Issue #5 – Smells Like Teen Spirit...and Cows…

Conner's eyes flickered open. He felt the bed beneath him, and he felt the stiffness in his joints. It was still too cool outside to feel the first rays of sunshine that crept through his window and over his body. His bones popped as he stretched and looked around his bedroom, and memories from the night before pieced themselves together in his head.

There was a chair beside his bed. And in the chair was Tim. He had fallen asleep while keeping a watch over Conner. Conner studied him for a moment, and he shook his head. Tim looked small with his head nodding against his chest. "I can't believe I let that kick my ass," Conner muttered.

Then an evil little small pulled the corner of his mouth. He quietly floated out of bed and behind Tim. His feet hovered only a half-inch above the floor, and Conner carefully reached down behind Tim's back, so quietly that he did not even disturb the air, and he gripped the waistband of Tim's underwear.

"Hey, Tim," he said gently.

"Yeah?" Tim mumbled, not even opening his eyes.

"Rise and shine, buddy." With that, Conner yanked Tim straight into the air so that Tim's legs dangled and kicked, and his face twisted in pain as his underwear shot into hisnether regions.

Tim bit his lip. He valiantly tried to act tough, and nobody could have done it better, but Tim was still human. After about a minute and a half, he started to whimper. He swallowed hard, trying to make his voice sound tough, but it still cracked when he asked if he could be let down.

That made Conner laugh so hard that he dropped Tim onto the bed so he could hold his sides. Tim did not move. He bounced to a complete stop then just laid there for a long time, still biting his lip, and refusing to say anything until his groin stopped throbbing and he could regain his composure.

Conner was on the floor, on his side, laughing as hard as he possibly could. After a long time of Tim not saying anything, Conner wiped the tears from his eyes, and lay down beside Tim, watching him, amused. Tim kept staring at the ceiling, a blank expression on his pale face.

"Are you okay, Tim?" Conner asked with a grin.

Tim slowly turned his head towards him. Tim's expression was still blank. "There was this one time when Poison Ivy wrapped Batman and me in thorns. It was the worst pain I had ever felt until five seconds ago. I'm scared to check, but I think my crotch may be bleeding."

Conner laughed as Tim stood up to adjust himself. Tim lifted his T-shirt, and the waistband of his boxers was halfway up his abdomen. He opened the fly, and his belly-button stared back at him.

"Hey, you're a superhero. You're supposed to wear your underwear on the outside," Conner explained.

"Ha," Tim muttered. He shook his head and looked away, but Conner's super hearing caught Tim's slight chuckle as he fixed himself.

Then Tim sat down on the bed beside Conner, and neither of them said anything for a while.

They sighed at the same time.

"So…" Conner said slowly.

Tim just nodded and kept his head down.

"Do you think we need to have a long talk?"

Tim nodded. He found that looking at the floor was easier than looking at Conner.

"Well, let me get dressed. Then we'll go for a walk or something."

Tim left the room, and he had no place to go but the kitchen where the Kents were. They did not say anything to him. Martha went right on scrambling her eggs and Jonathan pretended to be more interested in the newspaper than the boy who had hurt their 'son' the night before. Tim stood against the wall, with his arms crossed. He did not look at them either. He stared at the floor, and he almost wished he was suspended in the air by Conner's wedgie again. Anything would be more comfortable than this.

Conner came out of his room wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt. He had not put his glasses on yet, so he looked just like Superboy, only with out the big red S on his chest. It was odd, because Tim was wearing a red T-shirt and mock green pants. He looked like a parody of his alter-ego too.

Conner excused them from breakfast, telling the Kents they would eat later, and the two boys went outside to the backyard. The sun was not all the way up yet, so the sky was still fading its orange and red into blue. They ended up on the roof of the Kents' barn, Conner flying up there and Tim leaping off a barrel, and they laid there, with their hands folded behind their heads, and did not say anything until they watched the sun come all the way up.

As the bright yellow ball looked down on them, Conner broke the silence.

"There's something I need to say to you right now."

Tim nodded, and he bit his lip. He had beaten himself up over what had happened all night, but he knew it would not be as bad as hearing it from Conner's lips. He put on his bravest face, which by this point, was not very brave at all.

"About what happened last night," Conner started, "Tim, man, I'm really sorry."

Tim looked at him for a moment, saw that Conner meant it, but Tim still thought he had misheard. "You're sorry?"

Conner nodded, and he looked back at the sky. "I don't know what came over me. I just felt so angry. When I felt that...the Kyrptonite...when I felt it in my hands, when I saw it... It was just kind of like everything good in me died. All of my nobleness, the desire to help people, my sense of responsibility, what little of that there is, it just disappeared. It was like the half of me trying to be 'The Man of Steel' just turned off, and what was left..."

Conner bit his lip.

"Tim, I really wanted to hurt you last night. And I don't think I was holding back. I could have killed you, man."

"But you didn't," Tim said. He really did not know what to say.

Conner ignored him. "I've realized something. I've never really been around Kryptonite, and only half of me is Kryptonian in the first place. So what if it affects me differently than Superman? What if it just kills the Superman side of me and leaves me with..." Conner's voice grew quiet. "...with being like the other guy..."

Conner looked at Tim, almost pleaded with him. "I'd rather die than become like him."

Tim thought it over for a while. Then he said, "Just because you have somebody's DNA in you doesn't mean you're going to become that person."

"But it's Lex Luthor! He could have a switch, a button that he just has to press, and I could be his little walking time-bomb."

Tim started to dismiss that as nonsense, but then he stopped. That actually was very possible. He would have to look into it later, but at the moment, Tim said, "I don't think that's what happened last night. I think last night you were just hurt because you thought you could trust me, and you learned that you can't."

Conner did not say anything. Tim had said it so matter-of-factly, so calmly, but something about his voice sounded…vulnerable…

For a long while, neither of them said anything. The sun had climbed further into the sky when Tim spoke.

"You said something last night. Something I've been thinking about. You said I was worse than Batman."

"I just said that out of anger. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."

"Conner," Tim ordered, "stop apologizing for things you shouldn't be sorry for."

Conner shut up.

Tim continued, looking straight ahead, his voice never showing any emotion. "Do you know why Batman has a Robin? It's to keep him human. Batman is a very..." Tim looked for the right word. "...he walks a very fine line. He is obsessed with his quest, and sometimes it feels like that is all he cares about, and he doesn't care who gets hurt along the way as long as his goal is preserved. He pushes people away, he shuts them out. He does it to his friends. He does it to his partners. He even did it to his own adopted 'ward.'" Tim shook his head. "He refers to him as a 'ward,' when really—really—he's like his 'son.' And there were two people before me, Batgirl and the second Robin. Batgirl can't walk now, and Robin—Jason—he's…he's dead."

The sun climbed higher into the sky.

"Batman does a lot of good, though," Conner said. "He's a hero. It's not such a bad thing to be like him."

"Superman."

"What?"

"Superman," Tim repeated. "Batman is supposedly Superman's partner and friend, right? They even know each other's IDs." Tim shook his head. "You know that chunk of Kryptonite I brought yesterday?"

"Yeah, it's the piece Superman gave Batman because he trusts him."

Tim laughed. "No. Not even close. Superman gave Batman a much, much smaller piece. That chunk is from a safe, a stockpile Batman has been building up for years. He claims he's been buying it up to keep it out of the hands of the Luthors and the Jokers of the world, but really, he's saving it, just in case he ever has to take Superman out for good."

Conner just sat there, stunned for a little bit. He would never have admitted it, but he was a little frightened.

"What kind of person does that to a friend?" Tim asked. Then he shook his head. "Me. I did. I brought Kryptonite here, just in case something happened and I had to take you down. I didn't even pack my Robin suit because this was supposed to be Conner and Tim, not Superboy and Robin. We were supposed to just have a normal week, for once in our lives, and I screwed it up because something bad might happen. Robin is supposed to rub off on Batman, make him lighter so he doesn't cross the line. Instead, Batman has been wearing off on me. I brood more than he does. I lie. I don't trust anybody, nobody can trust me, and I'm always paranoid. I'm letting his quest take over my life too, and I don't like that. I don't want that. I don't want to be Batman."

Tim took a breath.

"I don't think I want to be Robin anymore either. Sometimes I think getting fired is the best thing that ever happened to Nightwing. At least Nightwing still has his sense of humor."

The birds chirped as the cool morning breeze started to blow. The sun climbed a little higher.

"Tim," Conner said slowly.

Tim looked up.

"Just because somebody raised you doesn't mean you'll become that person."

Tim smiled quietly. "Heh."

"You know what else I think?"

"What?"

"I think every teenager fears becoming their parents, whether their parents never lived up to their potential, became megalomaniacs, are obsessive mentors with capes, or contributed their DNA to a cloning project years ago. So we need someone to help us not become our parents. And that's what friends are for."

Tim looked at him, and Conner could tell he was mulling the words over in his head. Then Tim smiled. "Yeah. You're right, Conner."

And for the first time, Tim made Conner feel like he was smart.

"I think Nightwing tried to tell me that last night. I don't know, though. I wasn't really listening."

"You talked to Nightwing last night?"

Tim nodded. "I called him. He said he could swing out here and pick me up as soon as I knew you were okay. I told him I'd call him around noon, so I guess in a few hours, you won't have to see me again until the weekend. I'm really sorry about last night. I feel terrible about it."

Conner bit his lip, and he stood up. "Well, you should. You messed up big time, and you could have killed me. You should feel awful."

Tim nodded, and this time he found the roof easier to look at than Conner. "I know. I do. I hope you can forgive me."

Conner shook his head. "I hope I can too. You really hurt me, and it's going to take a long time for me to get over that."

Tim accepted that. He wished there was more he could do, something he could say to take it all back and make it better. Instead, he was just left to sit there, looking down, feeling down, and trying to hold it all in. He even failed at that and let out a small sigh.

Conner kneeled down. "Hey, Tim?"

Tim looked up.

"I forgive you, buddy." Then Conner wrapped his arms around Tim, hoisted him into the air, and hugged him so tightly that Tim's ribs started to ache.

When Conner set him down, Tim brushed himself off, and he eyed Conner. "You forgive me? Just like that?"

Conner nodded. "Yep."

"Why?"

Conner shook his head. "You know, Tim, I like you, but sometimes you can be really dense." Conner thumped Tim on the forehead. "Because you're my friend, stupid. I don't just turn my back on you because you screwed up. Especially when you admit it and apologize."

"Oh," Tim said, matter-of-factly. He thought it over for a second, and then he said. "Okay. But please, never hug me again." He only managed to stay stoic for a second before his face cracked into a smile, and he playfully punched Conner in the shoulder.

"So do you have to go with Nightwing?" Conner asked as he floated down from the barn. "Because I'd hate to put him through all the trouble of coming out here."

"Well," Tim said, as he landed in a crouch beside Conner, "if he isn't working, Nightwing is probably sleeping. Missing work is bad, and the guy needs more sleep. I suppose if you want me to stay, I could."

"Well, things are a lot more interesting in Smallville when you're around."

It was settled. Tim would spend the rest of the week at the Kents'. With that, the two boys went inside for pancakes and scrambled eggs. And after that, they did some farm chores. And nothing extraordinary happened the rest of the day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

And for some reason, that was perfectly okay with the real 'World's Finest.'

End