pace wearily. "I was worried that letting you play superheroes might be filling your head with all of that good guy, bad guy nonsense... Still, It's my own fault; so determined to recreate superman I prescribed a bit too much of his more difficult traits. But I made you stubborn and smallminded, so I'll be the bigger person and live with the consequences."

Conner bit the inside of his cheeks. "Shields."

"Come now, full sentences please." Luthor tutted. "May I please..."

"May I please have more shields." He grunted, teeth digging into his cheeks.

The man removed a chain of tiny clinking silver keys. "Well, since Superboy is using his polite words..."

There was a burst and blood flooded superboy's mouth. Before he could react, thick orange liquor was pouring out onto his shoes and the rug below.

"Nervous, are we?" Lex slid a box of tissues across the desk redundantly. "Don't worry, I'll have someone come clean this up." Conner couldn't reply, trying in vain to catch the blood between his fingers. The man unlocked one of many drawers of his desk and removed an envelope. "Do wipe your hands before opening, please." Luthor took and folded a tissue, reaching out and deliberately wiped a thick trickle of blood from Superboy's chin. 

"Don't touch me." He slurred around the blood, pulling away and sending more dribbling down his lip.

"Hold still, I'm helping you."

He pulled away, trying to avoid his creator, but Lex caught his face and held him fast, wiping his mouth clean before he could react.

"Stop! " Conner yanked away from him, nearly slipping on the bloody carpet.

"Strange..." Luthor said. "You've got your father's eyes, but the Tapetum Lucidum seems t have come forward at some point in the animation process." He paced behind his desk, motioning theatrically. "You're flat, desaturated." He slid the envelope across the desk. "This might help."

"Is that it?" Conner tore across the room, snatching at the envelope so fast he missed it twice. He tried to force a wide, inarticulate finger between the folds before giving up and tearing at it with his teeth.

"Slow down, you'll hurt yourself." Lex said rhetorically. 

Superboy ripped the paper violently, scrambling around the carpet for the patch. with a hiss of pain and satisfaction, he lodged it into his upper bicep. "Yes." He panted, "Yes." wincing as the chemical his his bloodstream. "Yes." His words dissolved into self-directed murmurs of ecstasy; all his muscles so fueled that his body seized right there on the rug.

"My, My, you really wanted that, didn't you?" Luthor bent, raising an eyelid to check dilation as the boy trembled with adrenaline. "I cut the formula I'm afraid, but it feels good, doesn't it?"

Superboy swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Good. Now thank your father and run on home like a good hero."