Chapter 5: I'm Not a Hero

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.