More Young Justice Trash

Suspension

-A conner-centric about getting in trouble-

Conner had already had run-ins with the counsellors, the school officer, and once the actual police, because of his mental and behavioral issues. Everyone was tired, especially Conner. He'd thought he'd been meshing well with the other students until one of them called the cops on him and caused a school lockdown. He still didn't fully understand what he'd said or did that elicited such a reaction. He tried to ask the student about it afterwards, but her friends all said she didn't want to talk to him. 

Conner was generally honest, almost to a fault, as he'd overshared to a teacher about his emotional state: that just got him sent to the office and a 'parent or guardian' sent to collect him.

These had each been the drama-of-the-day for the Justice League, who seemed to view much of his life as a mildly interesting spectacle for them to raise their eyebrows over. Many of them had heard about his suspensions before even he had.

Red Tornado and Black Canary had separately spent hours researching behavioral issues, therapies, anything under the sun that could relate to Conner's troubles, neither ready to admit that they were out of their depths with him. 

It was hard, Conner was an alien grown in a pod and aged up to his teenage years, he didn't fit any single diagnosis as much as he was a comorbid of violence, dehumanization, and rejection-sensitivity. 

Conner didn't understand himself either, but he felt less humanoid every day. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he would never be like the others. Despite his contradictory genetics, Superboy would never be as human as Superman. Superman, M'gann, even the enigmatic John Smith blended into human society better than he did. It wasn't fair.

"Water?" Canary sat beside him, offering out a cup. Conner took it. "So, what happened this time?"

"Anthony Greaves." Conner replied. "First the light was buzzing, and my pencil broke again, and then Ms. Irving was angry at me for correcting her, and while she was yelling I heard Anthony Greaves call me a-- the R word."

"...So you flipped the table."

"Yes." Conner looked up from his feet, those uncanny blue eyes locking onto her. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not with me." She replied. "But you've got no school for the rest of the week and you have to write a formal apology to Ms. Irving."

"No!" Conner exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

Dinah sighed, she'd expected this reaction. This was Conner's third time being suspended, and he really ought to have been expelled at this point, but the boy had a few extra chances thanks to Bruce Wayne's financial meddling. "I know you don't want to. How about we write it together?"

The boy considered it, he could research, he was grammatically correct, but he always struggled when it came to being personal. Especially anything... well, vulnerable. Even the word 'vulnerable' made him feel unsafe and defensive. He'd appreciate if Canary could soften the blow of his email, which were often read as outright aggressive.

The email took a lot of effort, Conner did most of the typing and Canary read over his shoulder, offering insights on how to sound like he was genuinely sorry. To be fair, he was sorry, he felt shame for exploding like that in class again, Superman would never do that. He wished he could make everyone forget it ever happened and try again. Black Canary helped him mold those abstract feelings into words.

"I think that's good." She said, after about half an hour. "You did a good job, just send that off and we can move on to something else."

"Can I ask you something?" Conner asked suddenly, turning to face her. His face maintained the same slightly-confused-slightly-angry expression as it often did, though his voice was soft and unsure.

"What is it?" She sat back down, preparing herself to therapize. 

Conner bit his lips, frowning. "Am I... am I a bad person?"

"No!" She exclaimed, practically before he was finished. "No, Conner, what makes you think that?"

There were a lot of things: he wasn't patient or kind, he got in trouble with authorities, he knew he scared people and a small part of him enjoyed it... he wasn't like Superman, not in the ways he wished he was.
All he could come up with was: "I dunno," he muttered, staring at his feet.

"I don't think you're a bad person." Canary replied. "I think... I think you're troubled, and I think you're flawed, but you aren't a bad person."

"How do you know?"

"I don't for sure," She admitted, "but I'm flawed, and I've been your age." She thought over her next words carefully. "Let's just say, I know what it's like to compare yourself to a beloved hero." She didn't talk about her relationship with her mother much, nor her history with Wildcat, but she knew what it was like to have powers she couldn't control. She knew how frustrating it was, the downwards spiral that came with being a gifted child who was expected to fill their precursor's shoes with ease and surpass them. "I first got my cry when I was six, nearly sent my entire first-grade class to hospital, but do you know what the worst thing I did was?"

"What?"

"A vow of silence." She replied. "I thought I could protect people by bottling it up and never letting it out. That's why I encourage you to regulate and express our anger."

Conner thought for a long time. "Did you ever get in trouble?"

Canary laughed softly. "All the time, actually."

"Really?"

She nodded. "and the thought that it's your fault just makes it worse. So be patient with ourself, alright?" She stood. "Well, if you have the next few days off school, we'd better find something to keep you busy, huh?"

Conner nodded, also standing.

"I think Batman said they needed help shredding some classified documents or something, lets take a look."