Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bones lives in a D.C. apartment alone.

A shitty apartment considering his decent government position. There’s been a small media circus around that position. The government patting themselves on the back for hiring a metahuman. Proof that they don’t discriminate while they keep him utterly trapped. He’s the new face of metahuman affairs. Of course he is, he’s got a good story. A tale of success that the government can rehabilitate these freaks and make them functioning members of society.

He makes his instant coffee with too much sugar and cream and pours it into a thermos because there is no way in hell his Halloween decoration ass is walking into a coffee shop.

The department is hell. Task force X is a chore. Waller is a psychopath. But hey, it’s home. They’re the good guys.

“Bones! Just who I wanted to see. You’re here early.” The blonde woman is far too loud for 6:30 AM.

Katarina Armstrong if he remembers correctly. A top field agent transferred to the department of metahuman affairs as punishment for misbehaving in the CIA. Good to know this is where trouble makers go to die even when they aren’t criminals.

“What do you want, Agent Armstrong?”

She smiles so bright and so unbelievably fake. “You’re aware that the geek squad put me on handler duty for 13 right? Why can’t you do it? I already have one of the Task Force X teams to babysit.”

“I am aware. I would like to know why you think I would be a better handler if Waller has deemed me unfit for Task Force X command?” He just keeps walking and drinking his coffee forcing her to follow him if she wants to keep arguing.

“You’re the only major agent that doesn’t have to make sure at least one dumbass isn’t getting themselves killed! Come on, Bones, do me a solid.” 

“Incorrect, I am making sure every other major agent isn’t getting themselves killed. Especially you and Flag. I have to talk to the press every time one of your teams trashes a city block or botches an assaination. Did you forget the Captain Boomerang incident?” Patience is a virtue truly, a virtue he has to train for working with people like this.

“13 is easy. He’s polite, he’s friendly, and you can probably relate to him and really get him to like and listen to you.” She pleads.

That gives him a small pause. “Why exactly would we relate to each other?”

“I- I mean you’re so young and he’s a teenager. They think twenty-somethings are cool.” There’s a little falter that says a completely different sentence underneath.

Because you’re not human, and neither is he. Because you’re both made to be weapons. Both experiments. 

“I will talk to 13 and ask him who he would prefer as his handler. He isn’t some criminal we’re dangling a carrot in front of. He’s potentially a life long government approved superhero. 13 could be the next Captain Atom lets respect his opinions a little bit hm?” Bones hates to admit it but he doesn’t exactly want someone so impressionable picking up habits from trigger happy lunatics like Armstrong.

On one hand, getting along on the simple basis of being non-human is ridiculous. Even getting along as two experiments is ridiculous. But on the other hand, shouldn’t Metahumans try to stick together in a world that only wants to use them? 13 seems like a nice kid despite literally everything. Wide eyed and naive. They keep him on test runs for now. Breaking things that need broken and dangling someone in the air to scare them. Nothing serious yet.

He gets all his ducks in a row, fills out paperwork, makes sure Flag isn’t getting walked all over by his team again. Reads the world's most incoherent mission report from the Creature Commandos. Chooses yet again not to eat lunch because he hates the dead quiet that enters the break room when he enters. As the tasks of the day dwindle he knows he has to go speak to 13. Being an actual handler sounds like hell even for an easy field agent. He already has so much to keep track of managing missions as they happen? Awful. But 13 is a kid, someone sane needs to look after him. Armstrong isn’t that person and when Cadmus lends him out it is certainly not Lex goddamned Luthor.

The halls down to the red sun room he’s kept in are well lit but the dark smooth walls, floor, and ceiling seem to eat up the light. It reminds him of his childhood home in all the worst ways. 

13’s room is sterile, a large cell honestly no better than most of their metahuman prisoners. Well, maybe the bedding is better. He really does look like Superman, sure kids look like their parents and all that, but it’s weird to see that face in this environment devoid of sun and obnoxious primary colors. The kid is just sitting on the bed messing with the sparse entertainment he has, a rubix cube. Bones hangs far from the observation window for a second. Watching him solve and mix it a few times over. Fast enough it can’t be just whatever mental training they’ve had him do it’s long practiced repetition. Even a few weeks of life is enough restlessness to make it second nature.

He swipes his clearance card and walks inside instead of using the microphone. “Hello 13. We’ve met briefly before, My name is Agent Bones. It’s a pleasure to properly meet you.”

“Did I do something wrong?” His eyes quickly scan him over growing increasingly nervous.

“No no you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m- wait, why would you think this is because of something you did?” Bones tries his best to lax his shoulders and be as non-threatening as possible when he sees how distressed 13 is.

“Oh well I only ever see a new agent when I’m in trouble…”

“You’re not in trouble. I’m here to ask you who you’d like as your handler. Me or Agent Armstrong. You know Agent Armstrong right?” He asks.

13 sets the cube aside and thinks for a second avoiding eye contact. Picking at his own nails as he contemplates.

“I don’t like Agent Armstrong.”

“I can’t possibly imagine why.” He fails not to let sarcasm drip from his tone. “That settles that then I’ll send a request to Director Waller. You excited about being a field agent? Getting out of your test run phase?”

“What happened to you?”

“Pardon?”

13 motions vaguely to his face. It was asked softly so he has the tact to know it’s probably touchy but not enough tact to not ask. Though it must seem like an elephant in the room to the kid. So far he’s never interacted much with a friendly metahuman if he’s interacted with many other metahumans at all. 

“Nothing happened to me don’t worry, I was born like this. Still have all my flesh and blood it’s just clear.” He turns his head around in the light so it catches around the outline.

“Do you like do something or are you just clear?” 13 tilts his head.

“I kill people- Well okay that sounds bad. I’m highly poisonous if I touch something it dies.”

“Even me? Like it could kill a Kryptonian?”

“Probably. If not, you would get very very sick.”

A few beats of silence pass now that his curiosity has been satiated. It gets awkward fairly quickly.

“Right well I will send that request to transfer handling and also… ask for clearance for an item that isn’t a rubix cube. That has to get boring.” 

He leaves with little room for further conversation. More work for him but the last thing he wants is Armstrong teaching a kid with lasers for eyes that orders are optional.

Chapter Text

The iconic S isn’t present on his suit. But much like his predecessor the name finds him from the people of Metropolis. He already knows how to smile for the camera, dodge questions tactfully, pretend to be a superhero rushing to problems he can hear from states away.

Every mission he goes on he wishes more and more that was true.

He likes the actual heroing missions better. “Go stop Toy Man, go stop Live Wire, go evacuate for this natural disaster.” There’s satisfaction in doing them. People are safe and there’s a reward for a job well done snuck in before going back to the lab. He’s supposed to be on a strict diet but Agent Bones will let him have fast food before they go back. Of course there are missions that are less fun. Past not fun. Horrible. Worse than testing, worse than even being in the red sun room getting poked and prodded by needles. Barely preferable to when they make him test how far he can still push himself around kryptonite.

Intimidation.

It’s easy to stand beside Waller as she talks down to someone. Sometimes he’s not just allowed to but instructed to poke around whatever office or lab she’s cornered someone in. It makes them more nervous. It’s for a good cause and sometimes helps him learn lots of new things. But being there just to be an implicit threat makes him feel gross.

Especially when the threat isn’t so implied.

It’s some scientist that they want to stop doing what they’re doing and join their side. Of course the older man pleads that it’s ground breaking but they all say that. The research could be a giant death laser and they’ll always insist it’s necessary. As unthreatening as the scientist is there isn’t many details given to make a judgement and he trusts Waller when she tells him it’s dangerous to national security. 13 is busy tuning out of the argument going on and instead flipping through a folder that’s entirely chemistry formulas he can’t understand, but he can hear it isn’t going well. 

“13.” Is all Waller has to say and he knows exactly what he’s supposed to do.

Setting the folder down the few strides to get to the scientist are taken at super speed. Lifting him up with a firm grip on the back of the shirt as effortlessly as lifting a piece of paper.

“Don’t make this difficult.” She insists.

13 almost speaks. He wants to tell the truth that he doesn’t want to hurt him, it’s very obvious he can, so don’t be a problem. But a hand with a pen comes swinging backwards at his eye. Either his fight or flight is extremely unlucky or he’s actually that dumb. He catches the hand with his free one reflexes far faster than the motion itself. But it’s still a reflex. Grabbing the scientist’s hand wasn’t exactly thought about too hard. And it results in a sickening crunch.

As soon as the sound hits him he drops him. Power control and strength control are almost never an issue. He's better than this! He’s going to get in trouble!

It could have been worse, that hand could be pulp and it’s probably just a bunch of dislocated knuckles. Probably not even breaks. 13 can be so gentle on reflex that he doesn’t dent aluminum usually. It's not irreparable damage. But it is harm. He braces for reprimand. 

“Now what did I tell you? Need any more persuasion or do you think you can go without both of your hands?” Waller calmly says to the scientist who’s now crumpled on his knees holding his hand in pain. 

13 shifts around nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop but it never does. This ends up being considered a successful mission. He can’t really remember the rest of it. He knows the simpering scientists gave in soon after getting all his knuckles rearranged. The situation would have made a sorry both awkward and ill advised. But he really wishes he had apologized now.

The sound keeps replaying in his head. Bones isn’t even here so the trip back to the facility is dead silent. Devoid of banter and Fleetwood Mac on the radio.

13 doesn’t even need someone to make him go to his room anymore. He walks to the small room lit with artificial red sun they don’t even turn off for sleep all by himself. It’s safe in there. Quiet. Devoid of every argument, car horn, and blasting music in the entire city. After a few hours in the room he might even be able to not hear the breathing and heartbeat of someone in the room with him.

It doesn’t stop him however from hearing a knock.

“Yes?”

Agent Bones opens the door and waves something around. “Heard you demolished some guy's hand. Look at you getting good at the whole ‘putting the fear of god in people’ thing.”

“They make you kill people right?”

His handler instantly stills. “Not anymore. It was bad people anyway. Is everything okay 13?”

“You used to do this though, didn't you? Waller used you to scare people?”

“Hey buddy you hurt someone on accident it’s okay-”

“I hurt someone as it was not disincentivised at all. I’m not stupid, I know you guys are very careful with what I’m punished and rewarded for. You started me out with 911 calls for robberies and evacuating fires and now you have me catching buildings and fighting metahuman criminals. Now you have me scaring people. Is it going to become being sent to worse and worse people? Until they’re people who need to be killed?” He can’t help but raise his voice.

Bones takes a deep breath and comes closer. “I don’t know. I know you’re not stupid and I won’t lie to you. Maybe you will have to kill someone someday. But we haven’t exactly talked about that. I hope you don’t have to, it never gets any easier.”

“I hope I don’t have to too…”

“Lighten up.” Bones tosses him the item in his hand and wires come unraveling a little bit. “I just got clearance to give you this. It was surprisingly difficult.”

“What is this?” 13 turns the small device around in his hand. It kinda looks like a phone. Half screen and half circular touch pad with wired ear buds plugged into it.

“That is an ipod. It’s got like 300 of the best songs ever made on it, so don't break it and don’t lose it.”

“The best songs ever made or songs you like?”

“Same difference. That was the only piece of technology I had for a long time cause phones can be tracked. Now that I don’t have to pirate everything from a library computer I figured I pass it on to someone who would appreciate it.”

Oh it's not just an ipod it was his ipod. 13 feels an odd warm feeling. Sure he gets treats but a gift? This must be what people mean about being sentimental.