Disclaimer: Same as Yesterday. And the previous chapters from before yesterday.

Two days in a row. Love it. No real pairings planned. I was going to be very canon to the show, y'know the usual Chalant, Spitfire, Supermartian, etc. But now I found I really like SeaArrow and Birdflash. Not to mention a loose little idea about Zatanna/Roy from another fic I've started writing that may never see the light of day. So pairings, nada. Also because I think it's too weird to write about little kiddy romances. So basically, this fic is very much a Gen fic.

Still not sure about Supergirl. Though I did give her a tossaway mention. Only really know her from JLU. But she and Batgirl do make a damn awesome combo. Even if I'm thinking of her and Stephanie and not Barbara since I have very little exposure to Barbara Gordon's version of Batgirl. But she was pretty damn awesome as Oracle so I'll try and channel that.

Superman's Trial

Conner didn't quite understand this idea of secret identity. His head hurt trying to make sense. All he knew was that when he wore the red shirt, he was supposed to be Conner. But who was Conner? All he knew about Conner was that he wore this red shirt and was also a Kent. Conner had a Clark. Superboy didn't have Superman, Superman was too busy. But he wasn't Superboy right now, he was Conner. And Conner had Clark. But Clark was Superman. And now his head was hurting again. He just didn't understand.

When the doorbell rang, Conner had jumped. It sounded strange. Like the bell at Cadmus signalling he had to go back in the pod. Clark had started to leave, and Conner panicked. He was going to be all alone again! The G-gnomes would stuff him in a pod! He said he wouldn't leave him alone, so Conner stayed by the couch, watching Clark. Clark stayed with Conner. He was Conner's Clark.

"Smallville," came the voice from the doorway. It was a sharp, playful sort of voice, that reminded Conner a bit of Artemis but lighter and less grouchy. "Must be a serious illness if it takes you more than a minute to get to the door."

Conner stared. Clark wasn't sick! The only reason he hadn't gotten to the door is because Conner was here! Was she trying to say he made Clark sick? He glared at the door way. Clark moved then, suddenly bringing the door closer to his body as he leaned against the frame, trying to block the view. Conner couldn't see the owner of the voice anymore, but he felt uneasy as he watched the door. It was closing. Clark wouldn't leave- would he?

"Lois! What are you doing here?" asked Clark, sounding upset. He could tell because Clark's voice did that high-pitch thing that Wally had done when Robin was making fun of him. Robin said that it was a tell to when people are upset. That meant that the owner of this mysterious voice was making Clark upset. Conner didn't like the voice.

"Checking on you," came a sharp retort, "When Perry told me you were taking a sick-day I was positive you were dying! Jimmy wanted to come too, but I talked him out of it. And I brought soup!"

It was true, thought Conner, as a smell entered his mind. It was a tangy, sweet smell of something warm and buttery. Tomatoes. There was definitely a hint of tomato. His stomach was rumbly, and he really wanted that soup. Maybe Clark could just take the soup and make the mean voice go away.

"Ah- Thank you Lois," said Clark, sounding warmer now, less scared. "You really didn't have to do that for me. Don't you have any work to do?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," came the flippant response. "But you don't look sick at all. Mind sharing?"

"Uh- It's just a cough, didn't want to risk anyone catching anything," said Clark quickly, "Besides, I had a late night."

"With no bags under those eyes," came the sardonic reply, "Clark Kent, our job is all about late nights. Don't even try that with me. You're hiding something."

While Conner didn't see anything, he could hear the lady voice pat Clark's chest, like she was poking him. Wally poked a lot, but that was because he was moving too fast and he hit things. It hurt trying to talk to Wally. Robin was easier, he talked slower. Conner liked Robin, even if Robin liked to climb onto his shoulders. He didn't mind too much.

"Not really," came Clark's reply, he sounded smoother now, but he spoke quicker than normal, and Conner frowned. He began looking around the room. What was Clark hiding? He began to shuffle around, lifting the couch cushions to find this mystery. He'd hide it for Clark so the mean lady voice wouldn't get it.

"So why won't you let me inside?" came the lady voice, sounding suspicious. Sort of like Black Canary did when Robin told her he hadn't hacked her email so that Batman knew he wanted cake for lunch.

"Now's really not a good time Lois," came Clark's voice, pressing this Lois character urgently, as he pulled the door tighter to him. Conner froze, watching that door. If Clark stepped a little bit forward, he'd be gone! His eyes were now glued to the door, ignoring the strewn cushions of the couch and the picture frames on the end table that were on the ground.

"So you are hiding something!" said Lois, sounding surprised, "Clark- Is everything- okay?"

"I'm fine Lois," said Clark, sounding a bit uneasy, "Look, just pretend this didn't happen, okay? Thanks for the soup. I'll explain everything when I get back to work."

She banged against the door suddenly, but Clark was holding the door. And Clark was Superman. His grip didn't even slip as she tried to sneak past him. Instead he held the door tighter, and the lady voice sighed.

"Fine, don't tell me," she said with a glare.

"You really didn't think I don't know you well enough to know you'd try and force your way in?" asked Clark, sounding amused.

"Alright then, if you really want me gone, you're going to walk me down to the lobby, and I'll get to ask you twenty questions, deal?" asked the woman, less playful than before.

"To the elevator and you get five questions," countered Clark.

"No!" shrieked Conner, before he could stop himself. The little boy scrambled and ran into Clark's leg, arms wrapping possessively around the muscle as he buried his face into the cotton fabric of his pants. Clark had promised he wouldn't leave! But now he was going to walk out the door! He was leaving Conner! Clark said he wouldn't! This fact was important!

"You said you wouldn't leave!" accused Conner angrily, pouting up at the man, his eyes big and blue, like little accusing fists as they punched straight to Clark's heart, "You said!"

Lois knew that Clark wasn't going to let her in. If she was determined to get into the apartment, he was twice as stubborn to keep her out. The mystery of the matter was gnawing at the reporter, but she kept the banter light, despite her own worry. What was the goody-two-shoes farm-boy involved in that he was keeping her out? Clark was a little naive, and she was almost afraid that he'd gotten involved in something big.

Hence the agreement to question him. She'd leave (for now) and get to interrogate him in a manner that only Luthor got before he'd finally cave, or she'd collected enough information to formulate a hypothesis to test. Then she'd come back later and sneak in after jimmying the lock a bit. Nobody kept her away from a scoop!

But that entire plan was blown through the roof as a small, high-pitched yell of denial tore through the air, and Smallville's entire body stiffened. His face drained of all color. Before she could even find her voice, there was two tiny fists wrapped around the man's leg, clinging to him tightly. A small, black-haired face was pouting miserably up at Clark, accusing him of abandoning the boy. Lois took a step back, thrown, as she stared at the little kid.

He was a little tall for a five-year old, maybe he was six, and had glossy black hair that had just a slight curl to it. It was a little long, as though the kid hadn't had a cut in a while, and some of the hair fell onto his forehead. The kid was cute, adorable actually, with his flushed red face, and eyes the size of small islands as he jut that little lower lip out. Clark looked as though he was going to faint, which made Lois positive that the cat was out of the bag, or in this case, the kid was out of the apartment.

"Well Smallville," said Lois, shifting the plastic bag she was carrying with take-away soup, and tilting her sun-glasses up in her black hair as they began to slip, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

"You said!" came the insistent little voice again, "Clark's s'posed to stay with Conner! Ca'ary said you would!"

Carrie? Was that the kid's mother? Though it sounded like Ca Airy, as the kid's eyes watered, looking like a kicked kitten. Lois glanced over at Clark, who seemed to be trying to say something but was lost.

"Carrie you're mother kid?" asked Lois, bending down now to get answers from the boy.

This time the boy turned to look at her, and Clark seemed to finally snap out of whatever funk he was in. Before he could do anything though, those little blue islands narrowed into an angry glare, filled with rage as the boy clung tighter to Clark's leg, probably a step away from wrapping his legs around Clark, as he pouted furiously at her. It was actually pretty funny to see such an angry little kid attached to Smallville's leg. Especially since he looked so much like Clark. The resemblance was uncanny. Took the meaning of a carbon copy to another level. Carrie- Ca Airy. There was something to look into there.

"Clark's mine- Cause I'm Conner," he declared proudly, "Conner's a Kent and he's Kent! So go away!"

"Conner!" said Clark, looking thoroughly embarrassed, "That's not nice to say to Lois! Look, I'm not going anywhere, so apologize to Lois and go inside, I'll be there in a second."

"But she's mean Clark!" pouted the little boy again, staring up at Clark dejectedly, "She made you scared!"

"I'm sorry I scared your Clark," said Lois with a smug grin, and the story of a lifetime. She stared back up at Clark, who was giving her a dirty look, probably reading her thoughts as the little boy clung refused to let go of Clark.

"See, Lois apologized for scaring me?" said Clark gently, "Now can you apologize for being mean to Lois?"

"Fine," said the boy, looking angry again as he stared at her. With a very solemn air, he announced, "Conner's sorry that he was mean even though he really isn't all that sorry because you're not really that nice and Robin says that you tell people you're sorry only if they deserve it and you don't but I'm telling it anyways because Clark says I have to."

"Well, Lois forgives Conner even though he's not the least bit sorry," replied Lois with an equal air of solemnity.

"Can she leave now?" asked Conner, not looking the least bit upset about Clark's resigned expression or his lack of apology. "I'm hungry!"

"There's some food in the fridge. I put some juice boxes in there, why don't you grab some, but be careful, okay?" offered Clark, not bothering to correct the boy as he walked away. There were tears in Clark's pants from where the boy was holding. Strong grip, since the pants seemed pretty new.

"Well?" asked Lois, now standing up to face the farm-boy who looked like he was torn between slamming the door and running away, or bolting straight past her. Personally she hoped he bolted past her and left the kid, she still had a thousand questions and the kid was probably going to answer them better anyways. Even if he didn't like her.

"It's not what it looks like," blurted the man, his glasses tipping a bit as he pushed them back up, and then ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh it looks bad Smallville," said Lois, as she faced the frazzled man, "He looks exactly like you. But the eyes seem brighter. Heck, I've only ever seen one pair of eyes that blue. I bet in a few years that kid's going to be using those eyes to drag in the girls by the dozens. Question is, what's a kid that looks like you would if you ever went for contact lenses, doing in in your house? Any leads on the mother?"

Lois watched the man in the door frame, who had frozen entirely and seemed to be staring at her as he clutched the door tight. Almost like the way the kid clutched his pants. He seemed to be struggling to find an answer, and then weakly said, "He's a relative of mine."

"Thought the only relatives you had was your mother and father?" tossed Lois back playfully, "Carrie? That the mother?"

"He's not my son," said the man, dropping his voice to a whisper, "Look, he's my cousin Carrie's kid, I'll explain everything to you tomorrow. But right now I have a five year old tearing my fridge apart-

On cue came the call from the little boy, "Clark! Is she gone yet!?"

"Say no more Smallville, here, keep the soup," said Lois with a smirk, "And I never said he was your son. Besides, last I checked, your cousin's name was Kara, wasn't it?"

Lois turned as Clark sighed in relief, and despite the worry still in his eyes, shut the door on her. She was a little miffed but shrugged it off as she stepped away from the door and headed to the elevator. Clark Kent was a dad. The innocent country boy had a son! As she pressed the elevator button, she couldn't quite fathom why she felt so damn angry about it.

Back inside the apartment now, Clark was leaning against the door. Murphy's Law at it's finest. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone to pieces in that short conversation. He doubted that that would be the last time he saw Lois, or that Conner saw Lois. She was going to keep hounding him for details. And he had no cover story. Unlike Bruce and Oliver, he couldn't keep out people with gates and cameras. He should have been listening for the footstep pattern. He should have looked through the door. If he had been better prepared for Lois, he could have kept her nose out of this.

As it standed, when he walked back towards the kitchen, his face fell even further. The living room had been torn apart, with cushions thrown everywhere. A few picture frames were over-turned. The kitchen fridge had been emptied. Two juice boxes looked as though they had exploded in Conner's hands and all over the fridge. The jar of pickles had been removed by Conner, who was staring in fascination at it, shaking and watching the pickles jiggle. Before Clark could tell him to put down the sharp and dangerous toy, Clark watched with amazement as the kid's hands wrapped around it and crushed the glass to pieces.

"Conner!" came his voice, as the little boy squealed and dropped the pickles and glass. Clark had moved quick enough to grab Conner out of the way of the shards and to the other side of the kitchen area. The little boy was whimpering, and Clark gazed in horror at the sharp glass edge embedded in his hand. He'd completely forgotten that he hadn't been invulnerable at that age. His skin was still penetrable!

"Conner! Are you- Let me see that!" said Clark, sitting the boy on the counter as he used his x-ray vision to see through the hand. The glass had cut deep, but it missed any major arteries and was mostly a superficial wound in his hand. The majority of the glass had become powder from the force the kid displayed. For an instant, Clark imagined Black Canary screeching about safety in his ear. He was doomed.

"It hurts," whimpered the little boy, his nose sniffling as the first few tears fell out.

"Here," said Clark gently, as he held the boy's hand and began to slowly wedge the glass out from the skin, careful not to hit anything as he did. Once the glass was out, Clark began rummaging for make-shift bandages. He'd never needed any first-aid kits since his own skin was impenetrable, and on the off-chance that something did cut through him or he got hurt, the Watchtower was more than equipped to deal with his injury. Moving quickly, Clark grabbed a pillow case and tore it up, using the fabric as make-shift bandaging as he wrapped it around the bleeding hand. He wondered if Conner needed stitches, or if his healing was already accelerated at that age. Now he had a strange image of putting Conner into the sun to heal. Maybe he should fly the kid closer to the sun so his cut got better.

"I didn't used to get cut unless it was the bad green rock," said Conner, looking depressed, "The G-gnomes said that was the only thing that hurt me. Now I can't fly or make red eyes or see through things and now I get hurt?"

"Hey, it's okay kiddo," said Superman, trying to cool the boy's pain, "It's just because you're still little. When you get big again, all those things will come naturally."

"Really?" asked the little kid, looking thoroughly pleased and distracted from the red stain on his hand, "So Cadmus did put me together right."

And there was the reminder that the kid was a weapon. Clark stiffened, but the boy didn't notice as he beamed so eagerly up at the man, and Clark felt a twinge of guilt. The kid probably had no clue about all his powers, and must have been terrified about it for a long time. But he was a weapon. Only because he'd been trained that way. And now Clark was confused all over again.

"Let's eat," said Clark, as he ruffled the kid's hair affectionately, "Want some soup?"

"I've never had soup," said the little boy with a shrug, looking curious and openly up at the boy.

Clark moved to the package that Lois had brought, and opened it to reveal a large take-away tub filled to the brim with hot minestrone soup. He could smell the various spices, some pepper, oregon, a hint of basil, and something spicy. Lois was never the type to do traditional chicken soup. The lid had a fat little chef with a big curly mustace, and the name Papi's written below. He'd heard of the restaurant from Lois, who often brought take-out from there for lunch.

"What is it?" asked Conner, shuffling over to the carton of soup, "Smells good."

"It's minestrone," said Clark with a smile, "Let me get the place cleaned up, and some spoons, okay?"

"'Kay," said Conner with a nod, and he waited and watched as Clark swept the place up with a quick few brush strokes. The pickles followed the glass into the garbage can. Two spoons were dug out from the drawer, not really soup spoons, but would suffice for the lunch. He grabbed the carton and opened it up, revealing the thick red liquid, swirling amongst chopped celery, onions, carrots and pasta. A thick layer of parmesan cheese surrounded the centre, with a little coriander leaf as garnish.

"Looks good," commented Clark, putting the issue with Lois out of his mind as he dipped the spoon into the soup and stirred.

"The cheese is gone!" said Conner, amazed as the Parmesan disappeared into the red broth, and the steam simmered up, letting the tomato and garlic scent waft into their nostrils. The sausage in the soup dipped in and out. Conner was entirely confused with the spoon, and Clark watched as he mimicked Clark's gestures of stirring, but the boy lifted it too quickly and the soup dribbled back into the carton. Which was ten times better than hot soup spilling on the kid.

"Here," said Clark, taking out Conner's spoon. Conner watched curiously as Clark stirred the soup a bit more, and then lifted a little up to his loops and blew on the soup gently, just enough to cool it down a bit with one breath, and then offered it to the boy. The kid latched onto the spoon, and swallowed the red liquid and bit of celery, smacking his lips.

"I like it!" said Conner excitedly, beaming up at Clark, which surprised the man. He wasn't too fond of spicy food himself, Lois liked it much more than himself. That was really the only reason he ate spicy foods when he went out with her. Apparently that trait of his didn't extend to Conner. Genetics be damned. It was actually really pleasing to know the kid wasn't entirely like Clark. Couldn't entirely become him.

"Have some more," said Clark, offering the second bite, which Conner accepted with a beam, this time happier to have the sausage as he chewed. While he chewed, Clark took a bite and swallowed the bit too spicy liquid down with ease. It burned his tongue a bit, but Conner already had his mouth open for another bite.

Between the two of them, they managed to fall into a rather comfortable silence as they ate the soup. Clark still wasn't sure what to do with the boy, but he was making progress. Now if only he could go and solve the Lois problem. But Conner needed him here. God knows why the boy was so desperate to have Clark. His Clark. He found it funny that the boy was already possessive within a few hours. Were kids usually this quick to get attached? Not for the first time was Clark wishing he could ask his parents for advice. But that meant talking about Conner to them. Explaining that he'd been bullied into the role at a last minute situation.

"Let's get you all washed up, okay?" said Clark, as he tossed the spoons into the sink and the carton the soup came in into the garbage.

The boy put his arms up to be lifted, which surprised Clark, but he allowed it to happen as the kid snuggled into his arms. He wondered if it was natural for all kids to feel sleepy after eating. Leading the boy into the bathroom, he easily helped the boy slip out of his clothes, now stained in pickle-juice, and tossed them into the laundry. Something told him more laundry was in his future.

"No!" said Conner nervously, as Clark moved to lift off the Superboy shirt.

"Conner, we need to get it off. You have to take a bath," said Clark, confused at the boy's reaction.

"I'm not Conner right now, I'm Superboy," said the boy, "Cause I'm wearing the shirt now! But if you take it off, then I don't know I am."

Clark stared at the kid, and suddenly realized that despite sounding like he understood, Conner had no idea what a secret identity meant. He should have probably realized this, and then thanked his stars that Connor hadn't mentioned anything about secret identities or Supers while Lois was here. Maybe Murphy's Law wasn't applied in this situation after all. However, his thoughts returned to the matter at hand as he stared at the little boy clutching the pickle-juice stained t-shirt, and looking lost.

"Conner, the shirt doesn't make you Superboy," said Clark gently, "Nor does covering the 'S' shield make you Conner. You are always Conner. But when you help people or are on missions and are wearing the 'S' shield, you become Superboy."

"Why?" asked the kid, always quick to reply, and for some reason, always with a question, "Why do I have to be Conner? I don't know who Conner is!"

"Hey now," said Clark, softly, "Look, I'm always Clark. But when I was growing up, I didn't know much about Clark either. I had to find it out as I did new things. I bet you can name at least five things Conner does."

"Uh huh," said the boy, still a little confused as he recited it off, "Conner likes mini-stone soup. Conner is a Kent, so Conner has a Clark, because Kents have Clarks. And Conner doesn't wear the 'S' shield. Conner goes to school."

"See, five things that Conner does that Superboy doesn't. And you are Conner, you'll always be Conner. But you have friends at school, right? Friends that only know Conner?" continued Clark gently.

"Yeah, Wendy and Marvin and Mal and Karen but I don't like Mal much 'cause he wore my symbol that's only for me and Superman!" continued Conner, looking thoroughly put-out at the memory.

"Well, those people are important, right?" said Clark, ignoring the matter of Mal's shirt, "But they can't protect themselves. So if they were seen with Superboy all the time, they'd be in trouble."

"Really?" said the little boy, his eyes wide and terrified. Why did he have such damn expressive eyes? "But I don't want them to get hurt!"

"That's why you are Superboy when you save lives. Conner gets to have friends and family and be happy. But Conner also has special gifts and when the time comes, Conner puts on his 'S' shield, and goes to save the world and stop the bad guys. And since he looks different, nobody knows Conner is Superboy, or Superboy is Conner," explained Clark, as Conner nodded.

"So- I'm always Conner," said the little boy, "But only if I'm wearing this shirt can I be Superboy?"

"Exactly," said Clark, deciding he'd made headway.

"And- If I'm Conner- I always have a Clark?" asked the boy shyly.

"Always," said Clark, unable to refuse those wide little pools staring at him with such hope. It was a good thing Luthor didn't know about the power of those eyes. He'd find a way to bottle it and exploit it against innocent citizens.

"Okay, I'll take the shirt off," said the boy, allowing Clark to remove the shirt.

As the boy splashed around in the water, Clark rolled up his sleeves. The thought then struck him that he was probably going to be having these little philosophical chats about identities a lot more often. But that was okay, he decided, as he rubbed some soap on the little boy. The boy had been fascinated by the rubber duck Clark had found at the farm earlier. He was surprisingly easy in the bath-tub, despite the fact that Clark had to remove his glasses since he splashed around a bit. And if the boy noticed Clark using his heat vision to ensure the water stayed warm, he didn't say. But it was all for the kid's comfort.

XXXX

By the end of bath-time, Conner had almost fallen asleep in his spot. Clark had tucked the kid into an old pair of pyjamas, with little white dogs that reminded the man of Krypto, and a large white dog-head on the shirt. The boy had mumbled something about a wolf, before falling asleep in Clark's arms. He'd laid the boy down in his bed, and just watched him sleep for a good few minutes. It was fascinating, to say the least.

His little hair was longer than that favoured military cut, and splayed across his forehead and around his ears. His cheeks were soft, and while the kid had some muscle, it was shadowed in baby fat. He moved quite a bit when he slept, rolling one side, and then the next. The concept of blankets seemed foreign, and instead of letting Clark cover him, the boy held the blanket tightly and tossed around. It was cute. And now he was acting too parental. He was just a baby-sitter. The kid was a weapon. Not a real boy. Just acted a lot like a kid. Gods this was confusing. Finally he snapped out of this moment, and pressed his comm-link.

"Superman?" came J'onn's voice, sounding surprised.

"Hey J'onn, can you put me through to Bruce? A private link?" asked Clark, as he headed to the kitchen to talk. From here he could keep an eye on Conner but not worry about being overheard.

"Of course," came the martian's easy reply.

Less than a half-minute later, the grouchy voice of Bruce Wayne rang through to his ear, "What Clark?"

"Lois saw Conner today," said Clark, straight to the point, because like Bruce, he doesn't really want to be a part of this conversation. There's a silence that permeates.

"What does she know?" asked Bruce already in Batman mode.

"She thinks he's my illegitimate son with a mother name Carrie. Conner kept calling Blank Canary Ca'ary. I'm not sure if it was a speech impediment or because he was near tears," offered Clark, though the last bit has no real importance to the situation. But he still feels like sharing.

"I see. Anything else?" asked Batman.

"Nope, she doesn't know anything else," said Clark with a sigh. "But she wants answers. I tried lying and saying it's a relative's kid."

"Avoid her," said Batman.

"Easier said than done, and Lois will want the details. Every single one," said Clark with a scowl.

"I know. Keep her away from Conner. At least until we can figure out a proper cover story. Why did she even stop by?" He sounds annoyed and accusing, two things Clark hates dealing with when it comes to Batman.

"I called in sick," said Clark.

"Idiot."

"Thanks. How's Dick by the way?" asked Clark, wondering if Bruce was struggling. Then again, Bruce had Alfred.

"Taking a nap," came the brusque reply.

"So is Conner. Think it has to do with their predicament?" asked Clark.

"Or the fact that they haven't had a proper night's sleep. We shall see. Goodbye Clark," is all Bruce has to offer before the link goes dead. That was almost friendly for Bruce. But that did nothing to solve Clark's problem. Shouldn't the millionaire have the reporters chasing him down? And so, the man sat down to think.