-It's a bit angsty. but enjoy it (CW for doubt of a character's sanity)-
-EDIT (23,06,23): I wanna use my platform for a minute to clarify that some of the symptoms in this are famously associated with Schizophrenia and other Psychotic disorders. The violence in this is supposed to be a result of stress and personality, I cannot state enough that ASSUMEING PEOPLE WITH PSYCHOTIC DISORDERS ARE DANGEROUS PUTS THOSE PEOPLE IN DANGER.
-This is based on medical trauma, neglect, and my own semi-psychotic tendencies, hearing things =/= acting out violently-
"Listen." Conner said suddenly, voice echoing off the gritty tiling of the changeroom.
"You hear something?" Artemis asked, stepping into the shower and watching as a film of sweat, dirt, and stale blood rinsed down the ancient drain. The mission had been the latest in a series of grueling nights of work, which strained their bodies as much as it did their stress-addled minds.
"It's buzzing..." Conner said, glancing around the room.
A couple of his friends paused, listening. Wally shrugged. "You mean the lights?" He referred to the hissing fluorescent tubes which flickered overhead like photo-interpretive sandpaper.
"No, different." Conner replied. "This is new..."
Wally hummed, rubbing hand soap into his hair. "Your ears are probably still ringing from that grenade." He extended a hand and pat his adopted-godson's head affectionately. Conner frowned, oblivious to the suds sitting in his hair, gears in his head grinding so loud M'gann would wince.
"Come on, big guy," Dick shook his bottle of vanilla rose (sulphate-free) shampoo. "I wanna take a stab at that mane of yours."
Unfortunately, despite Dick's best attempts, the clone didn't take well to being bathed, and it was a struggle explaining to him why he needed to wash the dried guts from his face.
Once the team was decent and dried and dripping in muscle ointments, they tramped miserably to the atrium so Batman could give a preemptive reaction to everything they'd done wrong. Several of them were in their spare pyjamas, and were clutching their gym bags, more than ready to go home.
"You seem to have cut down frivolous property damage by half..." Batman began. "but you still burnt a school bus to it's bare skeleton-- I don't care that you put it out. It was unacceptable and dangerous.
"Listen!" Conner interrupted, Irises wavering with animalistic alertness.
"Superboy, please don't interrupt Batman." Kaldur reminded quickly.
"It's loud!" He looked over his shoulder so far he lost balance, reeling in circles.
"Superboy!" The team leader repeated, taking his arm. "Can we practice waiting turns to speak?"
"Aqualad, may we continue?" Batman asked icily. "Or do you need a moment to get ahold of your team?"
"No, sir." The boy shook his head bashfully, holding Conner's wrist to prevent him wandering off. It wasn't that he didn't want to give the ingenue attention, but it really wasn't the right time; everyone was tired, it was late, and another mission awaited them in under twenty hours.
Dick was not prepared for another mission that night, still fatigued and sore from his modest amount of sleep the previous night. Luckily for him, Artemis, and every other student of Gotham Academy, Poison Ivy had decided to use their breezeway garden as weaponry against Dick's guardian. So with the rest of the day off school, he'd headed to the mountain, seeking a moment of solitude in which to nap without Alfred scolding him for picking at his bandages.
Much to his chagrin, he wasn't alone in the mountain. It wasn't just the soothing presence of Kaldur either, but Red Tornado, and most surprisingly, Conner.
"Hello Hello?" Dick called, slinging his backpack and sliding off his school blazer. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, young man?"
Conner didn't even humor him, turning away.
"I've just brought Superboy home from school early." Red explained, which made sense given he was wearing his human skin.
"Not feeling sick, are you?" Dick asked.
"I'm not sick." Conner said sulkily. "They said I was distracting."
"Oh, no need to take it personally!" He said, hopeful to pep up his friend. "I used to get in trouble for that daily!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!" Dick agreed, giving his friend a slap on the shoulder-- or as close as he could reach. "It's what they tell all the smart people."
This seemed to encourage him somewhat, and as Red Tornado left to make a call, Superboy turned to him. "I heard it louder in class."
"Pardon?"
"The buzzing..." Superboy said, blanched pale and somewhat sweaty, swaying where he stood. "Louder. The teacher thought I needed to go home, I was distracted. and broke it."
"Broke what?"
"The table." Conner replied. "The buzzing was too big."
Dick hummed. "Well, grenades can damage a normal person's ears-- a human, I mean-- never mind someone with super hearing."
"It isn't grenade." Conner murmured. "Grenade's a different hurt. This is buzzing."
"Maybe you ought to see a doctor about it. you might have messed up your eardrum." Dick remarked. "Let's finish our homework and take a rest."
"Superboy, are you free?" Of course he was, the others had spread out across the room, talking to their mentors about the mission. Of course he was free. Black Canary signalled for him to sit, Batman and Kaldur stood behind her, having joined for whatever show this was about to be. Dick, for his part watched from where his mentor had left him. Canary smiled across at the clone slightly. "We wanted to check in with you..."
"What?" His voice was already abrasive, he knew to expect conflict, as it followed him everywhere like a curse.
"We just found you've been a bit... distracted lately." Canary said. "And It's one thing when that's just in training, but the second it leaks into missions, all of you are at risk."
"It's not my fault!" He exploded. "I want to help! I can't with the sound!"
They exchanged looks. "What sound, Superboy?"
"THIS SOUND!" The boy shouted, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room.
"Superboy..."
He leapt up and lost balance, toppling his chair, the room spun before him at a sickening pace. He staggered into the wall, denting it. "You hear it!"
Black Canary, Batman, and Kaldur exchanged concerned looks. "Superboy, what do you hear?"
"BUZZING!" He had to yell to be heard over the silent room, hands clamped over his ears so hard they expected to hear his skull crack. He couldn't lie, he was angry. Why couldn't they hear? They had to hear it. They were lying to him!
His eyes unfocused as his head swung side to side, trying to balance itself in his neck. His stomach and lungs took turns dropping and fluttering as if trying to tear ragged holes through his torso.
"Conner!" Black Canary hurried to his side as he smacked the floor. "Superboy..."
"You hear it--" His throat closed over the words as his stomach contemplated whether or not to spill its contents across the floor. Gathering himself, his bile subsiding, heavy breaths rocked his body violently. "YOU HAVE TO HEAR IT!" He squeezed over his ears enough to numb them, but the buzzing kept getting louder.
It was inside his head.
"Can we see him?" Dick asked.
"Superboy is... recovering." Canary said coldly, blocked them from the double doors with her back. She knew they didn't just settle for excuses. "He's not in a good state for you to see him right now."
"What happened to him?" M'gann begged, drifting off their toes to try and peak through the door's porthole window.
"He was talking about the buzzing sound he's been hearing." Wally said.
"You didn't take him away because of that?!" Artemis asked. "He was yelling, but he wasn't hurting anyone!"
Kaldur snapped to get their attention. "Everyone calm down, I'm sure Black Canary will tell us when she can."
"Can't we see him?" Wally asked. "He needs someone to hang out with, he trusts us."
"He really hates labs, you know that, don't make him sit in there?" M'gann pleaded desperately. They knew their roommate; Conner couldn't even get a shot without being dragged to the medbay, hissing and spitting.
"Everyone back off, please." Canary waved them off tiredly, loosely tugging the roots of her hair. "You can't help Superboy right now, he needs rest." She let out a sigh, her frame concaving from the force, and pinched between dusty, fatigued eyes. "I promise when he can talk, you'll know right away."
"Is there nothing I--we can do?" Kaldur asked desperately.
"Nothing except deep breathing, and remembering that none of you are to blame." She assured. "I promise this isn't anyone's fault." Canary repeated to herself once more. Then, as the door opened, and Flash's head slid out. With a few short words, and a pat on the head each, Canary dismissed them, waiting until they were out of earshot before she began talking.
Dick wasn't about to let that happen.
Lagging a few feet behind Kaldur, he doubled back. In leu of a vent or cupboard, he pressed into the alcove of a nearby doorway; straining his ears as he heard more footsteps joining that of Wally's uncle and their trainer.
"We can't let the kids see him." Flash was saying. "Any moral they have will die. We can't let them lose hope."
"Is it that bad?"
"It's hard to tell. He's not adjusting well. Especially with the RS lights."
Dick's breath hitched; power loss and isolation. His head filled with bubbling fears and intrusive images, all set against sterile white wards and doors with no handles that refused to open no matter how strong you were.
"He can't be doing well." Black Canary said. "He's all alone in there, and this is already a stressful time for him."
"As soon as sedation kicks in, we'll prioritize finding the cause of his delusions." Bruce explained.
"God, I hope it's just a phase." Canary said in a hushed tone. "please let it be a phase..."
"Maybe he's got a fever?" Barry said. "Or he's sleep deprived..."
"Or Cadmus made a fatal mistake." Batman said. "We know they had issues maintaining physical and mental stability when cloning him."
There was a sound like something clanking against a metal door. "I don't think that's helping, Bats." Flash said hesitantly. "You alright?"
"I'll be fine." Canary sighed heavily, a hint of tension holding in her voice. "I just wish he had anyone else to worry about him but his tutor."
He'd heard enough, he couldn't take hearing his teacher manage this kind of guilt. Dick slipped away on the balls of his feet, his mind hollow and shell shocked.
It was two days before the next hiss of Superboy's condition came out.
"B? I need you to sign--" He stepped off the elevator, only to find the cave empty. It was also dark and chilly as ever, the only sounds being his own echoed breathing and what might be the drone of a dusty old vent cover. He huffed, and was about to return upstairs when something caught his eye.
An email lay open on one of the various smaller monitors that made up the batcomputer; it was barren say for an attached file, a long cc list of league members, and a subject line: 'Patient record, relevant notes'.
Dick glanced over his shoulder, but of course he was still alone with the whirring vent. He opened the file and small typed font swam before his eyes like concentric circles. Squinting as hard as he could until the sentences formed.
'To whom it may concern: parents/guardians/next of kin
Below is a record, as documented by present medical practitioners, of patient SUPERBOY 's symptoms under our care, and the results we have reached from this data. For more in depth records please refer to the attached Excel graphs.
Due to extreme irritability SUPERBOY was placed under medical Red Sun lights at a UVI of 9 to nullify his powers . When SUPERBOY's erratic behaviour continued, a barbituric coma was induced through an intravenous injection of pentobarbital at a dosage of 13g; enough to kill several humans of the patient's BMI (See patient's medical profile). The Patient remained in this coma approximately eleven hours, allowing professionals to affix a blood pressure cuff and heartrate monitor.
'Since being awakened by medical stimulants, SUPERBOY has remained manic, with a resting 300 bpm, and has made several attempts to leave the ward.
Behind him, the elevator doors hissed open. With a split second to spare, the preteen slid under the computer desk, crawling along until he could slide behind his gym bag, pretending to search for something.
"Dick, what are you doing? There's no mission for the night, what are you up to?" His guardian asked in a tired, flat voice.
"Just looking for my sliders-- found 'em!" Dick's kneepads clicked against each other as he yanked them out. "Alfred offered to buff them out for Saturday." Bruce nodded, acknowledging his excuse, and headed for the computer. "Bruce, is there... is there a chance Conner will be out for the saturday mission?"
Bruce hesitated for a second, as if remembering who Conner was, then seemed to internally chastise himself for it, before finally answering. "No, I'm sorry Dick. Conner might not be back for a while. We'll see."
Dick nodded solemnly, and went to climb the stairs, kneepads left scattered on the floor. "Dick," His guardian spoke up, just as he left. "We're doing all we can, but don't get in the doctors way; you're not to see him, same with the others on the team. It's not safe."
Dick emptied his lungs and nodded tiredly, head spinning as he did so. "I know." He said. "Tell Alfred I'll take dinner upstairs, I don't feel so well. I think I'll take a nap."
Bruce nodded. "Don't forget your test tomorrow."
"I won't."
It being a school night, Dick had had to stay home; he couldn't lie, he was relieved. It was an endless week of torment, and the last thing he needed was to freeze to death or get another tooth knocked out.
And yet, as he lay tossing in bed, it was more than just crime and chemistry that made the room spin tightly around his head. Yes, he worried about his pseudo-godson's sanity, things didn't look hopeful, and Bruce's warnings about cloning failures and Conner's violent tendancies certainly weren't based in lies.
and yet, he believed conner was right. He had to believe Conner was telling the truth.
He had to believe it because even though he was three stories above the batcave, earplugs lodged in his ears, he could still hear that buzzing.