Reassurances

A Prequel to "The Eye of Anubis"

By Nightmare and Winged Dreamer

Author's Notes: This takes place soon after Raven visits Kon-El at the Kent Farm to show him his soul, after Luthor triggered the programming in Kon's mind. We are ignoring everything after that point, and we do mean everything. Why? Because Infinite Crisis sucked.

Chapter One

Blinking to clear the dust kicked up by the bus out of his eyes, Tim Drake adjusted the strap of his duffle more comfortably on his shoulder and took a deep breath to gather his resolve. No one else had gotten off at this stop and, from what he could see, it would be quite a walk to the nearest town. Well, it was too late to turn back now – there wouldn't be another bus for a few days. Shifting his bag again, Tim started walking.

Luckily, someone drove by a few minutes later in a pickup and, after a quick discussion, was offered a ride to his destination, which Tim graciously accepted, especially since it turned out to be in the opposite direction than that in which he'd originally been heading. He tossed his duffle into the truck's bed and climbed up after it.

'I wonder what he's doing right now,' thought Tim as he watched the fields of corn and wheat and pasture flow by, holding his hair out of his face with one hand and shading his eyes from the late morning sun with the other. 'It's been… what, a month now since he left? Yeah, a month. And never once has he contacted us, saying whether he's okay or wants to come back or even if he misses us half as much as we miss him. Surely it's not that he's too busy… I hope he hasn't worked himself into too deep of a depression.'

"Hey kid, we're here."

Snapping out of his daydream, Tim grabbed his duffle and hopped off the truck bed. "Thank you very much."

The driver nodded through the truck's back window. "No problem. Tell Jonathan and Martha that Sam says hi."

"I will." Tim waved as the truck drove away and turned to get a good look at his reached destination.

"Kent Farm," read the sign hanging above the driveway to a large farm surrounded by a meticulously kept fence. A small, cozy looking house sat at the end of the driveway, almost beckoning Tim to come forward. Hearing cows lowing in the distance, he answered the house's call. On the porch, he took one more deep breath and knocked, hoping the Kents – especially Conner – were home.

"Coming!" came the answer from deep within the old yellow farmhouse. Several moments later, a shadow appeared in the dimmer interior of the house and at last a kind, elderly woman came to the door. She showed a little hesitance that was probably born of surprise as she pushed the light wood-framed screen door open and stepped onto the porch. "Uhm, may I help you?"

Tim nodded in greeting and smiled his best, hiding his anxiety. "Hi, Mrs. Kent. My name's Tim Drake. Is Conner around?"

"Tim?" Martha thought for a moment, then smiled. It was a sweet, almost loving smile, and she turned around to pull the door open. "He's out in the barn with Jonathan right now, getting things ready for the fall harvests. They should be in shortly since it'll be lunch time soon."

Martha Kent couldn't hide the small smile that kept her mouth turned up at the corners. Finally someone other than Clark was showing Conner that they still cared. Conner had mentioned a Tim and Tim had called the farm on a few random occasions, but this was the first time that Martha had ever actually met the boy. He had the look of someone who cared a great deal about his teammates and friends, which made Martha's smile just a little wider. Maybe Tim could rid Conner of his underlying depression. Stopping at the kitchen counter where she had been preparing sandwiches, Martha gestured to the back door.

"It's right through there. The biggest of the outbuildings. If you could please tell Jonathan that he needs to come in and take his pills, I'd appreciate it."

Nodding, Tim pulled his summer jacket off and stuffed it into his duffle. Now that it was almost noon, all of the morning's chill had been burned off and it was comfortably warm. "Sure thing. Mind if I set my stuff by the front door?" He already felt comfortable around Martha Kent and felt a little of his apprehension dissipate. However, until he was sure Kon was going to talk to him, Tim was going to continue being nervous.

"Not at all. Actually, since you're going to be here for at least a little while, you can take it up to Conner's room." Busily preparing sandwiches, Mrs. Kent pulled out another two slices of bread and asked, "What do you like on your sandwiches, dear?"

"Ham and Swiss, if you have it, with all the trimmings, please." Tim set his stuff by the front door for now and headed out to the barn Martha had pointed out. It wasn't hard to find Kon and Jonathan – the young meta was pitching hay down from a loft while an elderly man, weathered by age and a life of hard work, greased tractor parts. Not wanting to startle Jonathan, Tim knocked on the door frame before walking into the barn. He knew Kon had probably heard him the second he'd pulled up in front of the house.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kent? Mrs. Kent asked me to tell you it's time to take your pills."

"She did, did she?" Jonathan rose slowly from where he'd been kneeling to grease one of the front wheels, set his grease gun on the tractor hood and wiped his hands on a shop rag. Satisfied with their cleanliness, Jonathan offered the young man a hand. "Jonathan Kent. I don't believe we've met."

The Teen Wonder grasped his hand in a firm grip, pleased to find Jonathan's return grip equally firm. From what he could tell so far, Martha was the heart and Jonathan was the backbone of this small family. "Tim Drake. It's a pleasure."

"Pleasure's mine, Tim. I'll leave you two boys out here. Come in when you're hungry." With a nod to Tim, he turned and called into the loft, "Conner! You've got company."

In the shadows of the stacks of square hay bales, Conner Kent slowly unfolded his arms and steeled himself. Every time he even thought about Tim or Cassie or any of the other Titans, all he could see was how he'd hurt them. How he'd wrenched Tim's arm backwards and crushed his forearm. How he'd pulverized Cassie without a second thought. How he'd nearly fried Gar and Raven. Shaking his head, he pushed off the hay very carefully and belatedly answered Pa Kent. "Be right down, Uncle Jon!"

Flashing one last smile at Tim, Jonathan left to the sound of boots on the stairs.

Once at the bottom of the staircase, Conner looked off to the side and nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. "Tim. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you're doing. You haven't called in so long we were all getting pretty worried. How've you been, Kon?" There was a deep, honest concern in Tim's voice, born of their long friendship. Intense blue eyes carefully examined Kon's face, searching for clues to his emotional health. Already Tim could tell that Kon was deeply depressed and probably severely introverted, neither of which would help him get over the still too-recent mess with Luthor and the Brainiacs. All of the Titans had yet to fully recover, but at least they had each other for support. Kon had taken himself away from that, leaving them all worried about how he was coping with what he'd done under Luthor's control.

Kon? Turning his eyes to the ground, the first successful clone of Superman sighed. Conner Kent, Kon-El, Superboy… he didn't deserve any of those names. Slowly, he lowered himself to the second to last step and leaned on his knees. "I don't know," he mumbled and glanced up at Tim through his slightly longer bangs. He'd have to cut them back soon, but he just couldn't bring himself to go with the near buzz-cut again. It reminded him too much of a bald scalp. "How do you think I am?"

Shrugging, Tim tucked his hands into his jean pockets and shifted to rest his weight on one leg, making himself appear relaxed in hopes that it would relax Kon. "Frankly? You look like shit and I bet you don't feel much better. … Then again, none of us are doing so great," he added in a soft voice, thinking of their friends at the Tower.

"Yeah. You guys wouldn't be." Heaving himself to his feet, he turned and started up the stairs. "There's a couch up here."

"Okay." Tim followed him up the stairs to a corner of the loft that had been made into a comfortable sitting area, relieved that Kon hadn't yet pushed him away or closed up. Right now, any good sign was greatly appreciated.

The taller boy fell back onto the dusty couch with a whump and let his knees fall open wide as he slumped back into the battered and ugly old furniture. Out of the corner of his eye, Conner watched Tim step off the top stair and toward the couch. The half-Kryptonian was unable to resist the way every muscle began to wind tight with tension the nearer Tim got. What if he snapped again? How could Tim want to be anywhere near him? Sure Tim was a Bat, but how could he not be afraid of what Conner could do to him?

"Kon?" Noticing just how tense Kon was getting, Tim stopped a few paces away from the couch, his expression both calm and concerned. It wasn't like the meta to be wary of proximity to another. Then again, he'd never gone completely AWOL, either. "If you'd rather I keep my distance, I will. All you have to do is say so."

If Superboy could blush… Kon completely looked away again and shook his head. "It's fine. If you're… If you want to sit down, go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

He barely glanced Tim's way. "…Yeah."

"Alright." Tim pulled his hands out of his pockets and walked over, sitting down on the other end of the couch from Kon, understanding his friend's need for space. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Honestly, Kon… How've you been?"

"I'm alright, I guess." It felt like even more of a lie than it sounded, and Kon turned his face toward the floor of the loft between his feet, tearing his gaze from the bright blue Kansas sky visible through the open loft doors. But how could he tell Tim about the nightmares and the disgusting feeling of Luthor all over him? Or about the weight of his guilt and the ache in his chest for the pain he'd caused the people he cared about the most?

The young human sighed and ran a hand over his face. "If you don't want to tell me the whole truth, Kon, that's fine, but please, don't lie to me. I came here because I want to help you, and I can't do that if you shut me out."

There was a long silence before Kon asked, "What do you want me to say then, Tim? There's no way a smart guy like you doesn't have any idea about what this has to be like. You might not have experienced this, but I'm sure that brain of yours can reason it out."

No malice. No anger. Just… defeat. That was the best way to describe his tone. His voice was near to husky, almost thick and definitely not like it had ever been in the past. This went beyond the sulking Kid that Robin had first come to know. This was a truly depressed and brooding Kon-El.

A comforting hand grasped Kon's forearm and Tim squeezed. "What happened was not your fault, Kon. Everything was completely out of your control. No one blames you for anything that happened. Not me, not Cassie or Bart, or anyone else. And honestly, I was proud of you when you snapped out of Luthor's programming and beat him up. That took a lot of willpower."

"I saw… everything, Tim. I was still in there, but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't stop. I think the electricity from Cassie's lasso helped short out whatever Luthor had programmed into my brain enough for me to fight back. I just… I can't get those images out of my head."

Burying his face in his hands, Kon bent forward and rested his elbows on his knees. This was… it hurt just thinking about it. It scared him, remembering how helpless he'd been. The hand on his arm didn't leave and part of him wanted it to stay, but the other part just wanted to run screaming for fear of breaking Tim again.

That hand moved up his arm, around his shoulders to the other, and pulled him against Tim's side. "We all have nightmares, Kon, about things we've done that we regret or horrible situations in which we wish we'd had control but didn't. It comes with our work," Tim murmured into Kon's dark hair. "No one will fault you if you want to quit being a superhero after this, but we also don't want you to let one horrific experience rule you. Whatever happened, it wasn't you, even if you were still in there watching. The important thing is you recognized what was going on and you beat it."

Kon stiffened for a moment, body tightening up until his shoulders were like a steel girder beneath Tim's arm. But when nothing exploded and the world didn't shatter around him, Kon gradually relaxed. Leaning some of his weight against Tim's side, he tiredly dropped his hands between his thighs, forearms resting on their tops.

"You know Raven visited me a little while ago, right?" Kon asked into the stretching silence.

"Yeah, she told us she'd come out here. She didn't tell us anything that you'd talked about, though."

"Remember, just before all of that happened? How I told you that I'd asked Raven if I had a soul, and that she'd gotten flustered?"

Tim nodded, curious as to where this was going. "Yeah…"

"You were so certain that I had one. I was certain that clones couldn't, so I thought for sure you were wrong. But then Raven pulled me into her Soul Self while she was here… and showed me some things. Luthor wanted to name me Lionel, but you know I got loose before I was complete. She showed me the Batcave. Batman and Superman were arguing over what to do with me. I saw my future self again. I told myself that I'd be proud to be a Luthor someday. And then she made me watch that day at the Tower over again. Everyone was so still, lying all over the place. Then everything went black, and there was this little glowing ball of… something. Raven told me that it was my soul. That she hadn't been able to see it before. That she hadn't been able to see it until I broke free of Luthor's control. I guess… I guess I want to believe her, but I'm not sure. I mean. Clones aren't supposed to have souls. We weren't made by natural means. How can we?"

Through the entire quiet tale, Kon hadn't moved from beneath Tim's arm. The comfort of someone he'd known almost his whole life was like a soothing balm on his chaotic psyche. Tim was there, fine, unharmed and unafraid of him. That had to mean something.

"Just because you're a clone doesn't mean you don't or can't have a soul. I believe what Raven showed you really was your soul. Maybe she couldn't see it before because Luthor's programming was hiding it, but that doesn't mean it wasn't always there. Kon, you feel just as deeply as I or any other person does. You've known fear, hope, love and grief, things I believe you couldn't have experienced without a soul. You're just as much of a person as I am, and you always have been."

Tim tightened his embrace and ducked his head, trying to look Kon in the face. "Actually, when you think about it, you're not really a clone at all."

That got his attention, and Kon lifted his head to look Tim straight in the eye. If he wasn't a clone then he no longer had an excuse for his actions, did he? He was just a bad person that had succumbed to the darker side of himself, right? Real people couldn't be programmed, could they? "What do you mean, I'm not really a clone?"

"By definition, a clone is made from the DNA of only one being," explained Tim. "You were made from the DNA of two people. You're fifty percent Superman and fifty percent Luthor, just as everyone else is fifty percent of each of their parents. I think the reason everyone insists on calling you a clone is because that's what they were trying to create when they made you."

Kon heaved himself to his feet and took a few steps forward, pulling out of Tim's embrace to get rid of some of the anxiety building inside him. Rubbing at the back of his neck as he stared blankly at the stacked hay to the one side of the loft, Kon sighed a little shakily. "So, if I'm not a clone and not quite a real person, then what the hell am I? I was made to kill people, Tim. I… almost did. Jesus, this is so fucking complicated."

Turning, the meta fixed Tim with a gaze that was more angry than anything else. "Let's go eat. Pa Kent and I will take care of the rest of the chores, and we can talk about this later tonight before bed."

Cursing himself for making the situation worse when he'd been trying to make it better, Tim stood up and grabbed his friend's arm. "Kon, wait. I never meant that you're not a real person, because you are. All I meant is that you're not a clone."

"If I'm not a clone then what am I?" Kon stared down into Tim's face, thankful that the Teen Wonder wasn't hiding behind his mask. Kon didn't want to think of what his temper would have been like if Tim's eyes were hidden behind those lenses.

"You're Superboy, Kon-El, a fellow Titan… and my friend. You're as human as I am, as any of the other Titans." Tim's dark blue eyes shone with a naked, heartfelt honesty.

"According to the Batman, I'm a robot." Despite the words, Kon's eyes showed something that looked a little more like he was finally listening to Tim, and not just letting the other boy's words go in one ear and out the other. "A weapon grown in a test tube and a danger to the Titans."

Tim rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Batman needs to take the stick out of his ass and start trusting people. To him, anyone that's not a hundred percent Homo sapiens is a robot, monster, menace, or brainless animal. I think the only one he considers above those categories is J'onn, and that's only because J'onn has proven himself trustworthy countless times over."

Sighing, Kon looked away again. For several long moments, he stared at the floor and then shook his head, meeting Tim's gaze once more. "Alright, so his opinion doesn't matter, but how many other people think of me like that now?"

"Out of the people that matter? Not a single one." Offering a gentle smile, Tim squeezed Kon's arm and let his hand drop. "C'mon, let's go get lunch. It's been hours since I had breakfast and I'm starving."

"Yeah," Kon murmured and led the way down the stairs to the barn floor. "Maybe after chores are done, I'll show you around, and then we can take a trip to town and stop at the Talon. It's a great coffee place that shows movies on the weekend. How long are you planning on staying?"

"As long as you want me around, and not so long that I overstay my welcome. What kind of movies?" Tim followed him down the stairs, falling in step beside him once they were both on the ground floor.

"In Kansas, there's no such thing as overstaying your welcome, Tim, especially not with the Kents. And so far I've seen the sign advertising everything from Godzilla movies to Gone with the Wind and everything in between. Mostly older stuff. I don't think Lana can afford to pay for the latest releases." Together they left the barn and headed towards the back porch.

"Godzilla movies are good, especially if you watch them in the original Japanese with subtitles. Do you know what they're playing this weekend?"

"Not a clue. I, uh, haven't exactly been feeling very social lately." Pushing open the screen door, Kon motioned Tim past him.

"Sandwiches are the counter boys," Martha called from the laundry room. The sound of the washing machine starting up followed.

"Thanks, Mrs. Kent," Tim called back, heading straight for the plate with only one sandwich. It didn't take a genius to figure out the plate with three was Kon's. "Hey, do you know what movies the Talon is playing this weekend? Conner doesn't know."

"Last time I saw, the sign said, 'James Bond starring Sean Connery,'" offered Jonathan as he came down the stairs, heading for the back door to pull his work boots on. "I'm going to go finish with the tractor. You boys can come out and help finish chores when you're done if you want."

"We will, Uncle Jon," Kon assured him and headed for the fridge. Pulling it open, he looked over his shoulder at Tim and asked, "Pop, milk or fresh squeezed lemonade?"

"Lemonade sounds great." Taking his lunch over to the table, Tim sat down and dug in, Alfred's training being the only thing that kept him from putting his elbows up on the table. At the Tower no one cared, but here it was better to be safe than sorry, especially since he didn't know how strict the Kents were on etiquette yet.

Kon snagged them both glasses of lemonade, laid the sugar bowl in the center of the table and went back to get his plate of sandwiches. Once he'd settled at the table, he too dug into his lunch. In almost no time he'd devoured it and was getting up to get more lemonade. "Want a cookie? Aunt Martha made them."

"If they're as good as her sandwiches, definitely." 'To hell with etiquette,' thought Tim, licking his fingers clean of mayo and butter.

With a chuckle, Superboy brought the whole plate over, offering Tim a variety one could only find in the Kent household. "Her traditional chocolate chip cookies are to die for. Get a couple now before I-"

"You will not eat all of those cookies, Conner Kent. Metahuman metabolism or not."

Kon let out a soft sigh, casting an almost glower in Martha's direction. "Yes, Aunt Martha," he mumbled and grabbed only four cookies.

Chuckling, Tim grabbed a chocolate chip and an oatmeal raisin with walnuts. "Get her to divulge her recipes and I know someone who can make huge batches if we agree to help him," he mischievously whispered. Smirking, he took a bite out of the chocolate chip and his eyes got huge. "Whoa… These are good!"

"Aunt Martha's known all over Smallville for her baking. You should try her pies," Kon stated and finished off his last cookie. "As soon as your food settles we should head out to help Uncle Jonathan."

"Sure thing. What needs to be done?" The shorter teen ate his cookies slowly, making them last as long as he could.

"I have to finish moving the hay around, but that'll be easy since I've got almost all of it stacked. He'll probably have you help him while I finish that, and then we'll mend fences until feeding time."

The young part-alien leaned back in his chair and just stared at Tim from across the table for a few minutes. It was strange to realize how much he'd really missed Tim's presence; strange and yet comforting now that Tim was there with him. Oddly enough, Tim – despite being born and bred city – seemed to fit in the Kents' kitchen almost as well as Kon did himself. "So… how is everyone?"

Tim sighed and set down what was left of his oatmeal cookie, folding his arms on the table. "Everyone misses you, Kon, and we're all worried about you, especially since you haven't talked to anyone in so long. Bart's lost a lot of his spunk, Cassie barely says a word, Gar's quieter than I think he's ever been, Mia's taken to practicing until she's exhausted, and Raven's depressed because everyone else is. Outwardly, Vic's okay, but he's spending a little too much time in his lab."

Tim didn't exaggerate. He was very precise, being a product of Bat-training. Kon sighed into the short silence. "I can't go back there, Tim. I'm not ready. I don't think I… I can't even think about looking at Cassie without seeing her pinned to that damn tree with my arm cutting off her air."

With a nod of complete understanding, Tim murmured, "I'm not asking for you to come back, Kon. I'm asking that you keep in touch with us, even if it's a phone call just once a week. Everyone wants to know that you're alright, that's all."

"What do I say to people I tried to kill?"

"You weren't yourself, and we all know that. No one blames you for what happened."

Kon looked down at the table top and reached forward to drum his fingers on it. Then he sat forward and leaned on the smooth surface. "You guys don't have to. I blame myself. I shouldn't even exist and if I didn't, it wouldn't have happened. That's what it all really comes down to."

"Does it?" Tim's stare was hard with growing frustration and anger at Kon's unshakable self-loathing. "If you didn't exist, Greta would still be a captive of APES, we wouldn't have had the invaluable advantage of your TTK back when we were Young Justice, we probably never would have made it home from that trip to Bart's time to help the Legion fight the Fatal Five Hundred… Let me go on down the list; it'll only take me a couple hours. You are an irreplaceable member of the Titans, Kon, and a dear friend to all of us. Don't let yourself believe any different." Slamming the screen door on his way out to the porch, Tim held back on the urge to scream, instead dropping down on a step and burying his face in his hands.

For many minutes, Kon just sat there and stared at the back of Tim's vacated chair. He had been the hero of the day quite a few times in his life, both in Young Justice and as a Titan. Even powerless, he'd remained with the team, doing whatever he could to help. Raven had told him he'd made himself a soul. Created something that no machine or scientist could give him. Wasn't that kind of the deciding factor? Even if he wasn't supposed to be made, he might have been meant to be created. Standing slowly, he grabbed the remains of Tim's cookie and quietly stepped out onto the porch. The stairs creaked beneath his weight as he settled beside Tim on the stairs and looked at the cookie.

"You didn't finish your cookie."

Wordlessly, Tim held out his hand for it without looking up. If he opened his mouth right then, he would scream.

The cookie went into his hand immediately, but Kon caught Tim's wrist before he could pull away. "Tim, look at me, please."

One stormy blue eye opened and turned in Kon's direction, questioning.

"Can we just… leave it alone for now?" Kon inquired, then looked over at the barn when he heard the clang of a dropped tool. Tuning his ears in on Jonathan's body rhythms, Kon found nothing amiss and instantly turned his attention back on Tim. "Can we just hang out and have a good time for a while, and then talk about this again?"

Sighing, the Teen Wonder dropped his other hand and stared down at the half-eaten treat. "Yeah, I guess." At least Kon wasn't pushing him away for his outburst. Some progress was better than none.

Kon watched him quietly for a minute and then stood. "We'd better get out to the barn. Hurry up and finish that."

No longer in the mood to savor, Tim demolished the rest of the cookie and stood, brushing crumbs from his clothes. "Let's go."

----------

Kon-El stepped back and brushed his hands together, dusting away the hay chaff that clung to his hands and forearms from moving the seven thousand or more bales into their places in the loft and empty corners of the barn. It felt good to work his tactile telekinesis again, like working a muscle he hadn't used in a long time. Well, it was actually telekinesis now, but the "muscles" he used were the same. Surveying his completed task, Superboy smirked a little and flicked a lock of hair off his forehead. 'Bet Clark never got them all this even and packed just tight enough.'

Feeling a little smug, he turned from the hay and launched himself over the railing, vaulting to the ground and landing lightly so as not to disturb anything hanging on the walls of the old but well kept building.

"You two done greasing that tractor yet?" he inquired of Pa Kent and Tim.

"Just about," Jonathan stated from underneath the tractor, holding out the grease gun for Tim to refill. "Are you done with the hay already?" There was a note of suspicion in his tone. "You'd better not have used superspeed."

"Yes, I'm done, and no, I didn't," Kon answered and handed Tim the refill that he'd been looking for. Tim looked kind of… like a three-year-old toddler with all that grease smeared on his hands and face. "That's a nice look for you, Tim," he gently taunted, smirking.

"Shut up." Despite his growl, Tim smirked back and took the used cartridge out of the gun, pushing the refill in. He was actually having fun helping Jonathan, even if it did mean suffering Alfred's wrath later for getting his clothes so filthy. It was getting harder to keep the grease only on his skin.

Jonathan's hand disappeared under the tractor once Tim had put the gun in it. "You put all of the hay away?"

"Every last bale," Kon stated almost triumphantly and settled one buttcheek on the work bench behind him while folding his arms.

"All seven thousand in the time it takes to grease three quarters of the tractor."

"Yep."

"Then you used superspeed. Go clean up the mess you made and do it right."

"Okay, fine. I did use superspeed to toss the bales into a stack, but I swear it doesn't need to be restacked. Go take a look for yourself, Uncle Jon."

"Hmph." Jonathan emerged from under the tractor and climbed to his feet with a grunt. Giving Kon a skeptical look, he headed for the hay loft. "Trust me, son, if you used superspeed then it needs to be restacked. If I told Clark once, I told him a thousand times, don't use superspeed when stacking hay because it always makes a mess."

The boys followed him up the stairs, neither of them listening to him. "Seven thousand bales of hay? Isn't that a little excessive?" whispered Tim to Kon, not understanding why so much was needed. Sure, the Kents had plenty of livestock, but surely that much hay was too much.

"It's better to have too much than not enough. We've got a few goats, some sheep and the cows. They've all got to eat and in the winter, they need to eat a lot," Kon explained as they followed Jonathan up the stairs.

"Told you," he added, when they came into view of the neatly stacked tower of hay.

Surprised, Jonathan stared for a moment, then crossed his arms and turned around to face Kon. "Alright, you win. How'd you do it?" There was a proud glint in his eyes. Not even Clark had been able to stack the hay so tightly and neatly.

"Uhm, an old friend. Well, sort of," Kon told him and extended his hand out to the railing of the loft, allowing it to hover over a bridle headstall that hung there over a colorful Navajo patterned blanket without a bit or reins and extended his mind for it. It rose in the air as though jumping into his hand. "My TTK isn't quite so tactile anymore."

"No wa- How long ago did this start?" Unable to help himself, Tim grinned in excitement. He'd known Kon was going to eventually develop telekinesis for a long time now and had seen him use it while under Luthor's influence, but it was still a wonderful surprise to see Kon able to consciously use his new power.

Jonathan was lost. "TTK? What's that?"

"Tactile telekinesis," explained Tim. "It's a power Conner has had pretty much forever. Apparently he's upgraded."

"Whatever happened to my brain while under Luthor's influence must have shaken it loose or forced it to 'upgrade,'" Kon answered with a small shrug and set the headstall back where he'd found it.

Bemused, Jonathan could only shake his head and chuckle. "I think we'd better not tell Clark about this. I don't know how well he'd take to being one-upped by a kid." Still chuckling, he patted Kon's arm and went back downstairs to finish greasing the tractor. "Telekinesis… huh…"

Once Jonathan was out of earshot, Tim let out an evil grin. "Okay, now I'm really tempted to tell Bart, because I know he'll tell Wally, and Wally'll tell Clark that you can stack hay better than he can."

"Go ahead," Kon shrugged one shoulder with a slightly mischievous grin of his own. "It just proves that he still can be 'one-upped.'"

"Maybe next time he comes by you should challenge him."

"Heh, yeah right. Pa Kent would kill us. Do you have any idea how many bales we'd break?" Kon shook his head and straightened. "Let's go get the fences done."

"Don't worry about the fences, Conner," Martha stated from the top of the stairs. "How about you and Tim go celebrate your 'upgrade?' Here." Walking forward, she caught Kon's hand and shoved a fifty dollar bill in it, then folded the boy's large fingers around it. "Just be back at a decent time."

Surprised, Kon glanced over at Tim. "What do you say?"

"Will do, Mrs. Kent. So… where's the soap?"

On to Chapter Two…