All he knew was pain.

It radiated through his entire being, crashing in wave after wave over his senses, overwhelming him to such an extreme that he really was unable to tell where the source of the pain originated. He was cold, cold enough that the second thing he registered was his teeth chattering together.

As consciousness slowly returned to his body, he blinked his eyes open, not that opening them really helped all that much. He was laying in pitch black darkness, the room so dark that it was nearly suffocating. But maybe that was just the dust particles that he could feel burning his throat with every intake of air.

His hands and feet were bound, the restraints tight enough that he could barely feel his fingers at all, even if he wanted to move them, which he did not.

Where was he?

It was dark, so, so, so extremely dark, and yet still he kept his eyes open, knowing deep down that closing his eyes once more would only lead to pain.

But that knowledge raised another question.

What had happened to him? How had he gotten this hurt?

Simply shifting his weight ever so slightly sent more pain rushing through every nerve in his body. He was unsure how he knew, but he knew with an absolute certainty that at least a few bones were broken. Judging from how much it hurt to breathe, his neck was injured too.

Tongue flicking out over his lips, he parted them, attempting to speak, to call out for help, but no sound came. Probably for the best. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that calling out would only lead to more suffering.

Was that what had led to him being this injured?

He was unsure.

No matter how much he tried to think back to what had led this awful situation, no memories came forth.

And that was when he realized that he really could remember nothing.

He could not remember who had done this to him.

He could not remember where he came from.

He could not remember who he was.

Absolutely no memories resided in his brain, and yet, somehow, knowledge remained.

He knew not to make too many noises.

He knew that the pain he felt now was nothing in comparison to how bad it could be.

And, most importantly, he knew that he should be dead.

Time passed in a haze as he lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, surrounded by complete and utter darkness. The pain receded into numbness as his body grew used to the constant agony, although maybe the biting cold had more to do with that than anything else.

It felt like days had gone by before anything changed, although in reality it had probably only been hours. Not that he could really tell, considering his unchanging surroundings. Still, when the change came, it was sudden and more than a little bit painful.

In a mere instant, the darkness was gone, replaced instead by blinding light which made him flinch back, a soft whimper slipping from his lips.

Loud footsteps sounded, growing closer and closer, until he felt a rough hand gripping his bound wrists and yanking him upward. He squirmed weakly against the hold, squinting through watery eyes at the man glowering down at him.

"You're supposed to be dead, kid." The man told him, eyes filled with a dark and twisted look of interest that made him want to get away.

Except he could not get away because the man was holding him up, and he was far too weak to fight back. His lips parted, words of protest just waiting to spill forth. But his throat was too injured, and all that came out was a pathetic, weak, whimper.

The man smirked, laughing darkly at his struggles. "This is quite the development... I think I can find plenty of uses for you. After all, a circus brat deserves to be kept in a cage." He shifted his grip on the boy's wrists to a hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing even as the boy squirmed pathetically in his grasp. "The Last Flying Grayson... yes... I'll definitely keep you."

As darkness enveloped him, the boy only had one final thought. Grayson.

Was that his name?

In the days that followed his awakening, his general confusion faded away to numb acceptance. Maybe it was better not to know where he had come from. After all, if he had a home before all of this, remembering it would probably only cause more pain.

From what he could gather listening to the men around him talk, he at the very least had had parents. If the boasting was anything to go by, then their name was indeed Grayson.

That at least gave him some kind of comfort. He had a name. A name which he shortened to Gray, but at least it was something, some tie to the life that was completely absent from his memories. Not that anyone would ever use his name.

He had learned quickly that talking was not appreciated. In fact, any noise made by him that was not screams of pain generally led to more beatings, thus bringing forth more screams of pain.

Maybe his whole life had been like this. It felt familiar enough, at least. His body was accustomed to the large bruises that constantly marred his pale skin, the pain of broken bones having long since faded from agony into a more manageable ache as he grew used to them as well. And, while he was never allowed to look into a mirror, as looking up was generally something punished with further beatings, Gray could only imagine that he looked like a mess.

Not that he really cared though. He had better things to worry about, like just surviving day to day. It grew easier as time passed, grew easier to stand after days of starvation, grew easier to function on little sleep and with multiple severe injuries, grew easier to slip away into his head when his treatment grew too severe to handle.

And so, as days turned into weeks which turned into months and then years, Gray found comfort in the established routine, of knowing that no matter what happened, nothing would ever really change. Each night when Sir and his friends were done with him, he would curl up on the floor of the main room for a few meager hours of sleep. Each morning he would awaken to kicks and harsh words. The daily routine varied, depending on how angry Sir was. Sometimes, he was better than others and would give Gray food or medical attention. Others he would beat Gray into unconsciousness, or pass him around the group, letting his men abuse him however they desired.

Of course, they were careful to leave his limbs intact, and to always bandage the broken bones. But as he could not die from bleeding out, knives and other sharp objects were more often than not implemented. And, with each passing day, Gray grew better and better at drifting off to that happy little bubble inside his mind where he could pretend, if just for a little while, that everything would be okay, even if he really did not know what okay was anymore.

This was his life, and he had accepted that.

Joker was not happy.

Not happy at all.

Not only had he been kicked out of his own home by his parenting circle, but they also refused to interact with him in the Gotham crime scene.

It had been weeks.

What if his little veggie forgot about him in the time that he was gone?

Joker was not about to let that happen. He needed some way to get back in with the group.

It was that issue which had led him to where he was now, sitting in a back corner of a shady bar waiting for Penguin. While Joker did not necessarily enjoy the other villain's company, Penguin was one of the select few outside the parenting circle who knew about their little veggie. So, when Penguin had contacted him about a possible lookalike to his favorite child, Joker had been more than a little bit interested.

And, fortunately, it did not seem as if he would have to wait in suspense much longer as Penguin walked into the bar and took a seat across from him at his table.

"What information do you have?"

Penguin frowned, crossing his arms over his portly chest. "What, no hello?"

"I have important matters to attend to. Either give me the information or get out." Joker informed him coldly, already reaching into his jacket pocket for his gun. He did not have time to waste. He had already been away from his kid for way too long. What if something had happened to him?

"Fine, fine. You know Tony Zucco, right? Mob boss?"

Joker rolled his eyes. "This is my city. Of course, I know of Zucco. What about him?"

"Well, I had a meeting with him the other day... The guy's got a kid too. Looks a lot like yours. Black hair, blue eyes, short..." Penguin shrugged, rummaging around in his suit jacket before retrieving a photo and placing it on the table, pushing it toward Joker's side. "Thought you might be interested."

"How long has Zucco had him?" Joker asked, staring down at the photo. The boy in it definitely looked like his little veggie, albeit a bit more bruised and definitely skinnier.

Penguin shrugged, leaning back with a sigh. "I don't know. Probably a while though. The kid wouldn't even talk."

Joker hummed thoughtfully, staring down at the photo for a few more moments before tucking it away into his pocket and standing.

"You going to take the kid?"

"Yes, yes, I am." Joker grumbled, already on his way out the door. The boy in Zucco's care was undoubtedly another clone. And, if he knew his fellow parents as well as he thought he did, they would love another little veggie to take care of.

That, and there was no way he was about to leave someone that looked like his kid in such a horrible situation.

No, he would rescue the child being tormented by Tony Zucco, and he would kill the monster who had been hurting him.

The boy would get him a free pass back into his little family, that much Joker was certain of.

Now all he needed to do was find where Zucco was keeping him.

Sir had a visitor again, not that Gray was really surprised.

It was fairly normal for Sir to have visitors.

What was less normal, however, was how they seemed to be talking about him, if the frequent mentions of 'the boy' were anything to go by. From what Gray knew, he was the only boy that Sir kept around.

"Boy, come here." Sir ordered from across the room, tone harsh and grating.

Gray bit his lower lip to muffle any sounds of pain as he limped forward, keeping his gaze locked onto the floor. He knew better than to meet the eyes of Sir or any of the men he brought over. Subservience was the only way to lessen the pain which would inevitably be inflicted upon him. Fighting was useless. Hiding was useless. Running was useless. At the end of the day, all there was was pain.

Still, he risked a quick glance up as he came to a stop at Sir's side, taking in the odd-looking male who had been conversing with Sir. From the quick glance, the guy appeared to have green hair, extremely pain skin, and was wearing a gaudy purple suit.

"This is the boy. Quite wonderful, he is. Can't die. No matter how much we hurt him." Sir grasped Gray's shoulder in a painfully strong grip as he pulled him closer, his other hand starting to run through Gray's hair as if he really was just some kind of pet. The touch made Gray shudder, biting into his lip harder to keep from whimpering. He hated it when Sir touched him.

"Quite an interesting specimen indeed... may I take a look at him?" The stranger asked, reaching for Gray. He flinched back, but Sir held him firmly in place, nails digging into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. "Look up, boy."

Hesitantly, Gray did as he was told, meeting the curious gaze of the green haired stranger. Smiling rather eerily, the stranger leaned forward, one gloved hand lightly touching Gray's cheek. It was all Gray could do not to flinch back.

"Close your eyes, kiddo." The man whispered, petting Gray's head as his eyes softened for the barest fraction of a second before he turned away, pulling a gun out from inside his suit jacket. "Zucco, I am very unhappy. Very, very unhappy."

Gray flinched back as the first gunshot sounded, stumbling and tripping as he scrambled away, hands clamping instinctively over his ears. He moved back as far as he possibly could, shrinking against the wall as blood splattered the walls and explosions shook the building. As much as he wanted to, needed too, Gray just could not close his eyes.

With wide eyes, he watched as the man with the green hair and purple suit slaughtered his abusers, and, as much as he could appreciate them dying, there was so much blood. So much violence. He could feel panic rising in his chest, could feel it overtaking his senses. It was manageable, at first, but then Sir's body dropped to the ground in front of him, eyes lifeless and cold, blood trickling from his mouth.

And then the man stepped over the dead body, wiping a bloody knife on his shirt, lips twisted into a sinister grin as he kneeled down in front of Gray. "Hey there, kid. You're coming with me, okay?"

Gray whimpered, shaking his head and shrinking back against the wall.

The man frowned, watching the trembling boy for one long moment before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He leaned forward as Gray shrank back, grabbing onto his shoulder and pressing the cloth to his mouth and nose.

Unable to stop his panicked breathing, Gray inhaled the clear scent of chemicals before everything slowly faded black.

The first thing he noticed upon waking was the fact that he was on an unstable surface. It did not take long after to realize that said unstable surface was some kind of box. The box had to be in some kind of vehicle with how much he was being jolted around, and he could not help but whimper softly as each jolt knocked him into a side of his prison, jarring his many broken bones and open wounds.

It hurt.

Gray bit his lower lip, curling in on himself as tight as he could inside the box. Where was he being taken? Would they hurt him there too? His fingers trembled as he stared down at them, noting the blood. Blood was not surprising to him. He was used to seeing blood.

But that had always been his own blood.

The blood on his hands was the blood of Sir and Sir's friends.

It was wrong. Gray should have been the one bleeding, not Sir. Gray was meant to bleed.

Except, it felt so incredibly right.

It felt right to have watched the cruel man and his minions be slaughtered.

He was a horrible person.

But that was something Gray could accept. At least he would probably be dead soon. After all, that was the only reason he could think of as to why he had been put in a box. Would they dump him into a river?

Sir and his friends had boasted about killing people that way before.

Shivering, Gray did his best not to think about that. He needed to focus on clearing his mind. If he could just tune it all out, could just go into that safe corner of his mind where nothing could hurt him, then maybe death would not be so bad.

Besides, Gray knew that he could not actually die. Sir had killed him time after time again only for him to wake up hours later. But then again, Sir had never drowned him before. If he was surrounded in water forever, Gray doubted that he would be able to come back.

That would be nice; not being able to come back.

Actual death had to be better than living.

Living was hell on earth.

With a few deep breaths, Gray reached that little corner or safety, his tense body relaxing ever so slightly as he stared blankly at the dark wooden wall in front of him. It felt like he was staring down at his body, a feeling which had at first been odd, but was now something he was all too familiar with.

And so, Gray stayed in his safe and cozy mental corner as the movement outside the box slowly grew still before starting up again. There was a final jolt as the box was set down, and then the sound of voices, growing louder and louder.

It was a fight, that much Gray was sure of. That alone was enough to break him out of his trance-like state. If people were fighting, then he needed to be fully aware. Or at least as aware as he could get. He knew from experience how badly things could end up if he was unable to read the combatants well enough.

Sir had liked bringing him out when they were fighting, after all, and Gray had received a few too many extra beatings for being too out of it to read the room well. He was not about to make that mistake with strangers. Especially not after what he had seen the man with the purple suit and green hair do to Sir.

The voices sounded closer now, and Gray knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the fight was occurring just outside his box. He shrank back, pressing his body against the back wall of the box. Just in time too, as the wall closest to the voices pulled back, bright light shining into his prison.

Gray flinched, squinting his eyes as pain flared in his head. Sir had liked keeping him in darkness a bit too much; just like how he had enjoyed forcing Gray to sit with his eyes open, teary and burning, once he had discovered his sensitivity to light.

Someone kneeled down to peer into the box, and Gray did his best to merge with the wood behind him, a task that he was sadly unable to accomplish. A soft whimper of pain slipped from his lips, and he heard someone mumble a soft curse. Footsteps sounded, and then the lights dimmed, making Gray's shoulders slump in relief.

At least he would be able to see who was going to try killing him.

The blurry figure looking in at him from where the box had opened up slowly focused into a woman with bright red hair and dressed in green.

"Hey there, beansprout." The woman said, smiling at him. "I'm Ivy. Can you tell me your name?"

Gray blinked at her. Smiling made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. People only smiled at him if they wanted him to let his guard down. And the instant he did that, they would attack. He had only fallen for that ploy twice before learning better. Smiles were not to be trusted.

He knew better than to answer her question too. No one ever actually wanted an answer. This was a test. Sir had done tests like this all too often. Gray knew better than to ever admit to having a name. He was a thing. He did not get a name. Or at least, not a real one.

Names were for people, not human punching bags.

The woman, Gray knew better than to risk starting to call her by her name, even in his head, frowned, reaching toward him. "It's okay. You're safe now. We won't hurt you."

Gray narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. These people were going to need to seriously up their game if they thought something that clearly untrue was going to work on him.

"Mom? Can I see?" A clearly much younger voice asked, making the redheaded lady turn away.

Gray took in a shaky breath as the attention was pulled back away from himself, moving just a little bit further away from the entrance. Maybe if he did everything in his power to look threatening, it would help? Not that he could really look threatening. Gray knew all too well that he was very short and extremely skinny. He doubted if he would be capable of fighting off a small dog, much less a fully grown human.

Images of what had happened to Sir and his friends flashed through his mind, and he bit his lip. Fighting was definitely not going to get him very far.

However, confusion quickly overtook his internal struggles as a boy, probably no older than ten or eleven, poked his head into the box.

"Hi. I'm Veggie. You look like me. Well... you have longer hair. And it's not dyed... but otherwise you look like me. Catmom said that we're clones. But not clones of eachother." The boy moved his hands into sight, holding a small kitten carefully in his palms. He set the small animal down, and it tottered over to Gray, sniffing at his leg. The boy grinned. "That's Pebble. She's yours. The parents gave me lots of kittens when I first got here, so you can have more too if you want."

Gray blinked, eyeing the kitten warily. The information about being a clone was new, but it was not like he actually cared about that. At least that served as some kind of explanation as to why he was unable to die. Pebble meowed softly before clambering up into his lap, curling into a ball and falling asleep, all within the span of a few minutes. Honestly unsure of what to do, Gray just stared down at the sleeping animal. Was he supposed to touch her? What if he hurt her? She was so small... and fluffy looking. It could not possibly hurt to just pet her a little bit, right?

Slowly, Gray reached down, fingertips lightly stroking over the kitten's fur.

"Do you have a name?" Veggie asked, moving in just a bit closer.

Unable to shrink back any further, Gray settled for narrowing his eyes at the other boy, trying to warn him back.

Veggie pouted at him. "You have to have some kind of name. Will you tell me if I get you another kitten? Kittens fix every problem."

"Why are you giving me cats?" Gray asked, voice cracking and raspy from lack of use, as well as damaged vocal cords. Maybe, once the bruises around his neck were given time to fade, he might be able to talk more normally. Not that Gray planned on doing much talking.

"Because cats fix every problem. Catmom said so." Veggie declared, pout morphing into a grin as he moved to sit on the other side of the box. There was just barely enough room for them to both fit without touching. "So, do you have a name?"

Gray frowned. Clearly the other boy was not about to let this go. "Why should I tell you? Y-you... no one ever uses my name."

"Well that's stupid. Why would no one ever use your name? Did you tell them your name? Maybe they just didn't know."

"I wasn't... I wasn't allowed to have a name."

Veggie looked personally offended by that statement. "That's not nice at all. Thank goodness Papa rescued you. It's okay now though. We'll call you by your name. You just need to tell me what it is."

Gray bit his lower lip, fingers tentatively stroking Pebble's fur in an attempt to find some kind of comfort. Should he tell this person his name? He had already made the mistake of talking to him. What else could he do? That was a bad question. There was a lot that could happen.

But, in that moment, Gray let those fears go, if only briefly. He was tired, emotionally strained, in pain, and something in the other boy's eyes made him feel oddly safe; as if there was some kind of bond between them even though they had only just met. Maybe it was the weird clone thing mentioned. Either way, keeping his gaze focused on the small kitten in his lap, Gray whispered words that he had never before uttered. "Gray. I... my name is Gray."

"Hi Gray. It's really nice to meet you." Veggie responded, voice soft and filled with an odd warmth.

No one had ever spoken to him like that before.

It was nice.

"You too." He mumbled, fighting back the sudden wave of tears that threatened to overwhelm him at hearing his name spoken. It made him feel more like a normal person, even if he knew all too well that he would never be a normal person.

"Wanna leave the box? We could make a pillow fort. The parents don't have to be there. Just us and cats."

Gray frowned, glancing up at the other male. "What is... what is a pillow fort?"

Veggie gasped, looking truly horrified. "You don't know what a pillow fort is? It's when you get a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and soft things, and you pile them up and drape blankets over the top, and it's cozy and wonderful. Especially if you use fluffy blankets."

"Fluffy blankets?"

"Fluffy blankets. You'll see. Come on, I promise it's safe. And there are more cats." Veggie coaxed, reaching out a hand to him, blue eyes wide and pleading.

Teeth sinking down into his lower lip, Gray timidly placed his hand into Veggie's, cradling Pebble to his chest as he let the other male guide him out of the box. Gray kept his head down, focusing on placing one foot after the other rather than looking around at the adults whose gazes were practically burning into him.

Veggie seemed impervious to the stares as he led Gray into another, smaller, room. "See those blankets and pillows in the corner? You can go sit on them. I'm going to grab more." He pointed at the pile of soft looking items, gently nudging Gray in that direction. "Oh! I'm gonna get you some different clothes too. I have some awesome tie-dye hoodies."

"O-Okay." Gray honestly had no clue what a tie-dye hoodie was supposed to be, but he knew better than to argue. Arguing led to punishments. So, he did as instructed, sitting in the corner and letting Pebbles curl back up on his lap as Veggie left the room.

The blankets were soft, beyond a doubt the softest things Gray had ever had the luxury of touching. Exhausted and drained, both mentally and physically, Gray let his body relax for just a moment, eyes drifting closed. It only took minutes for him to fall asleep, lost in the world of peaceful oblivion by the time Veggie returned.

The next few days were the best that Gray had ever lived.

Not that he really had much to compare them too, but still.

Each day he woke up surrounded by warmth and comfort, cats of all ages and sizes sprawled out around him. Even Veggie was starting to grow on him more, the other boy's energetic presence enough to bring the faintest of smiles to Gray's lips.

However, he was still incredibly wary of the adults, even though they were good at staying away. So good in fact that Gray had barely even seen them since Veggie had brought him to the room with the blanket fort.

It was a strange feeling, waking up warm and comfortable, but Gray relished it, curling up under the fuzzy blankets, fingers stroking gently at the closest cat's fur as it stretched out languidly and purred. Gray smiled. He liked being able to make the cats purr.

At least that was something he could do in this strange new world.

"Good morning! Momma made pancakes. And we have maple syrup." Veggie said, poking his head into the fort and grinning at Gray.

Gray blinked back at him, hand dropping from the cat's fur as he slowly sat up. "I don't... I don't k-know what those are."

"They're good. You'll see. But we have to eat them in the kitchen. Because syrup is messy."

"In... in the kitchen?" Gray flinched at the mere thought of going out there amongst so many people. The adults were out there, and, while Veggie might not be dangerous, adults most certainly were.

Veggie noticed his flinch, smile drooping ever so slightly. "Hey, it'll be fine. I promise. It's just Papa, Momma, and Catmom here today. The others are out doing crime things."

"I don't know who th-those people are."

"Oh. Good point. But you have to meet them in order to know them." Veggie said, reaching out a hand to Gray. "Come on. I'll protect you."

Gray bit his lip, considering his options. He did have to leave the cozy blanket and pillow nest eventually. And it was better to just get the beatings out of the way as soon as possible. Maybe if he was good enough, they would let him return to the blankets once they were done. With that thought in mind, he took Veggie's offered hand, letting the other male pull him from the pillow fort and lead him out of the room.

Like he had done when he was first brought to the room, Gray kept his eyes focused on the floor, simply letting Veggie lead. It was all fine and dandy until Veggie stopped next to a table and started talking.

"Gray, this is Harley. But I call her momma. You can probably call her momma too."

"Hi there, pumpkin."

Gray shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing up at the woman in question, unable to hide a small smile as he saw how enthusiastically she was waving at him. "H-hello."

Harley cooed, and another female voice hushed her, making Gray glance over in that direction, where another lady was smiling over at him.

"I'm Selina." Her eyes scanned over Gray, and he looked away again, moving a bit closer to Veggie, who gave his hand a squeeze. "How are you feeling, little one? Do you need anything?"

"I-I... I'm fine. Thankyou." Gray whispered, shrinking even closer to his fellow clone.

Thankfully, Veggie was aware enough to pick up on Gray's increasing anxiety. "I'm hungry." He declared, pulling Gray over to the table and pointing at a chair. "You can sit there. I'll sit next to you. It'll be fine, okay? I know they look scary, but they really aren't. I was scared at first too."

"Here you go, little one. Let me know if you want any more, okay? There are plenty." Selina told him with a gentle smile, pushing a plate of steaming food toward him.

Veggie giggled at Gray's clueless stare, cutting into his own food and holding out a bite on his fork to Gray. "Here. Try it. It's good, promise. Momma makes the bestest pancakes."

"Awe. Thanks, pumpkin."

Hesitantly, Gray accepted the offered food, chewing and swallowing carefully before his eyes widened. It was good. Very, very good.

"See? Told ya you would like it." Veggie grinned, returning his focus back to his own plate.

Without any further hesitation, Gray began shoveling the food into his mouth, not daring to stop lest it be taken away. Sir had like to do that as a method of torment, giving him food only to take it back just when Gray was starting to eat. He was so engrossed in the meal that he failed to notice voices in the hall leading into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the incoming people until the slamming of a door jolted him back into the real world again.

Startled by the sound, Gray's fingers slipped, and his fork dropped from his hands, clattering onto the floor.

He froze, body freezing into place as panic slowly rose in his chest. He had messed up. They were going to punish him. They were going to hurt him. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable pain.

Except that pain never came. Instead, a gentle hand lightly touched the top of his head, lightly brushing through his hair. Still bracing himself for pain, Gray blinked his eyes open, staring at the man standing in front of him.

"Hey kid. I'm Joker. It's okay." The green haired man murmured, shrugging out of his suit jacket and placing it over Gray's quivering shoulders. "I want you to hold onto that for me, okay? It'll keep you safe. No one in Gotham is dumb enough to challenge me, aside from Batman, and Batman would never hurt a kid. You're safe here."

And, strangely enough, Gray did indeed feel a sense of safety huddled under the too big purple jacket.

Because, to him, in this moment, Joker really was a hero.

Joker had killed Sir.

Joker would keep him safe.

Everything seemed to be going well since that first breakfast with the family. Gray had even managed to successfully meet the rest of the parents, even though he definitely preferred Joker. After all, Joker had been the one to rescue him, even if he had been scary at first.

But all good things come to an end, and, one morning, he awoke feeling the worst he had in nearly a month.

Head pounding, Gray shivered, body trembling as nausea filled his stomach. He staggered to his feet, barely making it into the bathroom before he was throwing up.

"Hey... It's okay. I don't feel good either." Veggie reassured him, holding back Gray's hair with one hand as he sniffled and blew his nose with the other. "I think we're sick."

"I don't get sick m-much." Grey mumbled as he leaned back, sweat beading on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed.

Veggie coughed, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "I don't either. But we're definitely sick. Maybe father can make tea... He's a doctor, you know. He can help."

As if summoned from the shadows, Crane stepped into the bathroom, followed by Ivy. "Veggie? Gray? What's wrong?"

"Sick." Veggie grumbled, unable to stop the sigh that left his lips as Gray went silent and looked away. He moved closer to the other clone, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, only to frown. "He's very hot."

Crane's frown mirrored his little veggie's as he moved forward, reaching a hand toward Gray's forehead.

"N-no... Don't... don't touch me!" He cried out, breaths hitching in his throat as he stared at the approaching hand. They had always been worse when he was sick. Punching bags were not supposed to get sick. Crane's face twisted, forming into Sir's glowering features.

Gray flinched back, eyes going wide as he scrambled to get away, only ending up hitting his head against the cabinet with a loud cracking sound. Veggie cried out, reaching for his friend, but Gray was still panicking, and Veggie's panic was definitely not helping. With blood trickling down the back of his head, Gray shrank away, breaths coming in sharp, panicked gasps.

And then Ivy was there, holding out a sweet-smelling plant... and then everything drifted black and Gray slumped back onto the cold tiles, leaving the others to clean up the mess left behind.

The next few days were a blur for Gray as fever wracked his body, medicine offering little relief to him or Veggie as they lay curled up together, various parents taking care of them, although all made sure not to touch Gray.

Oddly enough, Crane was nowhere to be seen, and, days after they were both feeling better and Veggie asked about his Father, none of the other parents would give a solid answer.

Crane had made their second little veggie hurt himself and had in turn scared their first little veggie. So, unbeknownst to the two clones, the rest of the parents had sent him out much like they had with Joker.

Except this time there were rules to being allowed back.

Crane needed to return with another little veggie, or he would not be allowed to return at all.