Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Kent
Chapter Eight:
Clark arrived late to Bibbo's. He should have been there first, but on the way there had been a mugging, a bank robbery and a cat stuck in a tree. He supposed he could have passed the cat in the tree, but its caterwauls sounded so desperate and helpless, and as Ma always used to say, 'the deepest darkest level of hell was reserved for people who mistreated cats'.
Superboy –Conner- was already waiting at the diner by the time Clark arrived. He stood just inside the door in the small area customers were asked to wait for a table during time's of high volume. He stood at parade rest, his feet planted, arms resting behind his back and Clark for a brief moment did not see the boy he'd been neglecting the past few months but rather the weapon that had been constructed by a shadowy organization for a nefarious purpose. That gave him a moment's pause. But when the weapon's eyes fell on the reporter his expression softened to a friendly (if a little unsure) smile and he was suddenly a child again.
"Mr. Kent." He said. "I was begging to wonder if I'd gotten the wrong place."
"I'm surprised you got here so fast." Clark admitted. He removed his coat and draped it over his shoulder. "You didn't have to stand here, you could have gotten a table while you waited."
"I, uh, I didn't know." The boy muttered, his awkward insecurity thickening.
"Don't worry about it." Clark quickly back-peddled. He hadn't invited him to dinner to cause more damage, he was trying to repair the damage that he'd already done. He lead the boy to the same booth he'd sat in with Bruce so many months ago and didn't know if he should laugh or cringe at the irony of it.
The reporter withdrew the menus from where they were kept on the table held between the salt and pepper shakers and the sugar. He handed one to the boy and set the other in front of himself, not really needing to study it. He, apparently, ate at Bibbo's so often now that he had a 'usual' order. Conner on the other hand flipped through the menu in confusion.
"I don't know what I like." He confessed meekly.
Clark raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. He may have been grown in an underground lab for sixteen weeks prior to joining the Young Justice team, but that was back in July, it was now November and he'd had over four months to sort out his likes and dislikes as far as food went. "What have you been eating these past few months?"
The boy shrugged. "Whatever get's put in front of me."
"Well, out of the things that've been put in front of you, what have you liked?" Clark didn't feel much like being the one to help the boy sort out his own personal preferences and he certainly wasn't feeling up to doing it tonight, but the kid looked so helpless staring at the menu. He had to say something.
Conner shrugged again. "Most of M'gann's cooking all tastes the same. I guess I'll just pick something random."
If Martha Kent had been present she would have persisted until the boy figured out not only what he did and did not like to eat but also his preferred condiments, beverages and dessert. Ma Kent was not here, however, and Clark had neither the patience nor the inclination to work with the boy on something as mundane as his basic meal preferences. The reporter was more than willing to let him pick something at random.
He called Bibbo over and the two placed their orders. When the man left them Superboy fidgeted in his seat, unsure, before asking, "So, should we pick up where we left off? With the interview, I mean."
"If that's what you want." Clark nodded.
…
It was Sunday night and everyone but Kaldur had school the following morning and so shortly after the Martian bio-ship touched down in the Mt. Justice hangar the team was packing up all their various weekend items and preparing to go home.
Robin had just finished changing into his civies when there was a firm knock on his door. The Boy Wonder took his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on before answering. M'gann stood in his doorframe; her arms crossed over her chest, a reprimanding scowl marring her usually lovely features.
Even if he hadn't been the protégé of the World's Greatest Detective he would have been able to guess why she'd come to see him. He hadn't exactly been trying to hide his amusement over the whole 'Clark Kent' incident and after reading his mind M'gann would know that the reporter for the Daily Planet was actually Superman. He expected her to confront him about it in some way shape or form before telling Conner. She would want to confirm what her powers had told her and reflect on how to tell the emotionally vulnerable and volatile genomorph. She'd probably also really like to tell him off for sending Conner to him in the first place.
"You knew who Kent was." It wasn't a question. She entered the room fully, closing the door behind her and glared daggers at the thirteen-year-old Boy Wonder.
"I live with Batman." He replied by way of explanation. "I know almost everything."
"You should have warned Conner before sending him off to meet him. Otherwise, you shouldn't have suggested it at all. How do you think he's going to feel when he finds out? And that you knew all along? That was just cruel, Robin! I'm surprised at you."
She had a pretty good 'big sister' routine going for her. It wasn't very intimidating, that could use a little work (but then again, after being trained by Batman nothing seemed intimidating anymore). But her equal parts bossiness and emotional appeal were adequate. Robin felt the sudden compulsion to defend or justify himself to her.
"Superman's been ignoring him since we first rescued him." He meant himself, KF and Kaldur. M'gann had not been there. She had not seen the reception the Man of Steel had given his equivalent son. "I think you can agree that it's gone on long enough. They both need a bit of a push to get their relationship sorted out, however that may be. This way Superman gets to see the way he's been not-treating Conner shoved in his face while Conner gets a chance to get to know the man without having to worry about performing for his idol."
The Boy Wonder watched her digest it from that point of view. Those hadn't been his actual reasons when he began this farce, but they sounded allot better than 'I just wanted to see what would happen'. She seemed to be fighting to keep her 'reprimanding big sister' face on while she turned his words over in her mind –beginning to see the logic of it.
"Its still manipulative and wrong!" She said at length.
Robin only shrugged.
"You do realize that Conner's just going to feel betrayed that we've been keeping this from him when he does find out." The Martian girl reminded him.
"So tell him." The Boy Wonder shrugged. "Then he'll be pissed at Superman for playing him and nothing'll change between the two of them. Or don't tell him and give Supes some time to reveal his own identity and he and Conner will finally have the relationship that we all agree they should have… but Conner'll be mad at you for a little while for keeping it from him. Its up to you."
"You've put me in a very awkward position, Robin, and so do not appreciate it." That reproachful glare was back in full force. "Did you even think about what you were doing?"
"I didn't think you'd go and read Superman's mind before he and Conner got their act sorted out."
"I didn't read his mind." M'gann corrected. "I was about to, but he kept protesting and then I saw how much he looked like Conner and I knew why he didn't want me to read his mind. But that's a moot point."
"Wow, so you saw through his 'guise?" The Boy Wonder sounded rather pleased with the news.
He could still count the number of people who saw through the whole 'Clark Kent' act on one hand, but M'gann raised that number by a third! That was impressive. (It was also impressive that the number of people that saw though Superman's flimsy 'disguise' could still be counted on only one hand after twelve years of heroing. Wait, not it wasn't 'impressive'. A more accurate statement would be to call it a deplorable example of the overall obliviousness of the people Clark surrounded himself with in his daily life. And, while we're at it, lets just go ahead and add some insult to that collective injury and remind ourselves that most of the people Clark surrounds himself with are investigative journalist –one of which had clocked more time with Superman than any other woman on the globe.)
M'gann's severe demeanor faded a little and she indulged in one of Robin's word plays (which she assumed he'd set up for her to do). "It had lots of dis'. But please don't change the subject."
"Alright, what did he tell you when you realized who he was?"
"He said he knows he messed up with Conner and that he wants to make things right." M'gann explained.
"That's great! That's what Batman's been trying to get him to do this whole time!" Robin smiled. "Just give Superman the time he needs and everything will turn out okay in the end. He is Superman after all."
"But I don't wanna keep things from Conner." The Martian girl hugger her forearms, everything about her posture radiated indecision and conflict.
"Sorry, but that sounds more like a personal problem."
…
This second interview (or perhaps it was part two of the first) went much more smoothly than the previous one. It was still awkward and uncomfortable (at least for Clark it was), but there seemed to be less tension between them. The casual setting of Bibbo's diner as opposed to a wide-open and windy rooftop might have also contributed to their mutual comfort. While the chill November air particularly affected neither of them, it was still more comfortable to sit out of the wind and be served hot food while they talked.
Superboy's answers to his queries were awkward and a little dry at first, as if he were reading off answers from an operations manual and so Clark broke-up the big questions about Cadmus and his purpose with silly and mundane things like his favorite color or if he had discovered any sports teams he liked since leaving the lab.
The boy's favorite color was green (Clark found himself doing a mental happy-dance at the answer, his favorite color was blue, Conner wasn't exactly like him after all! and that knowledge relieved him a little). At the sports team question, however, he had stared down at his pancakes and confessed that he didn't know much about sports aside from what was covered in PE. His classmates at school were very passionate about their football and basketball seasons when they played against other schools. So if he had to pick a team, he'd have to go with his high school team (though he did not give away the name of his school, which was good). Clark made a mental note to introduce the boy to the Kansas State Wildcats some time (not literally, of course).
And then the boy's words caught up with him. "You're attending public school?"
Superboy gave a shrug. "Batman and Canary said I have to. Because I'm a minor."
He took a bite of his pancakes. When the three cake short-stack had been placed in front of him the first thing the boy had done was cut off the round sides to form the stack into a perfect square. He had then cut that square into several smaller bite-size squares and ate them one row at a time. Clark had raised an eyebrow at the odd behavior; he certainly never did anything like that. Maybe the compulsion was a side effect of his Cadmus programming?
"I'd think that attending a public school would be dangerous, considering that you can't fully control your strength, I mean." And considering that he was really only less than a year old and had next to no idea how to conduct himself in normal human social situations and could violently over-react to any small infraction by a peer.
"That's what I said." The boy nodded. "But Batman said so, and you don't argue with Batman. Or, at least, you don't win arguments with Batman."
Clark knew how that went. The only times when Bruce had not flat-out won any disagreement between the two of them was when they were interrupted, cut-off, or he just flat out walked away without finishing the discussion. It was extremely difficult to have a differing opinion with that man. For a guy with no powers, he was pretty freaking powerful.
"So I was given a real-person name and enrolled in school." The boy continued. "They made me turn my shirt inside out on my first day to hide the S-shield, but when I got there everyone was wearing an insignia of one sort or another on their shirt and that kinda pissed me off. I'm still trying to get the hang of this 'secret identity' thing."
This was a topic that Clark felt was rather serious.
"Do you understand why you need a 'secret identity'?" He asked. "Do you know why you can't let others know you're Superboy?"
"To protect the League and my Team." The boy answered, looking up from his meal and making direct eye contact. He rarely did that, Clark noticed. He had the sneaking suspicion that the boy felt uncomfortable looking at his face. Well, he had recognized him as Superman on their first meeting and, according to J'onn's niece, had convinced himself that he was not the Man of Steel. He probably avoided looking at him directly in an effort to avoid how much they resembled each other.
"That's one of the reason's, yes." Clark nodded. "But also to protect those around you who cannot protect themselves. If a powerful villain knew what high school you attended that school would become a target for your enemies. Innocent people would get hurt for no other reason than the fact that they know you."
"Oh. I… I didn't know." The boy looked back down at his meal. "How do you know all this, Mr. Kent?"
"Oh, me? Well, I uh…" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I am a reporter after all. I know all sorts of things, way more than I ever publish!" That was true. He did know much, much more than he did or ever would publish, but not because he was a reporter.
"Oh. I see." A pause. "How much of what we've been talking about are you going to publish?"
"How much do you want me to publish?" Clark shot back.
"I haven't said anything that I wasn't prepared for others to know." The boy answered slowly. "I just want Superman to notice me…"
"Oh, he does."
"How do you know?" Superboy once again raised his head and made eye contact and Clark realized his mistake just a little to late.
"L-Lois, of course." He answered quickly. "She's the only reporter Superman ever talks to. She and I partner-up allot, so sometimes she tells me what's up with the Big Guy."
The boy's eye's narrowed skeptically. "Last week when I was in town I ran into Lane and Superman together." He said. "Lane mentioned that Superman hasn't told her anything about me. How would you know from her if Superman notices me if he never says anything about me to her?"
Crap baskets!
"We're investigative reporters." Now he was just puling thing out of the air. "We're basically detectives. Sometimes, the things a person doesn't say can be even more telling than what they do say. The fact that Superman avoids the topic of you so stridently just shows how heavily you weigh on his mind."
To this the boy raised an eyebrow. "What like… a possible threat?"
"I didn't say that." Clark said quickly, then sighed. He took a sip of his sweet tea and tried to relax. "Look, you haven't been alive for every long and you've been out in the world for less than that. It may not be my place saying this to you, but someone needs to explain something to you about men and expectations."
The boy just looked confused.
"Since you first appeared, everyone's drawn their own conclusions about who you are and what you are to Superman." Clark began, suddenly feeling the same awkward tension from their first botched interview return. "Everyone assumed you were his son and expected him to take up the role and responsibility of 'father' to you." 'Please don't ask how Clark Kent knows this. I promise I'll tell you as Superman after the article is published.'
"But he's not my father." The boy corrected. "I'm a clone, an artificial person, I don't have parents. If people wanted to assign a familial title to me it'd be more accurate to call me his twin brother."
Clark found that assessment just a little amusing and he allowed a lopsided smile to grace his lips. "A twin brother who appears to be seventeen years younger than the Man of Steel?"
"Ah, I see your point."
"This is something you have to understand about the way people think. Considering your age and your powers, it's easier for people to imagine you as Superman's son rather than whatever other more accurate but complicated term you'd prefer to use. This then places an unexpected expectation on Superman. He's still young, unattached –to the best of my knowledge-" he quickly added, Clark Kent wasn't supposed to be privy to the details of the Man of Steel's personal life. "Suddenly having the responsibility of a son dropped on him would be jarring. And you're already practically grown. He probably didn't know what to do, so he did nothing."
"But he's been responsible for this city for the past twelve years." The boy protested. "Heck, he's been responsible for the safety for the whole planet a couple of times. What's the added responsibility of me on top of all that?"
"It's a different kind of responsibility." Clark tried to explain. "Its easy to take responsibility for millions or even billions of strangers. To protect them from harm, do a good deed, smile and wave and then fly away. But a son he has to do more than just keep from harm and smile. He has to take you in, integrate you into his life, teach you right from wrong. And things like that tend to fill a man with uncertainty, even fear. And it's even harder for him because you're practically already an adult."
"So…" The boy began slowly. "What you're saying is, he's afraid of failing with me so he won't even try?"
Ooh, that stung. Clark supposed that he deserved that. "I'm saying he's scared. What, exactly, he's scared of is another matter. Here on Earth we have a saying: 'he's only human'."
"But he's not human. He's Kryptonian."
"Yes, but he's still just a man." Clark explained. "Sure, he's not originally from Earth, he might have incredible super-powers, some people might view him as some sort of 'higher being' but he's not. He's still just a man and as such is just as capable of the same shortcomings as any other man in the world."
The boy smiled, something similar to the tentative but hopeful smile shown on the Fourth of July. "That's how you make him sound in your articles. When you actually write about him, I mean."
"Its an important detail I think allot of people forget."
"At Cadmus…" He paused, looked once again unsure. "The information the gnomes loaded me with made him seem… perfect."
"Oh, he's far from perfect."
"That's actually a little comforting. Thank you."
Bibbo appeared again to clear away their empty dishes and brought Clark a slice of apple pie for dessert. Superboy watched the reporter lift a bite of it to his mouth and savor the flavor with obvious enjoyment.
"What is that?"
"Apple pie." Clark supplied. He took another bite. Paused. Looked at the boy, looked back at his pie, decided to try something. "Wanna try a bite?"
"Can I?"
Clark pushed the plate across the table. The boy was supposed to be his clone, an exact copy of him only younger, but this conversation had already shown him a couple differences between them, their favorite colors were different, and the boy seemed to have a compulsive disorder.
"Oh, wow, this is great!"
Of course, in most other respects they were exactly the same. Clark pulled his pie back to him. "Do you want to order one of your own?"
"Can I?"
Clark shrugged. "I'm buying."
Superboy ordered his slice of pie and a second piece to go.
That sparked a thought. "How are you getting back? To wherever you're going, I mean."
There was, of course, a zetta tube in Metropolis that would take him back to Mt. Justice. But Clark wasn't sure if the boy knew about it or not. He had arrived in the Martian bio-ship with the rest of the Young Justice team, but they had long since gone back to base. How was he going to get home? Clark Kent wasn't supposed to know where JLA zetta tubes where, so he couldn't direct the boy. He was momentarily struck by the sudden compulsion to offer to fly him back to Mt. Justice as Superman. That thought was quickly stamped out; they weren't ready for that yet.
Superboy accepted the to-go carton containing his second slice of pie from Bibbo before answering, "I'll just call for a ride, no big deal."
…
Later that evening Conner sat at his consol on M'gann's Martian bio-ship. It was a little odd being the only two people on the bridge. With the others, the cabin was usually filled with idle chatter and joking, at present it was just himself and M'gann and no sound but the soft hum of the ship's engines.
"Are you okay?" He asked in an attempt to break the silence. "You're not usually this quiet. I'm usually the quiet one."
"Its nothing." She answered quickly. "I'm just thinking. So, how was your talk with Kent?"
"It was actually pretty good." Conner said, oddly optimistic. He opened his to-go carton and picked a bite of his pie with his bare fingers.
"What's that?" M'gann asked.
"Something Kent introduced me to. Its called apple pie." He took a second bite, licked his fingers then looked up to the Captain's chair at his girlfriend. "You wanna try some?"
"No, it's alright." She offered a pleasant smile. "I don't wanna take your food from you."
To her surprise, Conner snapped his to-go arton shut and stood, walking right up to the Captian's chair. He wrapped one arm around her and lifted her up, sitting himself down in her place and rearranging her in his lap.
"Conner! What are you doing!"
He then reopened his to-go box and pinched off another bite of pie. "Just try a piece."
"You need me to sit on you for that?"
"It seemed better than standing in front of you."
The Martian girl heaved a sigh. Neither of them could really tell the other if this situation was inappropriate or not, and it wasn't exactly like she didn't enjoy sitting on her boyfriend's lap. Conner was big and built solid, he actually made a rather comfortable living chair. She accepted the offered bite of pie from his hand and licked the sticky-sweet apple filling from his fingers. Hey, that did taste pretty good.
"Oh, man. Maybe this was a bad idea." Conner muttered.
She felt him squirm beneath her and her empathic sense picked up that same familiar self-conscious heat he'd been radiating whenever they were close for some time now. M'gann had wanted to move their relationship to the next level, and this did seem like the perfect opportunity talk to him about their next steps. But now she also had misgivings about whether or not she had the right to try and be more intimate with Conner if she were keeping secrets from him.
"Do you want me to move so you can move back?"
"I, uh, I don't know." He confessed. "Do you want me to move back?"
"Lets not start that."
…
