Legion of Super-Heroes - The Boy from Trom

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: The Boy From Trom
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Legion of Super-Heroes (DC Comics)
Characters: Saturn Girl (Imra Ardeen Ranzz), Element Lad (Jan Arrah), and others, at a period in vol. 4 when there were two sets of Legionnaires - one older, one young.
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims. Property of DC Comics all the way.
Note: Spoilers for vol. 4. This is one of a series of Legion of Super-Heroes stories I wrote for the apazines Interlac, APA-247 and APA-LSH. These stories were all based on DC Comics' Legion of Super-Heroes vol. 4, by Tom and Mary Bierbaum, Keith Giffen and Al Gordon. Contextual notes follow the story.


The Boy from Trom

Imra hid behind a wall, where the Dominator patrol couldn't see her. She was cold. She had been mind-probing all evening, in search of Jan, and she was tired. How could Metropolis have become so cold? How could so much have changed? The clean city to which she had come at fourteen no longer existed, and it seemed incredible that it could have come to this: from glory to decadence to destruction in a few short years. Years she had not experienced. To her, it was the wink of an eye.

She felt discouraged.

When they had formed the Legion under R.J. Brande's supervision, she had been so confident in their ability to build a better world. How had it come to this? Outlawed, hiding in the streets from alien invaders, in search of one of their number who was hysterical and possibly self-destructive even if only in carelessness. She knew what pain lay under Element's Lad's quiet exterior. She was frightened for him.

Somewhere a siren sounded, then disappeared. She shivered, and probed again for Jan's mind, walking briskly. He must be somewhere. He was ahead of her still. He had violated the Legion code. He had killed Dominators. He had not meant to, but he had lost control of his powers for the first and only time: he had killed, and he was too honest with himself, too hard on himself, to do anything but regret the anger which had robbed him of his control. He was somewhere ahead of her, somewhere in this hellish city, sad, angry and afraid.

If they couldn't even help one of their own, what good were they? No wonder her older doppelganger had left the Legion for a life of business and domesticity.

But the world needed their help.

Jan was so idealistic, so intense. He was torn apart by the loss of all he had known: first Trom, with everyone in it, and then his Metropolis of his own time. Whatever cruel accident had moved them from there to here had taken away all the security Jan had known.

Somewhere a door slammed. Imra wished she had Lyle's invisibility or Cham's ability to change. Jan must be close.

She found him suddenly, so close she gasped and pulled herself into the shadow of a doorway again. He was inside the house across the street. How had he entered? He knew no one here. It had been, not long before, a posh area of apartments in the New Style, the ornate walls curving into open-air balconies on which once plants must have grown and families must have relaxed.

Staring at the building, mind-probing, she found him again. It was Jan. She could see him, silhouetted in a window. He was wearing something bulky but she could recognize the stance even if she had not recognized the mind. He put his hand on the doorframe, paused, and then walked out onto the balcony. A few snowflakes drifted down. She read his mind. "I've got to let her do this alone," he was thinking. "I've got to let her do this alone. Let her live her life.... I can't give her what she wants. It isn't what I have to offer. She knows it now. But..." The thought was mingled with memories and regrets.

Imra frowned, puzzling it out. She had expected sorrow and self-blame on an excruciating level, for the death of a hated enemy. Instead she found love and regret, centered on a red-haired woman - or was it a man? - that she could not identify. Something was wrong. She would have thought she had the wrong person, but no, this was unmistakably Jan, the last survivor of Trom.

She moved a little closer, and in the dim light of the window could see him better. His wild blond curls had disappeared into a short cut that was as austere as his thoughts. He was large -- too large, it wasn't just the clothing.

It was Jan, but it wasn't her Jan. It was the Jan of this strange future, aged in ways she could not imagine.She pulled herself together. Another delicate probe, and she realized he knew he was being watched, but hadn't seen her yet. His mind was still on the person with red hair, filled with worry and concern. It was a complex, difficult mind, as often is the case with the repressed and the intelligent. There were levels there she could not reach, levels she had not notice in her Jan, levels of spiritual development and awareness she did not know how to touch or interpret. She shied away before become enmeshed in the arcane mysteries of his awareness in areas she was not able or willing to handle: she was too young, too practical to let private paths distract her when there was so much to be done. When and how had Jan gone inside himself and grown like
this?

She pressed her hands over her face. If her Jan lived, he would become like this: self-contained and secure, the depths of pain covered over with a compassion so great it included even himself. Depths of wisdom without self-satisfaction. Depths of loneliness such as she could not imagine. She stepped forward again, and this time he saw her.

He leaned over the edge of the balcony. "Imra?" he said. So he had seen her well enough for recognition. She stepped closer, looking up at him. It might have been Jan's father, as she had imagined him, except for the eyes, which were just like her Jan's, alike enough to be frightening. It was a face of exquisite beauty.

She could feel his puzzlement and curiosity.

She said, "Jan," and paused, oddly embarrassed. What do you say to someone you know and love like a brother, when he is suddenly two decades older and doesn't know you? And so attractive, too. She looked away.

He said, "You're the SW6 Imra, aren't you? I'm the - other Jan Arrah."

"I know," she said, and blushed for what that inadvertently admitted of invading his mind. "Listen, I'm looking for our Jan. Have you seen him?"

"Yes. He was heading that way." He pointed down the street. "You look cold. Would you like to come in? I can probably offer you tea, and it's warmer inside. The Dominators send out patrols."

"I know. I've been avoiding them for hours. I don't have time to stop - I'm looking for Jan. He was upset. He doesn't know this place. I'm afraid he won't be careful."

"He wouldn't do anything deliberately to hurt himself," said Jan. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"He has to work it out by himself."

"Perhaps your friendship might make it easier for him."

"I don't know. We try, but... how can we replace everyone he has ever known?"

"You don't need to replace them. Just be there for him."

"But he won't talk to us about it. He won't admit how he feels - everything turns inwards. I can't pry. I can't even get through to him."

The older Jan smiled. "No. I know. It doesn't mean he needs you any less. Isn't that what the Legion is for? Impossible cases?"

"I don't know what it is for now," she said crossly.

"Don't you?"

"I used to think it was to save the world, but isn't it obvious we didn't do any good at all? It still came to this!" She waved her arm around to indicate the snow-sodden street, the city, the planet, the universe.

"It didn't end," he replied. "It never does. Is that what you are angry about? That we screwed up?"

"Yes!"

"I won't defend us. We did our best. Perhaps you, all of you, can do better."

"By running around hysterically in the snow?"

"By caring enough to find him."

"Should I... intrude on his thoughts? To help him?"

"You should do what you think is best."

"I don't know what's best any more."

He leaned on the balcony wall, his face half in shadow. "You know what the Legion is for. Don't lose sight of that."

Imra took a deep breath. She still felt afraid of him, although he was gentle and calm and seemed just like her own Jan, except in the ways he was different, and in the ways she was sure she would never get used to their older counterparts, who were all spooky because they resembled themselves so much, even inside their minds.

"Long live the Legion," said Imra defiantly. Jan smiled warmly, and looked even more than even like her Jan.

"Long live the Legion," he replied.

She heard the motor of an aircar and ducked into shadows. He returned inside the building, closing the door behind him. She saw in his mind a reflection of herself, idealized, young, full of hope; and the sadness and loss he felt for the red-haired woman, or the red-haired man - she couldn't tell which.

There were clear footsteps in the snow. She followed the pair which much be Jan's, which were still quite clear, because the snow was crisp and hardly coming down now at all. There were other tracks. Someone had been walking erratically, perhaps drunk, and had fallen several times. She caught flashes of thoughts from strangers as she searched the streets and alleys for Jan. It was a doubly difficult job now, because she had to tune out the mind of the other Jan, the one which was so identically like that of her quarry, but more experienced, and different in strange unidentifiable ways. She saw snatches of dreams in the minds of sleepers, nightmares; people lying awake and worrying about the war; a woman mourning her husband, a girl worrying about food, a father reading to a sleepless child. Somewhere nearby, a woman was feeding cats. There was so much despair, but she must go on sifting through it, searching, till she found the right curly-haired blond with his own brand of sorrow.

Then Imra found him. It was the right Jan, but there was someone with him. It was the red-haired person the other Jan had been thinking of, now clearly a man as seen through Jan's eyes. She crept closer. Jan was concerned about his companion's health, and no wonder. He was huddled in a voluminous coat against a wall, and saying, "...Needing just a little hug... a little comforting... and denying yourself even that." It sounded rather too accurate to be the random guess of a stranger.

"Maybe I'd better get that doctor," said, Jan. He was uneasy, already upset because of the difficulty of the evening. Imra saw the thought that this man could read his mind intrigued and frightened him.

The stranger continued, "But you had to, didn't you? you couldn't afford any crutches. You just reached inside till you found a way to make it work."

He reached up and touched Jan's cheek. "But y'know, even with all that, you never tried to change yourself. You just reached inside till you fund a way to make it work."

Jan liked the touch, liked this stranger who understood so much about him, and was wary at this attraction to a madman. Imra wanted to say: It's all right Jan, he's a friend of the other Jan, your other self - but she knew that even if she dared telepathic communication with him in this state, he would reject her, and in the eeriness of the situation it might take more than a few words to ease his confusion. He said, "That's, uh, very nice of you, but listen...."

"Damn it, Jan," exploded the redhead, rising form where he sat in the snow, "I really can't blame you for making your life work, can I?" He started to walk away. "And now I guess it's my turn."

"Wait!" said Jan. "Listen, mister, are you gonna be all right?"

The man didn't stop or turn. "See you round, Jan. And hey, try to be gentle with the dumb little girls, okay?"

Jan looked after him in puzzlement. Imra did not need to read his thoughts to know the uneasiness he felt. He turned, and was heading away without even seeing her, preoccupied with his own worries.

Just as she had been. She had been irritated by his preoccupation with himself, but she had not been much better, letting the cold and the darkness get to her. No less than he, she had lost everything she had and everyone she knew.

And no more than he, either. They both still had the Legion, the truest and best friends the world had ever known. She knew what the Legion meant: perseverance in the face of difficulty, courage in the face of discouragement. She said firmly to herself: Imra Ardeen, you've been behaving like a child.

Aloud she said, "Well, if you've quite finished feeling sorry for yourself -- " She wasn't sure if she was speaking to him, or herself.

He was startled. "Saturn Girl! How -- "

"I've mind-probed half the city looking for you. I should hope I'd have found you by now. You ready to go home?"

Neither of them said anything about how home was an unfamiliar place in a strange city. "Oh, man, Imra.... Imra, you don't know what I've done." The memory almost overcame him, sapping his courage as with one blow."Yes, I do," said Imra firmly. "I know... And I also know it was an
accident. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess it was." He ran it over in his mind. "But Imra, I still have to find a way to live with it."

That was the crux. "Come on, Jan. You will. You're strong." She thought of the strength of the older Jan, who was strong in ways she could not understand or imagine.

"Hell, I don't know if I'm that strong."

"Well, if not, you've got a family to help you get through it." Pain and hope together flashed through his brown eyes, shadowed by long lashes. "And, y'know, friend, there's nothing wrong with needing somebody else once in a while."

They began to walk. Imra felt comforted by his presence. He reached over and took her hand. "No," he said. "No, I guess there isn't."They walked home together in the snow, and as they walked, Jan started to talk to her at last.

------------


Notes:
In Vol. 4 of Legion of Super-Heroes, Earth was under the control of aliens called The Dominators. At the time of this story, only a few members of the Legion were on Earth, but a younger teen-age set of Legionnaires (thought to be clones of the original).

Imra Ardeen was one of the founding members of the Legion, as Saturn Girl - she was a telepath from Titan, a moon of Saturn.
Jan Arrah, known as Element Lad: A member of the Legion with the power to alter chemical compositions. Blonde, curly hair and a sensitive personality. The last survivor of the planet Trom.
The Dominators: Evil aliens, who at the time of this story, ruled Earth.
Lyle Norg, Invisible Kid: A Legionnaire with the power to become invisible.
R. J. Brande: The millionnaire who founded and funded the Legion when Saturn Girl, Cosmic Boy and Lightning Lad saved his life.
S.W.6: The code designation of the younger 'clone' Legionnaires.
Winath: The hedonistic agricultural planet that was the home of Ayla (Lightning Lass), Garth (Lightning Lad) and Mekt Ranzz (Lightning Lord).
The woman the older Jan is thinking about: Shvaughn Erin, later known as Sean Erin. This is the same person as the red-haired man who later comforts the young Jan.