Fic post! "Nony: Compensation"
Title: Nony: Compensation
Author:
miri_away
Date: June 8, 06
Rating: PG-13
Type: Fanfic (DCU/AU)
Genre: Gen
Summary: She does not have Conner’s eyes. Nony winds up at Kent farm sick with a bug, sick of her dad, sick on her part-time ‘mom’. Pre-crisis.
AN: In the beginning, I liked thinking the couple I’d made was original. Then the comic came out and who should be on the cover? Nightwing and Superboy, Dick and Conner. I took it as a sign I’d made a prediction and that it could be cannon; however, the men in said comic acted just as mine did, with just a touch of awkwardness, a bit of aggression, and very aware of the only things they had in common. So I didn’t feel bad about making Nony another something in common, or having Conner resent Dick for taking her under his wing, leaving the teen mostly under a gag order and in the dark. As an alternative to split custody, Kon was only ever her going-to-spoil-you-rotten-with-candy and/or promise-I-won’t-tell kind of back-up she ran away to, and, though he took his role as dad/mom/brother well, he could never keep her for long. She had a better relationship with him before he died for real, at which point I had to feel sorry for her since she was stuck with anal-obsessive-masochist Nightwing.
--
Nony: Compensation
miri_away
She had recognized the symptoms long before they had manifested into what the Kents called a “Bad ole Flu.” She’d suffered the stomach swoons and the head colds before, but that had been treated with serums…and Conner was intent on avoiding chemicals. “Maybe I should call Dick,” the boy admits, low and uncertain.
The girl grabs his wrist, shakes her head: “Don’t.” There is a warning in her eyes and an authoritative shove to her voice that she hoped Conner was at least tempted to credit; had there been frantic pleading, he would risk disobeying, risk losing her trust. That’s not something she wants to happen just yet, him drawing towards independence: right now, she wants him to play along and dote, play along and think he’s helping. Gently, he settles the blanket around her knees with his free hand and kneels by the couch, breathing in germs he knows will have no effect on him. She blinks at him twice, just noticing the effort it took to not walk away, and adds a “Please,” thick with mucus.
He offers her a tissue and all but whines, “Why not?”
Shaking her head makes her dizzy; instead, she narrows her eyes as she lays back down on her couch/bed.
His eyes are a different blue than Dick’s: a nurturing blue, not unlike the sky, and they showed too much of what he wanted, told her that he could lie when asked. “You’re sick, Nony, and I’m not sure I can--”
Shake. The room spins. He’s still talking, his hand on her cheek to ground her.
“Fine, fine. Be that way!” He has his hand back, is waving it in the air, forgetting completely about balance and the coffee table behind him. His boots are brown with clay and she wonders when he’d had the time to go outside. “-you have to tell me something soon, because if he calls I have no right to--”
“--my father, too, Kon.”
“What?”
And she hadn’t meant to hurt him that way either. His eyes are wide, as she expected, at the half-forgotten phrase. The obligations and the ties of a second ago are dropped and he forgets to veil it all behind his smirk; he is a child, a teen, fighting for identity, just like she is; and he is sick, pale, disgusted, just like she is.
She takes a moment to memorize his features before leaning over the cushion to relieve herself into the bucket he’d placed there not a minute ago. She doesn’t smile a reassuring smile or place any semblance of apology to her frown before she falls asleep. She does not have Conner’s eyes.
--
The news is surprising, but not shocking.
Reports of random villainy in any city is standard, but the outbreak in Bludhaven proves something: Nightwing was gone.
The reporter made it half-way through the transmission before mentioning the guardian of the city’s absence. Policemen, she noted, were working double-time to compensate. Conner fought the urge to smirk.
He’s not sure how he feels about Nightwing abandoning his self-proclaimed duty because Dick chose to single-mindedly search for the girl (who he had never claimed). Conner wonders if he’d give up Superboy for her.
--
Nony is delirious. She knows this but the knowing does not change the fact that her train of thought wrecks every fifteen seconds or that the room is hallucinating right along with her.
She’s going through manuals, applying tech to Fu, and she’s trying not to sing. Dick’s face swims above her, a frown and a confession on his lips (she hadn’t known she’d wanted either) and then he’s smiling, distantly.
In reality, Conner isn’t smiling at all.
--
Nony seems to think that he is, though. He tries to lie to her.
Yeah, I’m happy my fake daughter ran away from her fake dad to land on my porch puking and crying her guts out. Happy. No, I’m not. Stop smiling. I won’t humor you-I won’t. Dammit! Please stop crying. There’s nothing to cry about. See?
The syringe and the pills don’t work. Nothing works. He tries Nyquil and even tries garlic. The fever -if that’s what it is-doesn’t break. It occurs to him too late that a hospital might have been their safest bet.
He thinks back to the night at the lab and wonders what he’s gotten himself into, just what he’d left behind.
Author:
miri_away
Date: June 8, 06
Rating: PG-13
Type: Fanfic (DCU/AU)
Genre: Gen
Summary: She does not have Conner’s eyes. Nony winds up at Kent farm sick with a bug, sick of her dad, sick on her part-time ‘mom’. Pre-crisis.
AN: In the beginning, I liked thinking the couple I’d made was original. Then the comic came out and who should be on the cover? Nightwing and Superboy, Dick and Conner. I took it as a sign I’d made a prediction and that it could be cannon; however, the men in said comic acted just as mine did, with just a touch of awkwardness, a bit of aggression, and very aware of the only things they had in common. So I didn’t feel bad about making Nony another something in common, or having Conner resent Dick for taking her under his wing, leaving the teen mostly under a gag order and in the dark. As an alternative to split custody, Kon was only ever her going-to-spoil-you-rotten-with-candy and/or promise-I-won’t-tell kind of back-up she ran away to, and, though he took his role as dad/mom/brother well, he could never keep her for long. She had a better relationship with him before he died for real, at which point I had to feel sorry for her since she was stuck with anal-obsessive-masochist Nightwing.
--
Nony: Compensation
miri_away
She had recognized the symptoms long before they had manifested into what the Kents called a “Bad ole Flu.” She’d suffered the stomach swoons and the head colds before, but that had been treated with serums…and Conner was intent on avoiding chemicals. “Maybe I should call Dick,” the boy admits, low and uncertain.
The girl grabs his wrist, shakes her head: “Don’t.” There is a warning in her eyes and an authoritative shove to her voice that she hoped Conner was at least tempted to credit; had there been frantic pleading, he would risk disobeying, risk losing her trust. That’s not something she wants to happen just yet, him drawing towards independence: right now, she wants him to play along and dote, play along and think he’s helping. Gently, he settles the blanket around her knees with his free hand and kneels by the couch, breathing in germs he knows will have no effect on him. She blinks at him twice, just noticing the effort it took to not walk away, and adds a “Please,” thick with mucus.
He offers her a tissue and all but whines, “Why not?”
Shaking her head makes her dizzy; instead, she narrows her eyes as she lays back down on her couch/bed.
His eyes are a different blue than Dick’s: a nurturing blue, not unlike the sky, and they showed too much of what he wanted, told her that he could lie when asked. “You’re sick, Nony, and I’m not sure I can--”
Shake. The room spins. He’s still talking, his hand on her cheek to ground her.
“Fine, fine. Be that way!” He has his hand back, is waving it in the air, forgetting completely about balance and the coffee table behind him. His boots are brown with clay and she wonders when he’d had the time to go outside. “-you have to tell me something soon, because if he calls I have no right to--”
“--my father, too, Kon.”
“What?”
And she hadn’t meant to hurt him that way either. His eyes are wide, as she expected, at the half-forgotten phrase. The obligations and the ties of a second ago are dropped and he forgets to veil it all behind his smirk; he is a child, a teen, fighting for identity, just like she is; and he is sick, pale, disgusted, just like she is.
She takes a moment to memorize his features before leaning over the cushion to relieve herself into the bucket he’d placed there not a minute ago. She doesn’t smile a reassuring smile or place any semblance of apology to her frown before she falls asleep. She does not have Conner’s eyes.
--
The news is surprising, but not shocking.
Reports of random villainy in any city is standard, but the outbreak in Bludhaven proves something: Nightwing was gone.
The reporter made it half-way through the transmission before mentioning the guardian of the city’s absence. Policemen, she noted, were working double-time to compensate. Conner fought the urge to smirk.
He’s not sure how he feels about Nightwing abandoning his self-proclaimed duty because Dick chose to single-mindedly search for the girl (who he had never claimed). Conner wonders if he’d give up Superboy for her.
--
Nony is delirious. She knows this but the knowing does not change the fact that her train of thought wrecks every fifteen seconds or that the room is hallucinating right along with her.
She’s going through manuals, applying tech to Fu, and she’s trying not to sing. Dick’s face swims above her, a frown and a confession on his lips (she hadn’t known she’d wanted either) and then he’s smiling, distantly.
In reality, Conner isn’t smiling at all.
--
Nony seems to think that he is, though. He tries to lie to her.
Yeah, I’m happy my fake daughter ran away from her fake dad to land on my porch puking and crying her guts out. Happy. No, I’m not. Stop smiling. I won’t humor you-I won’t. Dammit! Please stop crying. There’s nothing to cry about. See?
The syringe and the pills don’t work. Nothing works. He tries Nyquil and even tries garlic. The fever -if that’s what it is-doesn’t break. It occurs to him too late that a hospital might have been their safest bet.
He thinks back to the night at the lab and wonders what he’s gotten himself into, just what he’d left behind.