Everyone was surprised by the children, and being so close to them Diana could see how uncomfortable Bruce and Clark were. She liked to think that Bruce being a good father wasn't too absurd of a possibility, maybe that universe just gave him the chance to grow and it accelerated the process.

The child, Robin, was in his early teens if he was a day, and he seemed to have a mental pocketbook of quips and jokes he'd archived for his own use. The way he talked to Bruce was chummy and overfamiliar, which just made the bat more guarded and cold. It didn't seem to deter the kid, though, as he asked for the internet access and insisted and his friends get to shower.

Diana smiled, remembering how the boy insisted that he could only use shampoos that were sulfate-free. He may not be Batman's son, but he was certainly Bruce Wayne's.

Many of them were opposite to the league members they belonged too, at least in this world; Aqualad was gentle and polite, Robin peppy and sociable, Superboy scared and violent, and she could not begin to understand (but was very amused by) how the Martian child buzzed around with dance steps and giggling fits.

Poor Clark was visibly jealous of the bat, he would deny it, but she could tell it hurt him that superboy refused to be close to him.

"Just some standard questions," Flash started, affixing a blood pressure cuff around the teen's arm, and clipping a heartrate monitor to his index finger. "what's your name?"

"Kaldur'ahm."

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Justice League's watchtower satellite."

"Any thoughts of hurting yourself, others? auditory or visual hallucinations? blurred vision?"

"No."

"Alright." He handed the Atlantean a little paper cup of pills which the boy downed with a sip of water. Flash, still loaded down with their prescriptions, moved on to the next kid. These children were on a pharmacy of meds, meds which were still in their homes in their universe. So he got the drugs for them; SSRIs, meds for ADHD and Autism, Lorazepam, antipsychotics, estrogen, and then there was superboy who apparently needed enough tranquilizers to take down a horse in order to get through the week. He just didn't realize so many of their children were disabled, but considering they fought crime as literal children, the antidepressants at least made sense. He had no clue why Ollie's kid needed estrogen though.

"My Socratic seminar on Hamlet is today." Little Wally said as his older self switched the monitor to one of its meta setting. "I guess they can't get us back before 1:30, right?"

"You lucked out. Lets hope B remembers to call us in sick this time. My record has enough absences because of him." Robin laughed, counting out his one-hundred strokes as he brushed his hair in the double-sided mirror.

The duo laughed, snipping back and forth 'do you remember's and 'how about that time's.

Clark watched the teenagers through the mirror as they socially groomed, like an enclosure of at the zoo.

The door behind him opened and Hawkgirl, slightly disheveled from the long trip, came up behind him, staring through the window.

"I didn't realize you were back."

"We docked just now." She explained, crossing her arms as she watched the kids bicker over whether to use SPF if they were in outer space. "What did I miss?"

"Not much. They spent an uneventful night in a holding room." Clark paused. "Did Kara hear?"

"She was onboard." Shayera replied. "I figured you would want to handle it..."

"Thanks." He said, hurrying out of the dark room, pausing to glance back at the clone.

By the time he reached the Hanger she was gone already, forcing him to begin scouring the halls.

"Oop! Hey watch it-- KAL! Where are they?"

"Look, I know that after Galatea you might be..."

"Where is he, Kal-El? Show me or I'll..." Kara gave him a weak punch on the shoulder to emphasize her eagerness. "Show!"

"OK but promise you'll--" Clark was already being dragged along, cautiously steering her down the correct hallways. Finally they arrived rather unassuming stretch, uncommonly populated with their coworkers, downing caffeine or their vice of choice, and chatting Shayera and John up-to-date.

"That's the one, right?" Kara said, pointing towards the second farthest door. "That's where they are."

"Wait please don't... It's not like the others-- he's not like the others I mean..."

His cousin stood so near the wall her forehead pressed up against it. She pointed, but where to it was hard to tell there being a wall in the way. "He looks like a clone. I don't know how they fool anyone. I'd recognize a Cadmus clone anywhere." Clark reached out hesitantly, ready to hold her should she do something rash, but she just stood, fixed in spot. Through the wall the clone made a big fuss about having to wash his face. "...Aw. He looks so like you." She remarked, surprisingly lightly.

"Yeah." He said, for lack of anything else.

"He's what? fourteen?"

"I believe he's supposed to be about sixteen."

"What? I did not look that young when I was sixteen!" She looked to him for agreement, and he nodded, not admitting that she'd actually looked the exact same to him. "and by kryptonian standards he's tiny; he should be at least 5'9 by that age!"

"Well, He's a clone, maybe he's... not done developing?"

A ghost of a smile passed over her lips, and then came back to stay. "It's been lightyears since I had Kal-El as my little cousin."

"Is big cousin not close enough?"

"It's not fair. I never got a chance to coddle you." She whined. "Plus when you're told you'll be sitting a newborn baby, and then you turn up and he's got a Roth IRA and a ten year plan," She snorted. "It's a little jarring." 

The kryptonian reached across and opened the door.

"Wait, Kara--"

She swung the weighted door open with ease and regarded the gaggle of kids with endearment; baby flash, baby martin, baby arrow, the cutest little atlantean ever, some kid (she had no idea which leaguer he was supposed to be), and most importantly: a baby cousin. She sped over and grabbed his face, twisting it side-to-side. "Aside from all the clone stuff, I bet this is what you looked like, Kal--"

She was cut off by a sharp yowl as the clone pulled away, clutching her wrist as if trying to crush it, but it only felt like a light pinch. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" After that, the clone's shouting devolved into shouting and animalistic snarling as he backed up like a creature about to pounce on her.

"Conner!"

"Superboy!" One of the other kids exclaimed, rushing to his side.

"It's okay, it's okay." Another added.

"Just breath. just try to breath."

"WHO ARE YOU?" He growled.

"Watch your tone, little guy! It's just your cousin Kara," She snapped, tutting him bossily. "Or would I be your auntie Kara? I don't know."

"Who?"

"Oh duh, universe stuff." Kara smacked her head in a way reminiscent of M'gann. "I'm supergirl, Kara Zor-El, I'd be your big cousin in this universe." She held her arms open as if for a hug. "...bud, this is when you introduce yourself to Cousin Kara."

"Superboy."

"Well I put that together." She chuckled. "You guys have been here sixteen hours and your reputations proceed you. I meant your name"

"Conner?" The young martian, who was dressed in an adorable little pink outfit, gently shunted him forwards.

"Conner Kent." He said defiantly, shocked by her squeals of pleasure. "What?"

"I'm just glad you share your dad's surname..." She didn't notice Clark desperately gesturing for her to stop. "What about your real name? You've got to be an El."

"That is my real name!" He snapped. "I'm not a liar!"

"He's not!" M'gann agreed. "He doesn't know how!"

Clark darted in, grabbing his cousin's arm. "Ex-- Sorry, excuse us."

"KAL--" But when she saw his eyes, she relented. "FINE! Talk later, little cous'."

Shayera and John, having missed the arrival of these ultraterrestrial teens, stood on the sidelines, watching the children cattily. Enthesis on children; those kids were barely old enough to be left unattended and they were supposed to believe they were heroes? The duo were embarrassed on behalf of their fellow founders, who were entirely at the mercy of their doe-eyed prisoners.
Even Batman was letting the smallest of the children babble in his direction. He was so small, and the fact Batman let the kid chatter on and on about god knows what was emblematic of the rarely discussed side of the dark night.

The oldest of them didn't look a day over fifteen or sixteen, a stocky black boy with bleached hair and gills, who was currently trying to convince his friend to stop pouting. He seemed cautious of the league, but not afraid, and swept back and forth between indulging the other children and chastising them. They didn't like that they couldn't find a fatal flaw in him, a prisoner in their care really shouldn't be so calm and diplomatic; they did expect a little fear.

"I see someone's grabbed your attention." Diana remarked, J'onn and she engaging their peers-- if only to end the brooding glares they directed at the kids.

"I don't know about the Atlantean kid." John said. "He seems harmless but he's too calm for someone in a different universe."

"Undoubtably he has his secrets," J'onn said. "but none, that I can sense, are worth worrying about-- unless you're worried for his wellbeing."

"You know, he took Orin's... abrasiveness very maturely," Wonderwoman explained. "Apparently his version pf the king is a lot more doting; you should have seen how his friends reacted."

"Uncle J'onn!" The martian child twirled over like a torpedo through the air. She clapped their hands gleefully. "I still have so much to show you about our world! I haven't told you about the cheer team!"

J'onn gave his colleagues an unreadable look somewhere between amusement and complacency, but humored the ever-excited martian. It was nice to indulge another martian, even one who wasn't really green. She excitedly babbled about school, their dog, cheerleading, and about how they did kickboxing last week and Black Canary said that she did well.

"What's up? Homesick?" Wally asked, flopping down beside himself, rifling through his younger self's hair like he had something to find.

"Get off! and no, for your information." The kid wriggled out of reach onto the floor. "It'd take a lot to make me miss home."

Neither said anything. Wally, out of habit, drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, contemplating what the boy had said in the context of the other children's behavior. Wally huffed a little and tapped his foot. "Hey kid?"

"Hmm?" He looked up from toying with his shoelace.

"Nothing."

They sat in silence a while longer, at least a few seconds, Wally fidgeted and the smaller Wally stretched his quads and hamstrings religiously. Finally, his agonizing discomfort was broken by the kid as he straightened up; he saw black, raising a hand to his temple, eyes out of focus, he swayed back into his older self. 

"Sorry. Bloodsugar."

"Geez, kid, can't you feed yourself?" Wally scooped him up. "Does this happen every day?"

"I--" The younger Wally meant to say something, but his head spun and he dry-heaved, nearly choking bile up on the older Wally, as he had long since digested his last meal and had nothing left but to start metabolizing his muscle and fat stores.

"Hold on kid! Woah!" He carried his weak, sweaty, shuddering body down the hall, wondering how on earth this kid had survived two whole years with this kind of metabolism in that skinny of a body. "The mess hall's open, let's getcha something."