A gentle breeze stirred the tiny hairs on the back of Conner's neck as he bent low to pick up the new section of fence that lay before him. A baby calf was investigating the strange new visitor, taking careful steps towards him as he worked, only to bolt back to its mother whenever Conner made too sudden a move. He'd been born a few weeks ago but had never been outside the barn; he was still small enough to fit through this hole and potentially get lost in the woods beyond the Kent property. Repairing it was just one of many small jobs that needed to be done around the farm - things that had been neglected since Jonathon's passing. He didn't mind, though. The work kept him busy, and kept him from thinking about his grief.

It was bittersweet, being here. He would walk the land and feel pangs of sadness, knowing he wouldn't see the older man drive by on the tractor, or wipe his face with a handkerchief after picking vegetables from the garden. Every time he turned a corner, a new memory was there to remind him of what he had lost. Talking with Clark and Martha helped some, but mostly Conner kept to himself and tried to cope the best he could on his own. When he wasn't preoccupied with sadness, his thoughts were filled with turmoil and indecision as he weighed his options. He'd been staying with Martha Kent for almost two weeks now, and Conner still wasn't sure of what to do next.

Clark had told him the highlights of the Invasion - the aliens known as "The Reach" had been behind the attacks and abductions of young humans, using them for research and experimentation. He told Conner of how they had won the support of the public, sewing seeds of mistrust for the League and those associated with it. Eventually, they managed to record evidence of the Reach's true plans and broadcast it to the entire world. The Reach panicked, and attempted to destroy Earth with magnetic field disruptors, which would have ripped the world apart. Thankfully, the three Flashes - Jay Garrick, Barry Allen, and Wally West, along with a young time traveler named Bart Allen going by the code name "Impulse" found a way to reverse the effects and saved them all.

Conner hadn't asked many questions, although he had a hundred of them. Clark hadn't told him some things, he knew that for certain. He could see the way Clark's eyes glanced away when he reached certain parts of the story, as if he was trying to decide which events to omit. Details were very few, especially concerning those of his friends. M'gann wasn't mentioned at all. Conner wanted to know more, but based on everything Clark had told him, he was too afraid of the answers he might receive.

When he finished with the fence, Conner went to take a seat on the porch steps, brushing the front of his jeans free of dust and dirt. He took a long drink of the lemonade Martha had set out for him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he (once again) contemplated his choices.

He could do anything he wanted now. He could travel without having to worry about being attacked or focusing on a mission. He could go to school, get a degree; he'd always been interested in History. He could get a job, an apartment, maybe someplace near mountains and lakes. He could have a whole new life - a normal life. He was fairly certain he'd never be recognized, not with the drastic transformation he'd undergone. He doubted even his teammates could pick him out of a crowd now.

His teammates... His friends... That was where his heart felt torn. Could he leave them behind? That had been the plan, after all, once he'd decided to go through with this whole thing. He'd been so tired of feeling like he was just muscle, and then not knowing what else he was good for once new recruits had arrived. He'd begun to feel like an outdated piece of hardware, watching as newer, shinier models came pouring in. He wasn't like the others; they would become stronger, faster, smarter as they grew up, but Conner was stuck in his teen-aged body that would never physically grow, nor would his powers ever advance. But things were different now, weren't they?

If he went back, picked up where he left off, would things really be different? He was physically older now, but his powers hadn't changed. If anything, rewriting his DNA could've made him weaker. Ether way, he was still just a powerhouse, and Nightwing had plenty of those. True, Conner had the experience under his belt; he could be a leader, a good one too. He didn't think that little of himself to say otherwise. But...

But what if that's not what I want anymore? He thought.

All Conner had ever known was fighting, training, recon, tactics, wars and missions. Being a hero was his life, trying to be Superman had been his ultimate goal; but how do you live up to the best of the best when all you can do is punch really hard? How long can you go before you realize that this is it - this is as far as you are capable of, and you will never get any stronger, any faster, any better? These were the thoughts that had haunted Conner the last year before reentering the pod, before M'gann had violated his mind, before he'd even considered that he could ever have another choice besides the one he'd made underneath a full moon, surrounded by heroes years ago.

He wanted that choice again, even if it meant making a different one.

Shelby jolted awake from her spot underneath the porch and began barking excitedly. Conner followed the dog's gaze towards the road and within moments, a familiar blur that only someone with enhanced eyesight could detect appeared over the horizon, zigzagging through fields and between neighboring farms like lightning before finally coming to a stop just feet away from where Conner sat. Shelby whined happily as Clark bent down to scratch her ears. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more-so out of habit than anything else. He smiled at Conner.

"What's she got you doing today?" He asked, gesturing with his chin towards the house.

Conner ticked off the chores he had finished on his fingers. "Chopped firewood, mucked the stalls, patched the barn roof, fixed the fence."

Clark grinned. "I always hated cleaning those stalls when I was your age."

"At least you had super-speed."

Clark chuckled as he took a seat next to him. "Not exactly a job I'd recommend super-speeding through." He wore a plain white dress shirt and dark pants, his tie windswept over his shoulder. He'd obviously just come from the Planet.

His tone became softer. "How are you?"

"Ok, I guess. Not much different from three days ago." He said pointedly.

Clark rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, identical to the way Conner always did. "I'm sorry, you probably think I'm hovering too much. I just... want to make sure you're doing alright. You've never experienced loss like this before. I want you to know that it's ok to feel whatever you're feeling."

Conner took another drink, giving himself time to find the right words. "I miss him. A lot. I wish I could've told him how grateful I was for everything he did for me. He was so... good."

Clark nodded. "Yeah. Best man I ever knew. I'm proud to have called him my father."

Conner glanced in his direction quickly. "Are you - I mean, how... How are you doing?"

Clark sighed softly, gazing out over the fields as corn stalks swayed in the breeze. "I'm coping. Some days are harder than others. I'll see men in Metropolis walking their sons to the bus stop, or playing catch in the park, and I'll be hit with memories of doing the same things with him. Sometimes it's overwhelming." A small smile softened his face. "Lois has been my rock. She tells me to keep living my life the way he raised me, and to pass on his wisdom whenever I can so that his memory can stay alive." He twisted his wedding band absentmindedly. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

Conner was quiet, and his heart felt just a little bit heavier than before.

As if he'd read his mind, Clark turned to look at him. "Have you made a decision yet?"

Conner shook his head.

Clark's next words were carefully spoken. "Conner... Don't you think you owe it to them? You know I didn't condone you disappearing without at least telling them what you were up to -"

"I told Nightwing I was leaving." Conner interrupted. M'gann had known too, he wanted to add, but that hadn't been his choice.

Clark continued without pause. "- but to not tell them you're back? That you're alive and well? It just seems... cruel."

The silence that followed hung in the air. Conner felt hot with anger and frustration, gritting his teeth. Beneath the anger, however, he felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach and he knew Clark was right.

Conner's leg bounced on the porch steps, seemingly of its own accord. "What am I supposed to say?" His voice was exasperated. "'Hey guys, it's been a while but I'm back and I have a beard now?'"

"Maybe not in those exact words." Clark smiled gently.

"I don't know what to do." Conner said miserably. "I thought I had a plan. Now I'm second guessing everything. You're forgetting that it only feels like a few weeks since I've seen them."

"And you're forgetting that in reality, it's been an entire year." Clark said. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Conner... there are some things you need to know about, things that happened while you were gone."

Conner lifted his head and his leg went still. "What are you talking about?"

A beeping sound interrupted them, breaking the tension. Clark rolled up his sleeve and exposed a communicator that looked like an everyday men's watch strapped to his wrist. A red light flickered continuously, and Clark hit a button along the side that turned off a hologram and exposed the real device underneath - a Justice League communicator.

"Superman." Batman's voice was clear but urgent. "We have a situation in D.C - more Reach vessels left behind. They must've planted them in the sewers, deep underground where our detectors couldn't sense them. Three have been sighted in President's Park, heading towards the Washington Monument. Four other attacks around the world have been reported, all within minutes of each other. Might've been on a timer. The rest of the League are occupied with those, and both GL's are off-planet and unavailable. You're on your own."

Superman glanced at Conner and smiled, mischievously. "No, I'm not. I've got some back-up right here who's just itching to get back in the game."

"Copy," Batman replied. There was a short pause. "Tell Conner I said hello." The transmission ended.

Conner's eyes widened as Clark stood up. "How did he -"

"Because he's Batman." Clark said. He looked down at him expectantly. "Well? Get dressed, and quickly."

Conner turned his head and opened his mouth slowly. "You're not serious."

"I am. This is a two-person job and there are civilians in danger."

Conner felt his heart quicken with nerves at what he was proposing. What it would mean if he suited up and went with him, to the nation's capitol, to fight giant Reach robots - and the media covering everything. There would be cameras everywhere, that was certain. "Clark..."

In the second it took him to say his name, Clark had sped all the way to Metropolis, changed into his uniform, and back again. His cape billowed behind him for a brief moment before floating back down like a great flag. "We're wasting time. I can hear people screaming right now."

Conner's adrenaline spiked and he felt his palms grow cold and clammy. He wasn't ready, not this soon. He was terrified - not of getting hurt or even of being caught on tape, although that alone made him feel like he would hurl. No, what scared him most was the very real possibility that after today, his decision would be taken away and made for him, his chance to start over on his terms gone. Roped back into a life he wasn't sure he wanted anymore.

But...

People needed him. Clark needed him. He could hear Jonathan's voice in his head, telling him this was the right thing to do. How disappointed would he be if Conner chose not to help someone?

Conner sprinted up the stairs to his room, yanking one of his black t-shirts out of a full drawer and jammed it over his head. He caught a flash of red in the mirror and was taken aback at the red S. He must've grabbed an old one that Martha had kept in the drawer. He looked closer in the mirror and realized this couldn't be the case; the shirt fit him perfectly, brand-new. Before he could figure out when and where the new clothing had come from, Conner spotted his old leather jacket hanging on the closet door. He snatched it and ran down the stairs, zipping it up so that the emblem was completely concealed.

Clark looked somewhat disappointed at his choice of clothing, but didn't say a word. Conner braced himself as Superman grabbed him by the armpits and immediately took to the air, thunderous wind filling his ears. Once he'd gained some altitude, he leveled out so that Conner lay directly underneath him, held up by wind and the force of their speed.

They were only in the air for a few seconds, but in that short amount of time Conner noticed something peculiar. He had flown like this with Superman hundreds of times, dangling beneath him and feeling the pressure of the wind pushing him upwards, keeping him aloft. Usually this force kept him glued to Superman, with no space between them. But something was different this time.

It happened so quickly and they landed on solid ground so fast that it was hard to tell, but for a moment, Conner could've sworn that his body had felt weightless, free, and that there had been a sliver of space between him and the sky - like something in his body had awoken after all this time.

There wasn't time to think on this any longer, though. As he took in the chaotic scene before him, Conner could only hope that he didn't let any civilians, or Superman, down.