Linda hummed to herself as she packed the last of her books into her locker, grinning. It had been a great day—she had gotten a one hundred on her history test, Mrs. Patterson gave her high marks on her latest piece, and she had even managed to do the rope climb in gym in an acceptable time (though Linda would have preferred not having to force herself to climb at a 'normal' pace.) Even lunch had been enjoyable, with Linda and Dick—and the rest of their friends—carry on a normal conversation without it feeling awkward; it had only taken about a month for it not to feel awkward, and Linda had to admit she was actually enjoying just having friends without the complications of a relationship.
"Someone's in a good mood."
Linda grinned wider as she looked to her side and saw Gar leaning against the lockers next to her, smiling. "Hey, Gar, how's it going?"
"Not as well as you, apparently," Gar replied, amused.
Linda shrugged as she shut her locker, still smiling. "What can I say?" she asked. "I've had a good day." She glanced at the clock on the nearby wall. "And I need to hurry up and get home."
"Ooh, that's right," Gar said, "you have guests." He raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Will you stop that?" Linda replied, smiling. "I already said I have no intention of pursuing anything more than a friendship with him."
"He's rich," Gar said, "he's your age, he's rich, he's handsome, he's rich, he's pretty athletic, he's rich, he's single…did I mention he's rich?
Linda chuckled as shook her head. "Anyway," she said, "I need to get going. They should be there by the time I get home. See you later." She slung her backpack on her shoulder before heading off down the hall; Gar just watched her, still smiling.
"Here, let me get that," Jonathan said, reaching for a suitcase in the trunk.
"Sir, with all due respect," the elder gentleman in the butler's uniform said, "I can get those, sir."
"Alfred, you're our guest," Jonathan replied. He reached for the suitcase again, but Alfred grabbed it first.
"I realize that, sir," Alfred said, "but I do have my duties." He picked up the suitcase and headed towards the farmhouse.
Clark had been watching the exchange with amusement as he leaned against the porch rail; he waited until Alfred headed into the house, followed by Jonathan, before he glanced to his side. Standing Beside him, also leaning against the porch rail, was a teenage boy with dark brown hair styled in a slightly spiky manner; he wore a dark green polo shirt, khaki slacks, and loafers; he grinned back at Clark.
"You know Alfred's going to try taking over the kitchen again," the boy said.
"I think my mom's prepared this time, Dick," Clark replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark-haired man leaning against the house near the door; he wore a charcoal suit and a bored expression.
"Please, Bruce, tone it down," Clark said as he stood up. "You're getting too excited."
"Uh huh," Bruce replied, unwavering. "When's your cousin supposed to be here?"
"When she gets here," Clark replied calmly, trying not to look irked. "Why?" Bruce shrugged, but didn't answer, and Clark sighed. "Dick, why don't you go check out the barn? Linda's done a little redecorating in the loft."
Dick sighed and rolled his eyes. "Which is code for 'the adults need to talk,'" he said as he headed down the porch and trotted out to the barn.
Clark waited until Dick and disappeared inside before he turned to the businessman. "Bruce, she's my cousin. Why can't you just accept that she's not dangerous?"
"Anyone's dangerous under the right circumstances, Clark," Bruce replied. "You of all people should know that."
Clark looked like he was going to protest, but he sighed. "She's just a teenager, Bruce," he said.
"A Kryptonian teenager," Bruce corrected, "with her powers emerging at a faster rate than yours did—not to mention having other abilities that you don't."
"You're still bothered by the fact she erased some people's minds," Clark said.
"I'm still bothered by the fact that you aren't," Bruce replied.
"She did it to protect our identities," Clark said. "It's not like J'onn hasn't done the same thing before."
"And what about her father?" Bruce asked.
Clark sighed. "Here we go again," he muttered.
"She said her father was a scientist," Bruce replied, ignoring Clark's remark, "but he was able to take you both on with little effort; that takes major training and discipline—not something you learn in a lab."
"He was a psycho with dictatorial ambitions," Clark said, "and—in case you've forgotten—Linda came here so he wouldn't kill her; her only friend gave his life so she could live."
"And I commend his nobility," Bruce replied, "but did you ever stop and think about what the ramifications of coming from that type of life might have on a person's psyche? I have, to regular, everyday people, and everything seemed fine—until they snapped one day. Put that situation in a teenager with powerful abilities, and you tell me you don't see the potential danger that poses."
"I'm not completely naïve," Clark replied, "that's why she's here. She's around people who love her, learning to control her abilities in an environment where she feels safe and secure." He locked eyes with Bruce, his expression serious. "And like I said to both you and Diana two months ago: I'll be damned if anyone tries to take her away from me."
Bruce knew Clark was serious, and what he was capable of; the businessman respected that protectiveness—even if he'd never admit it—but he still wasn't convinced. "And like we said two months ago," he said, "we have no plans of taking her away—but you did agree to let us monitor things objectively."
"I still don't see why Diana couldn't have been the one visiting," Clark said.
"Because she didn't already have business in Smallville," Bruce replied. "I do."
"And you still haven't told me what that is," Clark said.
"Sorry, Clark," Bruce replied, "that's nothing you need to worry about."
Clark raised an eyebrow, but he decided not to say anything as he stared across the farm at the barn.
Linda walked down the steps and into the parking lot of the high school. Everyone had left for the day, so the lot was deserted, which suited the teenager just fine. She had just gripped the strap on her backpack and was about to blur away when she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Her knees started shaking, and her body felt like it was burning from the inside out. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she slowly turned her head. She saw a flash of green as something hard slam into her face.
Linda fell on her back on the hard concrete, groaning, as her nose throbbed, blood pouring down into her face; she spit and coughed, gagging slightly on the coppery taste, as she opened her eyes. Her glasses had been knocked off and everything was little blurry as she looked up. She barely had time to register the three people standing over her before the person in the center leaned over. The teenager barely saw the green glowing rock in the person's hand before it slammed hard at Linda's face once more.
(End of Chapter 1)