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"Wait, so you just . . . ditched Superboy? Like right after he got out of Cadmus?" Captain Marvel sputters right in the middle of a League meeting, looking startled. "Why?"
"Batman is handling the Superboy situation," Clark says as neutrally as possible, resisting the urge to grit his teeth or rub at his temples or glower over at Bruce or just–anything, just anything. He isn't Superboy's father, though, and five minutes into this nightmare he's already more than sick of people making the assumption that he should be. He didn't volunteer for or consent to anything or even just make a mistake; he had his DNA stolen by people who built a weapon out of it, and just because that weapon's aging process got interrupted and it therefore currently looks like a minor, Clark is supposed to . . . supposed to what, exactly? Sell out his secret identity and his family and his whole damn life to something that only knows what some deluded mad scientists and enslaved genetic experiments thought it should know?
They're not even sure if Superboy is actually a real person. If the signs of personality that've presented so far are anything more than programming or puppetry or . . . or who knows what, exactly.
Clark can't take that home with him. Can't introduce that to Lois or Ma and Pa or hell, even Jor-El's AI or Krypto. He just can't trust that.
Who could?
And building a weapon in a lab that just so happens to look like a kid and that weapon conveniently getting found and broken out "early", and having that weapon be so eager to join the good guys despite its origins and education and so eager for specifically his attention, so eager to learn about specifically his powers and all the best ways to use and abuse them straight from the source, to try to make specifically him feel some kind of . . . of attachment or affection towards it . . .
Well, Clark's seen much more convoluted and improbable plans from supervillains than that, frankly. They don't know if anything they've been told about Superboy is true. They don't even know if the files Cadmus let them access are accurate or unredacted. They know nothing.
But everyone else seems to think that Clark shouldn't care about that, and that it shouldn't be making him crazy to see his dead birth family's crest in blood red on the chest of a weapon who won't answer to any name but "Superboy".
"'Situation'?" Captain Marvel echos, looking bewildered. "I mean, we can't like . . . put him in the system, right? So what's Batman even doing?"
"Superboy will be staying at Mount Justice for now," Bruce says. He doesn't look at Clark as he says it. Clark doesn't look at him either.
". . . Mount Justice is a cave," Captain Marvel says, clearly even more bewildered. "And Superboy is solar-powered. Isn't that kind of . . . I don't know . . . mean?"
"'Mean'?" Clark repeats in disbelief before he can think better of it.
"Well, like–Superboy already grew up underground as it is!" Captain Marvel protests, putting his hands up nervously. "And he is solar-powered, right? Like, like a battery? So shouldn't he be somewhere with, you know . . . windows, at least?"
"There's a beach right outside, Cap," Hal points out with an easy shrug.
"And it is not as if anyone will be locking the door on the boy," Diana says, raising an eyebrow. "He may go out and be in the sun whenever he so desires."
"But he's not going to get as strong that way," Captain Marvel stresses in obvious dissatisfaction, folding his arms. "Isn't that how it works? He's gonna need lots of regular sunlight to help his powers develop? And he can't spend every day just sitting on the beach, he's gonna have other stuff to do, so it'd be better if he was getting, like . . . consistent ambient light in his normal environment and whatever. Wouldn't it?"
Clark, personally, does not see why the weapon cooked up in a lab to replace him not developing quite as effectively or efficiently as it could is a problem, exactly. That seems like it should be the opposite of a problem, all things considered. Mount Justice being a cave isn't a bug, it's a feature.
The wisdom of Solomon is apparently not reaching that extremely obvious conclusion, though.
“Where else would you put Superboy but Mount Justice?” he says, and Captain Marvel frowns.
“With . . . you?” he says awkwardly. “I mean–why not?”
“That’s not going to work,” Clark says as evenly as he can. He doesn’t include an “unfortunately” or a “right now” or anything to give Bruce any room to try sticking a crowbar or lever. He can’t take Superboy. He won’t. He couldn’t even trust Superboy in the Fortress, much less his actual home. How could he?
How could he risk his family like that? His friends? The people who’ve put their faith in him, and trusted him to do right by them?
“Why not?” Captain Marvel asks again, still frowning.
"Would you do it, Marvel?" Clark snaps just a touch too sharply, and then grimaces at himself for it. Alright, that wasn't necessary, Captain Marvel isn't . . . Clark knows the man's coming from the right place, he just doesn't quite grasp the issue here and isn’t–
"You think I could?" Captain Marvel asks, frowning thoughtfully to himself. "Oh, but I don't really have, like . . . ID, though. Or an apartment or a house or anything. Or, um . . . money or a job. Uh. Yeah. No, yeah, I don't think I could take very good care of him like that."
Captain Marvel sighs to himself, looking . . . Clark genuinely can't process how Captain Marvel looks right now, because if he didn't know better, he'd think it was "disappointed".
And Bruce . . . tilts his head.
"I suppose being the Champion of Magic and an avatar of multiple gods doesn't lend itself well to holding down a day job, does it," he observes neutrally. Captain Marvel startles, then looks sheepish.
"Uh, yeah," he says with an awkward little grin. "Not so much, no. And I kinda just crash at the Rock of Eternity when I feel like sleeping or whatever."
"Unfortunate, really," Bruce says in that same neutral tone, still tilting his head, and Clark is in no way oblivious enough not to see the oncoming train but also in no way stupid enough to get in its way. "Otherwise you'd actually be an ideal guardian for Superboy, given your respective powersets. You have comparable levels of strength and stamina and invulnerability to Superman's, so you'd be able to help Superboy control his own and spar with him on his level, and if he ever developed super-speed or flight you'd likely be able to assist him in controlling that as well. And if he has any leftover mind control triggers from Cadmus . . . well, we already know that Kryptonians are vulnerable to magic. You're certainly strong enough that you'd be able to restrain him without seriously injuring him until he could be restored to his right mind.”
"Yeah, but I couldn't, like, pay for stuff for him or feed him right or get him a place where he could actually live," Captain Marvel says glumly, his shoulders slumping. He looks, again, actually disappointed. "I mean I can still help him out with his powers if Superman can't, but that doesn't really feel like enough."
"Enough how?" Bruce asks. Clark considers just . . . leaving the room, maybe. And possibly the Watchtower. And possibly the sector.
"I mean, kids need more than that, you know?" Captain Marvel replies reasonably, like he's talking about an actual kid and not a very literal weapon. "Like their own space and their own stuff and just . . . I dunno, a real home. Like, with somebody else in it. And I could teach him how to use super-strength and handle super-senses and spend time with him and just hang out, even, but I couldn't give him any of that stuff.”
Captain Marvel sighs again, then looks troubled. He's frowning again too, and seems like he's mulling something over. It occurs to Clark that he's probably trying to think of an alternate living situation to suggest for Superboy, judging by the conversation so far. That he's ruled himself out as an option for being inadequate and being unable to provide to his own standards, but is still . . . concerned. Still trying to think of something better. That he very clearly thinks he's letting Superboy down by not being able to provide that theoretical living situation.
Clark feels a little bit . . .
Clark doesn't actually feel very good about himself, when he realizes that.
"Technically, you do have a job," Bruce points out. Captain Marvel blinks. "You work with the League."
"I mean, I guess," Captain Marvel says, visibly perplexed by the statement. "I don't really think of it that way. But I don't get paid for it, so it's not really . . . helpful, yeah?"
"If your only impediment to taking the boy in is financial concerns and a lack of legal identification . . ." Bruce trails off.
"Oh, well, yeah," Captain Marvel says, looking a bit awkward again. "I could do it if I had that stuff, but I don't even know how I could get that stuff."
"The system does provide monthly stipends for foster parents. The League could certainly arrange something similar, especially given that you're a member and Superboy is currently both our legal and moral responsibility," Bruce says as he folds his hands on the table, his expression completely lacking in any kind of expectation or suggestion or anything more demanding than might be expected from an idle thought exercise. It is, Clark knows without doubt, a trap. "And as for any necessary paperwork or assistance in finding suitable housing, well, we could arrange something there too. The League could help you establish a residence in Fawcett City and you could foster Superboy there. If you were interested in pursuing that course of action, that is."
Captain Marvel looks startled by the offer, and Clark expects him to immediately backtrack. Certainly wouldn't blame him for it, given the situation. Even if Superboy were a normal teenager, or even just a real one, that kind of commitment is–
"Really?!" Captain Marvel blurts excitedly, leaning forward in his seat as his face lights up in obvious delight. "That'd be great! How long do you think it'd take to set up and everything?"
Clark . . . blinks.
Bruce's mouth curves into the faintest trace of a smile.
"Come see me after the meeting concludes and we'll get started," he says.
Captain Marvel beams, and Clark feels . . .
Not very good about himself, again.