Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world around him was gone. Blue skies, fluffy clouds, and the cold rock he laid in. Everything was gone except the harsh yell of his father and warm blood covering him. Some of it his own. Mark could hear his nose cracking, red flashing in his vision, and his dad slamming a fist into his face.

It hurt. Everything did, really. Mark wanted to reach out and stop his dad, to do anything. But his body betrayed him, too weak to move. Even breathing started to feel like a chore.

But why bother?

Dad made it clear he can't beat him. How weak and stupid he was for trying, thinking he could save lives. Mark heard his dad's voice shouting at him, his blurry form rearing back for another punch. His dad was stark red compared to the blue sky behind him.

"I could always start again!" With another punch, his vision blacked out for a second.

"Make another kid-" For once, his dad paused. Something cool clipped around his wrist, and he heard Dad smash something. It sounded metallic. "Fucking Cecil," he muttered.

Mark couldn't see anymore. His eyes were swollen shut, and it was hard to breathe. But he could hear. He could hear shouting and cursing from his father, he could hear a rush of wind whip past his ears. His body dropped, the cold wind biting into his skin. Mark knew he should fly, lift himself, but every movement was agonizing and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He could also hear talking. Once the wind died, a deep voice murmured. Mark coughed, blood spurting out of his mouth. Everything hurts. Dad beat him across the entire world, after all. He could feel the air, warmer than before. The ground beneath him wasn't rough rock, cracked by being thrown into it. Instead, it was smooth. Mark silently thanked whoever took him away from his dad, grateful for the silence and relief- what little there was. Their deep voice was comforting, in a way, not harsh like his dad's.

Though he couldn't thank them, he could hardly breathe.

"Thank…" he tried to whisper out if there was anyone there. But the world was fading fast, and Mark wondered if he was dying. Strangely enough, he wasn't too bothered by such a thought.

—-----

Superman, or Clark, loved helping people. He liked seeing their faces, happy and relieved. He liked feeling helpful, someone people could count on to save them. Knowing that if danger comes, Superman would be there. There was nothing more fulfilling than the life of a hero. It had its downsides, Clark couldn't deny that, but he wouldn't trade his life for anything. It was also strange being a hero, which is why Clark wasn't shocked to see a figure fall from the sky. He was a little shocked, admittedly.

Clark was doing his once-a-day patrol, to ensure Metropolis's safety. While also handing over a little girl's cat who was stuck in a tree. Before he heard a loud boom from the sky. Clark snapped his head up, seeing a flash of light before a small figure plummeting.

"Sorry, I've got to go," he said to the girl, before taking off to the sky. He quickly sailed under the figure, catching them in his arms. "Don't worry, I've got you-" Clark muttered, descending to a nearby building.

However, he was caught off guard by the state of the person. There was blood all over them. Their face was swollen beyond recognition, and they- or perhaps he- wore a hero-like suit. Clad in yellow, black, and blue. The blood covering him was slowly seeping into his arms, warm and fresh. Clark carefully laid them down on a rooftop, staring at the unknown man… or maybe a boy. He looked quite young, perhaps in his late teens. Luckily, Clark could still hear a strong heartbeat from the boy, he didn't know how long that would last.

"Thank…" the boy whispered, coughing up small spurts of blood. Before his entire body relaxed on the floor.

"Sir? Are you awake?" Clark asked, leaning over him. He got no further response. He must've passed out from his injuries.

A hospital would be a good option, but… Clark had his suspicions. The boy didn't look normal, and he fell from the sky. If he brought him to a hospital, who knows what they may find? He didn't want the boy to end up locked up by the government, he didn't have the same protections as a normal hero. Especially if he turned out to be an alien. "Ok, maybe not a hospital…" Clark groaned, this was getting difficult. He had to do something, he couldn't leave the boy to die. "Fine. Man, Bruce is gonna kill me," he muttered to himself, scooping the boy up and taking off to the skies.

If Bruce can't help him, then he'll give the boy to a hospital. He wasn't about to risk his life because Clark found him un-human. No human fell from the sky coated in blood… If all that blood on him was his.

Clark found himself in Gotham, landing just outside Wayne manor, where he knew a secret entrance to the Batcave lay. Clark sighed, "Bruce! Let me in!" He shouted, knowing there was a camera. There's always a camera. "I've… uh, got an issue."

Finally, the hedges parted, allowing him in. Clark walked down the long metal hallway before reaching the Batcave. Sure he could force himself in, but he wanted to be polite this time. Since he's dropping a kid off.

"Clark," he was greeted as soon as he stepped into the cave. Bruce was in costume too, eyes narrowing at the sight of the boy. An unsaid question in his posture.

"I... uh, I found him. He fell from the sky, and I don't know why. He needs medical care," Clark explained, to Bruce, leading him to the med bay.

"No hospital?"

"I'm not sure. He's not human, I think. I don't know if that'd be the best idea."

Bruce grunted, allowing him to walk into the med bay first. He laid the boy down, seeing his face twist in pain before relaxing again. "I don't allow metas in Gotham."

"Well, I don't allow people to die, Bruce. So are you gonna help him or not?" Clark muttered, he already knew the answer. Especially with how Bruce stared at the boy. "He's just a kid, Bruce." The man turned his head away.

"Fine. I'll call Leslie. See what she can do."

Clark smiled, "thank you."

Bruce turned around, cape whipping behind him. Always dramatic, huh? Clark on the other hand, stayed, looking at the boy who fell from the sky. Was he an alien? Or a superhero? He sighed, deciding to tend to the boy, what little he could do. Whipping the blood off of his face and dirt littering his body.

For now, it didn't matter where the boy came from. All that mattered was his survival.

—----

"Bruce, I can't keep stealing medical supplies," Leslie chided, tending to this random boy Clark brought in. Bruce grunted, he knew that.

"I stocked the med bay. There should be plenty," he's dragged Leslie into here so much that he kept the med bay stocked with medical supplies, much to her own disdain.

"He needs a blood transfusion, a cast on both of his legs, and he has multiple bone fractures," Leslie sighed, standing up to face him. "This is… crazy Bruce. He’s lucky he doesn't need surgery, otherwise, this would be out of my league. But the damage is… severe."

"Can you help him?" Clark asked, just outside the med bay. Hovering like a concerned father, Bruce fought down a smirk at the thought.

"I can try. Now leave me alone, I don't need you two meddling-"

"Leslie," Bruce rumbled, stepping forwards.

She glared at him, "Bruce," she responded, and he kept her gaze. She knew what he wanted. Then her shoulders fell, "here," she set a small syringe filled with blood into his hand. Bruce nodded, walking out of the med bay.

"A blood sample?" Clark asked, following him to the Batcomputer. Bruce didn't answer that question, especially when the answer was obvious. "Right. Of course," Clark muttered, clearing his throat. He deposited the blood into his DNA scanner, watching the loading bar appear on the screen.

"You want to know if he's human?" Bruce said, gesturing to the screen. "This is how."

Over the past two weeks, Bruce found himself tending and experimenting with the boy and his strange blood. It seemed nothing could hurt the cells, nothing. They were practically invincible. Clark was right in his assumption, the boy wasn't human. Which then begged the question, what was he? All searches of his DNA brought up nothing, he was part human and part something else. Alien? Meta? Bruce doesn’t know.

"He's not Kryptonian, right?" Clark asked, the two standing in the med bay. Watching over the sleeping boy. Who had healed faster than a normal human, Bruce would add a healing factor to his invincibility.

"No. Kryptonite had no effect on his blood," Bruce answered. That had been the first thing he tried after testing the blood's invincibility. It was his first guess, maybe another clone. Since Clark liked to hand out his DNA like candy.

"Then what…?" Clark trailed off, his face becoming pinched. He walked over to the boy, leaning his ear to him. Faintly, Bruce could see his lips moving.

"Clark?" Bruce asked, stepping beside him. It was then that he could hear muttering from the boy. Too faint for him to hear. "What's he saying?" He demanded.

Clark's face went pale, "he's… begging someone to stop. To not hurt anyone," He whispered, eyes flickering to Bruce. He hummed, leaning away from the boy.

"I'm not surprised. He's covered in blood, and it's not just his," Bruce said. Of course, he wasn't covered in blood now. But when he first came in, Bruce was sure he bathed in blood before arriving here.

"Then who is he? Whose blood does he have on him?" Clark said, looking at him for answers.

Bruce shook his head, "That's the thing, Clark. I have no clue. The computer came up with nothing regarding him or the multiple DNA samples on him."

"Multiple?" Clark exclaimed, jolting upright. His raised voice had the boy twisting his head, sweat beating down his forehead. Bruce pressed a finger to his lips, Clark muttering an apology.

"Too many to differentiate," Bruce said, glaring at his patient. The boy mumbled a few more words, twitching a little before going still once more. Relaxing into the sheets.

Clark thinned his lips, "he was calling for his mom," he whispered. Bruce didn't like how Clark looked at him, the sympathy that painted his face. Clark was concerned, and, hovering.

Bruce turned away from the boy, "Go home Clark. I can take care of him."

"But what about the blood-"

"I'll update you if I find out anything else," Bruce cut him off, turning to his friend. It was best for Clark to leave this to him, he had a family to look after. He didn't have time to worry about a mystery boy. "Lois doesn't appreciate you being late for dinner."

Clark jumped, "wait, is it six already?" He stammered, rushing out of the med bay. That put a pep in his step. "Tell me when he wakes up, ok?" Bruce grunted, and Clark disappeared in a flash. He spared the unconscious boy one last glance.

"I have a feeling you aren't from around here…" Bruce muttered, before quickly leaving the med bay. He wouldn't get any more information until the boy finally woke up.

Chapter Text

The darkness faded, and Mark slowly opened his eyes. He could hear the sound of a heart monitor, and his entire body ached. But he was alive. Alive and-

Definitely not in a government hospital. The ceiling wasn't bright white and littered with fluorescent lights, it was actually rather dark. His bed- while comfortable- lacked the usual machinery of a hospital. Mark knew what the government medical facility looked like, this wasn't it.

Mark shot up, and instantly regretted the action. Pain shot up his entire body, and he groaned, lying back down. Bad idea. Really bad idea. He was in some sort of medical facility, but everything was unfamiliar. There were other beds around him, a simple large room with a few medical supplies laid about. From what he could see, it wasn't a regular hospital. Which made his situation more concerning. If he wasn't in a hospital, then where was he-

He froze, eyes catching a dark figure standing in the corner. He blinked a few times, but the dark figure remained. Mark tensed, and despite him feeling better, he didn't have much faith in fighting. Not when his body still ached.

"You're awake," The shadow rumbled, voice deep and commanding. The shadow stepped towards him, Mark could make out two pointed tips atop a cowl that covered the upper half of his face. A long cape shouldered around his entire body and heavy footfalls walked towards him, commanding silence. He almost looked like Darkwing. If he was scarier and far more intimidating. Mark gulped, almost afraid to open his mouth and reply.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, and the man stopped at his bedside. Two blank, white eyes bored straight into his soul. Mark looked away from the man, wondering if he landed in the hands of a villain."Where… who-" he started, only to be cut off.

"You're in the Batcave," The Batcave. Right. The man said it like he should know where it was. But the thing is, Mark doesn't. He doesn't know anything about his situation or who this man was. "Superman found you falling from the sky, he brought you here. Luckily he did. The hospital wouldn't have been able to pierce your skin," The man explained.

"Right," Mark muttered. Who's Superman? Did he fall from the sky? Mark didn't remember any of that, only faint blurs and feelings. He remembered the wind rushing past him before he passed out… Was that him falling?

"Who are you?" The man's voice pierced his thoughts. Mark snapped his gaze up to the cowled man, his white eyes narrowed. He sat a little taller, hoping it'd make him look braver than he felt.

"I'm Invincible," He said, despite his mask not being there. Or his entire suit. That was stupid to say, he revealed himself to be Invincible. Mark internally smacked himself. However, no flash of recognition appeared on his face.

The man paused, mouth tugging into a frown. "No, you aren't. You were bleeding."

Is this guy serious? Judging by his face, the answer was yes, he was serious. "No no, I mean I'm the hero, Invincible- y'know what? Nevermind. I'm Mark Grayson. Just… Just ignore what I said previously," Mark sputtered, failing to save himself. He was so dead. But he lucked out, the man didn't recognize his hero-name.

"Grayson?" The man muttered, eyes widening a little. That part was surprising? If anything, his name ‘Mark Grayson’ was the most normal part about him.

"Yes, and you are…?" He trailed off, and the man somehow frowned deeper. Was his face always locked in a permanent scowl?

"Batman," Right, Batman. First Superman, now Batman, and he's in the Batcave. Seriously, what is going on? Where the fuck is he? What happened with- with, well, everything! Where's his dad- Actually, he doesn't want to see him right now. Maybe his dad not being here was a good thing. Mark would much rather be home, or in a hospital, with his mom. Not in… wherever this was. With a bat-man who was a little scary and also knew his secret identity. Because Mark just blurted that out, like a genius.

"Ok. I see the theme," Mark said, taking a deep breath, ignoring his slowly spiraling thoughts. This guy hadn't killed him yet so that was good. Maybe he's a new superhero? Or he's a supervillain. He looked like a supervillain.

"You don't know who I am," he said the words like a statement when it should really be a question.

So Mark confirmed it, "Nope. I also don't know who Superman is or where the Batcave is," Mark sighed. At least he didn't have to keep pretending he knew this man. "Listen, can I just leave? I have to get back to my mom and… other stuff."

"No," is this guy serious? He didn't even hesitate to decline.

"No?" Mark exclaimed, sitting up. This time, it didn't hurt as much. Only pinpricks of pain danced around his body. But it still made him wince, rubbing at his back before facing the man again. "You can't keep me here, that's kidnapping," Batman raised a brow as if Mark was crazy. Then a new voice entered.

"Unluckily for you, B here kidnaps any kid with black hair," Mark saw a new person standing at the doorway. This time dressed in full skin-tight black clothes, with a blue symbol across the chest. He wore a simple blue eye mask and a confident smile. He seemed more friendly than Batman, who had backed off a little. Much to Mark's relief.

"Who…" he trailed off, looking between the new guy and Batman.

"Nightwing," Batman muttered, and Nightwing gave him a salute, smiling. Mark was tempted to smile back before his words sunk in. Wait, kidnapping was normal for this guy?? Ok, Mark's had enough of this. He needed to go home.

"Well, I really appreciate the help, seriously. But I've got to go," he turned his body, which ached as he moved. Begging him to lay back down, but he had no such intentions. Mark easily yanked out the wires, and IV, and stood up. Mark hissed in pain, his legs protesting at standing up. Sharp pinpricks of pain raced up them, refusing to straighten. He huffed, forcing himself to stand straight despite the pain stabbing them. He eyed Nightwing, who had his hands out, ready to catch him. Mark frowned at him, "I'm fine. I'm all good to go, thank you," He went to walk past Batman- rather slowly, since his legs still hurt like hell- but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He tensed, afraid Batman might force him to stay.

"No. Listen, Mark," Batman said. Despite himself, Mark stopped to listen. "You're not home. You're not in your universe. This is a different universe, one you aren't familiar with," Mark turned around, appalled. Because what the actual fuck?

"Are you serious?" He muttered. Batman didn't say anything, but the silence answered for him. It might explain why they didn't know who Invincible was. Mark didn't want to toot his own horn, he's made quite the name for himself. Batman might be telling the truth, and it's easier to go along with it than to argue. If he's lying, then Mark can fly out of here. "Ok… alright. How do I get back?" Mark pressed, Batman walked past him and out the door without a word. Cape flaring behind him. All the while Mark stood there, confused.

Nightwing gave him a pitying smile, "that means follow him," he said, before slipping out as well. Mark shook his head and followed, because what else could he do? Say no and lay back down? Tempting, but he's slept enough. Now he had to find a way out of here.

Outside the med bay was living up to how Batman described. Batcave was an appropriate term for it. "Woah," Mark muttered. It was huge, filled with technology and equipment Mark had never seen before. He spun around to look at each bit of the cave, filled to the brim with cars, vehicles, weapons, and planes- was that a giant penny?

"I know this might be hard to believe…" Nightwing started, and Mark stopped turning around to look at Nightwing. Who had an amused smirk on his lips. "But it's true. You're not from this world."

"No, I can believe it," Mark whispered, walking over to the giant computer screen, where Batman was sitting. "I fought aliens from another dimension, it was a whole thing," he whispered, still in awe of his surroundings.

"So you're a hero?" Nightwing said, leaning against the computer desk.

"Kind of," Mark muttered. He was a hero, but now? He wasn't sure if he wanted to be one. Nightwing opened his mouth to ask further, only for Batman to interrupt.

"Your blood is immune to every form of damage, your skin is harder than diamond," Batman turned around to face him. "What are you?" There was a dangerous tint in his voice, one that set his hair on end. However, Mark faced scarier than a man in a bat costume.

"Uh, how about you prove this is another universe and not some… elaborate kidnapping," Mark shot back, pointing a finger at Batman. He glared at him, and Mark almost took his words back. Maybe he shouldn't antagonize his kidnapper.

But Batman pushed his chair aside, gesturing to the computer. "Search up a hero team," he ordered. Google pulled up.

Mark spared Batman a weary glance before approaching the keyboard. "Ok," he muttered, typing in 'Guardians of the Globe'. What popped up was… not what he expected. It didn't show the old or new Guardians, instead random people he didn't know. Random shit, basically. "Wait hold on," Mark whispered, typing in his own superhero name. 'Invincible, the superhero'. What came up were images of other superheroes, ones who were invincible- or thought to be. Not him. It was as if he and the guardians didn't exist like he was in-- well, another universe.

He stepped away from the computer, Batman staring at him. Mark didn't like his stare, it felt like every bit of his movement was being analyzed. "Do you believe me now?" He asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," he muttered.

Batman then typed his own name into the search bar, and multiple images of Batman popped up. A shit ton. He must be a very famous superhero in this world. "As you can see, I'm a hero. As is Nightwing," he closed Google, turning to him again. "So I'll ask again: what are you?"

Mark knew there was no point in lying, what harm could be done if he told them his nationality. He's in another universe, he doesn't exist here. "I'm a Viltrumite- half, anyways. My mom's human," when no flash of recognition passed over their faces, Mark elaborated. "Viltrumites are an alien race," he said, trailing off.

Nightwing snapped his fingers, "Ah, ok. So you're a half-alien?" Not the reaction he was hoping for, but it worked. He hoped they'd recognize the alien race, but clearly, they didn't exist here. Or, Nightwing and Batman weren’t aware of the Viltrumite race.

"Pretty much," Mark said with a shrug. Viltrumites haven't made their presence known. Which was good. Batman turned back to the computer, bringing up an image of a wristwatch. Or it looked like one, it wasn't a traditional watch. It had a futuristic sleek look to it.

"On your body was this watch, it appears normal. But it has advanced teleportation capabilities," Batman explained. Showing various schematics of the watch and its inner workings. Nothing Mark could make sense of.

"I… I don't remember wearing that," he muttered. His memory was pretty fuzzy, at least concerning the moments before he passed out. He remembered everything else, except the watch and arriving here.

"I suspect it might have brought you here. We could engineer it to take you back, but that would take time," Batman said. "Weeks, perhaps months," Mark frowned, he didn't want to wait weeks, let alone months. He needed to get home, make sure his dad wouldn't hurt anyone, and make sure his mom was ok. However, he doesn’t have a say in the matter. He couldn't magically fix the watch and neither could Batman.

"That's fine. As long as I get home as soon as possible," Mark said. What else was he supposed to say, hurry up? This guy saved his life, he deserved some respect.

Batman nodded, "We'll try," Batman stood up, and Nightwing was grinning. Looking at Batman who seemed to try his best to not look at Nightwing. He felt like he was missing something.

"Where will I go in the meantime?" Mark asked. It was a genuine question, so why the hell was Nightwing chuckling?

"How old are you?" Batman asked, and Nightwing covered his mouth. Mark could still hear the stifled giggles behind his hand.

"Seventeen," Mark answered, what was so funny?

Batman gave a heavy sigh, and Nightwing wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Batman still refused to look at the man, even as he was leaning against him. Grinning. "How many is it now? A hundred?" He said in a light tone, Batman shrugged his arm off, taking a step away from him.

"I still have many questions about you. Especially about the blood you were covered in. It wasn't just yours," Batman said, stepping towards him. Nightwing's smile fell, and Mark was under a heavy glare. He tried to stand straight and look Batman in the eye.

"I- I was trying to save them," Mark said, hating how his voice cracked. "But I couldn't."

'Now or in 50 years when he's old. What difference does it make?' His dad's voice rang in his head.

Mark turned away from Batman, shame crawling up his throat. What kind of hero couldn't save anyone?

Batman's glare softened, "I understand," He muttered, glancing at Nightwing, who was wiggling his brows. Batman scowled at him. Mark was really missing an inside joke here. "Then you'll stay here. You'll promise not to say anything about our identities or the Batcave. If you do, it'll be the last thing you say," Batman muttered, and Mark was quick to nod.

"Got it. My lips are sealed."

Batman gave a heavy sigh, "ok. Nightwing- or should I say, Dick. Show Mark to a guest room," Dick? Wow, a little harsh. Batman tugged off his cowl, looking at Mark. "You can call me Bruce." Oh shit, his name was Dick, it wasn't an insult.

"Right. Uh, thank you, Bruce," he muttered, Nightwing tugging off his own mask. His blue eyes were filled with merit. While Bruce looked about as grumpy as he did with the cowl on.

"I believe I can handle that sir," a British voice said, standing at the entrance to an elevator. He had an elevator? This guy is rich. "I'm Alfred, Master Wayne's Butler," Butler??? Mark walked over to him, giving a small smile, trying to hide his utter shock over Bruce having a butler. Should he be surprised? He has a giant cave.

"Mark Grayson," as soon as he said his name, Dick- what kind of name is that- choked on his own spit. Coughing up a storm. Mark blinked, "are you ok?"

"Fine! I'm fine," Dick wheezed, shaking his head.

Alfred was unfazed, "follow me Master Grayson."

"Uh, you can just call me Mark," he said, stepping into the elevator with Alfred.

"Master Mark then."

"No, I- ugh, sure," he could see Alfred smirk from the corner of his eye. The elevator door closed, leaving the amazing cave behind, and Mark, with the butler.

What a strange day indeed.

—-----

"Tim, there's no need to hide," Batman said, turning back to the Batcomputer once the elevator closed.

"I was observing," Tim, who descended from the rafters, argued. "Also Mark Grayson? Do you have something to tell us, Dick?" Tim said, grinning.

Dick coughed one last time, "he's from another universe. We aren't related…" he paused. "I think."

"You aren't related. I did a DNA test," Batman muttered, pulling up Mark's DNA. "His DNA matches no one in this universe."

"Here I thought Dick had a long-lost brother," Tim muttered, Dick chuckled a little.

"You could've warned me B, I wasn't expecting him to have my last name!" He exclaimed, chuckling to himself.

"It wasn’t important, besides,” Bruce said, as Dick leaned against the desk again. "Grayson is a common name."

"Yeah, well, you ended up adopting another Grayson anyways," Dick said, pointing a finger at him. "Do you like the name?" Bruce hunched his shoulders, he really doesn’t want to talk about this.

"B, you have a problem," Tim said. "I mean, another one? Black hair too!"

Dick nodded along, "That's what I said!"

"I couldn't let him free, it's too dangerous. We don't know how much power he possesses," Bruce said back, he had his reasons. It's not like he kidnaps every black-haired kid on the streets… besides, he only did that with Jason. Right?

"If he's an orphan, then he'll be adopted," Dick said, nodding his head. Bruce groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he wondered why he took in so many kids, and why they insisted on torturing him.

"Keep an eye on Mark. I'll inform everyone else of his presence and that he's aware of my identity."

"And why'd you reveal that?" Tim asked, raising a brow.

"Convenience. He would find out anyway, why prolong it?" Bruce muttered, they always do. He's also from another universe, once he got back, it wouldn't matter if he screamed that Bruce was Batman to the whole world. In his universe, Batman doesn't exist. Considering he didn't recognize the name Bruce or Batman. He wasn't planning on letting Mark out of the manor either.

"Ok Big Bird, you watch your long-lost brother. I want to mess with his blood," Tim stated, walking away. Bruce felt like he should be concerned.

"He's not- ah, whatever," Dick sighed and walked towards the elevator. Muttering words under his breath. "Have fun!" Dick called, the elevator door closing in front of him. Bruce didn't say anything, instead filing a report for Mark. He finally got a name, age, and race. Though Bruce doesn’t know what being a Viltrumite entailed. But he'd find out soon enough, for now, He could create a basic report on Mark. So far, however, Tim had found no weaknesses in the blood, which was concerning.

If Mark had no weakness, then he could be a serious danger to Gotham, and perhaps the world as a whole.

Chapter Text

Mark's whole situation was strange. First his dad and now… this. Being led by a butler through a manor in a different universe. Everything looked fancy and cost more than he would make his entire life. It was huge as well. He was lucky to be saved by Batman- or Bruce, he said to call him. He wasn't a supervillain, at least, he didn't think so. He sure as hell looked like one.

"This way, Master Mark," Alfred said, going upstairs. Alfred refused to drop the 'master' part when saying his name, no matter how much he insisted. It felt weird, he didn't like being called Master, but Alfred wouldn't budge. Mark had a feeling he would never change his mind.

"So… is Bruce super rich?" He said, catching up to Alfred. A stupid question, considering he's walking through a very fancy manor with a butler. Of course, he's fucking rich, but how rich?

"Master Bruce inherited his father's company after his passing. So yes, he is, as you say, 'super-rich."

Mark hummed, "So a millionaire?"

Alfred's mouth twitched, "try billionaire," Mark's eyes widened. Scratch that, he was very lucky to be taken in by Bruce. A very lucky man indeed. He eyed his surroundings with awe, though he kept the awe to himself. He wasn't some bright-eyed kid after all. Not anymore.

"Alfred, who is this?" They stopped at the top of the stairs, and before them stood a small child. Black hair, green eyes, and tan skin. Along with a scowl, which seemed like a permanent thing on his face. Much like Bruce, actually.

"This is Master Mark. He will be staying with us till your father finds a way to send him back to his universe," Alfred explained. Oh, he's Bruce's kid? That makes a lot of sense. The boy's face contorted, making his distaste known to him.

"Father shouldn't allow just any trash inside," The boy spat. Rude little brat.

"The fuck is your deal?" Mark exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. He turned to Alfred, "Who is this kid?"

"That would be-" Alfred was cut off by the boy.

"Damian Wayne. The only true son of Bruce Wayne," He said, crossing his arms. Wow, did this kid have an ego. What is he, ten? He really shouldn't be so cocky when within Mark's kicking distance. But Mark didn't have it in him to argue with a kid, let alone care to. He was tired, having just woken up from a week-long nap. Or two weeks. Bruce never told him how long he was out, Mark didn't ask either. Too distracted by the Batcave and Batman.

"Uh, good for you?" Mark said, which angered the kid more.

"You don't deserve to be here, to soil Father's residence," Why the hell was a kid talking like that? Or do rich kids always talk like they had a dictionary up their asses?

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't be here," Mark said back. "But I don't. I'm here, so deal with it," it came out a lot more snappy than he meant, but it shocked the kid enough for Mark to slip past. Ignoring his glare and attempting to snag his attention again.

"Are you running away?" Damian snapped after him, Mark pretended he couldn't hear the kid. The last thing he needed was a rivalry between a ten-year-old.

"Your room is at the end of the hall, Master Mark! I apologize for Damian's behavior!" Alfred called.

"Don't apologize for me!"

"Thanks," he called back, walking down the hallway. The kid didn't say anything else as he walked into his room, and for that, Mark was relieved.

He didn't hesitate to flop onto the bed, his chest and head throbbing faintly. His legs were killing him as well, both of them aching. It was better than when he woke up if only a bit. It was a relief to finally be off of them.

His entire life had been a hot mess as of late. Now? Now he's in a different dimension. Living in a manor. How much more crazy can his life get?

Mark turned his head, staring at the wall. The room was still pitch black, as he neglected to turn on the lights. He wasn't going to sleep or anything, it was still daytime, judging by the light peaking through the curtains. Mark needed some alone time. Time to… he doesn't really know. Think? Relax?

His thoughts naturally drift to his dad and his mom. What might be happening back home. Mark hoped Dad didn't do anything horrible, like… like he did with Mark. All the innocent people as well. Like those on the train where he was run through, or where the building collapsed and Mark tried. He tried so goddamn hard to save them. To do anything.

‘Why do you bother?’ His father's voice rang in his head, Mark clenched his eyes shut, rolling onto his back. He cared, that's why. He bothered because no matter what Dad said, their lives matter. He doesn't care if they live short lives, or are insignificant, they have loved ones and a family, they- they have a life like him. Mark couldn't sit by and let them die when he could easily save them. It's why he has powers, it's how he should use them.

Mark slowly sat up, swallowing the lump in his throat. How would he explain this to Mom? Explain how Dad didn't care about her, about anyone really. That he called her a fucking… pet. A pet! Mark felt his fist clench, the sting of betrayal crashing through him. Burning up his eyes and throat, only for it to quickly fade away. His heart was twisting, he felt more sad than anything. As if he were grieving over losing his dad, the man he once knew. Not the sadistic one he fought.

Mark couldn't be the hero the world needs. Not after that, not after he inherently caused death and destruction around him. Not after their faces, blood, and guts were splashed upon him like an artist paints a canvas, creating a sick twisted piece no one would ever call art. It would be called genocide, not a lesson a father teaches his son.

Mark could feel the blood, he could see their faces. Horror. Fear. Before the release of death, where all the emotion would wash away. He had never seen so many people die until that day. He had never been coated in blood from head to toe until then. A winter coat on his body, too warm. Sticky. The smell, stinking of metallic, he can taste it now. Along his tongue and teeth, invading each crack, reminding him of the many lives he- unwillingly- took. All because he fought his father.

They're dead.

They're dead because of him. If he hadn't fought. If he had agreed, gone along with Dad, stopped resisting so much-

Mark realized he wasn't breathing normally. His heart beat at a rapid pace and his breathing came in short faint gasps. Leaving him lightheaded and more panicked than before.

He could've died. His dad could've killed him, killed his mom, moved on, and made another family. Leave them in the dirt, buried alive. Insignificant human lives. Just an ant to his giant feet.

Mark clutched his shirt, he might pass out. Stop. Stop thinking about it. Stop panicking! He shouted at himself, attempting to keep his breathing under control. He was going to pass out.

He was going to die, and no one would be able to stop his father.

He'd die and the earth would be destroyed, everyone would be gone and Viltrum would reign supreme. He could practically see the Viltrumites, hovering above earth, mangled bodies below. White outfits splattered with crimson blood.

Mark whimpered, clutching at his hair. He couldn't calm down, he couldn't stop thinking- no, seeing the blood and gore in his mind. Hearing their screams. Their mangled bodies. Lifeless eyes stared at him, begging for help.

"Mark?"

It was covering him, and when Mark opened his eyes, he saw it too. The blood coating his body. It was warm. Too warm- he choked on a sob. Get it off of him!

"Mark, stay with me. Breath, just breathe," he couldn't. He fucking couldn't!

"I can't- I'm s- I'm sorry," he wheezed, clenching his eyes shut. He didn't want to see the blood, even if he could still smell it. Taste it. It was everywhere-

"Feel my heart," something grabbed his hand, and he could feel a steady thrum beneath his fingertips. "Breath to it. Ok? Follow me," a steady breath began beneath his fingertips, something he attempted to do. But his breaths were in shudders, wheezing out of him. Mark opened his eyes, everything was blurry, and he could still see bright red coating every bit of his hand.

"Breath again, just follow me," the voice soothed, calm, contrasting his racing mind. Mark copied them, managing one strangled breath through his lips. "There you go. Now, tell me something you can see," the voice said. Something he could see?

"Blood…?" He whispered. Mark could see blood drenching the hand he had against their chest.

"Anything else?" They prodded. What else was there? There was blood, bright and crimson. It covered his entire vision, taking over his hand- oh.

"My hand," he said. Yes, his hand was there. Was the blood there as well?

"Good. Now what can you hear?" Mark could hear a lot of things. Screaming, cracking bones. His dad. He squeezed his eyes shut, what else could he hear? Through the violence, he heard talking in his head, which was their voice.

"Y-your… voice?" He answered.

"What can you feel?" The voice continued. Mark frowned, he had previously felt warm blood all over him. But not anymore. Instead, the constant thrum of their heart was a metronome in his head. Beneath his hand, something real.

"Your heartbeat," he muttered, eyes still closed. He couldn't feel the blood, was it there? He cracked open his eyes a little, finding no blood drenching his hand. Was it all in his head? Mark swallowed, had he just imagined everything? Was he going crazy?

"Awesome, you're doing great," the voice was familiar. "What can you smell?" Mark took another deep breath, expecting to smell blood. But instead, he was met with the smell of cookies. Wafting into his room.

"Cookies?" He muttered, blinking, his vision unblurring. The form of his hand slowly made a solid shape.

"Good. What can you taste?"

Mark huffed, his mouth twitching up into a smile. "I'd like to taste the cookies," he muttered, hearing a small chuckle from the person. His head felt a little more clear, less of a blind panic than before. He pushed the thoughts plaguing him away, to look at his hero.

"You with me?" It was Dick. Concern etched into his features, face soft and open.

"Y-yeah," He breathed. He wasn't expecting him, he just met Dick and he's already helped him through a panic attack. What a guy.

Dick smiled, "good. Do you wanna talk about it?" Mark tensed, should he tell Dick? Tell him about his dad, about how he failed to save anyone-

"No, no, I don't- I can't," He sputtered, the words seeming to clutch his throat. For a second, he worried he'd go into another panic attack. However, Dick was quick to reassure, backtracking away.

"Ok, you don't have to," he said, not a hint of irritation in his voice. Mark relaxed a little, giving Dick a grateful smile.

"Thank you," he muttered, before looking away. "I've never panicked like that before. I'm sorry," he's had adrenaline rushes, small panics, but never like that. Never a blind panic that consumed his entire being, one where he felt as though he'd… die.

"Don't be. I came in here to make sure you went to the right room," Dick said, before grinning. "I heard you met our resident demon spawn."

"Damian?" Mark muttered, because who else would be nicknamed a demon spawn?

Dick chuckled, "That's him. Don't worry, he's like that to every newcomer… or everyone in general," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Mark huffed a small laugh, "Good to know," he shifted, feeling embarrassed to have panicked right in front of Dick. Who just met him- and had Mark's hand firmly pressed to his chest. He snatched his hand away, muttering another apology under his breath.

But he didn't seem bothered, continuing on as if nothing happened. "Want to get some cookies? If so, we might want to hurry. They run out fast," Dick said, standing up.

Mark blinked, "Oh, uh- yeah. Sure," he stood up, legs trembling as sparks of pain shot up them. Mark groaned, stretching them a little til the pain trickled into a dull throb. He rubbed at them, finding his hand trembling. He sighed, grabbing his hand to stop its insistent tremble. Mark was a mess. Dick stood at the doorway, sparing him a glance. "Sorry, I'm coming."

"Do you need help?" He asked. Mark was quick to shake his head, he didn’t want to bother him more.

"No, I'm fine," he said, not leaving any room for further conversation. Even if Dick's face was full of concern, not believing his words. “Let's just go.”

He quickly followed Dick, letting the man lead. Everything about Dick was confident. The way he walked, smiled, and talked. He had this air of ease and confidence that almost made Mark jealous. Plus, he was handsome. William would freak at the sight of him, Mark smiled a little at the thought of his best friend. Which quickly fell as he realized he wouldn't be seeing anyone he knew for a while. Not until Batman found his way home.

They made it to the kitchen, and as Dick said, there were cookies cooling upon racks. Simple chocolate chip cookies fill the kitchen with a sweet smell. Alfred was dividing portions for another batch, rolling the dough into neat balls. He smiled as they walked in, turning to face them.

"Ah, Master Dick and Mark. Feel free to indulge. I thought I'd make a treat for our new guest."

Mark smiled, "Thank you, Alfred. You really didn't have to."

The butler waved him off, "you're welcome. I strive to make every guest feel welcomed in the manor," he said, turning back to his task at hand. Mark picked up a cookie and took a bite, and it was heavenly. A perfect ratio of cookie to chocolate chip, warm and gooey. "Woah," he whispered, Dick nodded, an excited grin on his face.

"I know right? Heavenly," he picked up a cookie himself and slung an arm around his shoulder. About to say something. However, despite himself, Mark flinched. He really didn't mean to, but Dick was quick to relinquish the arm, giving an apologetic smile to him. As if he should apologize, it wasn't his fault.

"Sorry. I wasn't- I didn't mean to," he sputtered, taking another bite to silence himself before he said something stupid.

Dick leaned against the counter, "It's alright, not everyone's a huge fan of touch," Mark had no problem with touching, it bothered him that he did now. Was he always going to flinch and feel his skin crawl whenever people touch him now? He grimaced at the thought. The kitchen fell into silence, which had Mark shifting where he stood. Should he leave? Maybe go back to his room? The thought of sitting in a dark room made his throat tighten. He didn't want to be alone right now. But if he was making this awkward, then he should leave.

"Master Mark, I must ask," Alfred was the one who broke the silence. Taking another batch out of the oven, the smell of fresh cookies made his shoulders relax. "What is your home like?"

Mark shrugged, "Pretty similar to this. I think. We have heroes, the most elite force is the Guardians of the Globe," Mark started, looking at his half-eaten cookie as he spoke. "Y'know, Batman reminded me of Darkwing, he was pretty broody as well."

"Was?" Dick muttered, raising his brows.

Mark thinned his lips. "Yeah, was. The old Guardians died. There are new ones now, but y'know,” the old ones were murdered by his dad, and he couldn't join the new ones. Now knowing what his dad did to their predecessors.

"They aren't the same?" Alfred offered, but it wasn't what he wanted to say. He nodded anyway.

"Yeah. Sure," Mark muttered. How the hell could he say his dad murdered them? Answer, he wasn't going to say shit. They didn't need to know, it wasn’t important or urgent.

"How about your family?" Alfred changed the subject, seeming to sense his dampening mood. But honestly? It wasn't the best subject change.

"My family? Uh," he thought for a second, considering his words. "Well, my dad's an alien. He's around. Mom is a human, she's great. She makes some pretty awesome mashed potatoes and always wants me to help people with my powers. I don't know where I would be without her," Mark said with a fond smile on his face.

"That's lovely," Alfred said.

"Yeah. My dad is…he's not as caring. I don't know," Mark regretted bringing up his dad, finding it hard to describe him. Especially with his new ideas about him, and who he really was. Sure, he looked up to him, wanting to be just like him. Before he could easily describe Dad. But now? Mark couldn't stomach the thought of him.

"Am I hearing Daddy issues?" Mark froze, and a new person entered the room. Snagging a cookie off the cooling rack and looking him up and down. He was tall and much more built than Dick, with a small tuft of white hair sticking out among the black. Cold green eyes met him, narrowing. "Who's this?"

"Mark Grayson," Dick answered, smirking a little.

The new guy paused mid-bite, sending Dick a wide-eyed look. "Holy shit. No way Bigwing, is he your brother?"

Mark blinked, "what?" He exclaimed. Where the hell did that come from? Dick burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Why would I be his brother?" And why was Dick laughing??

"You have the same last name! Is he a distant relative? That's cool and all, but you could've texted me about it before I came here," the man said, pointing his cookie at Dick. Mark sent Dick a wide-eyed look, as he finally finished laughing. Do they have the same last name? Weird.

"No no, I'm not related to Mark," Dick said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

The man frowned at him, "then who the fuck is this?"

"Manners, Master Jason," Alfred chided. "Master Mark is from another universe. He is simply staying here until he is able to go back home," Alfred almost looked tired from having to give that explanation again.

"Oooh, yeah that's definitely not going to cause problems," he deadpanned, and the man turned to him. "Anyways, I'm Jason. I hear you have daddy issues?"

Mark flushed a little, he did not! "no! I don't- it's just- it's complicated,” he managed through his teeth.

"Woah, no problem. I get it," Jason said, laying his elbows on the counter. Mark huffed, he was done talking about his family. Let alone his 'daddy issues.' "Me and B aren't on the best terms either." Who the hell was B? Did he mean Batman? Mark remembered Dick called him that earlier, strange.

Dick smiled, "Yet you're here."

"And so are you, Dick. What's that about?" Jason snapped back. Saying his name as if it were an insult. Which, it kind of was.

"I was visiting. Though it seems my stay has extended a little," Dick said, looking at Mark. He looked away from him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disrupt," he muttered, feeling like an outsider within this strange family.

"You didn't disrupt anything Mark," Dick said, in the same soft tone that brought his shoulders down.

Eventually, as if the cookies were calling to them, more and more family members poured into the kitchen. It then moved to the dining room once Alfred insisted they were crowding the kitchen. Now Mark understood why Dick said hundreds because this was a lot of kids to have. Taking in Damian's words, he was the only biological one of the bunch.

Bruce might have a problem.

Then a boy slid next to him, "I'm Tim," he said simply, not offering a hand to shake. He didn't even look at Mark, instead staring straight ahead, nibbling on a cookie.

"Uh, hi Tim," he muttered, watching Damian boldly threaten a blond girl. Who he learned to be Steph, as Damian shouted when he pointed a knife at her. Who gave the kid a knife? Mark didn't question it, because no one else was.

"Tell me, what powers does a Viltrumite have?" Tim suddenly asked. Mark frowned at him, and Tim shrugged. "I'm curious." Curious his ass, this felt like a discreet interrogation. Especially with how Tim wouldn't look at him, instead observing the ongoing fight before them. It escalated, Dick was attempting to peel Damian off Steph.

Mark sighed, it wouldn't hurt to answer. "Flight- though my dad said it was creating our own leverage, whatever that means. Super strength, speed, uhh, and invulnerability. To an extent I guess," he could still bleed, and get his insides torn to shreds. Mark knows from experience.

Tim hummed, "Your dad is from another planet?" Mark sunk further into his chair, not liking where the conversation was going. It was like everyone could sense he had issues with his dad, was he that obvious?

"Yeah. He goes by Omni-man for his superhero name," Mark was now avoiding looking at Tim too, even when Tim finally turned to face him. He didn't look Tim in the eyes, because he didn't want to talk about this. Not now.

But instead of pressing, he changed the topic. "Y'know, this entire family is full of heroes. Vigilantes," Tim said, leaning back in his chair. "We're all a little fucked up. So, if you're a little fucked up too, it's ok. You'll fit right in."

Mark huffed, "I don't want to fit in. I just want to go home," it sounded pathetic, like a whining kid. But it was true. He wanted to see his mom and his friends. He… really missed his mom. Especially now. It felt like he had been torn away from everything he knew, and Mark was left floundering. Unable to do anything but follow along, hoping Batman and his family could help him.

"You will," he could see Tim smile a little out of the corner of his eye. Mark couldn't find it in himself to return it. "But for now, enjoy the cookies," Mark eyed Tim, who waved the cookie a little before turning back to his family. He appreciated Tim for trying to cheer him up. Even if he basically interrogated him before, it was the effort that mattered. Not that it helped, Mark wasn't too concerned about being an outcast.

'You'll outlast every fragile, insignificant being on this planet,' Mark tensed, the words of his dad ringing in his ears. A hollow empty feeling opened up before him, leaving Mark disconnected. The voices seemed further away. He watched the family talk, laugh, and eat cookies. Living.

'You'll live to see this world crumble to dust and blow away!' Was all of this truly meaningless? Mark didn't think so, but his dad did. Why? For all it's worth, he couldn't understand why his dad decided to kill the Guardians. He understood some of it, weakening Earth by killing its greatest heroes.

But they were friends, weren't they? He loved his mom, right? Mark frowned deeply, he hated his dad for what he did. Mark felt like he should want to kill him and want revenge for his actions.

Yet there was a part of him, a rather huge part, that still cared. He still wanted to believe he had good intentions for his actions. Mark… really wanted to believe that. But it wasn't true. There was no good reason, only a broken one.

"You ok?" He jumped a little, snapping to look at a girl. She had shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes. Her face was void of much emotion, but he could see the small furrow of her brows. It seemed like a constant expression on everyone who talked to him, he was beginning to hate it.

"Fine," he mumbled. Mark didn't want to be here anymore. Surrounded by a family he didn't know, didn't understand, and didn't want to care for. He snatched a cookie and quickly got up, thanked Alfred again for the cookies, and left.

He didn't want to think about his dad anymore. He didn't want to feel anything. So Mark didn't. He allowed his problems to get stuffed away, a problem for later.

Chapter Text

Superman intended to visit the mystery hero earlier than this. Sure, he visited when the boy was unconscious and Clark's suspicion of him being non-human was confirmed. But after he woke up, Clark didn't have the time to visit. He was a busy man after all and Luthor happened to ramp up the ante. He couldn't find time, not until two days after he woke up. Which made him feel guilty, he felt like he had a responsibility to look after the boy. He doesn't want to shove all the work onto Bruce, who already had a plethora of kids. Clark needed to help as well since he found the boy and brought him to the cave.

But none of that mattered. He was here now, in the Batcave, visiting the boy. Albeit a little late, but here.

"His name is Mark Grayson," Clark raised an eyebrow at the name, Bruce sighed deeply. "No, he isn't related to Dick. He's from another universe,” somehow, that made more sense than the former.

Clark crossed his arms, "makes sense,” it doesn't explain everything, however, Clark was used to different dimensions and the like. It wasn't too outlandish. If anything, it explained why the boy suddenly appeared in the sky in a weird costume.

"He calls himself a Viltrimite," Bruce looks at him, silently asking if he recognized the name. He couldn't find it in himself to be offended. It's not like he knows every alien species! But he'll cut Bruce some slack since he looked exhausted.

Clark shrugged, "never heard of that race. You could ask Green Lantern, he's a bit more knowledgeable on aliens and space."

"Already did, he says such a race doesn't exist… Although he said it in a less kind way," Bruce grumbled. Clark could imagine the amount of sass from Hal.

Clark smirked, "best buds?"

"Hardly," Bruce grunted, before moving on. "His healing is accelerated as well, recovered in the span of two weeks. No lingering issues, except body aches, which are expected. I suspect he has some mental issues, but I can't be sure," Clark hummed, nodding his head. Pacing around the room.

"Mental issues you said?" Clark inquired and he forced himself to stop pacing back and forth. He didn't know why he felt so restless.

Bruce sighed, "he's a little jumpy. Apathetic as well, showing a few signs of early depression."

"Really?" Clark pressed, suddenly worried for the boy. He already was, but this was making it worse.

"He sleeps too much and Dick is hovering over him," Bruce shook his head. "You know how Dick is. If he's hovering then something must be wrong."

"But you don't know what."

Bruce gave a frustrated grunt, "no," he spat out. Clark decided he should move on from this topic.

"So a Viltrumite," Clark said beginning to pace again.

"Correct. Tim got some information out of him. Claims he has flight, superspeed, and super strength. Along with tougher skin," Bruce muttered and the whole time they talked, he didn't once look away from the computer screen. Clark didn't care about that, a more pressing question entered his mind. If not a little stupid.

"Do you think… Do you think in his universe, the Viltrumite is our universe's Kryptonian?" Clark asked. It was a stretch, a huge one. But that power set was very similar to his own and he looked like a normal human. Like Kryptonians do. With the exception of heat vision, super senses, and more. Clark wanted to believe it.

"A possibility," Bruce said. "Don't get your hopes up. I have yet to test any weakness in kryptonite. His blood doesn't seem affected, but it might be different for his body," Clark nodded. He doesn't want Mark to be Kyyptonian… scratch that, he does. The thought that another universe had more Kryptonians including whoever were his parents, was mind-blowing. If not exciting.

"Does he have parents?" Clark asked growing even more curious about Mark.

"Yes. His dad's a Viltrumite, mom's a human. Similar to…" Bruce's voice trailed to the back of his mind upon hearing the elevator click down and three steady heartbeats within it. The elevator dinged and Bruce stopped talking. He recognized Damian and Dick, of course, Dick giving him a smile and a wave while Damian… was Damian. Only sparing him one glance before walking inside. Mark, or who he believed to be Mark, stopped smiling at the sight of him. A strange look entered his eyes, they narrowed. Looking him up and down, as if assessing him.

Weird.

"What's up supes!" Dick exclaimed grinning. He pulled his gaze away from Mark, returning the grin.

"Hey Dick, Damian," he nodded to Damian, his lips quivering with a smile. Clark took that as a win. He turned back to Mark, who tensed a little. "I see you've got a friend there," using his superspeed, Clark was in front of Mark in an instant. Hand out, ready to shake. He wanted to make a good impression after all. "Hi! It's Mark, right? I'm Clark. Or Superma…" Clark's award-winning smile instantly fell once Mark full-bodied flinched away from his hand. Fists brought up as if he expected a fight from him. He pulled his hand away, not expecting such a strange reaction. Hell, no normal person reacted like that to Superman.

"Mark?" Dick asked, hand hovering over his shoulder.

Mark ignored Dick in favor of staring him down. "Are you a Viltrumite?" He all but snapped the trembling in his voice betraying his attempt at being tough. As did his shaking hands. Clark blinked, unsure of what he should say. If not dumbfounded by Mark. "I asked, are you a Viltrumite? Answer me!" Mark raised his voice, shoulders tense, ready to throw a punch at any minute.

Clark snapped out of his shock, quickly raising his hands in surrender. "No! No, I'm Kryptonian. Different kind of alien," Mark blinked, fists lowering, but with how tense he still was, Mark clearly didn't believe him. Clark could hear his accelerated heart rate as well, rapid in his chest. What had he done to make him on edge? Was it the greeting? It might've been too much.

"Perhaps you do have some fight," Damian said smirking a little. "Although your adverse reaction to Kent was wholly unnecessary."

"Seriously, are you ok Mark? It's just Supes, " Dick said sparing the kid a worried look. Clark took note that Dick made no move to touch him. Touching was a no-go, then.

"Fine. I'm fine," Mark said through clenched teeth, still looking at him. Distrust in his eyes, distrust Clark had no idea how he gained. "Why are you here?" The words were said with a sharp tongue, enough for Clark to wince a little.

He glanced at Bruce, whose eyes were narrowed. Just as confused as the rest of them. "Mark," He said causing Mark to look at the Bat. "You can trust Superman."

"Then he won't mind explaining to me his backstory," Mark said back, Clark raised a brow. His backstory? Mark winced a little giving him a nervous look. "Right?"

"Sure, no big deal. I've said it a thousand times," Clark gave a nervous chuckle before briefly explaining Krypton. His planet exploding, being sent to Earth for safety. Then being adopted, growing up, gaining powers, and then deciding to use them for good. To protect and save people. How he wanted to be the protector of Earth, it was his duty. He expected curiosity, awe, or something positive. Anything other than the emotion scrawled across Mark's face.

Fear. Wide eyes, shifting away from him as if Clark would bite.

Then anger. Clark felt like he was missing something, because why would his backstory cause such a reaction?

"Liar," he spat, and Clark flinched a little.

"Excuse me?" Had he heard him wrong?

"You're lying. You didn't… you didn't come here to protect Earth. You…" Mark heaved a heavy breath and Clark could hear his heart accelerate further. Was he panicking? "You probably came here to take it over. What else would you do with powers like yours? How can I believe you only use them to help people? That you believe you aren't- aren't-" Mark seemed to choke on his own words. Clark's heart twisted as Mark continued questioning his character.

"Superior to them. View them as insignificant, worthless, pets!" He spat the words like venom, and for some reason, Clark couldn't believe they were coming from Mark. The boy didn't seem like the type to believe or think such things, to be so negative either. Who told him this? Who made him believe aliens were- specifically aliens like him- hostile tyrants? "Your cape has to be a facade!" Clark's face crumpled.

He had the same views as Luthor who thought he was an invasive alien waiting to take over Earth. Despite himself, it infuriated him. Clark clenched his fists and returned Mark's glare. He wanted to know Mark better and help him, but instead, he was met with the scrutiny he doesn't deserve. It hurt.

"Mark, enough," Bruce said, in an attempt to cool the room down. But Clark wasn't having it, and neither was Mark. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to spout more racist ideology, but Clark spoke first. Wasn't he half-alien? Shouldn't he know better?

"You truly believe I want to take over the world?" He said keeping his voice even as he stepped towards Mark. "Believe this Mark. There is no hidden meaning or intention behind what I do. I am a hero because I care for the people of this planet. Nothing more. Nothing. Less," he said, hissing the last words. Though any more he wanted to say died on his tongue upon looking at Mark.

What he found were raised arms and hands. Mark, head turned, hands raised expecting a hit from him. As soon as he saw him angry, Mark believed he would… hit him. Clark. Hit him? Suddenly all the anger left him in a flash and Clark stepped away. Mark's fast heartbeat and short breaths made itself known to his ears. Seconds away from panicking.

Clark shouldn't have lost his cool. He's just a kid, a kid who clearly went through something, and he had snapped at him. He's the adult here! He stepped further away from Mark.

"I don't know what your universe is like Mark," Dick was speaking, Mark lowered his hands, still staring at him. Even as Dick spoke to him. Clark looked away feeling ashamed of himself. "But here? Superman- no, Clark, is a genuinely good person. He isn't here for invasion or anything of that sort. You have nothing to be afraid of," Mark took a few deep breaths and nodded. His eyes flickering away from him.

He doesn't look Clark in the eye, and neither does he.

"Ok, I'm sorry. Maybe it's best I leave," Mark breathed and turned around. Clark's heart twisted, he didn't want Mark to leave yet. Not until they talked- or until he apologized! But the boy was quick to walk away.

"Wait-" he started, but the elevator doors were already closed. He knew Mark had no super hearing to hear him. Guilt crawled up his throat, he shouldn't have raised his voice. Let alone get angry at a hurting kid. God this was complicated.

"That was… interesting."

"Tim?" Clark exclaimed, looking up at a familiar voice, a little surprised to see him. No wonder there was another heartbeat, it was close, but he didn't think it was that close.

"You didn't notice him?" Damian muttered raising a brow. Well, he was a little focused on Mark more than anything. Plus, he's… literally in the rafters. Crouched and stared down at them.

"Seriously Timbo? Why are you up there?" Dick chided. Tim grappled down to the ground and landed in front of them with ease.

"Well, the cameras in here have been malfunctioning, so I've been fixing them," he said, camera in his hand fiddling with it as he spoke. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is Mark. What's his deal with Superman? Did you kill his dog or something?"

"No! All I did was bring him here," Clark exclaimed.

"Perhaps his planet is being invaded by powerful aliens," Dick suggested. "Might explain his alien racism."

"The correct word is xenophobia," Damian muttered.

"Shut up, demon," Tim said.

"I think I like alien racism more," Dick muttered tapping his chin.

"Viltrumites," Bruce muttered interrupting their conversation. The boys went silent. "We all saw how hostile he was thinking you were a Viltrumite."

"That doesn't make any sense. He's a Viltrumite. Wouldn't someone be happy seeing their own kind?" Clark said, he sure as hell would. But maybe it wasn't the same for Mark. Perhaps they weren't the same after all.

"We'll get nowhere with speculation. We're missing pieces, the only way we'll know is by asking," Bruce said giving a rather heavy sigh. Clark knew how much Bruce hated asking for answers, he always said it aroused suspicion and made investigating harder to do. But all the evidence was in another universe, with one piece laying outside it.

"I can spy on him, Father," Damian offered, all too eager at the prospect.

"Don't…" Bruce looked away from them. "There are already cameras in his guest room."

"Bruce!" Clark exclaimed. "That's an invasion of privacy."

"I neglected to take them out, it doesn't matter," Bruce said, shoulders taught. Clark crossed his arms, neglected huh? Somehow he doubted that. "You should leave Clark. Until… perhaps until Mark returns home," his heart fell at those words.

"I…" he wanted to argue, but sadly, Bruce was right. Mark didn't trust him, he feared him to some extent. It was best he didn't interact, not for now. Even if Clark wanted to know Mark better, for some reason, he felt a connection to him. However, it was not meant to be. "I understand," Clark muttered turning around to leave.

"I'm sorry Clark," Dick said, voice sincere. "I'll talk to him, ok?"

He smiled, "Thank you," in a burst of speed, he left the Batcave. More conflicted and confused than he was before.

Chapter Text

Mark regretted his interaction with Superman. As soon as the words started pouring out of his mouth, Mark knew he was being an asshole. The way Clark's face fell from genuine concern to disgust wrung at his heart. He seemed like a genuinely good guy and Mark pushed all his issues onto him, assuming he was the same as his dad and calling his entire philosophy a lie. Mark rubbed at his forehead, Superman wasn't his dad. Get that through your head Mark. He sighed, opening his bedroom door and closing it behind him. Mark didn't bother to flicker on the lights, instead flopping onto his bed. He was angry at himself, disappointed he lost it at an innocent man… or he seemed innocent. Mark groaned, no, everyone else trusted Superman, even Damian vouched for him. He's probably innocent and Mark was being paranoid.

Paranoid over what exactly? Viltrumites aren't a thing in this universe, there's no threat of alien takeover, not currently. This wasn't his home. Why was he so… Mark let out a frustrated huff. Why was he so scared of Superman?

He'd have to apologize to Superman later. But for now, Mark wanted nothing more than to ignore his issues and sleep.

—--

Why was Mark always finding himself in the Batcave? Sure, it's cool, but every time he went down there nothing good would happen. To his own relief, Superman wasn't there. He wasn't ready to face the man yet, let alone look him in the eye and explain. Internally, he cringed, remembering what racist shit he spouted.

"Mark," Bruce rumbled, clad in his bat costume.

"Bruce," he responded, causing the man to look at him and raise a brow. "What?"

"We need to talk about your behavior yesterday," Mark sighed, that was the last thing he wanted to talk about. "Do you mind explaining?"

"I do mind, actually. I mind a lot," Mark muttered under his breath. He cursed himself for his tone, what the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn't snap at the man who's been taking care of him for weeks. Batman gave a heavy sigh, Mark refused to meet his eyes.

"Superman- Clark, is a good man. He has done nothing negative towards you, I'd appreciate an explanation of why you dislike him," Bruce further explained. Which was understandable, from an outside point of view, his behavior was strange.

Mark huffed, "I don't hate him, I just… freaked out a little. Ok?" He didn't want to talk about this.

"Because you thought he was a Viltrumite," Mark tensed at Bruce's words and piercing gaze, he knew. Did anything slip past this guy? He shifted from foot to foot, pondering if he should tell him or not. It only took a few seconds of thought for Mark to decide he should tell him. Bruce had helped him recover and given him a place to stay, it was the least Mark could do.

"Viltrumites are tyrants. Planet conquerors. I was nervous that one was here," Mark vaguely explained. He didn't have to mention his father or anything else, because Mark didn't want to explain. He doesn't want to talk about it, not to these people. Not to vigilantes he barely knew.

"But Clark is not a Viltrumite."

"I know that now."

"And you are."

"I'm... aware," Mark gritted through his teeth, he remembered a time when he was proud to be one. Wear the name like a badge of honor, not anymore. "But I don't work for them. I don't… I'm not like that, okay?" Bruce stared at him, eyes narrowed. A small part of him feared Bruce would throw him out or cage him, but instead, the man nodded. Letting him go with a weak explanation for his behavior.

"Ok," he simply said, turning to the computer. That was it? Mark blinked, didn’t he have more questions? But he didn’t push his luck, if Bruce wasn’t going to interrogate further then Mark would take it as a blessing. "Talking about yesterday wasn't the only reason I brought you down here. I have more information about the wristwatch that teleported you here."

Mark looked at the screen, instantly intrigued and grateful to have the spotlight off him. "Really? What is it?"

"Satellite signals, owned by Wayne Industries, have captured an unknown signal in Nepal, specifically in the Himalayas," Mark's eyes widened, wasn't that…

"That's where I was. Uh, before I got teleported," he blurted out. Bruce gave a small grunt at his words, whatever that meant. He was silent for a moment, the sound of him clicking away at his keyboard filling the cave. Mark watched the screen change, and show the semantics of the frequency, ones he didn't understand.

"I was hoping you'd say that, considering the signal matches the same wavelength your watch gave off. However this signal… it appeared just yesterday," Bruce muttered.

"Are you saying something else from my universe came here?" Mark whispered and it could be anything. He hoped it was Cecil or someone he could trust. Mark suspected that Cecil had slipped the watch on his wrist to teleport him away, so maybe he figured out how to retrieve him. That was good news, right?

"Is this concerning?" Bruce asked, glancing at him.

"No. Probably not," Mark said, shaking his head. If anything, Cecil being here was good. He'd help get him back home.

He nodded, "Either way, I lost the signal as soon as it appeared. But I thought you should know."

"Thank you. I really appreciate all of this, Bruce," a rare smile graced the man's face, and Mark smiled back. Despite his dark and edgy demeanor, Batman was a nice guy. After all, he was helping a random teen whom he barely knew return home and giving him a place to stay in the process. Mark was ever grateful for Bruce.

"I'll send drones to the location. If there's anything else, I'll update you on it," Mark nodded, and at that moment, Nightwing- yes Nightwing, because Dick was in full costume- decided to burst into the Batcave on a motorcycle. He skidded to a stop and nearly gave Mark a heart attack.

"Hey B!" He called, hopping off. Before turning to grin at him. "Hi, Mark." He gave a weary smile, still trying to calm his racing heart.

"Is there something going on Dick?" Bruce asked turning in his chair.

"Oh no, nothing like that. Can't a man visit?" Dick said, effectively leaning on Bruce's chair.

"You typically visit during the weekend," he said, eyes narrowed into thin white slits.

"Ok you've got me," Nightwing lamented pushing away from the chair. "I actually came to ask Mark if he wanted to patrol."

"What?" Mark exclaimed. He hadn't been allowed out of the manor since he got here, except the damn courtyard. He hadn't complained yet, only because he spent most of his time holed up in his room. However, he was bound to complain eventually. Would Bruce allow it? Judging by his narrowed eyes, the answer was no.

"Nightwing, we can't risk exposing Mark."

"Exposing him to what? Listen B, he'll be gone back home in a few weeks anyway. What's the harm in having a new superhero fly around? We won't even patrol in Gotham, I’ll take him to Bludhaven," Bruce hummed, actually considering Nightwing's words. Mark couldn't believe it.

"Hmmm… fine. Be careful."

Dick cheered, "Great!" He turned to Mark, who was currently frozen on the spot. "Now let's find you a suit-"

"That won't be necessary," Bruce stood up, walking over to a turned display case. There were rows of different uniforms displayed near it, different variations of a robin costume. At the press of a button, the case turned around and showed his costume. It was mostly the same, although Mark could see the fabric was a little different. He blinked and stepped towards the suit, seeing his face reflect off the glass. His goggles stared back at him. "I redid your suit, kept the design the same, but reinforced the fabric with something stronger," Bruce explained. "Maybe then it won't tear as easily."

"No cape? I respect that," Nightwing said, grinning at him. Mark stared at the suit, a mixture of strange feelings swirling inside him. Shouldn't he be excited? Thanking Bruce and eager to get out of the manor? However, Mark felt none of that. Instead, he felt… nervous. Scared. Crawling up his spine and wrapping its hands around his throat, a heavyweight he wasn’t ready to bear again. "So you wanna head out? I can show you around Bludhaven- oh! You could even fly me there-"

"No," Mark said, turning away from the suit. He couldn't look at it, not when blood still tainted it.

"I... I'm sorry?" Nightwing said, his smile falling. "I don't get it. Aren't you a hero?"

"I am- I mean, I was," Mark started. "But I... I don't think I'm cut out for it. I can't do it anymore. Not now," perhaps never. Mark's throat closed at the thought. Part of him wanted to wear the suit again, but he was pathetic. Afraid to get hurt and watch others get hurt because of him.

"Why?" Mark didn't answer Nightwing's question. He didn't want to talk about it to him, the conversation would include Dad. It all had to do with him, all his issues. Mark sighed, allowing himself to fall comfortably hollow. Pushing aside every horrible emotion wallowing up in his chest.

"I'm not sure I want to be a hero, but thanks for the offer Nightwing," he muttered, about to walk away before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Mark tensed, turning to see Bruce holding a small device. He grabbed his hand and placed it in his palm, pushing his fingers close around it.

"This comm connects to every member of the bat family."

"Bruce, I don't-"

"I understand, being a hero is a difficult job. But, if you want to listen in or communicate with us. Use this," Mark frowned, reluctantly putting the small device in his pocket.

"Thanks," he muttered, turning back around and walking towards the elevator. He fingered the small device in his pocket, he'd probably never use it.

"If you ever change your mind, I'm here!" Nightwing called, the elevator door closing behind him. He bit his lip, heart twisting. He should make it up to Dick one day, Bruce as well. They were all so patient with him.

Once back in his room, Mark found it impossible to lie down and sleep. His room wasn't a cold comfort anymore, it felt more suffocating. For some reason, he couldn't shove all his feelings away this time, instead, it kept rearing its ugly head. Guilt, fear, shame, anger- mostly at himself. Why couldn't he get over it? Be a hero again? Sure what happened sucked and definitely traumatized him. But Mark was done feeling shitty all the time and laying here wasn't making him feel any better. What did make him feel better?

Flying did.

Mark wasn't against going outside the manor. Since Bruce didn't mind him going out, then he wouldn't mind Mark flying around outside. High enough that anyone who saw him would think he was a bird. Plus it's night. No one would notice, Bruce would be none the wiser and Mark could clear his head. He nodded to himself, anything to get out of this room.

Mark opened his window and jumped outside. He launched into the air, letting himself soar high into the clouds. The cold mist of them graced his face. He sighed, gently flying across the sky, enjoying the cold wind and fresh night air. Space was rather cold as well. If Mark desired, he could fly into space. To the moon and never come back.

It sounded nice, but he couldn't disappear. His mom needed him back home and Mark needed her as well.

He wondered about his mom, about his friends, and how they were doing without him. Were they worried? Mark hoped so. Was his dad still there? He shook his head, not wanting to think about the carnage his dad could cause. Cecil couldn't hold him back, Mark could barely do anything. No one could stop him.

He groaned, thinking about home made him depressed. Mark pushed the thoughts aside, instead focusing on the full moon in the sky. The clouds looked like rolling hills, dispersing as soon as he ran a hand through them.

Mark spun around a little in the air, dipping below the clouds to watch the city landscape rush below him. Was he really going this fast? Mark didn't notice. He slowed down a little, hovering in the air.

Actually, was he in Gotham anymore? Mark didn't know what Gotham looked like, but this was unfamiliar. Actually, everything was unfamiliar, because Mark hadn't been outside the manor before. Mark slowly descended and landed softly on a city skyscraper. Yeah, Gotham had a hazy look to it. This city was big and full of cars and life. Not Gotham. Or maybe it was? Mark didn't know where he was at the moment.

"Fuck me," Mark muttered to himself, leave it to him to get lost. He debated calling for help, perhaps he could fly back? Find his way to the manor? No, he'd probably get more lost and eventually spotted. Call for help it was then… this was embarrassing. He fished the communicator Bruce gave him out of his pocket, fiddling with it. How the hell does he turn this thing on? Bruce didn't exactly explain that part. Was there a button? A switch? Did he just tap it? He grimaced, why was this so complicated? Mark began to pace the rooftop, stopping at the edge, the wind whipping past him. Bruce should've given him a tutorial. Or maybe he thought Mark was smart enough to figure it out… Well, he's wrong.

"Are you lost?" Mark spun around, he saw a small boy float to the rooftop. He wore a similar outfit to Superman if he were a small boy. At first, he entertained the thought of a Superman fanboy until his mind caught up and told him that said boy was hovering in the air. He could fly.

"Who are you?" He muttered eyeing the boy.

He grinned, "I'm Superboy! Here to help you get down from here," it was then Mark realized how close he was to the edge, his heels were halfway off the roof. Did this kid think he was going to kill himself? Mark quickly stepped away, shoving the com into his pocket.

"I wasn't going to kill myself," he muttered.

"That's good to hear," Superboy said, resting his hands on his hips. He didn't believe him, judging by the raised brows.

"So… are you Superman's kid?" Mark asked. Because who else would wear that outfit and have the same powers? Superman didn't mention having a kid, but he looked like him. The black hair, and blue eyes, all matched up to a tea.

"Yeah! He lets me patrol Metropolis and help around," Superboy said, puffing out his chest. "I uh, would tell you more but, I do have an identity to keep."

"Well I don't, I'm Mark," he greeted, he might as well talk to Superboy. It's better than his father… who Mark really hoped wasn't around. He went outside to escape his issues, not be met with them.

"Wait, Mark? Like Mark Grayson?"

"...Yeah?"

"Oh! My dad mentioned you! You're the boy he saved!" Superboy exclaimed as if he were a famous celebrity.

"He mentioned me?" Mark exclaimed.

"Yeah. He was super worried since you were all bloody and beaten up," Mark frowned, now he felt even more guilty.

"I'm fine now," he muttered. Which was true, physically. He's really an asshole huh? He snapped at Superman, who saved him and was worried about him, a kid he didn't know.

"I guess you already know about my dad's identity huh?" Superboy said, crossing his arms. Before Mark could confirm it, the boy was already speaking. "Well, I'm Jon,” secret identities be damned, the kid was lucky Mark wasn't lying.

"Nice to meet you," Mark said, smiling a little. He kind of liked the kid. His grin was infectious.

"So you're not Kryptonian? At all?" Jon said as he began to circle him a little. Now that Mark looked closer, Jon was really young. Like Damian's size, except maybe a little taller.

"How old are you? And no. I'm not Kryptonian," Mark answered. Giving up on following the boy's movement, it was starting to make him dizzy.

"Ten. What are you doing here?" He made another circle around Mark.

"I was flying. But I uh…" Mark rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening to admit this. "I got a little lost," Finally, Jon stopped moving, landing directly in front of him. He beamed at him.

"No worries! I can help you fly back home. I know the way to Gotham like the back of my hand!" Jon exclaimed, grabbing his hand. He jumped a little at the motion, but Jon didn't seem to notice. Lightly tugging him forwards.

"Thanks," Mark said, unable to keep the smile off of his face. What could he say? Jon kind of reminded him of… well, himself. When he was little. He let Jon pull him into the air, starting to fly at a slow pace. He gripped Mark's hand tightly while they flew away from the roof as if he would plummet. "You don't have to hold my hand," Mark said, grinning.

"Sorry," Jon let go, guiding him while also flying around him. "So, your dad's an alien. Your mom is a human. Heh, that's just like me!" Jon floated backward to face him.

"How do you know that?" Mark said, raising a brow. Did the whole superhero world know about him?

"Dad told me."

"Course he did," Mark muttered, not hiding his bitter tone. Jon moved to float beside him. Mark did his best not to look at the kid's face, especially with how concerned he looked.

"Do you not like my dad?" He said, tone quiet and meek. Mark bit his lip.

"No, it's nothing like that. I just misunderstood him…'' Mark muttered.

"Oh."

"I've been meaning to apologize for what I said. For being a diiii… uh, meanie," Mark said, correcting himself. He didn't want to be the person to teach a kid to curse.

Jon hummed, now flying on his back. Then the boy perked up, "I know! Why don't you come to my house for dinner? You could meet my mom- she's really nice, and make it up to my dad! It'll be fun," Jon exclaimed, twirling a little in the air. Mark smiled as he watched the kid spin.

But the thought of eating dinner at his house made his smile disappear. The awkward silence, the tension, imagining himself trying to chew as quietly as possible. Mark shivered at the thought. "Uh, maybe not."

Jon frowned, flying in front of him again. "Oh. That's OK. If you ever want to, just ask."

"I will," he didn't want to disrupt a nice family dinner. Because Mark would, with how fucked up he was. He'd probably say something stupid to Superman, offend him again, and have the whole family hate him. Jon seemed to like him, despite his rough interaction with his dad. It seemed Clark didn’t tell his kid how much of an asshole Mark was.

"Alright, the manor is just down there," Jon stopped in the air, Mark quickly stilling himself. Almost flying right past Jon, too lost in his own thoughts. "You should visit again! Maybe in a costume?" Jon said, raising a brow.

Mark chuckled, "Maybe. Thanks Jon," he said, looking down to find his window. Which was harder than he thought, because the manor had a ton of windows.

"No problem!" Jon paused, his smile faltering. Mark looked at the kid, noticing the change.

"Something wrong?" He asked, worried.

"No… I was just wondering," Jon muttered, giving a nervous chuckle. Mark tensed, why did he seem nervous? "When did you get your powers?"

Mark’s shoulders fell, that was it? "A few months back, not too long ago," Mark answered easily. He expected a harder question.

"Really?" The boy whispered, sounding surprised.

"Yep, I was a late bloomer, according to my dad," Mark muttered. Part of him wondered what would happen if he never got his powers. Would things turn out differently? Would his dad have… he shook the thought from his head. It didn't matter, what happened happened.

"Hmmm, ok. Never mind then," Jon said. "I'll head back home-"

"No, what's wrong?" Mark pressed. After all, Jon helped him get back to the manor, the least he could do was listen.

Jon shifted in the air, "My dad worries a lot when I go out," he started. "Sometimes I feel like he doesn't trust me to handle myself. Even after I did a lot of amazing things! I thought I proved myself to be capable… It's stupid. I know it's because I'm a kid. But I wish he'd treat me like an adult."

Oh. Mark blinked, unsure of what he was supposed to say. He got his powers when he was almost an adult, there weren't strict regulations on what he could and couldn't do. Despite his dad insisting he uses his powers for bigger and more important problems. But to an extent, he understood where Jon was coming from. He took a deep breath, "Listen Jon. I'm sure your dad trusts you a lot, but… he's your dad. He's going to worry no matter what. I'm sure your mom is worried as well."

"I don't want them to worry," Jon muttered. "I don't want them to nag me about where I'm going and what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but you're ten, and they're your parents."

Jon glared at him, "I'm strong enough to handle myself!"

Mark raised his hands, "I'm sure you are. However, even though I'm practically an adult, my mom still worries. It's not because she doesn't trust me, it's just what parents do. They nag, worry, even if you're invincible," Mark explained, Jon, nodding his head. "Just make sure to enjoy being a kid as well. Don't be absorbed in… hero stuff. You're still a kid," Mark said, shrugging. He wasn't good at giving advice, but Jon seemed to understand. Nodding his head and pursing his lips.

“But, your dad doesn’t worry?” He whispered, brows furrowed.

Mark let out a tense chuckle, “he does! Uh, I think so. He doesn’t really… it doesn’t matter. You get the point, right?” He hadn’t expected Jon to ask such a question and the kid nodded, letting it go. He let out a sigh of relief, why was everyone always asking about his damn dad?

Then his face relaxed, Jon chuckled a little, "OK. Sorry about that, I thought you'd understand since… you're like me," Mark frowned, he's nothing like Jon. But he didn't say that out loud, instead, he nodded.

"Don't worry about it," Jon practically beamed at him, giving him the widest smile he's ever seen. This kid would be the death of him. "Alright, I've got to… uh, get back to my room before Batman notices," he said, slowly floating down.

Jon giggled, "Good luck! He probably already knows," he said in a singing tone. Mark cursed under his breath, bolting back to his room. Once safe inside, he allowed his shoulders to fall. Closing the window with a click and watching the small figure of Jon zip away.

Jon's life was similar to his own before he fought with his dad. A huge part of Mark was scared Jon was having issues back home, with his dad. But instead, it wasn't, it was trivial issues of wanting independence and freedom. Although not trivial to Jon. For that, Mark was relieved. Relieved that Jon's life wasn't exactly like his.

Chapter Text

Mark felt a little better after his flight. Of course, Burce knew he had snuck out, Jon was right, sadly. He was given a painfully long lecture, about him and not listening, yatta yatta. Bruce was acting like an overprotective dad, which Mark didn't appreciate. He's seventeen. Not a kid. Yet Jon, who's ten, can fly around like a bat out of hell- wait a second. He was complaining about Bruce worrying, the same thing Jon was complaining about!

Fuck. Guess worrying parents never stop being annoying.

Either way, it didn't matter what Bruce thought, Mark was going to go flying again. No matter what the man said. This time staying in Gotham and not getting lost. But during the day, where no cover of night would hide him, he had nothing better to do except sit around and waste away. Damian was at school, as was Tim. Dick was in Bludhaven, and Steph, and Duke also had school. Cass was probably in the training room, Jason 'did whatever the fuck he wanted,' quoted straight from him when Mark asked what he does. So during the afternoon, Mark had the whole manor to himself. Bruce was busy running a business, and Alfred was busy keeping the house clean.

He really did not envy the butler, the manor was huge and never-ending.

Mark, in his free time, often found himself wandering the manor. Usually, he'd have little free time, since he started being a hero. But now Make found himself with too much time. A curse and a blessing. He was grasping at ways to pass the time, resisting the urge to jump out a window and fly somewhere. Because Bruce would know, people would see, and Mark would make headlines.

So what did Mark do with his precious free time? Most teenagers would have a raging party or create havoc, especially when alone in a huge manor. Mark did- Well…

"Sir, I must ask, what are you doing?" He peered down at Alfred from his perch. One perk of the manor was the high ceiling. Rich people were obsessed with high ceilings, and recently, he found a nice ledge near the front entrance. Begging to be sat on. It was his hiding place, somewhere he could relax without being bothered. Sure his room would suffice, but one could only sit inside a room for so long. Alfred hadn't noticed it, until now, apparently.

"Watching a show," he mumbled, shoving some popcorn into his mouth. He even brought pillows and a blanket, which hung slightly off the side. There were times when they would slip off and fall, one time Mark fell. He was uninjured! But he was glad no one was around to see it.

"Up there?"

"Yeah," Mark mumbled, pressing play. Bruce had long ago given him a phone for calling and texting. For emergencies, he claimed. But he often used it to binge-watch whatever crappy show he could find. After all, he didn't have his comics or anything else, just a phone. With Netflix.

"There is a theater room."

"I know," Mark grumbled, couldn't Alfred leave him be, for just a second? He knew every bit of this manor because he'd explored it already. The place lost its charm after one week, Mark missed his home. Where he didn't have to walk two minutes to get to the kitchen. Then the front door slammed open and entered Damian, Tim, Duke, and Steph. Adorning Gotham Academy clothes. He remembered Bruce offering to enroll him, but Mark had refused. He considered this adventure to another universe as a vacation, not a learning experience. Damian stomped ahead, clicking away at his phone with that pinched expression he always seemed to wear.

"Ah, welcome home young masters," Alfred greeted.

"Who were you talking to?" Tim asked, looking around. Bruce walked up behind them and closed the door.

"Master Mark. He's made himself welcome on a ledge," Alfred jerked a thumb upwards, and he found heads looking up at him. Mark waved.

"Cool, can I come up there?" Steph asked, they didn't seem surprised.

Mark glanced around, "Uh, sure. It's not that spacious though," he threw the blanket off of him, and jumped. Slowly floating down til his feet touched the ground, his phone still in hand. Mark sighed, he'd have to watch this shitty romance later and pocketed his phone.

"Tt- that's how you spend your time? What a waste. You could be doing so much more," Damian snarked. He's right, but Mark wasn't going to admit that.

"You're right. I could snoop around your rooms- oh wait, you've snooped in my room multiple times already," Mark shot back, grinning. Mark only knew because he'd come back to a room neater than he left it.

Damian bristled, "I have done no such thing-"

"Ladies ladies, calm down," Steph said, a smirk on her face. "We can all snoop around and argue later. For now? I'm starving," she patted them both on the shoulders and walked past them. Mark frowned at her, Damian hissing curses. Tim mumbled something under his breath, following Steph, eyes practically glued to his phone.

"Seriously Damian. I don't know what your deal is," Mark said, running a hand through his hair.

"I find your presence an insult to the Wayne family. Especially when you make no effort to contribute and laze around all day," Damian muttered, walking away.

Mark frowned, "Contribute to what? The company?" He asked, sparing Bruce a confused look.

Bruce sighed, "No, as a vigilante. Damian takes it very seriously. Though he's right. You could do better things than sit around all day," he said, an amused twinkle in his eye.

"Maybe," Mark muttered. Bruce patted him on the shoulder, walking away. It's not like he was gaining weight by lying around! Though perhaps he should exercise a little. He went from running around saving lives every day to… lying around. "Damn, Bruce is right," he whispered. What should he do then? Train?

"Hey, uhh, Mark, right?" He paused to look at Duke. Out of all the members of the bat clan, he interacted with Duke the least. Cass too. Yet here he was approaching him. Everyone had already left, leaving him with Duke. He had no issues with him, which was the problem, Mark had no clue who he was. All he knew was Duke was a vigilante named Signal and wore bright yellow. That's it.

"Yeah?" He muttered.

"Listen, I know we haven't talked much-"

"I don't think we've ever talked," Mark put in. All he remembered was Dick mentioning Duke when he asked about the bat family. He was more than happy to tell him, listing way too many adopted kids to make Mark concerned for Bruce's well-being.

Duke nodded, "Yeah you're right- and that's a shame on me. I want to know you better, or," Duke smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Show you the family." Oh? Instantly, Mark's interest was peaked. Sure he's been haphazardly introduced, finding new characters and people he didn't know anything about wandering the house. He barely knew Steph, Tim, and Jason. He knows Dick, Bruce, and Damian the best. He only fucking knows Damian well because the kid would just- appear. In his room. In his way. Interrogate. Not simple interactions like Bruce and Dick. Bruce wasn't better, he didn't speak to Mark much and he never went out of his way to do so.

Dick was just a friendly guy, but busy. He couldn't come to Gotham every day to talk to Mark, let alone entertain him. Mark didn't expect the family to, he was a dog among cats after all.

In a nutshell, Mark didn't know shit. He didn't have anything to do either. He grinned a little. "Show me the family? I'm intrigued."

Duke grinned wider, "Listen, I know what it's like to be a new guy," he slung an arm around Mark, he resisted the urge to flinch. Only because Duke made his movement so obvious. He allowed Duke to walk beside him, leading him down the hallway.

"You do?"

"Yep. You wanna know how I met these guys?" Duke said, raising a brow at him.

Mark shrugged, "Sure."

"I was leading a gang of robins. Then boom, these guys pop up and say they're gonna train us…. I was a little pissed. Got put in a hanging cage-" Duke shook his head and Mark stared at him. Did he lead a gang? Of robins? Not actual robins, right? He imagined Duke with a flock of robins, it was a funny thought. "I'm getting off track. I thought they were crazy. And know what? I was right."

"Uh… where are we going?" Mark asked. Because Duke was rambling, he didn't quite understand what he was getting at, and they clearly had a set destination. Mark just doesn't know it.

"Don't worry about it," Mark got more worried as soon as Duke said that. Don't worry about it. He's worried. "You need to know what you're getting into. By living here."

Mark gave Duke a look, why the hell was he describing the family like a gang? From what little he's seen, they're a weird group of vigilantes. Not dangerous criminals he'd need a set of rules to interact with. "I'm… I thought you were introducing me?" He said, uncertain.

Duke smiled, patting his back. "I am!" Then, suddenly, he stepped away. Mark stood there, in the middle of a huge room. Duke disappeared into the shadows- yes, he literally disappeared- Mark blinked.

"Duke?" How the hell did he do that? Then, a soft rattle sounded above him. He looked up, the chandelier above him swaying a little, glass clinking together. That's odd- then something cold and sharp poked at his back. He flinched, "Ow- what the hell?" Mark whipped around.

"So kryptonite isn't a weakness. Interesting," Damian muttered, a bent sword pressed against his back. The edge and top were lined with a green glowing substance. But more concerning, he tried to stab Mark with it. Unsure if it would pierce him or not.

"Did- did you try to stab me???" Mark exclaimed, pushing the sword away.

"It was a test," Damian said, lifting his chin. "Luckily you failed. Otherwise, the sword would've impaled you," OK this was too far. He could handle the snooping and general unpleasant behavior, but stabbing? Duke appeared out of the shadows, shaking his head.

"Always watch for surprise attacks from demon boy," he muttered. Damian scowled at Duke, throwing the broken sword at him. Which he easily stepped aside from, the sword lodging itself into the wall. Mark winced, Alfred wouldn't be happy about that.

"He's not weak to kryptonite," he said to Duke, who shrugged. "What can penetrate you then?" Damian asked, squinting at him.

"Uh, enough force?" Mark offered weakly. If someone hit him hard enough he'd bleed, Mark knew that. Damian nodded, walking away with a hand upon his chin. Suddenly, Mark felt like he should watch his back, as Duke suggested. Since Damian was trying to harm him now.

"Sorry about that Mark. I tried to stop him, but- well, he had his mind set," Duke said, giving him an apologetic smile. He frowned at him, Duke plucking the sword out of the wall.

"Right…" Mark didn't believe that. "Listen, I appreciate whatever this is. But I'm tired. Maybe this can happen another day?" Mark said. It was a lame excuse. But a huge part of him believed that Duke just set him up to be stabbed, more of a gut feeling than logic. For what? To test what his weakness was? Not cool.

"Sure sure, no problem. Hit the hay- even though it's noon- I won't judge," Duke said, raising his hands. Mark felt like he was judging. He walked away, sparing Duke one last glance. He didn't know how to feel about him. He seemed nice until he set Mark up to be stabbed… at least Mark thought he did.

Suddenly, Mark was extremely aware that he was living in a manor full of people he barely knew. Sure, most of them were nice. Dick especially. But perhaps… he was in a bit of danger. Mark rubbed his back a little, still feeling the phantom touch of metal on his back. Damian didn't hold back on that stab, he knew the boy wouldn't hold back anytime soon.

Mark found himself in chaos. He didn't know what happened, what changed with this family. It's like they decided to behave until this exact moment.

Controlled chaos was the best way to describe it. The chaos that only Alfred seemed to control, the eye in a hurricane.

"Who the fuck put dye in my shampoo???" Jason, one day, roared. Slamming open the front doors, scaring Mark from where he sat upon his perch. He watched Jason, with pink-tinted hair, storm inside. Mark stifled a laugh- or he perhaps didn't. As Jason snapped his head up to him, sending Mark a murderous glare. "Was it you?"

"What? No. I don’t know anything," he said, shaking his head.

Jason growled, "I'm going to shoot them," he hissed, before pulling out an actual gun. Mark froze, and Jason walked out of view. Mark decided he'd stay up here until things settled. Bulletproof or not, he didn't want to get in the middle of that. Mark would send his thoughts and prayers to whoever put dye in Jason's shampoo.

Another example came in the form of Cass, whom Mark heard little of. Perhaps there was a reason for that. Because he swore he saw her… everywhere. Outside his window once, as well. Which freaked him out. She was just there, a black figure against the night sky. When Mark threw the window open, he saw Cass grappling away. She was freaky.

Like the time he walked in on her, decimating a training dummy before turning to him. "Wanna train?" She had asked. Mark was quick to refuse, walking away as if he just escaped his death. If he said yes, he would've met the same fate as the poor dummy.

Duke was no help, despite saying he'd help. Part of Mark believed he found some sick enjoyment in watching Mark's growing confusion. Later, Duke approached him again.

"Confused?" He asked, raising a brow, an amused smile on his lips. Bastard.

"Yeah, a little. What the hell happened?" He exclaimed. "Tell me why Tim was openly staring at a dead body on his laptop. For hours, Duke. Hours! I came back downstairs and he was still staring at it!" He had been shocked to see a dead body, a crime scene, on Tim's laptop. In the living room, for everyone to see.

Duke laughed, "Oh, yeah. We had an agreement."

Mark frowned, "agreement?"

He patted him on the shoulder and started to walk away. "To behave for a week. Alfred made us promise in return for cookies," he called, effectively disappearing. Mark stood there, confused, but also not. So… that's why Alfred made cookies? That's why he's seeing more and more weird stuff. Mark let out a heavy sigh, beginning to walk upstairs. He needed to sleep. He was fucking tired again-

"Mark!" Steph slammed open her door, practically scaring him shitless.

"Don't do that!" He yelled, voice cracking a little. She ignored his yelling, instead continuing as if she didn't give him a heart attack.

"Tell me," he tensed, expecting something weird and possibly crazy to escape her mouth. Instead, two nail polish colors were shoved in his face. One purple, and the other a lighter purple. "Which one?"

"Uhhh… they're both purple?" He muttered.

Steph sighed, "Pick one."

"Ok, the lighter one," she smiled at him.

"Thank you!" And slam, she closed the door. Leaving Mark standing there. He sighed and walked away. Why question it anymore? The family was weird. But entertaining, in a way. He kind of felt… welcome. Being exposed to all their strange activities, like they were finally letting their guard down.

Either way, they couldn't actually harm him. Alfred wouldn't let them, and they weren't bad people. They saved lives. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. Mark stumbled into his room, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

Chapter Text

Nightmares were common when Mark slept. He'd often wake up, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, feeling as though he had been fighting for his life. Within his nightmare, he was. They revolved around his dad these days, but sometimes he'd have others make an appearance. Like Battle Beast, or the aliens from another dimension. All intent on making his worst ideas come to reality.

Tonight was no different. It was the same thing again, the same nightmare. The building had collapsed. The train. People were dying, Mark was begging his father to stop, trying to wrench himself from his iron grip. Except in this nightmare, the victims screamed at him. The world around him faded away and left injured victims to form an amalgamation of limbs, guts, and blood to haunt him. A creature made of gore from which he created, hunting him down to break his body too. They wailed as he ran, but it didn't matter how fast he was, the creature was faster. Multiple heads screamed at him, poisonous words Mark didn't want to swallow.

"You killed us!"

"This is all your fault!"

"My daughter!"

Their voices rang. Mark was useless against it, perhaps the people he killed felt the same way. Useless against Viltrumite power, a bug among giants. All his strength and tough skin were no match for the people, it didn't matter. They tore him apart once they caught him. Each limb was stretched to its limit, soon to be plucked off like an ant's leg. Mark screamed at them to stop, begging. Just as they began to dig their dull nails into his stomach and ripping his insides to shreds, he woke up.

With a startled shout Mark gasped awake, instantly sitting up, heart racing out of his chest. He was met with a dark, silent room. No mass of people, no yelling, no hands tearing at his body, nothing. It was quiet and calm, unlike Mark.

He had suffered from another nightmare.

"Fuck…" Mark whispered and ran a hand through his hair, strands clinging to his hand. His hair was wet with sweat, the sheets under him were no better. Here he thought the nightmares had calmed down, having gone two days without one. However Mark was proved wrong, and this one had to be the worst one yet-

His door slammed open, "Where's the threat!?" It was Damian. Brandishing a sword between his hands, he stormed into his room ready to battle whatever was terrorizing him. Except there was nothing. Just Mark, shivering in his sheets and coated in a sheen of sweat.

Mark frowned and watched Tim follow behind Damian, tense as well. He didn't have a sword. "There's no threat," he said after sparing the room one glance, before looking at Mark. Still trembling from his nightmare like a scared child. Mark wondered if he should ask them to check under his bed for monsters as well.

"Oh," Damian said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He lowered his sword and muttered something under his breath, before addressing Mark, voice dripping with disdain. "Then why are you wailing like a child?" He snapped like he was one to talk. But he was right, Mark did feel like a small, frail child. He screamed like one too.

"Damian!" Tim snapped, jabbing him with his elbow, who smacked his arm away.

"What? If there's no threat, he shouldn't have screamed," Damian exclaimed. "Even you should understand that Drake." Tim frowned with disapproval, about to speak, however, he decided to cut their bantering short.

"Sorry," Mark interjected, hating how his voice wavered. He cleared his throat, "I had a nightmare, there's no danger. You… you can leave."

Damian frowned at him, and Tim was the one to step forward. "That's fine. We all have nightmares once in and while, are you… um, ok?" Tim asked, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I woke you," Mark muttered. He felt bad for screaming and scaring them, he probably freaked them out. Who else had he woken up? Well, at least the whole house wasn't rushing into his room. Mark wouldn’t be able to handle a gaggle of bats flapping around his room.

"It's alright, I was already awake," Tim said, shrugging.

"I am always ready to battle," Damian muttered and lifted his chin. Which, ok? Weird thing to say, but not surprising coming from Damian.

Mark chuckled, "Well, unless you want to fight my mind, then you have nothing to war with," to his own surprise, Damian's lips quivered up a little. Amused at his lame attempt at a joke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tim offered, Mark grimaced at the mere notion. "Or not! It usually helps to talk to someone, and I'm all ears."

Mark raised a brow, "Is this another interrogation?" He said, giving a weak grin.

"No! No. You don't have to list every detail, I'm… just open to listen," Tim ended, he looked a little unsure of himself, shifting from foot to foot. While Damian stared at him with narrowed eyes, fiddling with his sword. But he hadn't left once Mark appeared to be physically okay, and neither had Tim. They stayed.

Mark considered his offer, wondering if he really wanted to open up to them. So far, Mark hasn't talked much about his trauma or what he experienced. Besides a few hints here and there, he wanted to keep it to himself, wait til he got home to friends and family, people he trusted and knew would understand. He wasn't trying to keep secrets, Mark just wanted to keep his stuff private and not dump it on this family. He hardly knew them too, who knows how they would react, and his mind supplied plenty of worst-case scenarios.

However… with shaking hands, the images of his nightmare haunted his mind. Mark could still hear the victims screaming at him, and perhaps, talking about it could relieve him of a heavy burden.

Mark found the words bubbling out of his mouth, not knowing how silent he had been prior. He mentioned the collapsing building, the train, how a villain- who he didn't say was his dad- had run his body through one. Killing everyone on board. The images haunted him, and the number of people who died because of his failure always made him feel guilty. He mentioned the creature in his dream, it tearing into him. Mark never mentioned his dad and his role in Mark's own terror.

They didn't have to know that part. Mark didn't want to talk about it, even thinking about it made his chest ache like an open, raw wound.

"And then I woke up, as it was tearing into me," Mark gave a weak chuckle. "It felt real… I didn't mean to scream in real life, or wake you guys up," he ended, not looking at the two who he dumped trauma on. It was silent, for a moment. Even when it felt like hours to him. Mark tensed, did they blame him for their deaths? Were they disgusted? Disappointed? Mark found himself looking up at them, anxiety whirling in his chest. Expecting some type of negative emotion on their faces, knowing he killed people.

What he instead found was understanding. Tim's face was pinched, however, he only looked at Mark with concern, nodding his head as if he understood. Damian was staring at him, expression blank, but the hold on his sword was tight and painted his knuckles white.

Then, the silence was broken by Tim, who let out a heavy sigh. "We always take in the traumatized ones…" he muttered under his breath, Damian finally looked away, clicking his tongue. Mark chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. What did that mean? "Listen, Mark, I get it. You blame yourself for their deaths and God, you're just like Dick in that aspect," he was? "But bottom line, it wasn't your fault. You didn't run through a train willingly, you didn't intentionally kill them. Quite the opposite, you tried to save them, stop the villain. None of that was your fault."

"I know," Mark whispered. Did he? He wanted to believe Tim, but he still felt guilty. Like he could've done more. "I just feel like I failed them."

Tim's gaze softened, "It's ok… well, no, people died. But- I- ugh, I don't know!" Tim exclaimed, Mark's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to reassure Tim, that he didn't have to comfort him. But Damian spoke before he could get a word out.

"I believe the imbecile is trying to say you tried your best. Even if it wasn't enough," Damian muttered. Mark frowned, was this supposed to be comforting? "People died, and I have no idea who this villain is. However, I promise to run them through with my sword should they try anything again," Damian said, nodding his head as if he said the most profound statement. The image of Damian attempting to stab his dad was an amusing thought, if not horrifying. Yeah, Mark didn't want to think about that.

Tim glowered at Damian, "That… wasn't at all what I was trying to say."

"What else is there to say?" Damian shrugged. "I don't blame Mark. I doubt anyone with common sense would blame him."

"Ok, but how does threatening the villain make him feel better?" Tim snapped, and Damian glared at him.

"He'll feel safe."

Tim scoffed, "like he would feel safe around you. Don't think I didn't hear about you trying to stab him-"

"He wasn't impaled!"

"But you tried," Mark looked between the two, bickering like the siblings they were.

Mark huffed a chuckle, "Alright, alright, thank you. I don't need you to say anything great, I just wanted a listening ear," the two instantly snapped their mouths shut once he spoke.

Tim sighed in relief, "Good, I'm not great at this thing,"

"I can tell," Mark deadpanned and Tim shot him a glare before he smiled, Mark couldn't help but smile back. He started backpedaling out of the room, "Go back to sleep."

"Shouldn't you do the same?" Mark said, raising a brow. Tim flipped him off as he left, Mark grinned. Yeah, talking about it did make him feel better. Tim was right. He glanced at Damian, who was back to staring at him. Mark didn't know why he was still here, staring. Did he say something wrong? "What?" He shifted where he stood, avoiding Mark's eyes. He watched him open and close his mouth a few times, before seeming to give up.

The boy clicked his tongue, "Nothing. Go to sleep," he muttered, walking out and closing his door. What was that about? Damian had been awfully quiet and respectful as he talked, he expected more sass from him. But for once, he was actually understanding.

Huh, maybe the kid wasn't too bad.

Mark pulled his blankets back over him, eyeing the digital clock, telling him it was 2 a.m. Also telling him he wouldn't get much sleep tonight.

True to his thoughts, Mark didn't. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, before finally falling asleep.

At 7 o'clock.

—----

By some miracle, Mark managed to drag himself out of bed and to the kitchen. Half asleep, he poured himself a bowl of cereal that Alfred would be disappointed to see him eating at noon. He leaned against the counter, shoving half-hearted spoonfuls into his mouth. He hardly noticed someone else entering the room. They began to talk, and Mark nodded, pretending to listen. His eyes were half closed, and he looked down at his colorful cereal. He wasn't awake enough for this.

"Wanna come with?" Dick's voice penetrated through the fog. Mark lifted his head, blinking tiredly at the man.

"Huh?" He muttered. Why was Dick here? Shouldn't he be in Bludhaven- oh, it's the weekend. What was he talking about anyway? "Sorry, what'd you say?" Mark asked, finally looking at him.

Dick chuckled, "I asked if you wanted to go out in the city."

He almost dropped his spoon, "Wait, I'm allowed???" Mark exclaimed, sitting up straight. Now a lot more awake than he was a second ago. Even if he wasn't allowed, Mark would still take the offer. Bruce be damned.

"Of course. Didn't you listen to Bruce?" No, actually. He stopped listening to Bruce's lecture after the fifth sentence. He vaguely remembered it, too tired from flying around all night to listen. But most of the words were jumbled together. Dick smirked, "I'll take that as a no."

"I don't know…" Mark muttered, stirring his cereal. The excitement seemed to shrivel away, an ache seeping into his bones. Going out in the city sounded nice, but for some reason, he felt apprehensive. A deep exhaustion within his body made Mark want to waste away in the manor forever. Was that normal?

"What? You want to stay holed up here til the watch gets fixed?" Dick said, raising a brow. In truth, he really didn't. There was no other excuse not to go out. Recently, Mark felt tired all the time, sleeping a lot, and dragging himself around. Maybe that's why Dick wanted to take him outside, he acted like a zombie. "Mark, you can't mope around the manor all the time. Let's get you some fresh air! I could even treat you to Batburger," What the hell was Batburger?

Mark sighed, Dick was right. He shouldn't mope, perhaps going outside would make him feel less tired. After all, he used to go out all the time back home. He'd even fly around for fun. "Alright. Just let me finish breakfast," he said, shoving cereal into his mouth.

"Awesome!" Dick exclaimed and pushed off of the counter. "I'll be in the living room when you're done," he said and walked away. Mark watched him go, wondering if he'd made the right choice. What harm could come from touring Gotham? It'll be fine.

In hindsight, Mark almost regretted agreeing to tour Gotham City. Because true to its name, the city was… goth. Gargoyles, gothic structures, and dark colors at every corner. It seemed to always be cloudy and foggy, covering the city like snow. Mark thought it was the night making it look that way. Nope, even during the day it was kind of depressing. Not exactly a sunny tourist hotspot.

But to top it all off, the place they were eating at, called 'Batburger,' got robbed as they were eating. Mark grimaced, apparently harm could come from touring Gotham.

"Everyone put your hands in the air!" One of the gunmen screamed, firing a warning shot into the air. The other one was shoving a bag at the employee, demanding them empty the cash register. Dick, as well as many other people, didn't even bother to put their hands up. They startled at the gunshot before returning to their food, eyeing the two gunmen with disdain rather than fear.

Dick rolled his eyes, "Just keep eating your burger," he muttered with a smile. "It'll be resolved," with a devilish grin he showed his phone screen, which had a blinking bat symbol on it. Mark didn't know what that meant, but it must be a good thing to have Dick relaxed in the face of potential danger. He put his phone down and continued to eat his burger. Mark remained tense as the other robber began to shout at people and threaten them with his gun.

However, most were not bothered. Tense, obviously. But more annoyed than anything.

"Batman will come and beat your ass," one civilian hissed, pointing a fry at the gunman.

The criminal, to Mark's own surprise, barked at his coworker to hurry up. Clearly intimidated at the thought of Batman showing up. How famous were they? Mark glanced at his own Batburger, famous enough to have their own fast food-themed restaurant. Damn, Mark was jealous. "Then we'll leave before he gets here," he sneered.

Dick snorted, "sure," he whispered to Mark, "Cass is on her way."

"Oh?" His interest was piqued. Mark hadn't seen all of their costumes. Sure he saw them displayed in the Batcave, and Bruce had told them who was who. But he hadn't seen them actually wearing the outfits. Except for Dick and Bruce. He was also curious to see how they fought, since none of them had powers… to his knowledge. Except for Duke.

After a few minutes, true to Dick's words, a woman clad in an outfit similar to Batman burst through a window. Because screw the door, no one uses a door to enter a room. He assumed that was Cass, her costume had no eyes and was much more… black, than Batman's. She threw a type of boomerang in the shape of a bat at one gunman. Effectively knocking the gun away. Mark was already impressed.

"Shit, run!" He yelled, The other one holding the bag of money took off sprinting. Only to be grappled and yanked back by Cass, as she delivered a punch that shattered his jaw. Judging by the crack. Mark winced, She wasn't gonna kill them… right? The man fell to the ground and attempted to raise his gun to shoot, only to have his hand stepped on. Cracking under her foot. He screamed in pain, Mark was now more scared of Cass than the criminals. That was Cass, right?

Bang! "Die!" The other one yelled, firing shots. Cass easily flipped over a table for protection, slipping behind it. Dick pulled him under the table, as did the other civilians. He didn't need protection from bullets, but he appreciated the gesture. Mark didn't see the rest of the fight, but judging from the sounds, it wasn't in the gunman's favor.

He saw the man drop to the ground from under the table, right in front of them. Mark swallowed, seeing the blood pool out of his side where a bat boomerang lay embedded. He was still breathing, to Mark's own relief. The last thing he needed to see was another dead body. The robber's body was then dragged out of view, it was silent for a few seconds. Except for the faint sound of shuffling.

"It's safe now!" Cass called, breaking the tense silence. Instantly everyone got out of hiding, including him and Dick. People cheered, thanking Black Bat. Her hero's name was Black Bat. Interesting name, but he wasn't one to talk. Mark clapped along because everyone else was so why not? She then returned the money, dragging the two gunmen out of the store. People chatted excitedly as she left.

Dick grinned and pointed at him with a fry, "See? Resolved," Everyone continued as normal, ignoring the shattered window and one overturned table. Mark did not envy the employees who'd have to clean this up.

Mark nodded, "Noted. Does this happen often?"

"Gotham is the most crime-ridden city in the US. So, yeah."

"And people choose to live here?" Dick laughed at his comment, but Mark was serious.

"No, not really. But it has its nice parts. Like this burger!" Mark scoffed, grinning a little. Yeah, the burger was nice, he had to give Dick that.

Despite the robbery attempt at Batburger, the rest of their time wasn't as dangerous. Dick brought him to parks and popular hotspots and even bought him a few new clothes, insisting that wearing Tim's old junk wasn't good for his soul.

"Listen, Tim has fashion now. But in the past? He didn't. His old clothes aren't doing you justice," Dick had said, all while buying him a shirt with a green guy on it.

"Green Lantern?" Mark muttered, holding the shirt up. It said the words in bold letters across the shirt, with a man in tights flying. It was very… green.

Dick nodded, grinning widely. "Yes. I'll buy it for you."

"Uhh, ok?" He was confused as to why Dick was laughing, insisting he wore it around Bruce. Mark went along with it, despite how tacky the shirt was.

In the end, Mark left with a bag of clothes he might never wear, laughing beside Dick. The man was right, he felt… better, after all this. Less tired and fatigued all the time, like breathing was a chore. But deep in his bones, the exhaustion still ached.

But at the moment, his issues seemed trivial. A small nagging he could ignore for the time being.

"Thanks, for all this," Mark said as they walked back into the manor.

"Don't thank me. You needed to get out of the house," Dick said.

Mark shrugged, "Yeah, I guess I did."

"Do you feel any better?"

"A little," which was true, he did feel a little better.

Dick's smile fell a little, "Do you… want to talk about it?" Mark hunched his shoulders, walking up the stairs with Dick. Back to his room, in which he's holed himself in. He had talked to Tim and Damian, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Mark didn't want to ruin… whatever this was by dumping his trash.

"I… I don't know."

"It might make you feel better," Tim said the same thing. Dick then raised his hands. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. I won't push," he knew it would make him feel better. Last night proved that. But it felt like something was holding him back from spilling, even though he… trusted Dick. To an extent. Despite knowing him for only a week and a half.

"No. I… umm, Dick?" Mark stopped outside his room, turning to the man.

"What's up?"

Mark shifted where he stood, "Have you ever while working as a hero, let people die?"

A dark shadow entered Dick's eyes, a look he's never seen before. Mark tensed, opening his mouth to apologize and take it back, but Dick had already spoken. "Yes. Quite a few times, actually," his gaze softened, looking at Mark with nothing but sympathy. "Is that what happened, Mark?"

"Sort of. I just can't help but feel… like I failed. As a hero, I mean," Here he goes again.

"Oh Mark," Dick said, his voice quiet and soft. Mark's eyes stung a little, he looked away from Dick. He felt pathetic for wanting to cry at the tone of his voice. "I've failed a lot as a hero. Too many times to count. It happens, we aren't perfect people. Failure is part of life."

"Yeah," Mark muttered, his voice thick. The way Dick talked almost reminded him of his mom, which made his chest ache horribly. Yearning to lean against her side, hear her comforting voice. "Did… you have parents, right?"

"Oh! Uh," Dick scratched the back of his head, "Biological ones? Not anymore. They died."

"Shit I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine! It happened forever ago. I mean, I still miss them. But it's not such a sensitive subject anymore," Dick frowned. "Why'd you ask?"

"Never mind," Mark quickly muttered, opening his bedroom door. Why did he say that? "Thanks, for buying me all this stuff. I appreciate it."

"No problem. If you ever want to hang out, I'm up for it," Dick said, his brows still furrowed with concern.

"Yeah…thanks," Mark muttered, walking into his room and closing the door.

God, he's such an idiot. He threw the clothes into a corner and leaned against the door. He shouldn't have asked Dick about his parents. What was he thinking? Sure, he didn't have a negative reaction, but Mark still felt bad about asking. It's none of his business.

Why'd he have to bring up his shit? He should've let the day end right then and there.

However, part of him was relieved to have talked to Dick, what little he did. About being a hero. Failure was a part of life, Mark knew that. But he couldn't help but feel guilty for all those people who died at the hands of him and his father. Dick was right, of course, but if he knew the whole truth. Everything. Would he still say the same words? Tim and Damian hadn't blamed him, they understood, and Dick probably would too.

Mark sat on his bed, staring at the floor. Telling Dick felt more daunting than Tim and Damian. Was it because he was closer to Dick than the others? They had grown a friendship, a small, fragile one. He just didn't want Dick to be disappointed, or any of the Batfamily, for that matter.

A horrible part of him believed they would blame Mark for not stopping his dad. Which was ridiculous, the Batfamily was chaotic and strange, but full of kind people. Damian included, despite his attitude. Mark shook his head, he wasn't going to think about this again.

His eyes landed on the bag of clothes in the corner of his room. He could… try on his new clothes instead.

Bruce's eye twitched. "Nice shirt," he gritted through his teeth. Mark smiled at Bruce, wearing his Green Lantern shirt. "May I ask why you chose it?"

"I liked it," Mark said, lying through his teeth. It was atrocious. Way too much green that didn't look good on him.

"Hey B, I'm gonna steal some parts from one of your vehicles-" Jason started, walking through the living room. Only to stop at the sight of Bruce's pinched face and Mark's shirt. He snorted, "Nice shirt, it really brings out your eyes."

"Thanks."

"Did Dick put you up to this?" Bruce muttered, eyeing him.

"No? Why would you think that?" Mark said, completely innocent. Jason chuckled, looking far too amused at Bruce's face. Pinched and disgusted, as if he ate a sourberry.

"No reason. I've got work to do," Bruce said, quickly making an exit. Mark could no longer stifle his giggles, Jason bursting out into laughter as well.

"Holy shit! Good work Mark," Jason said, wiping a tear from his eye.

Mark grinned, "What's his deal anyways?"

"It's stupid. B has some weird vendetta against Green Lantern, they don't get along."

"Like enemies?"

"Nah, more like coworkers who tolerate each other," Jason said. He seemed pleased, giving him a proud grin. Yeah, this was way better than moping in his room. "Anyways, wanna help me steal some car parts from Bruce?" Jason said, jerking a thumb behind him.

Mark probably shouldn't… "Sure," but it would take his mind off things.

"Awesome. Don't worry about B, he's fucking rich, he'll survive," yeah, Mark wasn't going to regret this at all.

Chapter Text

Mark had to admit, tearing apart a car with Jason was more enjoyable than he expected. Sure, Mark had no idea what he was doing and followed whatever Jason told said, but he learned a lot about cars… and how to steal parts. Jason was nice, but a little aggressive with his words and attitude. He cussed a lot, sometimes he got upset with a piece and straight up threw it. He almost hit Mark once- not that it mattered, it wouldn't hurt anyway. He put on a tough boy act but deep down, Mark knew he was a genuinely good guy. Who had a temper and surprisingly knew a lot about literature.

Mark, however, struggled not to stare at Jason's hair. Still tinted a faint pink. He knew that if he laughed, a tire rim would intentionally fly to him.

After a long day of touring Gotham and tearing apart an expensive car, Mark was exhausted. Night fell and he retired to his room, bidding Jason farewell and leaving him to scramble out of the Batcave. Mark was ready to crawl into bed and sleep, to rest without a nightmare plaguing his mind… hopefully. He had planned to fly around a little and practice his landings some more, even though he had it down. But he didn't feel up to it, not after such a tiring day.

Mark snuggled deep into his sheets, sleep easily overcoming him. For once, he didn't dream. It was a breath of fresh air. He knew there would be a peaceful sleep ahead of him.

Then, after just a few hours of sleep, his door burst open. Mark flailed out of his blanket and wrestled it to sit up. Once free from his sheet prison, he sat up and saw Damian standing at the doorway. "Grayson, wake up. Father demands your presence at the Batcave… for some reason," Damian snapped. Mark was going to have a heart attack if Damian kept slamming open his door. Wasn't this the second night in a row?

"Wha..?" He mumbled rubbing his eyes. But the little brat had already walked away, with him glaring at the open door where the boy once stood. Mark was glad to grow up as an only child if this was the sibling experience. If Damian kept this up he'd try and stab him back.

Mark crawled out of bed, the clock beside him flashing at two a.m., taunting him, Mark scowled at the clock. He slipped out of bed and lumbered downstairs, unable to stop himself from yawning every minute. He made his way to the grand clock, turned the hands, and got the wrong combination. He squinted at the Roman numerals, what was it again?

He finally got the right combination and stepped into the elevator, thankful that no one watched him get it wrong three times. As soon as the doors opened, he realized that everyone was there waiting for him. Clad in their hero costumes, ready for battle.

"What's the occasion?" Mark muttered, still in his PJs. He felt a little underdressed.

"Gotham City has an emergency," Batman said sitting at the batcomputer. This emergency involved Mark because…? He didn't voice those thoughts, instead watching Bruce bring up various security cameras. They all displayed some type of villain wreaking havoc throughout the city. An ice man, a small guy with an umbrella, a… bat-man? Manbat? Didn't matter, the bat guy was plucking people off the streets to who-knows-where.

"Ah shit, they broke out again?" Jason- or, Red Hood muttered. An appropriate reaction. Except, this was a recurring theme? Just a typical Gotham night? No wonder the city needed eight vigilantes patrolling it.

"Arkham Asylum had a major breakout, all the villains escaped at the same time. The cause is currently unknown. I'll need all hands on deck," Batman turned to Mark and he knew exactly where this was going. He had a feeling as soon as he saw everyone in their costume, a sinking pit gathered in his gut.

"Bruce, I don't- listen-" he sputtered, his heart rate picking up.

"It doesn't matter Mark. We need all the help we can get," Mark's shoulders fell, knowing that Bruce wouldn't let it go. Besides, where's the harm in helping people? He wanted to do that. Mom would want him to help. He gave a weary glance to the security cameras, where innocent civilians were being terrorized on the streets.

"Fine. Sure," Mark said, looking away from Batman. "Just let me get dressed."

"I'm sorry Mark-"

"Don't. I get it," Mark muttered, cutting Batman off. People needed saving, and Mark… Well, he was the man for the job. However, he never thought he'd be wearing his costume so soon.

—----

Batman had forced them into pairings, each pair set after a specific villain, and then once done, they'd go after the next villain. Mark ended up paired with Steph- or Spoiler was what she called herself in costume. She was purple, literally, and Mark had a feeling she liked the color purple. He had the comm in his ear, which he got help figuring out from Tim. Because God, why was it unnecessarily complicated?

"A safety feature," he had said. More like a headache than anything.

"Spoiler, Invincible, you'll be going after Mr. Freeze. He's in downtown Gotham, currently trying to break into a bank," a woman's voice echoed on the comms, Oracle, was what she called herself.

"Of course he is," Spoiler muttered, grappling ahead as Mark slowly flew beside her.

"And… wild guess here, I'm assuming he has ice powers," Mark quipped.

Spoiler smirked, "What gave you that idea?" Before stopping abruptly at a roof edge. Mark skidded to a stop, landing beside her.

Down below was, in fact, Mr. Freeze. The name really highlighted who he was. He wore a mechanical suit with a glass dome for a head. He held bags of money in hand while freezing anyone who got in his way. Including the police officers, who were ice statues below.

"Gotham will experience a chilling night, no one will be able to freeze me," the villain said, shooting an ice beam at an officer who was then consumed by ice. Was… that a pun? Mark glanced at Spoiler, who was shaking her head.

"Ice puns. Get used to it," she muttered. "I don't know how skilled you are, but our goal is to stop him and limit casualties," Mark sighed. He'd rather not witness another gore show, or see people shatter into bloody ice shards. Spoiler didn't have to tell him twice, he'd be extra careful tonight.

"Does he have a weakness?" Mark asked.

"Heat. You don't happen to have heat vision, do you?"

"Uh, no?" Why would he?

"Then this will be a little more difficult. Just don't get frozen, Invincible," Spoiler said, before jumping off of the roof, grappling hook shooting out. Mark swallowed, this wasn't too bad. No one was getting killed, just… frozen, really. He could do this. He watched Spoiler slam into Mr. Freeze and knock the man off balance, his freeze blast shooting into the air.

"Spoiler," He hissed, regaining his balance. The suit he wore was rather clunky, Mark suspected it'd be hard to keep up with Spoiler while wearing it.

"Yep, here to spoil the fun!" Mark and Mr. Freeze groaned.

"Seriously? You too?" He shouted, jumping down to join her.

Spoiler grinned at him, "What? He gets to make ice puns but I can't?"

"Who's this?" Mr. Freeze snapped. "Another super clone?"

"Super clone?" Mark muttered, glancing at Spoiler for an explanation.

She shrugged about to speak, before an ice blast was aimed at her, Mr. Freeze clearly didn't care for pre-battle chit-chat. She quickly jumped away, Mark wasn't as quick. His body was quickly encased in ice, leaving only his head unfrozen. He heard Mr. Freeze cackle before a beeping dot was thrown at him. Exploding on impact and staggering the villain.

"Look at me! Look at me!" Spoiler chatted and threw more explosives at him. Mr. Freeze glared at her and sent more icy blasts her way. Mark looked away from the fight, intent on breaking his way out instead. With a bit of struggle, he managed to crack the ice and free himself.

"Cold…" he muttered, rubbing his arms. Spoiler and Mr. Freeze were currently dancing around the town. If fighting could be called that. Mr. Freeze couldn't freeze her, and Spoiler couldn't fully stop him. The heat from the small explosives wasn't enough.

But she was leading him somewhere. Where? His eyes widened as he spotted a nearby gasoline truck parked in an alley. She was leading him to a gasoline truck. If she exploded it, it'd wreck nearby buildings, and kill people. But, get rid of Mr. Freeze.

He couldn't let her explode the truck so close to the buildings or civilians. Mark sprung into action, grabbing as many civilians as he could and flying them out of range. Letting Spoiler handle the fight, since she seemed to be doing fine by herself.

"It's ok, I've got you," He soothed a little girl who was frozen next to her mother. A small hand wrapped tightly around her mom's thumb.

'Don't be scared, okay?" Mark breathed, watching the little girl scream for her mom. Once the building collapsed, all that remained was an arm. He had failed.'

Mark set the two down, his throat closing at the sight of them. Hand and hand face frozen in shock. He wasn't gonna fail. It's going to be fine. He'll save them. Mark told himself, besides, now wasn't the time to panic. He had other civilians to move. Once he finished evacuating everyone, he found Spoiler encased in ice. Mr. Freeze had some sort of device, threatening her with it. He didn't know what was scary about a metal rod, but Spoiler seemed worried, struggling within the confines of her icy prison.

Mark swooped in, and before the man could react, he slammed a punch into that glass dome of his. Mark felt it shatter under his fist, ice shards crumbling away. Mr. Freeze stumbled, clearly not expecting Mark to swoop in so fast. Judging by his shocked face.

"Spoiler, are you ok?" Mark asked, his breath short, sparing her a glance.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine. He caught me off guard," Her suit seemed to glow before the ice around her shattered, steam rising off of her. Oh. He didn't know her suit could do that! "But… I think you could finish it."

Mr. Freeze collapsed on the floor, gasping, before the ice began to encase his head, allowing him to regain himself.

"He can't function without his suit?" Mark asked.

Spoiler shook her head. "Nope, once he's out of it, he'll be a simple cold man. However, it might be best to… heat him up a little," she then grinned at him. "Think you can remove him from his suit?"

Mark smiled back, "Only if you can set him on fire."

"Now you're speaking my language!"

"Shut up!" Mr. Freeze yelled. "I'm going to shatter you two!" He shrieked, before firing at them. They quickly dodged out of the way, and Mark set himself on the offense. He dodged the ice beams and flashed in front of Mr. Freeze, breaking his dome again. But this time, he dug his fingers into his suit. Panic flashed in his eyes, attempting to use the suit's arms to pull him off. But Mark's grip was as tight as steel and his efforts were useless. Mark ripped his suit apart, right down the middle. "Stop!" He screamed.

"Hey Mark! Over here!" He saw Spoiler, holding up a ton of… something. It was in a red container, probably gasoline from the truck. He adjusted his grip on the suit, swinging the man before throwing him at Spoiler. Who splashed gasoline on him as he crumpled to the ground. He glared daggers at them, and slowly lifted himself up.

"I'll freeze you to the bone, I'll-" Mr. Freeze began to freeze himself again, and Spoiler ran away. Mark stepped back, just as a beeping sound entered his ears. Mr. Freeze stopped talking and froze, "What's that-" before an explosion rose. His entire body burst into flames, engulfing his suit in heat. Mr. Freeze screamed and flailed on the ground.

Mark winced, "he's not…?"

"No! No, just wait," Spoiler said, standing beside him with a proud smirk on her face. The flames quickly simmered and in its place was a man in a broken suit, still breathing with steam rising off of his body. Mark sighed in relief, he was still alive. For a second Mark thought he killed the man. "Alright, one down, two more to go!" She exclaimed, she grabbed Mr. Freeze and tied him up, hanging him from a light pole. "The police will lock him up," she explained.

"You mean the frozen ones over there?" Mark said, jabbing a thumb at the civilians he had gathered. All frozen.

Spoiler nodded, "Yeah, those popsicles. Don't worry, more will arrive to unfreeze them," She patted his shoulder and then grappled to the rooftops. "Oracle-"

"Already on it. Commissioner Gordon is sending a clean-up crew," the comm in his ear said. His shoulders fell, no deaths, no casualties, everything was fine. Mark quickly followed her to the rooftops and landed just at the edge. He had to admit, being a hero did feel… good. It was good, saving people. It left a light feeling in his heart, an extra pep in his step. He smiled, why did he ever quit?

'You're fighting so you can watch everyone around you die!' Mark’s smile fell, and he glanced back at Mr. Freeze, tied up and hanging from a light post. The people were still frozen and more police slowly arrived. There to unfreeze and take the villain back to his cell. The little girl he swept away cried as she clung to her frozen mother's arm. He could see the mom's mouth move, saying comforting words as the ice melted. 'These people are meaningless. They're cavemen without us.'

That's not true.

"Mark?" He jumped, spinning around to see Spoiler. A deep frown on her face and a crinkle between her eyebrows. "You ok?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. I just… haven't done this in a while," he gave a weak chuckle and looked away from her. Sure, being a hero felt good, but now it felt strange as well. He didn't believe his dad's words, but it's weird to be a hero without having someone he looked up to. Someone he saw as a shining example. Only to find out Dad wasn't as kind as he once believed.

"Invini- Mark, if you can't do this you can head back. Who cares what Batman says?" She said, smiling at him. Mark gave her a small smile in return, shaking his head.

"No, I'm fine. I'll be fine," he said. Despite how his heart twisted, how his skin-tight suit seemed to strangle him more and more. He remembered it being covered in blood, and Mark was grateful to have fought Mr. Freeze. To have his skin cooled. "Let's stop some more villains," he muttered, shaking his thoughts away.

Spoiler nodded and watched him slowly fly past her. "If you say so."

—--

The hunt continued, and with Mark's help, it didn't take too long to find and capture escaped Arkham villains. Working beside Mark had been interesting, if not incredible. Steph wondered why he didn't want to be a hero anymore. Sure he's rough around the edges, but if he could hone that power of his, he'd be a force to be reckoned with.

"Honestly, you were a huge help. It's almost like having Superman around," Spoiler said as the two entered the Batcave. He was quick to pull his cowl off, Spoiler slapping him on the back. "You did good," she chirped, hoping to bring a smile to his face, anything to brighten that hollow look in his eyes.

Mark shrugged, "I guess," he muttered, teasing the fabric of his cowl between his fingers.

Instantly her smile fell, hand falling from his back. "Is something wrong?"

"No. No, nothing's wrong," Steph didn't believe that. She saw Mark the whole time they were fighting villains or saving civilians, he had this conflicted look on his face. He seemed happy to stop the villain, to save people, but afterward, he'd go quiet. He was almost brooding like Bruce, it was weird.

Maybe he had a horrible experience as a hero? Failed to save someone? Steph didn't know, Mark wouldn't tell her either. She tried to ask but he brushed her off, always saying he didn't want to talk about it. It didn't stop her from wondering.

"Good, you two are back. Did everything go well?" Batman asked. It seemed they were the last ones to arrive. Everyone else was already relaxing and peeling off their gear.

"Yep, Mark was a huge help," she said, as he was already fiddling with the zipper on his suit. Intent on putting it back in the display case. "So… I'm assuming everything went well with you guys?"

"Smooth as butter," Dick said, grinning. "Seriously. Joker was the only one who caused trouble. It seemed the other villains weren't exactly prepared to cause havoc."

“Can’t believe you sent me after Penguin instead of Joker,” Jason grumbled.

“You’d kill him,” Bruce deadpanned, Jason scoffed at him.

"Whatever… Where are you going, Invincible?" Jason asked, bringing the attention back to Mark, who was pulling his pajamas back on.

"To bed," he said simply. "Night," he was in the elevator, hero suit back in its case. Whisked away. Not even sparing a second to talk.

"Shit Steph, did something happen?"

"No? He's just.. upset about something. I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. Their fights had actually gone pretty well. No huge issues. It only took them so long because they were busy saving civilians, which Mark was very insistent on. Not that Steph minded, it was just… a little obsessive.

Batman hummed but made no other comment. Tim cleared his throat. "Well, moody Mark aside. I found some concerning evidence within Arkham Asylum," he started.

"Let me guess, someone broke them out?" Jason deadpanned.

"Bingo. But not in a discreet way," Tim tapped on the keyboard, bringing up security footage from a hallway within the asylum. Everything was rather normal. Workers pushing along trays of food, checking in on each cell. Until a red blur flashed across the camera, lights flickering, and within an instant, the alarms blared. Cages opened and chaos erupted. On the floor laid a few workers, ripped to shreds. Steph frowned, that's rather gruesome. "I slowed the footage down and here's what I got."

He showed the footage again and very slowly, a blurred man came into the frame. He was going too fast for the camera to catch all the details, but they could see that he wore a cap. A white and red suit, white skin, and black hair. He was flying. The workers were ripped to shreds by the pure speed of his flight.

"That's not much Drake," Damian muttered.

"Yeah, but we know to be on the lookout for a man in a white and red superhero suit, and this man isn't nice," he showed more shots from cameras. Displaying killed workers at the asylum, all dying in a red blur. Necks cracked, or bodies ran through. Just like in the footage, Tim showed, except this man didn't spare a single soul.

"Wow," was all Dick said, Steph shared the same sentiment.

"This man doesn't play around. Murdered anyone in his way," Tim said, Batman narrowed his eyes at the footage.

"Fast. Can fly. Super strength," he muttered.

Steph frowned, "What are you saying?" She knew what he was saying, she just didn't like it.

"I'm saying, Mark might know who this is."

"No. We're not asking him now," Steph instantly shut him down.

"Steph-" Batman started.

"No! You already forced him to do hero work when he didn't want to. Let him rest. Leave him alone for now," she defended. Mark didn't need more stress, and if he knew this person- then what? He didn't need more on his plate. He already looked fucking miserable half the time.

Batman's shoulders fell, a resigned sigh escaping him. "Fine."

"One day. Give him one day."

Bruce's fists clenched, "Steph, this man could do damage. We need to know-"

"One day, you research on your own. Then the next day, ask Mark," Steph didn't budge on her stance. She heard Jason snicker at Bruce's face. They glared at one another. Steph wouldn't back down, and for a second, she feared Bruce wouldn't either. But then his face crumpled and he looked away.

"Fine. One day," he gritted through his teeth.

Steph smirked, "one day."

"Good. Let the poor guy relax a little," Dick said, laying a hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce sighed and nodded his head, eyeing the blurred footage of the mystery man. Mark should be thanking her. After all, she just saved him a day from Batman's interrogation.

Chapter Text

Mark shouldn't be upset over doing simple hero work. He liked saving people, he wanted to be the hero his father said he was. But some part of him was scared. Scared he'd fail and more people would die when he could've saved them but failed to do so. It was stupid. It's not like he believed his dad's words. So why was he so bent out of shape about tonight? Was something inside him… broken? He hated the idea of his dad ruining hero work for him, or perhaps Mark ruined it for himself.

Mark didn't sleep well that night, his head too full of mangled bodies and guilt. Sometimes, when he looked at someone, he swore he saw them covered in blood. Gored beyond belief and Mark was supposed to act like nothing was wrong. He knew his mind was playing tricks again, it wasn't real.

"Morning!" Dick chirped as he walked into his room. "Alfred made some pancakes, which are to die for. So I'd hurry on down if I were you," Mark stared at Dick. When he didn't respond for a second, his smile fell, "Is something wrong…?" Yes. Everything was wrong. Dick had a hole through him. His guts were splayed out and blood was dripping from his mouth, slowly seeping into the carpet below and coloring it a dark crimson. He felt sick looking at Dick, yet he couldn't look away.

"Mark?" He rubbed his eyes, looked back at Dick, and he was normal. No blood. No guts hanging out. No blood on the carpet either. Mark took a shuddering breath, he hadn't slept enough tonight. He was seeing things again.

"I'm fine," he muttered and slipped out of bed. He purged whatever sick images threatened to twist reality before him, it'd be fine once he woke up more.

"Ok… well, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here," Dick was a good guy, he probably meant every word and Mark knew he'd listen with an open mind. Mark bit the inside of his cheek, the words threatened to spill out at the drop of a coin. To blurt every sick scene he saw, the betrayal he felt when his dad turned out to be in complete control of himself, and his own fractured being. It was all boiling within him.

Mark swallowed, "ok," was all he said, walking past Dick. He didn't want to dump that on Dick, he shouldn't have to comfort someone he barely knew. Not again. He didn't want to be a burden on the family, let alone worry them.

Mark knew he was making excuses at this point, he was just running from his problems. But it didn't matter. He'd go home soon and everything would be better, it had to be.

The day seemed to only get worse and Mark found the manor to be especially suffocating today. His body was itching to do anything other than sit around and be with his thoughts. He was tempted to jump out the nearest window and fly away, but his answer to getting outside came in the form of a little boy he met a few days ago.

Jon.

"Hey Mark!" The boy chirped, he blinked, not expecting to see Superboy inside the manor. Or at all. By his side was Damian, who was sending him a glare that could whither plants. Like he was bound to jump Jon at any moment. However, after helping defeat Gotham's villains, Mark noticed that Damian wasn't as… rude towards him. There was a small sliver of respect. A very, very, small amount. Enough for a few unsavory comments to go unsaid.

"You know him?" Damian said with narrowed eyes, as suspicious as ever. Instead of letting Mark answer, Jon beat him to the chase.

"Yeah. We met in Metropolis, he got a little lost so I helped him get back to Gotham," Jon answered.

Damian smirked, "Lost?" Mark saw the years of teasing in his future. He was already embarrassed enough about it, and Mark would appreciate Jon not telling the whole world.

"Shut up. I don't wanna hear it," Mark muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't have it in him today to deal with Damian and his sass. Mark didn't hate the kid, but he could be draining at times. Actually, this whole manor could feel that way. It certainly was today and Mark wasn't allowed outside unless someone else was accompanying him. Bruce was paranoid, to say the least. An idea slowly formed in his head, a way to get fresh air without having to endure Bruce's disappointment. He sighed, "Jon. Is the dinner offer still available?" He managed through his teeth, and Damian's brows rose.

Jon grinned, "of course. Damian, do you wanna come too?"

"Tt- I suppose. If only to keep the buffoon in check," Mark assumed Damian meant him. Which in all honesty, was fair. The last time he spoke with Superman it ended in disaster and far too much self-hate.

Jon cheered, slinging an arm around Damian's shoulder, who begrudgingly allowed it. "Awesome! This will be great," Mark somehow doubted it but smiled nonetheless.

This in turn was how Mark found himself in a car, with Alfred, Jon, and Damian. Jon insisted he and Mark could fly there, Damian in tow. As fun as that sounded –Mark entertained the thought of a grumpy Damian being held bridal style in Jon's arms– Alfred had refused. He instead wanted to drive them, claiming he had a few items to give Lois. Jon's mom, as Mark learned.

Once they arrived at the house, Jon hopped out of the car and bounded up the driveway with Alfred in tow. Mark moved to follow, only to have a strong grip latch onto his arm. He flinched, whipping his head around to face whoever grabbed him.

"Grayson," Damian hissed and he froze. There was a dangerous undertone to the boy's voice, enough for Mark's hair to rise. "If you so much as spout any hateful rhetoric towards Jon's family, I'll slit your throat. Understand?" Mark stared at him, he hadn't expected that. But looking at Damian's face told him he'd live up to that threat, no matter how much force it took. Mark wasn't easily intimidated, considering Damian would need more than just a knife to pierce his skin, but the kid was scary at times. He'd find a way to slit his throat.

"I understand completely, I… I actually wanted to apologize to Superman- I mean, Clark," he sent Damian a sheepish look, the boy's eyes narrowed and he let go. Mark was quick to tug his arm away.

"My statement still stands."

"And I still understand. You could've said that without the threat," Mark pointed out.

"It wouldn't have been as effective," Mark shrugged, he had a point there. Now Mark would be extra careful over what he said at dinner, Thanks Damian, he thought bitterly, stepping out of the car.

Mark didn't exactly spill the whole truth to Damian. He wasn't just here to apologize or get out of the manor. Although that was definitely a huge part of it. He was also here to see Jon's family and how his dad interacted with them. Maybe then he could truly see if Clark was… like his father. Despite his wanting to trust Clark, he still held doubt over his character. Mark hated himself for it, but a small part of his brain nagged to confirm, needed hard evidence to believe Superman was truly a good hero.

Why not kill two birds with one stone? He'd get some fresh air and see Jon's family. No problem.

Jon lived in a rural area called Smallville on a quaint farm. The house was sitting on an open field of grass, far different from the manor he'd been in for weeks. He thought Jon lived in Metropolis, but apparently not. Alfred knocked on the door, holding a tray with tinfoil on top. The smell of whatever was under there was delightful and made Mark's stomach grumble when they were in the car.

The door swung open, "Oh, Alfred! I see you didn't forget the casserole," a woman answered, who Mark assumed to be Lois. She was a beautiful woman, with short black hair and slightly tan skin.

"Of course not. I also brought the boys, they wished to spend dinner here- I hope you don't mind Master Mark being here as well," Alfred said, and Lois looked at him. He smiled and gave a small wave, her face was blank as she looked at him. Which brought doubt into his mind. Was this a bad idea? Should he have come here? Then she smiled at him, all bright and welcoming.

"That's fine, now come on in!" She moved out of the way and ruffled Jon's hair as he entered. Mark was the last one to shuffle in and the inside was about as simple as the outside. A typical house that a farm family would live in. It made Mark yearn to go back home and see his own house again. Maybe this was a bad idea. Was it too late to bail? He wondered, standing awkwardly off to the side.

"Hey Dad!" Jon called and there was Superman, setting plates on the table as Jon ran up to him. He leaned down and ruffled his hair. No wonder Jon's hair was so messy, his parents never stopped ruffling it.

"Hey there buddy, you had a good time at the manor? Bats didn't cause any trouble, did he?" The way he talked had all sorts of strange feelings whirling inside him, and all types of yearning. It reminded him of his dad, the way Clark talked to Jon, of course, that was when he was younger.

"No no, it was nice," Jon then turned to them. "I brought Damian- oh, and Mark!" Clark's smile faulted a little at the sight of him and his stomach churned. Yeah, this was a mistake. He itched to run out the door and fly away, never to come back. Anything to avoid that strange look Clark was giving him.

"You know him?" Clark inquired.

"Yeah. I guided him back to Gotham when he got lost-"

"You have got to stop telling people that," Mark muttered, allowing himself to smile, albeit strained. He looked into Clark's eyes, and his pinched expression softened a little.

"That's good," Mark sighed in relief. Ok, Clark didn't hate him enough to throw him out. He could stay for dinner, he could do this. It was either this or sitting in the manor… perhaps the manor would've been better. Being here wasn't helping him escape his troubles.

"Dinner's almost ready boys, go sit down," Lois said, patting Mark on the shoulder as she walked past. He tensed a little at the small motion, before forcing himself to relax. Everything's fine, he was in Clark's house, no bailing. Everyone sat down except Alfred, who followed Lois to the kitchen, intent on helping. Superman sat at the head of the table and Mark found himself just at the side of him. It felt awkward to intentionally sit at the other end, it would seem like Mark hated Clark or was avoiding him. He didn't want to stir more bad feelings between them. Damian and Jon were across from him and Damian shot him quite the glare. As if daring him to mess up.

No pressure.

The food began to be arranged on the table and Mark let Jon and Damian talk to Clark, while he attempted to appear invisible. Jon babbled about their latest adventure, which involved aliens and dimension travel. Not the weirdest thing he'd heard, but why were two children doing that? Mark didn't question it and Clark looked proud of Jon, if not worried.

"Don't tell your mother that, you'll give her a heart attack," he muttered.

"Don't tell me what?" Lois said, setting down the last bit of food and taking a seat next to him. He caught the two glancing at one another and instantly Mark felt bad, she probably wanted to sit next to Clark, not him. He moved to get up but she waved her hand. "You’re fine Mark."

"But I took your seat?"

She chuckled, "Technically, Jon took my seat," she said and shot the boy a mock glare, Jon looked away.

"Damian sat here first," he mumbled under his breath before Lois continued.

"You're fine. Just sit and enjoy," Mark relaxed a little, Alfred taking the last seat at the other end of the table. It didn't feel fine. But Lois insisted, so… he glanced at Clark whose face was impassive, not showing any disdain or anger at him sitting here. He wasn't mad, it's fine.

Dinner was more pleasant than he expected, despite its rough start for him. It was full of mashed potatoes, roast beef, casserole, and vegetables, and Mark was enjoying it all. It was nice to eat out of the manor once in and while, he had been stuffed there for weeks after all. As great as Alfred's cooking was, it couldn't make up for the same scenery day end and day out. Throughout most of the dinner, Mark didn't say much unless he was prompted to, instead, he focused on eating his food and listening passively to the family. He watched Clark and Lois giving warm looks and smiles to Jon as if he were the world itself. Mark pushed down the ache that rose in his chest watching them.

Eventually, the conversation turned towards Jon and him being a superhero. For once, Mark asked a question.

"Did you train him?" He asked Clark, taking a bite of his potatoes. They were almost as good as his mom's.

"Oh trust me, Jon needed plenty of training. But not too much, I didn't want to interfere with his education," Clark said and Lois smirked.

"As if I would let him," the two chuckled. Mark was a little surprised and it must've shown because Lois was then asking him about his life back in his universe. Turning a curious eye towards the newcomer she's probably heard plenty about.

"So what's your world like? If that's not an insensitive question. I'm sure you miss it," that was an understatement.

Mark shrugged, "I do. I mean, my dad's a superhero," why the fuck did he bring up his dad? He mentally slapped himself. "He goes by Omni-man," he finished. He hoped it'd end there and Mark could move on, but there were always questions.

"Omni-man? Where'd that come from?" Clark asked. Mark sighed, that's an easy question.

"I don't know… It's a little more creative than Superman-" Mark clicked his mouth shut. He shouldn't have said that. What's wrong with him? Why can't he keep his trap shut? He tensed and spared Clark a glance. However, the man didn't get angry or tense, he instead let out a loud laugh.

"I'll admit, I wasn't thinking too hard about a superhero name," he said, eyes crinkling with amusement. Mark stared at him, the knot in his stomach loosening. He wasn't mad. No, he seemed quite happy to have Mark here. Warmth colored his features as he turned to Mark, not a hint of fury. "You became a hero, right? What's your name?"

He snapped out of his shock, "Invincible… I haven't been one too long, I didn't get my powers until six months ago. I was a late bloomer or something," Mark said and gave a small smile. He considered leaving it there, but once his mouth opened he found more words spilling out. Encouraged by Clark, who looked genuinely interested, Mark continued. "I'm new to the superhero stuff, my dad trains me all the time," Clark's eyes brightened at the comment and Jon leaned forward.

"You fight aliens?" Jon asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Mark smiled and relaxed in his chair, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"Yeah, actually. I fought these one aliens, a bunch of green guys. But their dimension time was a lot faster than ours, so they got really old in the middle of fighting," Mark explained. "It was my first real fight as a superhero," he recalled. He left out the more gory details, how many people died, and that Mark had frozen up in fear.

"So you like the hero biz?" Clark said with a smirk on his face. He chuckled, looking away from the man.

Mark began to pick at his food, the tension rising in his shoulders once more. "I don't know. It's more difficult than I thought, I don't even know if I want to be a hero anymore."

Damian clicked his tongue, "You're pathetic-" only to be cut off by Jon's hand, who chuckled nervously.

"Ignore him- ew! Did you just lick my hand!" Damian smirked as Jon flinched away, the two starting to bicker a little. "You're gross!"

"You're facing the consequences of your actions. No one silences me," Mark's shoulders fell, it was rather pathetic, wasn't it? He thought to himself, head resting upon his hand. He moved his mashed potatoes around his plate, he was born with these powers, shouldn't he use them for good? To be a hero? Mark shouldn't hesitate on it. It's practically his destiny.

"Mark," Clark laid a hand on his shoulder and Mark hated how he flinched. Clark's hand pulled away and Mark opened his mouth to apologize. It wasn't his fault Mark was broken.

"Sorry-"

"Being a superhero is hard work," Clark continued anyway, brushing past his half-baked apology. "It's not an easy job. There are things we have to do, have to see, that require strength to overcome. There's been many times where I considered not being a hero too."

"You did?" Mark muttered.

"Of course! And it's fine if you believe you're not cut out for the hero business. It's not everyone's calling," Clark sighed, smiling softly at him. "But if you truly want to save people, truly want to help the world. Don't let your fears hold you back. It doesn't matter how little you do, or if you fail, all that matters is that you put your best foot forward and try. After all, it would be way worse if you didn't try at all," Mark stared at Clark, his throat closing up. Clark's words sunk into him, a whole different perspective on heroism. This whole time he thought he was the problem, that his being a hero was a catalyst to death and destruction. After all, if fighting the villain ended in destruction and death because of his ignorance, what was the point in calling himself a hero?

But, what if Mark wasn't there? He imagined the people on the train would be spared or the building would've stayed intact. Perhaps it would've, or maybe others would die instead. But… he had good intentions. Mark went in there to help, even if he failed, he did… try. If he gave up and stopped being a hero, then who would be there to save those who need him? To face a space threat no one else could handle? To stop a meteor?

No one. More people would die because Mark gave up. He sighed, other heroes could handle the typical hero work, but Mark would be there to handle whatever couldn't be stopped by the average hero. Yeah. He'd… do that. After all, Mark still wanted to help others, and he was scared to do so. But… perhaps he shouldn't let it hold him back.

He quickly glanced away from Clark and looked back at his food, hating how his eyes were watering, how much stupid shit he was close to blurting out. Thoughts whirling in his head at Clark's little inspirational speech.

How could he ever compare this man to his father?

Instead of everything he wanted to blurt out that would embarrass him to no end, he just said: "Thank you," meaning it with all his heart. He really needed to hear that. It made Mark want to adorn his suit again, it made him want to stop hiding.

Clark smiled, about to speak once more only to snap his head to the two boys. Who's shouting became apparent to his ears. "Damian, no swords at the dinner table. We talked about this," Mark looked up to see those two grabbing at each other. Damian was about to pull out a sword and Jon tugged at Damian's hair. Where… where the hell did Damian get a sword? Was he carrying one at all times?

"And no fighting, Master Damian," Alfred chided. The two quickly separated before bursting into laughter. Everyone chuckled and Mark smirked a little, discreetly wiping at his watery eyes.

He didn't want to ruin this by crying.

Before he knew it, dinner was over. Mark was helping clean up, feeling at least a little better than he did before. He and Clark were good, at least Mark thought they were. He still wanted to apologize and explain himself, Clark deserved an explanation for his behavior. But apparently, he didn't have to plan a way to pull Clark aside, because he did it for him.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" The man asked, Mark nodded. He excused himself and followed him outside, where the sun was beginning to set. They stood at the back porch of the house, Mark gazing upon the orange-tinted sky and long grass softly swaying in the wind. It was quiet, peaceful, and cool, the frogs just beginning to croak their songs. Mark would've appreciated the scenery more if his stomach wasn't tying itself into knots. He wanted to talk. Everyone knew that 'talking' could only mean heavy conversations. Did he do something wrong?

Clark sighed deeply, "OK, this is a personal question," instantly Mark was on guard. "But, is everything okay at home?" He asked, voice almost a whisper. Mark snapped his head to Clark, shocked that he would ask that. Did he seem abused? Ok, he did flinch when Clark touched him. But that didn't mean anything.

It's not like his mom or dad hits… him…

Oh.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, "Everything's fine. I mean, I'm not being abused. Sure my dad's a little rough during training, but I'm practically invincible so it's fine," he explained, hoping it'd be enough for Clark. Sure he flinched, but it was a recent thing from his tussle with dad. He wasn't abused day end and day out, or really hit too badly. It was just training. Training had to be rough. But his explanation wasn't enough.

"How rough?"

Mark's shoulders rose, "Does it matter? He's not hitting me-" images of his dad slamming a fist into his chest appeared in his head. Mark was wheezing on the ground, floundering over the first real hit Dad landed on him. The training only seemed to get rougher from there… Mark couldn't imagine Clark hitting Jon as his dad did with him. It would be unacceptable, invulnerable skin or not… would that apply to him as well? No. No, it didn't, right? He's different. Mark huffed, "Well, it's- he's not verbal-" shouting. Dad screamed into his face about how insignificant humans were, how he didn't care about his mom or anyone on Earth. That was new, that was recent, and his dad never yelled at him like that before. That didn't count, right?

"It's fine Clark. I'm not being abused," he finished. Some sick twisted part of him still cared for his dad, still loved him to this day. Despite all the horrible things he did, how badly Mark wanted to not love him anymore. Even now he defended his dad, denying all the terrible abuse he put Mark through. He knew he was grabbing at straws, the answer was staring him in the face. Clear as day, and yet he still closed his eyes and ignored it.

"Mark. It doesn't matter if it's training or not, hitting of any kind is abuse. It's not fine, it's not ok," Clark insisted, reaching towards him.

Mark quickly batted his hand away, what does he know? He doesn't know his family, his dad, what he went through. "My dad isn't perfect, I know he's a shitty person, I know-" he choked a little on his words, seeing his dad. Angry. Yelling. Bloodshot eyes bore into him, telling him every horrible thing he believed that shattered Mark from the outside in. The pain was still there, and it felt like Clark was digging into an infected wound. "I know. But you don't get it, you don't understand-"

"Then help me understand Mark. Help me understand why," Clark begged, he could see him resisting the urge to touch him. Hands curled back every time they made a move towards him. Clark took a deep breath, "I want to help you," Clark spoke, his eyes shining with kindness, his voice speaking nothing but sincerity. And… Why the hell did he want to do that? Mark all but crumbled under his words and shook his head, bowing it so Clark couldn't see his watery eyes. Help him? Was there any part of him that could be helped?

"I… I really enjoyed dinner. Thank you for letting me join," Mark said, the words like lead on his tongue. He wanted to be helped, to have someone save him, but Mark believed he was past being saved. Not worthy. He needed to get back home and be a hero again, save people, to make up for the many people he accidentally killed. He wasn't the one to be helped, he didn't deserve it.

"Mark…" Clark whispered. It wasn't an angry or hurt tone, just soft and open. He almost wanted to resent Clark for being so kind, then it would be easier to reject him. Mark sniffed, holding back every tear that threatened to fall. Why was he being so nice to him, to Mark of all people? The teen who was an ass to him when they first talked. The teen who had blood all over him. The teen who, even now, rejected his kindness after all he's done. "Is it OK if I hug you?" He asked, in that same tone that had his heart twisting. Mark clenched his fists, a hollow feeling yearning for warmth screamed at him. Clawing its way to the surface.

Mark, when every part of him wanted to run away and deny, nodded. Finding himself enveloped in strong, warm arms. Pressed against a chest that felt so familiar, reminded him of being young again. Of looking up to his father, a strong figure who would never waver or be hurt. Someone invincible. Everything Mark wanted to be.

If Clark found his shoulder a little wet, he didn't say anything. For that, Mark was ever grateful.

Chapter Text

Bruce couldn't let the break-in at Arkham and the discovery of a powerful being go unchecked. So, as he usually did, he dove himself into research and attempted to figure out the red blur caught on camera.

What digging he did on the matter of the mystery man led to many dead ends, much to his own frustration. There were a few sightings of a strange red blur or a new super-person zooming through the sky. All the pictures were blurry and unhelpful. To his own concern, a lot of the sightings were in Gotham at the moment.

Dating back one week, the first mention of a man with a red cape popped up on social media. Most seemed to write it off as Superman or perhaps the Flash, but looking outside the United States, these sightings spanned across the world. In just a week. At first, the sightings were random, and written off as a hoax or some other superhero, but Bruce knew better. Tracking through his own satellites, he's able to view all flight travel as fast as Superman. Usually, he'd be able to see the many fast trips Clark did around Metropolis or around the country, however, he noticed that all locations where the red blur was sighted also had traces of Superman-level flight speed. They spanned all around the world, and just after the breakout in Arkham Asylum, what few posts about the mystery man were all centered in one place.

Gotham.

For some reason, this red-capped man decided to stay in Gotham, or perhaps he was looking for something in Gotham. He sighed, having a Superman-level threat fly around Gotham wasn’t good. He wanted to ask Mark, he definitely knew the answer and Bruce knew he was connected to this man. After all, his power set was the same as Mark's. But, he made a promise, and so far, whoever this man was hadn't found whatever he was looking for. Bruce hoped the caped man wouldn't make a move til tomorrow.

Batman waited a day, just as he promised Steph. He understood where she was coming from, and despite Batman's logical brain insisting on interrogating and figuring out a major threat, he knew Mark was exhausted. He seemed a little better after having dinner at Kent's house, but Bruce knew he was having a rough time. Where the problems came from, he was still unsure. But he suspected it stemmed from his father, who the boy had trouble talking about and said was a Viltrumite. A tyrant species. He had his suspicions about Mark's father, whether he was abused or not. Either way, Bruce was living up to his promise and expected to ask Mark in the morning.

However that plan was thrown aside, as in the middle of the night, while Bruce was still in the cave and Tim was tinkering with a camera, he got an alert. Bruce paused, hands hovering over the keyboard as the bat symbol flashed on his screen. After hours of research and looking at sightings of the red blur, Bruce had set all his satellites to capture and record any movement at the speed of Superman. He hoped to catch the man on camera, and luckily, it seemed one of his satellites had succeeded. He clicked the notification, which then displayed footage caught from a satellite over the ocean. At first, nothing was there, just the vast expanse of water. Then a red blur flashed across the camera, the water forming waves underneath it. It left ripples in its wake, disturbing the sea and Bruce's hope for a quiet night.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked and leaned over his shoulder. He too saw the red blur, its second cameo on camera. "Again?" But this time, he could slow the footage down and see the perpetrator. Since his satellite footage was better quality than the asylum- and people's phones- he could get a clear view of his face and identify the threat. He slowed the video down and paused right as the red blur entered the screen. Bruce zoomed in, the pixelated footage slowly giving way to a clear image.

There he saw the face of a grown man. Black hair, white streaks within it, mustache, white skin, blue eyes, and wearing a… superhero suit. Colored red and white. His eyes were bloodshot and despite his attempt at apathy, rage glittered deep within his face. The man looked furious and his computer didn't recognize the face, there was no data or records of this specific man. Bruce pulled up a map depicting air travel. If he ignored planes and focused on an airborne object traveling about the speed of light, he could easily track the man and where he was heading, and it wasn't good.

"This man is heading straight for Gotham across the Pacific. He should reach our location in ten minutes," Batman muttered, or, if they were lucky, the man was heading somewhere else. But Bruce wasn't lucky.

Tim's eyes widened. "And… I'm assuming he isn't here for a nice chat?" Tim said, Bruce grunted in return. Unless he was mistaken, they should prepare for a fight. Wherever he lands, they need to be prepared, and he wasn't going to underestimate his opponent.

"Father, I'm ready for patrol," Damian appeared in the Batcave and went to stand beside him.

"Good, get Mark. Now," Bruce demanded, watching his saltalie track the man across the ocean, the red dot slowly making its way to Gotham. There was little time left. If he landed anywhere else in the US, it could spell trouble for the country.

Damian frowned, "For what-"

"We don't have time. Get him now," Bruce said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Damian scoffed but walked away, sensing the urgency in his tone. Bruce sighed, he couldn't handle this alone, even if he wanted to. It would be too risky to face an enemy who could be as strong as Superman without backup. He pressed a button on the computer, which instantly sent an emergency call to Oracle. Within a few rings, she picked up, her face appearing on the monitor.

"Jesus Christ B… do you know what time it is?" She groaned, rubbing a hand across her face and setting her glasses askew.

"We have an emergency. Contact everyone and tell them to convene at the Batcave. Call Superman as well."

"Do you need the Justice League?" Oracle said all tiredness was gone as she snapped to attention. It wasn't every day that Bruce wanted the whole family together, let alone Superman as well. But he had a feeling that Superman would be helpful.

"Put them on standby," he heard clicking from her end. Within just a minute, she turned back to him.

"Ok. Everyone should arrive within two to five minutes. Luckily, they all stayed in Gotham for patrol. B, what's going on?"

"Unknown anomaly. Possibly Superman-level threat," Batman said. Considering how easily this man broke into Arkham, killed everyone, and traveled at high speeds, he wasn't to be taken lightly.

"Shit. That's bad. I'll keep an eye out," he was eternally grateful for Oracle- Barbara. Bruce didn't know where he'd be without her.

"Thank you," he whispered and disconnected the call.

"Superman-level threat?" Tim muttered.

"Yes," Bruce said, staring at the pure anger on the man's face. Bruce assumed his gloves might be caked in blood if it weren't for them being red. It looked like it. But the camera could be wrong.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, "Mondays, am I right?" Bruce fought back a smile at the comment.

Four minutes passed and it felt like hours had gone by instead. Everyone was there except Mark. Bruce looked back at the map, which he couldn't stop checking every few seconds. It seemed every time he blinked the dot would move a little closer.

"Aren't you gonna explain?" Jason snapped. "I was in the middle of something."

"Not until Mark is here," he muttered, speaking of the devil the elevator dinged, Damian walked in first. His face twisted into a deep scowl, glaring at the ground as he walked.

"Apologizes, father. Grayson insisted on going to the restroom," he hissed.

"I had to pee! Is that a crime?" Mark argued before his eyes widened and took in the ensemble of heroes before him. "Woah, what's going on?"

Bruce sighed, "We have a problem. I believe you might know who it is."

—-----

Mark was tired of getting woken up in the middle of the night, especially by Damian. Who had almost slit his throat asking to go to the bathroom before heading to the Batcave. It wasn't his fault his body chose an inconvenient time to relieve itself.

Damian spat plenty of threats on his way down, much of which Mark ignored.

Mark, however, didn't expect the entire bat family geared up and Superman in the Batcave. All there, ready for a battle. Here he thought Damian was being rude, perhaps he wasn't kidding about this being serious. He blinked, trying to chase away the tired from his eyes. He couldn't be tired in the face of danger.

They all perked at his entrance and spared no time getting to the point.

"We have a problem. I believe you might know who it is," who? Mark furrowed his brow and Bruce gestured for him to look at the screen, Mark stepped beside his chair to look. He pulled up security footage from a satellite -this man owned a satellite- slowed it down, til a man came into view. He paused it and Mark felt all the air escape his lungs in one rattling breath.

He knows this man alright. He knows him all too well. Known him since birth, called him a father, and loved him till now. This man raised Mark and pushed him back down to the ground, and he hoped to never see him again. Yet upon the screen, his father lay displayed with fury across his face. Mark knew the look, it was the same look he saw when Dad was beating him to the ground. The same one that brought phantom pains of cracking bone and bloodied skin.

"Do you know him?" Bruce asked. For a second, he couldn't speak. Mark was stuck staring at the screen, his throat clogging up any words that wanted to spill from his mouth. Questions whirled in his head as he stood frozen, why was he here? How? What was he doing?

Then the fear gripped him like a python and threatened to consume him whole. His dad. Was here. His… dad? Mark saw the dried blood covering his gloves on the camera, it painted the bright red a dark brown. He remembered where that blood came from. From Mark, from crashing through a train filled with innocents, from a pilot's head. They all screamed and blood was everywhere. People were dying and thousands were dead, all at the hands of Mark and his father. Everything flashed before his eyes when he glanced at the face of his father on screen. Mark couldn't move, his skin prickled, and he felt warm liquid trailing down his entire body.

Fingers curled into his arms, he remembered the pain of being hit over and over and over and over and over-

"Mark?" He gasped and flinched away from a hand that landed on his shoulder. It was Clark, who pulled the hand away as if he touched something hot. His face twisted with guilt. "Sorry," he mumbled and stepped away as if Mark were a frightened animal. Perhaps he was. Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which slowly began to tremble. Don't panic. Calm down. Just explain who he was, don't think about the past. He told himself and grabbed his hand to stop its insistent trembling. Mark buried all his emotions down and let the hollow feeling absorb him. It helped him breathe again, pretend like nothing happened, and ignore each emotion clawing at him. It helped his hand still in his grip, some semblance of control in himself.

"You know him," Bruce stated, pure white eyes burning right into his face. Mark wanted to shrivel away and die, or for Bruce to take off the damn cowl. Just to see any warmth of life in his eyes, rather than the cold white. He said no such thing and pushed down his emotions further. Ignore it. Explain, he hissed at himself.

"That's my dad," Mark said, his voice wavered despite his attempt at keeping it neutral. Bruce's eyes narrowed, probably noticing every bit of emotion whirling inside him. Mark wanted him to stop looking, he didn't want him to see.

"I see," Clark mumbled, his arms crossed and he scrutinized the image of his father on screen. There was a ripple of surprise across the heroes, something Mark expected. This wasn't the most flattering image of his dad.

"I have so many questions," Duke said.

"We don't have time, he'll be here any minute," Mark almost choked on his own fear at those words. Any minute- he'll be here?? No. No, he can't face him. He can't- "Suit up. We're heading outside into the courtyard," Batman said, Mark gave a stiff nod, even when he wanted to run as far away as he could. He took one long deep breath to gather himself once more, to shove down his riding panic, and made himself move.

It felt surreal to put on his suit, it felt like he was a strung-up puppet. Someone else was moving his wooden limbs and body, not him, they pushed his limbs through the tight fabric and pulled on his cowl. Mark wasn't there, he was just watching, watching the vigilantes gather in the courtyard ready to fight. Then reality set in, and he too was standing beside them. The manor was away from the main city of Gotham, which Mark was glad for. He couldn't handle seeing innocent citizens die again. If anything, Mark didn't know how he would react…

Mark wasn't ready to see his dad either.

"Will he fight us?" Steph asked him, the first to question.

Mark nodded, "Definitely," the anger on Dad's face said enough, he wasn't here for a friendly visit.

"Ok… fun," she whispered.

"Do Viltrumites have any weakness?" Bruce asked and stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. The presence of Bruce- Batman, was enough to have his shoulders relax. Even at the impending doom soon to arrive at their feet. Mark frowned and stared at the sky, waiting for his father to appear. To fight. Again. His throat constricted, he didn't want to. Like a child, Mark was tempted to fall to the ground and throw a tantrum, cry, and sob about wanting to be left alone. He was tired, still exhausted from fighting his dad once, to do it again would be overkill.

Mark felt his eyes water a little, "no," he got out, his voice cracking. "Viltrumites have pure blood, no known weakness."

"Mark…?" Dick whispered, his brows furrowed with concern. He didn't look at him, it would only make speaking harder.

"Well that's not fucking good," Jason said. "Why would your dad attack us anyway? Can't we just explain that we're friends? Pals?"

"Oh then we'll sing kumbaya and hold hands next," Tim stated in a dry tone.

"Shut up," Jason hissed.

"Mark," Dick said again and cut the two off. "What's… going on?"

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. He'll have to talk about now, then. Mark didn't want to, his entire being wanted to curl up and hide forever. But the words were tumbling out, a waterfall spilling from his mouth. There was no turning back. "Viltrumites are planet conquerors, for the empire Viltrum. Dad raised me as a human, I didn't know the truth of my lineage. My dad lied and told me he was here to help and protect the earth. But it was all a lie," Mark clenched his fist, feeling anger thrum through his veins. It helped ease the terror running through him.

"Then, why was he there?" Steph asked.

"He was there to weaken Earth, to prepare it for take over. He killed the Guardians, and once I found out, I fought him," his voice cracked. "He's insane, spouting nonsense about how useless and worthless humans are, about my mom being nothing more than a pet." Mark practically spat out the word, to this day, he still can't believe it. Dad loved Mom, that was a fact to Mark for his entire life, but apparently, his whole life was a lie.

He had never loved them.

"Fuck kid…" Jason whispered.

"I'm sorry," Duke muttered. "I mean, that's fucked up. To find out your dad is some…"

"Monster?" Mark supplied, tilting his head towards Duke.

"Yeah. That," he whispered.

"That's why you came here beaten to shit," Tim whispered. Despite not looking at them, he could feel the pity from them, he wanted to shrivel up and die. Mark clenched his jaw, there was no going back now.

"Yeah. Dad didn't take kindly to me resisting him. I was teleported away before he could do more… maybe kill me? I don't know," Mark shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't dare look at them, staring at the sky instead. Mark didn't want to see their faces, if he did, he'd end up crying. He'd become a blubbering mess, exposed and weak.

"But that blood wasn't just yours," Bruce said, and he may have imagined it, but his voice was trembling as well. He spared a glance to the stoic figure beside him, whose head was tilted to the sky as well. For some reason, despite Batman, for all Mark knew, being a regular human, Mark felt comfort in his presence. How he held himself in such a way that made him seem immovable, however ridiculous it was, considering Batman wouldn't stand a chance against his dad.

He'd be just like Darkwing. Mark clenched his teeth at the thought.

"No. I'm… sorry," Mark could feel his cracks grow, about to shatter again. His shoulders rose and his chest twisted with guilt. He didn't want to disappoint them, he really didn't- "I tried to stop him, I tried to save them. But he just… killed them. Made me kill them. He didn't care how many people died, I…" Mark sighed and blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. He swallowed the lump in his throat and silence stretched across them, Mark didn't move to fill it. He didn't want to. If he talked anymore, he'd break.

"This is fucked up," Jason was the first to speak. "That's saying something coming from me."

"... Inexcusable. Your dad is scum," Cass whispered, she sounded furious, her voice shaking as she spoke.

"So the train… that nightmare-" Tim whispered. "Was it all real? That happened, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it was similar to that," he muttered. What else was he supposed to say? That he had nightmares almost every night? That he could still taste and smell blood, even when there was none there? Mark knew he wasn't mentally well. But he wasn't here to drop his trauma, explain each and every fucking thing he went through as soon as he got his powers. How in reality, getting his powers was perhaps the worst thing to happen to him.

"I'm so sorry, Mark. I'm sorry," Steph whispered. Mark didn't say anything, if he did, his voice would surely crack and his facade would crumble into dust.

Mark frowned, seeing a faint dot in the sky. Was that-

In a boom, his father appeared in front of them. Before anyone could so much as blink or say anything. His red cape flowed behind him, and he stood in front of Mark, still hovering in the air. It was strange to be faced with such anger again, a face he used to find comfort in. Not fear. Their relationship did grow strange once he got his powers, and even more once he beat the living hell out of Mark. At this point, he was unsure how to feel or what to say.

"Hi Dad," he muttered, refusing to so much as flinch in his presence. He wouldn't be weak, not now. Mark's heart began to beat like a drum, every part of him wanting to turn tail and run.

"Mark," he simply said, perhaps he too was at a loss of what to say. He looked at him, Mark could see the bags under his eyes, how exhausted he appeared. He probably wasn't much better than Mark. But he felt little sympathy for him.

"How did you get here?" Mark decided to ask before they fought- or Mark got his ass handed again. He was expecting it. Why else would Dad be here if not to teach him another lesson?

"I could ask the same thing," his dad said, and when his face became pinched, Mark knew he was going to start. Mark tensed, not prepared to fight again. "You ran away."

"I didn't run," he found himself saying, not a thought behind his words. Mark was already scrambling, rushing to explain himself. "The watch it- it teleported me away, I didn't mean to leave," Mark cursed himself for stuttering, for being afraid.

"Doesn't matter, you're coming with me," Dad floated towards him, Mark's fists curled, he was about to protest again, only for Bruce to speak up.

"I don't think so," he said and put an arm in front of him. They were going to die. His dad was going to kill them all, and Mark would be helpless to watch. Again. His breath caught in his throat, a sob trying to force its way through his mouth. He didn't want to fight again. He didn't want to. It would hurt. People would die- his friends would die-

His dad scoffed, "Mark, who are these people?" His eyes bore into him, Mark's shoulders rose and he pushed down his growing panic in favor of protecting the family behind him.

"My friends," he stated, sparing them a single glance before focusing back on his dad. He could stand between them. He could at least distract his dad.

"Friends? Did you listen to anything I said?" His dad sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was disappointed. He looked frustrated, he was going to kill them- "You'll live for thousands of years Mark. They'll die before you can blink. Why bother? It's a waste of time," his heart twisted at the thought, at his words. He remembered. But Mark didn't care. He took a deep breath and pushed past the fear growing within him.

"Dad, let's not fight. Batman has been helping me find a way home, he can take us both back," Mark pleaded. Perhaps some reason could be found, a middle ground, where they didn't have to fight- not until they returned home. He didn't want this world's greatest heroes to be slaughtered like they were back home.

"Batman?" Dad snorted. "What is he supposed to be, Darkwing? Come on Mark. Let's not waste our time here-"

"No," the word tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Mark watched his dad's brows lower, his heart stuttered, but he continued. "We'll stay here and wait til Batman finds a way home, and then we'll leave. No one has to get hurt," Mark took his stance, looking his dad in the eye. He wouldn't waver, not when his friends were in danger.

"Is that what this is about? Don't tell me you care about them," his dad said. "Friends Mark? With humans? Maybe you need another lesson," Dad's eyes darkened, and Mark's entire body froze. No. Not them. Mark wouldn't let him.

But could he stop him?

"Does that lesson involve our death? If so, I don't want to die again," Jason said and pulled out a gun.

His dad chuckled, "It's cute that you think that'll hurt me," Dad said, before turning to him. Mark couldn't suppress the flinch that escaped him, he almost expected a punch. "You need to grow up-"

"I don't think he does," the next thing Mark knew, he had Clark standing between him and his dad. He stepped aside, further from them both. A look of pure anger was on Clark's face that he had never seen before. If Mark didn't know better, he'd think he and his dad were arch-nemesis.

"Who are you?" Dad said, looking him up and down.

"Superman," he said, voice as cold as an icy tundra.

"Superman? Really?" His dad chuckled and looked back at him. "What a crew you've got here Mark. Anyways, step aside superboy. I'm talking to my son."

"No, you're not talking to him. You're threatening him. How can you call yourself a father?" Superman spat out and his dad sighed, rubbing his face. He was provoking him, Mark could see a vein begin to pop out on his forehead. His dad was going to attack, Clark knew what he was doing, right?

"Alright, I'm done talking. Let's get this over with," Mark wanted to cry.

"I'm not done," Superman hissed. "But I can make an exception," the next thing Mark knew, the two burst into the air. Mark stumbled back and watched as two blurs of red and blue began to clash. It trembled the sky with each hit, and he feared Clark didn't know what he was getting himself into.

"I've got to-" Mark started, feet lifting off the ground, before he was pulled back by Batman. A hand on his shoulder that kept him glued to the ground.

"No."

"But my dad could.. he could-"

"I'm sorry, but your dad is no match for an angry Supes," Dick said, a pleased grin on his face. The idea was absurd to him, Mark couldn't help but stare at Dick as if he were crazy. His dad was the strongest person on Earth, not even the Guardians or any other hero could take him down. How would Clark do it? Actually… How strong was Clark anyway? "Even then, he doesn't know Superman's weakness."

"He has a weakness?" Mark muttered and looked back to see the two dance around in the sky before they suddenly burst away with an Earth-shaking boom. Mark swiveled around to watch, but they were already gone. "Shouldn't we go after them? Just.. just to be sure?"

"They'll be back once Superman is done," Batman said, a small smirk on his lips.

"What makes you so confident Superman will win?" Mark demanded. He couldn't understand their confidence, were they not aware of his dad's power? Mark should help him! He- he could help…

"You can bleed, right Mark?" Batman said, he shrugged.

"Well, yeah. But it takes a lot," he could definitely bleed. Mark was well aware.

"Superman can't."

"Wha…?" That didn't make sense. How could he not bleed? If he can't bleed, then how could his dad damage… oh.

"He's a man of steel. Nothing can pierce his skin, nothing. Except one thing. One Weakness. But trust me," Batman smirked at him. "Your dad won't find it lying around. So don't worry," Mark sighed, still looking at the sky with worry between his brows. He didn't want Superman to get hurt, but he also didn't want his dad to get hurt as well.

It was a conflicting thought to have and all Mark could hope was that Clark wouldn't kill him… he wouldn't. Right?

Chapter Text

Clark didn't expect Mark's dad to be so… frustrating. He couldn't contain the anger that raced through his veins upon hearing what he said. How Mark's friends didn't matter, how they were going to die anyway, and then proceeded to threaten to kill them- no, not threaten, attempt. Clark knew he was going to do so, after what Mark told them. How he got here, how he ended up so beaten and bloody.

It was because of his dad, of all people. It seemed he didn't stop at Mark, he also killed innocent people just to teach a lesson. It angered him, Clark had never hated someone this much before. There were many villains Clark hated, but Mark's dad was taking the cake. It hit too close to home for him. He saw his own son, Jon, in Mark, and he saw himself in the boy's father. A twisted version that made Clark sick.

This was how Clark found himself roaring into the sky and punching Mark's dad across his face. Or Omni-man, as he called himself. He had no right to be Mark’s dad anymore. The man righted himself in the dark night sky, his red cape flaring behind him. He didn't deserve to wear such a cape.

"You won't win," Omni-man said and slammed a fist across his face before he could react. Clark stumbled back from the impact, he was a heavy hitter. But the thing was, Clark can hit even harder.

"Are you sure about that?" He saw the surprise on Omni-man's face when he turned to him and found no blood, no broken nose, or any sign of substantial damage. Just a small scuff mark across his cheek, which was easily wiped away by Clark's hand. Then his brows fell and Clark saw his jaw clench.

"Positive," Omni-man tackled him and sent them both careening through the sky at light speed, they crashed right into the side of a mountain. The earth trembled from the impact, large cracks forming under his back. Clark grunted with Omni-man's arm at his throat to hold him down. But Omni-man's success was short-lived, as Clark easily pushed him aside and uppercut him, sending him back into the sky.

It was difficult to keep Omni-man in the air and away from civilization, from cities and the ground where real damage could be done. He couldn't let their fight go down there, people could die- no, people would die, and Clark wouldn't let him. Not in his world, not anywhere in the universe.

"You don't talk to your son like that," Clark snapped, his punch was caught and Omni-man slammed him across the jaw. Clark stumbled back, wearing his jaw which began to ache from the repeated hits. He'd admit, the man was difficult to hit, being able to travel as fast as Superman. His punches weren't soft either, and despite his skin being unable to break, the hits still stung after a while.

"Don't tell me how to raise my son."

"I will tell you," he hissed and dodged the kick thrown at him. His eyes flashed, lasers slashing across Omni-man's chest, merely burning the surface-level skin. He hissed in pain and Clark took the chance to lunge at him and slam the man in the chest. Clark felt a crack under his fist and blood splatter out of his mouth. Omni-man looked surprised, he probably didn't expect someone like Superman to face him, let alone damage him. "Your boy looks up to you, I know mine does, and yet you tell him horrible lies and beat him up. For what?"

"To teach him a lesson!" Omni-man snapped and reared his body back to slam into him, pushing him towards the ground. For a second, they raced through the sky and made a beeline for the ground below. Clark grabbed his fists and pushed back, not letting the man slam him into the surface. Not where people walked. "He needs to understand what it means to be a Viltrumite. He needs to be strong, not sympathetic and weak!" Clark headbutted him, Omni-man shouted in pain and backed off, blood leaking from his nose. Anything to shut him up.

"No, to be a hero he needs to be sympathetic, empathy is a good trait to have. You should be proud," Clark argued.

"It's a weakness," Omni-man growled before diving back into the fight. Silence washed over them as all the focus was spent on trying to knock out the other. Superman had to admit that Omni-man was difficult to fight. He was just as strong and agile as him. He dodged Clark's attacks and in return, Clark dodged them as well. Omni-man put all his strength into each punch and he was shocked at how much they hurt. Despite it not damaging his iron skin.

However, he had one downside, as did Superman with Kryptonite. His skin wasn't invulnerable like his. With enough power, it could bruise and bleed, he could be damaged with enough force. Superman had plenty of power to do so.

But he couldn't keep the fight contained to the sky. Omni-man threw him into the ground, right onto a city road. Superman threw the man up into the air, peeling himself out of the concrete. People screamed and ran in terror, cars beeping as the road before them was shattered under his back.

"Damnit," he hissed. Perhaps he should end this sooner rather than later…

"You're just like Mark," Omni-man hissed, floating above him. "Weak," Superman didn't hesitate to jump up into him and throw him back to the clouds. "Sympathetic. It's pathetic," he said, managing to float away from Clark.

"No, it's honorable," Superman bit back and punched Omni-man across the cheek. He saw the man stumble back, staggering a little in the air. He was cutting through him. Slowly, but surely, Clark could see more and more bruises and blood appear from each hit he managed to land. The fight was becoming one-sided, and Clark knew he could win. "You won't win Omni-man. With all the hits you landed, not one had damaged me," Superman proclaimed. He hoped to end it here, perhaps Omni-man would realize he couldn't win and give up. At least then Clark wouldn't have to beat him unconscious… even if he kind of wanted to.

This was for Mark, however, not for him. He doesn't get to decide his father's fate.

The man growled and wiped the blood off his cheek. "You could do so much more with your power besides saving insignificant human lives."

"But what's the point in that? What happiness would I have?" Superman said, spreading his arms. "Your son understands that. He understands that human life is to be valued. Why can't you?" Omni-man desperately launched at him, it was weaker than before. He caught his fist and stopped the momentum he threw at Clark.

"You're naive," he growled.

Clark narrowed his eyes, "You're brainwashed by the planet you come from," Superman muttered. He could see how desperately Omni-man clung to the ideals he grew up with, whether out of fear or true belief, he didn't know. "You were happy living on Earth, weren't you? Yet you threw it all away. Why? To be loyal to a planet that does nothing but conquer and destroy lives?"

"Viltrum doesn't just conquer. We help species advance and live peacefully," Omni-man argued a lie. There was no peace in conquering worlds. Whoever said so was lying to themselves and those they told it to, peace wasn't something forced.

"And if they refuse?"

"They die."

"Give up your planet or die? Sounds cruel and tyrannical," Superman deadpanned and twisted his arm. Omni-man shouted in pain, the bone cracking like firecrackers under his force. Omni-man punched him and hit him, but Superman only stumbled a little. Not letting go of his twisted arm.

"Viltrum is the superior-" he started between heavy breaths, the struggling becoming weaker.

"Forget Viltrum for a second," Superman said and caught his other fist. His body ached, and Clark was glad to finally talk more than fight. Perhaps now he can get through Omni-man's thick skull. "Remember your family. Were you happy?"

"For a time. But Viltrum-"

"I said forget it," Clark snapped. Omni-man sneered at him but stopped struggling, Clark would take it. "You enjoyed human pleasures. You lived. Can't you understand why Mark cares for humans so much? You care for one. I care for one. Can't you see? Humans are something worth protecting, not killing and conquering. Don't you love your family?" At this, Omni-man seemed to falter. His breathing ragged as he glanced away from him, and Superman was also exhausted. How long have they been fighting anyway?

His face twisted, "I… I have a duty to my planet."

"Is that more important than your son? If that duty hurts him and those around him, is it worth it?"

"Don't make me question my loyalty-" he started.

"Then don't question it," Superman snapped, his grip tightening on Omni-man's fists. "Follow like a blind rat Omni-man. Your family will suffer for it, as will every other human," this was hopeless. He slammed a fist into Omni-man's face. The man scrambled to return hits, however, he didn't let him recover. "You will gain nothing but sorrow for taking over Earth!" He yelled and hit him again, blood painting his fists.

"It… it doesn't matter!" Omni-man snapped and used his body to jump away from him. "Debbie will die, they all will die in fifty years. It doesn't matter to me-"

"But Mark won't. You said it yourself, he won't die for thousands of years. He'll be there when everyone's gone, after everything, you'll still have your son," Clark said. He watched Omni-man's face crumble, something soft and broken. He glanced at his own hands, brows furrowed, and for a second, Clark saw a flicker of humanity at the mention of Mark. Of hurt and regret, perhaps his son was a weak point for Omni-man. Clark sighed, maybe he finally got through to him- then he let out a roar of rage and jumped him. He threw him down and tumbled through the sky. Superman grunted in pain as his back slammed into the ground, rocks jabbing into his back once more.

He opened his eyes and saw Omni-man over him, blood dripping off his face and nose.

"Cl- Superman?" He heard a familiar voice whisper. He looked and saw the Bat-family and Mark. Mark whose eyes were wide, whose hand was stretched out, ready to help. He looked terrified, face pale and watery eyes staring at them. They flickered between him and Omni-man, unsure and conflicted. Clark clenched his eyes shut and looked back at Omni-Man, who was on his last legs. Barely able to keep him pinned to the ground. He didn't want Mark to see this, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter. Clark grabbed Omni-man's shoulder and flipped them to slam his opponent into the ground. The air tore out of Omni-man's chest in a rough wheeze once Clark's hand shoved him into the crater.

He took a deep breath and continued, "If it all doesn't matter, then why did you spend at least seventeen years of your life raising him!" Superman snapped, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit. He watched Omni-man glance at Mark, before looking away. He clenched his eyes shut and Superman swore he could see tears lining the edges. Humanity. There was hope left for this man. His grip loosened a little, and Omni-man's eyes snapped back open.

He screamed and shoved Superman up, uppercutting him back into the air. Superman floated away and rubbed his jaw, it stung, but it wasn't enough. The hit wasn't as hard as before, he was weakened. His shoulders fell, he really hoped he wouldn't have to do this, but Omni-man wouldn't listen.

"You better apologize to him later," Superman muttered, Omni-man's face twisting with fury. But before he could lay another hand, Clark flashed over and slammed a fist into his temple. He watched Omni-man's eyes roll back and his body plummet to the ground with a boom, dirt and dust blooming around him. Clark sighed, heart racing and hands covered in Omni-man's blood.

He slowly floated down and once the dust cleared, Omni-man was crumpled and passed out. With his feet on the ground, Clark sighed in relief. It was over, he beat him.

"Everyone's ok, right?" He said, getting nods from everyone except Mark. Who stared at him with wide eyes, frozen to the spot he stood. He walked toward the boy, ready to comfort and reassure only for him to stumble back. He frowned, confused, before seeing Mark's gaze locked on his hands. Coated in his father's blood.

Oh.

Superman quickly zipped to the nearest ocean, washed it off, and zipped back, arms open to reveal his clean hands. "Sorry, no blood. Got it," he said and gave a weary grin. Mark's shoulders fell, eyeing his dad behind Clark, and it hurt to see him weary of Clark as well.

"Is he still…"

"Yeah, he's alive," Clark muttered, able to hear his strong heartbeat behind him. Probably concussed, but alive. Mark looked like he wanted to step toward the crumpled figure of his dad, but he made no move to do so. Feet glued to the ground. Clark thinned his lips, he wanted to talk it out with Omni-man, not beat him to a pulp- despite how badly he wanted to. But no one should see their dad like that, no matter how horrible he was.

Jason whistled, "Wow boy scout. I'm impressed," he was elbowed by Steph, who gave him a stern glare. Jason quickly shut his mouth.

Clark decided to ignore them, and instead address Mark. "Listen, Mark, I'm sorry. I tried to convince and stop him from fighting but… he wouldn't listen."

Mark scoffed and gave a weak smile, "Sounds about right."

"I'm sorry Mark," he said, putting as much emotion and empathy into his tone, hoping those few words would show how sorry he truly was. Not just for knocking out his father, but for what he had to endure.

The boy shrugged, feigning indifference, "It's ok. I appreciate you taking care of him for me."

"No, it's not ok," Superman insisted, Mark's head snapped to him. Their eyes finally met, and Clark's throat clogged at the look sent his way. How… empty his eyes were, void of hope and anything positive as if life had been sucked out of him. He looked worn thin and defeated, despite the threat of his dad being gone. "What he said, what he did, it was awful. You have every right to not be ok, and I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It's… it's fine Clark," Mark said, his voice wobbling a little, he glanced back at his dad. Clark watched tears fall down his cheeks, Mark quickly hiding his face and wiping them away. Clark found himself stepping forward and enveloping Mark in a hug, unable to hold himself back. Unlike last time, where Mark made no move to hug back. Clark instead found himself held in a bruising clutch, a face buried into his shoulder. Mark held onto him as if he were a lifeline, that if he let go, Clark would disappear and his dad would wake up again. With no one to stop him. The thought made Clark's eyes tear up, he wanted nothing more than to make everything better for Mark.

His heart seemed to shatter more at hearing Mark cry into his shoulder and sob over his father who betrayed him and his family. Clark glanced at Batman and his kids, who were awkwardly standing there. Batman gave a helpless thumbs up, and Clark tilted his head to Omni-Man.

They can't just… leave him there.

They silently started to tie the man up, all while he held Mark. Who had started to babble a little, saying words he couldn't quite understand. Something about his dad, loving him, having to fight him when he didn't want to. A train. A building. People who were ripped apart. How scared he was. Which only caused Clark to hold him tighter, wishing he could protect the boy from all those horrible memories. Clark wanted to shield him, and fight each and every monster that hurt Mark, just like he did with Omni-man.

"It's ok. It's over," Clark whispered, voice cracking as he barely held back his own tears. Mark stopped talking after a while. Clark swore he was crying as well since his cheeks felt awfully wet. Although judging by some discreet eye wiping from the Batfamily, they were trying to keep it in as well.

After a few minutes, he realized Mark had gone silent. A limp weight in his arms, his body no longer shaking from how hard he was sobbing.

"Mark?" Clark muttered.

"Is he ok?" Steph asked and stepped toward them, worry between her brows. He pulled away and found Mark asleep, his chest rising softly and his heart rate calm.

"Yeah, just fell asleep," Clark said with a small chuckle. He picked up Mark easily, now wiping away his own wet eyes.

"Ok, we can all agree how fucked up that was, right?" Jason said and raised a hand. The others muttered in agreement.

"No wonder he had a panic attack," Dick mumbled, biting his lip.

"He what? Why didn't you tell us!" Steph exclaimed.

"It… it was his business. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable," Dick sputtered.

Cass shrugged, "that's fair…" she mumbled, hovering close to Clark as if he'd drop Mark at any second. Actually, most of them were hovering. Clark chuckled a little at the thought, they've really grown attached huh?

Damian crossed his arms and started muttering words like, "stupid fool," and "killing Mark's dad,” treats Clark wasn’t tempted to stop him from carrying out.

"So what do we do with him?" Tim asked and pointed a thumb at an unconscious Omni-man. Who's limbs were bound with metal rope and his wounds bandaged sloppily. Clearly, thought and care were put into his treatment.

"Uhhh…" Clark didn't know. It wasn't simple like him, where something Kryptonite-related would suffice. What would keep Omni-man contained?

"Put him in a highly reinforced cage. We'll all take turns watching over him until we can send him and Mark back," Batman answered, picking up Omni-man with a grunt. "We'll have to treat the injuries as well."

"So we can't just let him die?" Jason said and earned a Batglare. "Alright alright, your rules B," Clark smiled at their banter, following them into the Batcave with Mark held in his arms.

"Where's Mark's bedroom?" Clark asked.

Upstairs, on the left. It's the last room," Dick answered, a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Thanks… what's with the look?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. Dick shrugged and walked away.

"Nothing. Just make sure to give him a kiss goodnight," Clark rolled his eyes, he heard Dick laugh to himself as he walked away. He took the elevator upstairs, and eventually- with Alfred's help- found Mark's room.

He was still in costume, but Clark wasn't about to undress him. So he settled for tugging off his goggles and cowl before laying him in bed. Clark pulled the blanket over Mark and tucked the sides so he lay comfortably. He snorted, maybe Dick was right, he was treating Mark like his own kid. He was no better than the Batfamily, Clark was just as attached.

In a way… Clark watched him shift and mumble about his mom before stilling again. In a way, it felt like he was.

Chapter Text

Clark crashed at Bruce's place at the end of the day. After he left Mark's room, he found the exhaustion from fighting with Omni-man had caught up to him. He went to the nearest open room and promptly passed out on the bed, not bothering to take off his hero suit. The only thing Clark managed to do was call Lois and let her know what happened… or, he probably did. Judging by his call history. He eventually woke up to sunlight peeking through the curtains, it bathed the entire room in a soft glow, while also shining right into his eyes. He rolled away from the sun and tried to go back to sleep, but it was already too light in the room to sleep. Clark grumbled and stretched his aching body, it made some worrying cracks. He then slipped out of bed and dug through the drawers for any type of clothing. But he was pleasantly surprised to see some clothes already folded on the dresser with a note. 'For Master Kent'.

Alfred was truly an angel.

After Clark peeled himself out of his grimy suit, showered, and changed into new clothes, he finally left his room.

He should apologize to Bruce for passing out in one of the rooms, he didn't even ask. Alfred deserved an apology as well. He was met with the smell of bacon and sweet pancakes upon exiting his room. A heavenly smell that his body yearned to indulge in. Clark brightened and made his way downstairs and into the dining room. Where he found everyone awake, already stuffing their mouths full and-

"Jon? When did you get here?" He asked, perplexed by the sudden appearance of his son. He didn't remember bringing him.

Jon whipped his head towards Clark, wide-eyed, looking as though Clark caught his hand in the cookie jar. Before he gave a small smile, "I heard what happened from Mom, so I flew over here to check on you- but then I got distracted," he said around a mouthful of food. Clark sighed and ruffled his son's hair, he took a seat beside him.

"That's fine son- and don't talk with your mouth full," he chided before a plate was set before him. He looked up and saw Alfred, giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you. For the clothes and food," he added.

Alfred's eyes crinkled, "it was no trouble, Master Kent."

He turned to the head of the table, where Bruce always sat. He had a faint grin on his face upon meeting Clark's eyes. Clark chuckled, "Sorry for not asking before sleeping here, Bruce. I was kind of exhausted," Clark said and rubbed the back of his head.

"No worries, my house is always open to you," Bruce nodded his head to him. Clark thought as much, but he still didn't like crashing here without warning. Then, the soft shuffle of feet padded down the hall, effectively catching his attention.

"Morning," Mark muttered, he rubbed at his tired eyes and plopped next to him. Without hesitation. Clark grinned, and to think the boy used to be scared of him… well, now he knew why. But it was nice to see Mark so comfortable in his presence, to trust him.

"Good, seems I don't have to rouse you," Damian said, and was that disappointment on his face? Clark must be seeing things.

Alfred set a plate in front of him too, Mark not hesitating to pile pancakes onto it.

Bruce cleared his throat, "Mark. I do have some good news for you," the boy looked up. "It'll have to wait. However, I'd like everyone in the Batcave after breakfast," Tim nodded along with Bruce, he looked rather satisfied with himself… and sporting some heavy eyebags. Did that boy sleep last night?

"Oh, ok," Mark mumbled. He then glanced at Clark, "Uh, Clark, I just want to-"

"You don't need to thank me, Mark, I was happy to help," very happy to help. Clark would never admit it, but hitting Omni-man was quite the stress reliever.

Mark smiled, "Still, thank you."

Breakfast was always pleasant at the Wayne manor. As well as entertaining, especially with the whole family. The meal was filled with banter and sometimes knives or guns being drawn. But never used, not with Alfred watching. Mark somehow fit right in, cracking a joke here and there, whispering dry comments to him… for some reason.

"Damian's afraid of Alfred. I know he is," Mark muttered to him, Clark chuckled at the comment.

"What did you say, Grayson?" Damian snapped, and Mark looked at Dick. Who in turn looked at Mark, they both glanced back at Damian and pointed at the other one. "You know I mean Mark," Clark was glad to witness it, to see that Mark, despite everything, could still be happy. Even after what happened yesterday.

But good things don't last forever. Breakfast had ended, and they all crammed into the Batcave. All eager to hear the apparent 'good news' Bruce and Tim had.

"So what's the news?" Clark said, laying his hands on his hips.

Tim grinned, "I spent all night configuring your little watch to send you back to your dimension!" He exclaimed and presented it to Mark like an award. His eyes widened, gently taking it from Tim.

"All night…? Tim, you really should've slept instead. I mean, this is great. I really appreciate it but, uh, you didn't have to keep yourself up for it," Mark stammered, Tim waved him off.

"Don't tell me what to do," Faintly, he heard Dick whisper to Jason.

"Prepare the melatonin decaf coffee," Jason gave a serious nod at Dick's words. Clark smirked, this family…

"Right. Then I should head out. Take my dad as well," he gestured to the cage his dad sat in. Still passed out, but was hooked up to an IV and bandaged to the teeth.

"Rather shabby," Clark muttered and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. "Seriously?"

"We didn't have much to work with," Bruce said and cleared his throat, not meeting Clark's eyes.

Mark walked over, easily breaking it open. No key was needed… and this cage was supposed to hold Omni-man? Actually, how was Mark going to contain his dad? He knew Bruce could do better than this, he probably just didn't bother since Omni-man was knocked out cold, and concussed.

"Mark, y'know, we could keep him here," Clark offered. "I mean, I can put him in the Phantom Zone, or-"

"No. I have to take him back," Mark said, easily picking his old man up, his arm slung over his shoulder. Mark gave his dad a conflicted look, adjusting his grip on the man. He then gave Superman a weary smile, "I mean, he's my dad. I can't just… leave him here."

Clark's face fell, "Mark…" he muttered, about to protest. Just because he was his dad didn't mean he had to love him.

"Anyways, how do I work this thing?" Mark mumbled and changed the subject.

Tim jumped, quickly walking over to Mark. "Well, you press that button to turn it on, then the red button. Once it's pressed, it'll send you back, but it's a one-way trip. The watch will break again afterward. So…" Tim trailed off and shrugged.

"So I won't see you guys again. I get it," Mark muttered, Tim nodded. He shifted and moved the weight of his dad again. Mark sighed, "y'know, I never really apologized for being an asshole to you, Clark," Mark started.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I should. It was wrong of me to say you had bad intentions when you didn't. To assume that you're like… well, my dad," Mark shook his head. "For that I'm sorry, and I'm glad I was wrong about you."

Clark smiled, "I forgive you, Mark. Seriously, you're a good man. Don't forget that."

"Oh, and thank you, Bruce, for taking me in, and all of you for putting up with me. I was- no, am, pretty fucked up," Mark said turning to the Batfamily. "I'm kind of grateful to be an only child after this experience."

"Aww… fuck you too," Jason whispered, wiping his eyes. Everyone chuckled, Dick, shaking his head.

"And uhh.. I don't know. I'm not good with speeches. Sorry about my dad."

"Yeah he kind of sucked," Steph said. "But you're part of the shitty dad community, congrats."

"Oh, you too?" Steph nodded. "Awesome. Well, not awesome- ugh, you know what I mean," Mark sputtered.

"Mark," Cass whispered, she stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Mark watched her with wide eyes, clearly shocked by her sudden approach. "Don't let him control you. You are more than your blood, be who you want to be, not what he wants you to be," she whispered. There was clear intent and truth behind her words that shone in her eyes as she spoke. Cass smiled at Mark, and he stared back, dumbfounded.

Then Mark chuckled, "shitty dad?"

Cass grinned, "shitty dad."

"Yeah, I won't let him do that. You have my word, Cass, same goes for you as well."

"Of course," and she stepped away, Steph laying a hand on her shoulder.

Mark cleared his throat, "I have nothing else to say. It was great to know you, and maybe we'll meet again."

"I hope so," Clark muttered and earned a bright smile from Mark. He mentally took a picture of his face, of that smile, and how it warmed his heart.

"Bye Mark!" Jon said and waved. Everyone coursed their own goodbyes, as Mark fiddled with the watch, muttering curses to himself.

"There we go," He said before his entire body and Omni-man was enveloped in light. In one brilliant flash, Mark was gone, his dad as well. Clark sighed, shoulders falling. He actually liked Mark quite a bit, it pained him to see him go so soon.

"Man, I'm gonna miss that bastard," Jason mumbled and shook his head.

"Me too," Dick said, and to Clark's surprise, he was sniffling a little.

"Shit Dickie bird, are you crying?"

"Only a little," Clark wiped at his own watery eyes because he was going to miss Mark as well. Despite how little he knew about the boy, and how they barely interacted, Clark somehow managed to get attached. Mark wormed his way into Clark's heart and he hoped he did the same to Mark.

Mark reminded him of himself, which made him want to protect the boy with all his might.

He just hoped Mark would have a good, relaxing time back home.

—---

"No, stop that," Mark muttered and batted the gun away. He quickly tied the bank robber up, shaking his head. "Seriously. My name's Invincible, why do you think a gun would work?"

"I... I don't know?" The robber stuttered. Mark shook his head again before flying up to the sky, leaving the arrested criminal to the police.

Ever since he returned back home, Mark was swarmed by worried people. His mom practically wouldn't let him go for a solid week. His friends hovered like he was going to disappear again at any moment. Mark felt bad, especially with how much his mom cried. He missed her a lot too, so he cried a little as well. Okay, maybe a lot.

His dad, well… They locked him up. Cecil promised to keep him held in a specialized cage built just for Omni-man, much to Mark's own relief. But it wasn't too long before he escaped, flying off into deep space, to… who knows where.

Mark didn't know what to do about his dad. A part of him regretted not taking Clark up on his offer to hold his dad, perhaps he would've contained him better. However, he didn't have to explain anything to his mother. She watched it, heard it. She shouldn't have, but she did, and he was glad not to explain the whole ordeal.

Not to his friends either.

In all honesty, as soon as Mark made it home, his mind was made up.

He wanted to be a hero.

He wanted to help people, and save them. Maybe it's because of Superman, or Clark, what he said. For all of his life, Mark wanted his powers to awaken and be just like his dad. To fly around and save people, be the strong figure everyone looked up to. But now, Mark would rather not be like him at all.

Instead, he'd rather be like a certain superhero from another universe.

"Batman and Superman?" Eve muttered and raised a brow. She smirked, "interesting names."

"Yeah, but they're the best. Then there's Nightwing, Red Hood, Spoiler, Black Bat, Robin, Signal, Red Robin-"

"Red Robin? Like the restaurant?"

"See, I said the same thing, and he almost killed me," Eve laughed and shook her head.

"So you disappeared for a month, and had a good time?"

"Somewhat," he said, shrugging. "I guess I learned a few things."

She snorted, "like what? The meaning of friendship?"

"Yes actually. The meaning of friendship," Mark deadpanned. She pushed him a little, Mark laughed.

"Don't be a dick. What'd you learn?"

Mark stared across the city, what did he learn? "Uh.. I guess I learned what it meant to be a hero."

"Huh, still pretty cheesy," Eve hummed. "If Cecil ever figures out that watch, you should take me there. To Gotham."

Mark sighed, "You'd hate it. But sure, I'll take you," the sunset in the distance, creating quite the scene for them. Mark really hoped Cecil could fix the watch. Not just to see them again, but also if he needed help.

Mark wasn't ready to fight Viltrum, not yet. But having a Superman on his side could really help. It would make such a daunting task seem more possible than impossible.

However he mostly just wanted to see them again.

"Dick Grayson, seriously? He likes being called that?"

"Yeah. You'd like him."