Rating: T

Where else can I find this story? All five parts are on the first page of Part 5 of the original Young Justice Anon Meme on LiveJournal.

Summary: Lex Luthor is in prison, and Superboy is given a mission to protect the man who put him there: Clark Kent. But what Conner doesn't know... (Part V of Masks, from the Anon Meme).

Hero

Masks, Part V

Chapter 6: Smallville

They've been on the road for three hours, the crowded streets of the city had given way to a congested highway, and that in turn had given way to the open road. Mr. Kent's taken off his jacket and tie; the window's rolled down and Mr. Kent's left arm is hanging out. He looks amazingly relaxed, and Conner can't quite understand why driving has had that effect on Mr. Kent.

"Do you want me to take over driving?" he offers.

Mr. Kent smiles, "That's alright. You can drive if you want to, but I quite enjoy driving, so you don't have to."

"Really? You enjoy driving?"

"Yeah. It's a lot of fun."

"I guess."

Mr. Kent frowns. "You don't like it?"

"Well, I mean, what's the point of driving when you can fly?"

"Not everyone can fly, Superboy."

Conner grits his teeth. "Yeah. I know."

"I guess," Mr. Kent starts, "I guess I hadn't really thought about it. You're a city boy, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I guess. If you can call HappyHarbor a city."

Mr. Kent laughs. "Oh, believe me, Superboy, compared to Smallville, Kansas, HappyHarbor is a veritable metropolis. Cars are different in the countryside. I grew up on a farm in a tiny little town—more like a village, really. And I guess it wouldn't have been a problem if I could fly when I was sixteen, but I couldn't. In a place like Smallville, you need a car, or else you're stuck. School was ten miles away from where I lived, and there wasn't exactly a robust public transit network, so you needed someone to drive you.

"It was hard, you know, doing things like hanging out with your friends and going on dates when you needed your parents to come pick you up or drop you off. Especially if your parents were old, like mine. Don't get me wrong, my parents are great, but they were older than any of my friend's parents, and they were always in bed by ten."

"Ten o'clock curfew doesn't sound like fun," Conner said.

"Trust me Superboy, it wasn't. But then something magical happened in Smallville: you turned sixteen and suddenly you had a car! You could go places and do things! You could fool around with girls!" Mr. Kent smiled, and Conner had to wonder how Ms. Lane had managed to convince herself that Mr. Kent was gay.

"I guess I get it."

"And it was also great to learn how to drive from my Pa. Who taught you to drive, Batman?"

"No." Conner bites his lip. "This is off the record, but, um, I was, er, born knowing how to drive."

"I see." But of course, Conner doesn't really think Mr. Kent does.

They stop for dinner at a road-side diner. Mr. Kent orders the greasiest thing on the menu and a super-sized milkshake and rubs his hands in glee when he arrives.

"Ha! You aren't here to stop me Lois!" Mr. Kent declares and proceeds to take a big bite out of his burger.

Conner smiles. "Oh, you know you like it when she does that," he says, and Mr. Kent chokes on the burger and starts coughing.

They're still on the road when it starts to get dark.

"So, you know," Mr. Kent starts, "I've been thinking. I sort of really need a vacation, time to clear my head. I'm thinking of calling Perry tomorrow to tell him I'm taking some personal days and just driving to Smallville. Of course, I don't want to force you to come, so if you don't wanna come, I can turn the car around and we'll just go back."

Conner uses all his self-control to avoid jumping up and down. He counts to ten, and then calmly answers. "No, I don't mind. We can go to Smallville." But he doesn't have enough self-control to suppress the deep grin that stays on his face until they pull into a motel two hours later.

Mr. Kent takes care of the paperwork, pays for the room with his credit card, and then tells Conner he's going to go move the car to the parking spot by their room and call his parents. Conner realizes that he might as well go move the car with Mr. Kent (heck, it'd probably be easier for him to just move it himself), but he also understands that Mr. Kent wants and is entitled to privacy for his phone call. The call goes on for a while though, and Conner's eyes are drawn to the vending machine in the lobby. Unfortunately, he only has twenties in his wallet, so he goes up to the counter and asks the lady if she's got change for the machine.

She smiles and nods. And then she asks him, with a broad smile, "Hey kid, I noticed your daddy's not wearing a wedding ring." Conner's about to correct her, but he stops himself, because he sort of doesn't mind Mr. Kent being mistaken for his dad.

"Yeah, he and my mom broke up a few years ago, but he's finally back on his feet and dating a really nice lady," he lies because he's also sort of decided that he's going to get Mr. Kent together with Ms. Lane, and he can't have this pretty blonde lady messing up his plans.

"I figured he'd be taken," she says dejectedly. "All the good ones always are."

Wally's the first one to greet them when they arrive at the Kent farm—of course, Wally's the fastest. But M'gann isn't far behind—she flies into his arms and buries herself into him, and it isn't until he has his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed to hers that he realizes just how much he missed her. Kaldur and Artemis are waiting for them at the porch sitting and sipping lemonade with an elderly couple; Conner assumes they must be the Kents. The woman gets up as they approach and waves to them, "Clark darling, what a pleasant surprise, and who is this young man?"

"Ma, Pa," Mr. Kent calls out, waving back happily, "this is Superboy."

Mrs. Kent frowns. "Superboy? Haven't you got a real name?" She turns to look at Mr. Kent, "Clark Kent—the boy does have a real name, right?"

"Of course Mrs. Kent," Superboy answers, "but it's a secret."

Mrs. Kent sits down looking a little upset. "A secret?"

"Of course, Ma," Mr. Kent the Younger answers, "all superheroes have secret identities."

"Oh. Well, I've made lemonade; do you want to join us for some?"

"Yes please," Conner answers, and both he and Mr. Kent sit down as Mrs. Kent pours them a glass.

"Kid Flash," she asks, "are you sure you aren't thirsty?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

They have lunch together in the back yard. Mrs. Kent is quite the cook and she's made a fantastic feast of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with cole slaw and fruit salad and apple pie so good even Conner has to ask for a second slice.

Mr. Kent's parents are amazingly warm people. Right off the bat, Mr. Kent's father tells him to call him Jonathan, and Mrs. Kent tells him to call him Ma. They tell Mr. Kent how delightful Kid Flash, Aqualad, M'gann, and Artemis have been, and they ask Mr. Kent how things are going at work. Apparently the whole town's abuzz with the news that Clark is responsible for putting Lex Luthor behind bars.

"The mayor's wife even told me he wants to give you the keys to the town, Clark," Jonathan says.

Mr. Kent laughs. "Keys to Smallville?"

"I guess it's not exactly the Keys to Metropolis, but you know, it means a lot to the people of this town that you're doing such great things."

Mr. Kent sighs. "Could we not talk about the whole Luthor thing, Pa?"

"Sure, if you don't want to, but, what's wrong?"

Mr. Kent shakes his head and looks up at the sky. "I… uh… I may have screwed up. I may have jumped the gun, and, it looks like Luthor's going to end up walking free, and possibly doing some really bad things."

Jonathan puts a hand on his son's shoulder, and it looks a little odd, shriveled and wrinkled against Mr. Kent's muscles, "Look, Clark, I know you, and I know that you're a good man, and smart. I don't know what Luthor's planning, but I know that you'll find a way to fix it—you always do."

Mr. Kent takes his father's hand and smiles, "Thanks Pa. I just wish that frigid bastard from Gotham wouldn't give me such a hard time of it."

Superboy laughs. "Yeah, that Mr. Wayne's a real jerk."

Martha drops the pitcher she was holding, her eyes are wide as they meet Mr. Kent's: "You mean, Bruce Wayne is…"

Mr. Kent sighs. "I guess there's no point in denying it."

"Oh. I did not expect that."

"Of course you didn't. He tries very hard."

Jonathan shifts uncomfortably, before declaring that he's going to grab a second slice of pie and asking if anyone else wants one. Mr. Kent perks up and puts his plate forward.

"Kid Flash," Martha starts, "Are you sure you don't want anything? You've barely touched your food. If you don't like it, I can make you eggs or a sandwich, or even cereal."

"No thanks, ma'am," Wally answers, "I'm really not that hungry."

Conner shoots Wally a look, because Wally is always hungry.

I'll tell you later, M'gann's voice rings in his head.

"Suit yourself," Martha answers.

The Kents are inside watching TV with M'gann. Apparently, Martha and Jonathan remember when all of M'gann's favorite shows first aired, and they have Hello Megan! on DVD.

The others are out in the backyard, and Conner finds Wally wolfing down energy bars.

"Why didn't you eat anything earlier?" he asks.

"Kid Idiot has convinced himself that sweet old Jonathan and Martha are serial killers," Artemis tells him.

"What? That's crazy!" Conner says.

"Duh."

"Actually, while I do not know whether Kid Flash's theory is ultimately correct, I do think he has perceived some interesting inconsistencies here—I believe Kid Flash is correct in his belief that the Kents are hiding something," Kaldur says. "Though not enough to turn down Martha Kent's apple pie, of course."

"What?"

"Hear me out," Wally pleads, "First, have you seen how old they are and how old Clark is? I'm not saying it's impossible, but it's statistically very improbably that Martha Kent would have had her first child at the age she would have supposedly have had Clark. Second: did you catch a glance of their wedding picture? Neither Martha nor Jonathan have black hair."

Artemis crosses his arms. "So? People don't always look like their parents."

"True enough, but black's a dominant gene. It's one thing for two parents with black hair to have a kid with blond hair—but it's impossible for two parents with light hair to have a kid with dark hair."

"We don't know anything about them. There's tons of things that could mean," Conner answers.

"Ok. More evidence: there aren't any pictures of Martha pregnant. There also aren't any pictures of a baby. There are pictures of Clark from the age of two through the age of ten, and then there aren't any more pictures until he's graduating from college, and honestly, who's to say that the ten year old kid and the 21 year old college grad are one and the same?"

"Really? That's your theory?" Conner can't quite believe it. "That's crazy! The Kents are like the nicest people I've ever met!"

"Exactly what I've been telling them all along," Artemis agreed.

"No, look, see, that's exactly it: they're too nice. I think they couldn't have kids, so they stole one. Then, when something happened to the kid, they replaced him with another one they stole. And now, look, they're trying to do the same thing to you, they've even got you wearing Clark's clothes!"

"Ok—nothing about that theory makes sense. I'm pulling the plug on your crazy conspiracy theory." Conner turns around and marches inside. "Sorry to interrupt the show, and please don't take this the wrong way, but Kid Flash and I are having an argument. Could you help us settle it?"

"Sure."

"Why are there no pictures of Mr. Kent from when he was between ten and twenty?"

Mr. Kent pushes his glasses up. "Oh. Well, there was unfortunately a, ehm, flood a few years ago that destroyed all the albums from those years."

Conner turns to Wally with a "See, I told you so."

"Wait!" Wally exclaims, not to be beaten. "How come Clark doesn't look like you? I mean—

Jonathan sighs. "Well, I guess it was going to come out eventually." He puts his hand on Mr. Kent's shoulder and looks him in the eyes: "Son, you were adopted."

Mr. Kent looks really shook up, and there's suddenly a look of horror on Artemis and Wally's faces, and Conner thinks it might be on his face too.

"You mean…" Mr. Kent's voice breaks, "You mean, I'm not really your son?"

"That doesn't mean we love you any less Clark." Mr. Kent folds his face into his hands and starts to sob.

Artemis elbows Wally in the gut.

"Oh my God!" Wally cries out, "I'm so sorry. I'm soo, sooo sorry. Um…"

Mr. Kent's shoulders are moving up and down violently, and Conner's the first to realize that he's not crying, he's laughing. He looks up with a big smile on his face.

"Come on guys, I know I'm adopted. My parents told me when I was a teenager. My birth parents died when I was just a baby, and my parents found me in the crash wreckage. But can I ask you guys not to go around spreading the info? It's just, my parents are my parents—genetics is irrelevant."

Artemis elbows Wally in the gut once more for good measure.

Conner can hear it from all the way in the living room: Mr. Kent stops Jonathan at the front door.

"Clark, I have to go—

"Dad, you had a heart attack last year. You shouldn't be doing these things anymore."

"Well, what am I supposed to do Clark? I can't afford to hire another farmhand."

Clark sighs. "Look, dad, we've been over this a thousand times."

This is an opportunity if ever he's seen one: Conner zips up to the front door and asks Jonathan what he has to do.

"I have to go move some hay," he explains. "It's already been packaged, but I need to move it into the barn and stack it."

"Why don't you let me do it?" Conner asks, "I have super-strength, you know. And I can ask M'gann to help me—she can move things telepathically."

Jonathan smiles. "I guess one of the best parts of getting old is that people wanna do your work for you."

"You're not old," Conner answers, and the old man ruffles his hair.

"Superboy, you're a good kid, and don't ever let anyone make you think otherwise. Why don't you go get M'gann, and I'll show you two what needs to be done."

It takes Jonathan ten minutes to explain everything, and it takes Conner and M'gann fifteen to get it done. She claps her hands free of imaginary dust and then looks up at Conner with a dazzling grin on her face. "You know," she says, "I don't think they'll expect us back for at least a couple of hours."

Conner nods, "Yeah. If we finished too fast, it might hurt Jonathan's pride."

"We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

And suddenly M'gann is wearing an elegant black dress suit and her hair is done up in a tight bun.

"Can you help me?" she asks. "My car broke down."

"Sure, ma'am, I'll take a look at it."

"Yes. I'm sure I have plenty of things you can take a look at."

Oh gods! How he's missed M'gann.

An hour later they're both panting and covered with sweat. M'gann's got straw in her hair, which is something new and hot, and makes him want to kiss her again, and again, and again.

But just as he's leaving a trail of kisses down here exposed green navel, he hears Clark Kent utter a word that makes him pause.

"No, Conner, don't stop," M'gann moans.

"Wait… I'll make it up to you, I promise, but I think Mr. Kent is calling Batman."

"Oh?"

"Shh. Lemme listen."

Mr. Kent is whispering, and he's far away—a sweep with X-ray vision shows him standing out in the middle of a corn field, with his hand pressed to his head, presumably holding a phone.

"Batman, I know I jumped the gun with the Luthor article… Yeah, but… Well, Luthor's a fucking bastard… And what's Dent saying? … Oh. That's not encouraging… No, she's not going to do that… Ok. And Wayne Enterprises?... Really, that bad?... But I thought it was a good sign when stock prices went up… a bubble… oh. The kids? Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that… That's a nasty trick you pulled… Kid Flash nearly figured the whole thing out… At first he thought my parents were serial killers… He wouldn't eat anything… Of course he's wrong…. Yeah, yeah… Flash can gloat about his sidekick all he wants but… look, I know I screwed up… Ok, ok, Jesus I worse than screwed up. But that doesn't mean I'm not entitled to my privacy. How would you like it if he took a close look at your life?... Right. You had to bring that up, because you can't ever be wrong… Look, when I asked for League protection for my parents, I was thinking along the lines of Red Tornado or something, not a bunch of kids… And you know, for that matter, I don't need a body guard." Conner's stomach suddenly sinks. "Oh. League outvoted you? Isn't that convenient?... Right, like I'm going to believe that, you've been after me since day one… Oh. That's why? Yeah. Ok. I guess that makes sense… Don't be so smug. This is why no one likes you… What do you mean, what's he like? You know him much better than I do… Well, I guess he's pretty cool. My parents are crazy about him. Almost broke Ma's heart when he wouldn't tell her his name… Oh, yes, you've trained him very well… You know, he doesn't like apple pie?... Yeah, I know not everyone likes apple pie, but I love apple pie… You know, I think he's gotten it into his head that there's something between me and Lois… No, you know, she thinks I'm gay, apparently, with, well with Bruce Wayne. That's not that funny… I am too secure in my sexuality… No, I don't need to get laid… Last time? That's not any of your business… No! I am not a virgin!... Are you even listening to yourself? How much sleep have you been getting?... Well, when was the last time you slept?... And he still lets you out of the house?... Oh. That doesn't sound good at all. I'll let you go, so you can get some rest… but, um, you know, for what it's worth, I am sorry. It's been pointed out that I'm not the most rational of people when it comes to Luthor… it's just, you know… I don't really hate people, but I hate him. Ok. Goodnight. And get some rest. Or else I'll have to get Diana to restrain you."

Conner feels like he's missed something important, but he's distracted by the things M'gann is doing and he's missing the other half of the conversation. "Hey, M'gann, you want to help me help Mr. Kent get laid?"

M'gann traces her fingers down his pecs, and down his abs, and down, down, down. She gets on top of him and presses herself into him and whispers in his ears, "Maybe we can play matchmaker tomorrow. Right now, I'm more concerned about you getting laid."

Conner flashes her a grin. "I can live with that."

Conner sleeps like the dead even though he's stuck on the floor—Wally called dibs on the bed. It's only the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and cinnamon buns that calls him back to the world and drags him down the stairs to the kitchen. Jonathan and Clark are already sitting, Artemis and Kaldur are setting the table, and M'gann is helping Martha with the cooking. Wally zips down the stairs and sits in the chair Conner had been planning to take, so Conner takes the one next to Jonathan instead. Artemis sits next to Wally, Kaldur next to her, and after they're done with the pancakes and cinnamon buns, Martha and M'gann sit too.

Martha asks Conner how he slept, and he can't complain. They start talking about how much he enjoys being back with his friends, although he quickly backtracks, because he doesn't want Mr. Kent to think he hasn't enjoyed his time at the Planet. Martha asks him if he has friends outside of the Justice League, and Conner tells her that of course he does, people from school like Marvin and Wendy, but that it isn't the same.

"No, I imagine it wouldn't be. But so you do go to school?"

"Yeah, of course, I mean, I guess not of course, but yeah. M'gann and I go to the same school."

"And you're still in high school?"

"Yeah, though we'll be graduating next June."

Martha smiles. "That means you're just about to start applying for colleges then."

Conner shrugs between bites of pancake. "Eh. Maybe."

Martha drops her fork and her smile. "What do you mean 'maybe'?"

"I honestly don't know if I want to go to college. And you know, if I'm not going to go, I'm not sure it's worth the effort to apply, just to make my classmates think I'm applying like they are."

"But why wouldn't you go to college?"

Conner shrugs again. "Seems like a waste of time. I mean, yeah, go spend four years drinking and quote-unquote, finding myself? I already know what I want to do, I don't exactly need a college degree to punch holes in brick walls. Doesn't really seem to make sense."

For the first time, Martha seems genuinely upset. She sends Mr. Kent a look, but Conner doesn't know what it means. Mr. Kent just pushes up his glasses. "So that's it, that's all you want in life: to be a superhero?"

Conner puts down his fork and knife. "Well, it is pretty much my purpose in life."

"So, no job, no family, no friends outside of the Justice League?"

"Why can't fighting bad guys be my job?"

"Because that would make you a mercenary."

"What? No! Look—I punch bad guys. I'm good at it. The Justice League gives me a stipend. I don't know if you've notice how I dress, I'm not exactly high maintenance."

Martha crosses her arms and glares at him, "And have you discussed your plans with an adult?"

"Yeah, actually. With Black Canary and Batman."

"Oh? And they're fine with you just throwing your future away?"

"I'm not throwing my future away! This is what I was made to do! There's nothing wrong with embracing your destiny."

"Your destiny, is that it? What does Black Canary say?"

"Like, whatever. She said it's my life."

"And Batman?"

"Batman says he thinks college is a tremendous waste of time. He dropped out and spent the time travelling the world and learning real things."

"Oh yeah, easy for Batman to drop out of college when he's—

"Mother," Mr. Kent interrupts.

Martha's icy glare fixes on her son. "And where the hell is Superman in all of this? What does Superman think of Superboy's plans?"

Conner folds his napkin. "Frankly ma'am, I don't know what Superman thinks of all of this. I doubt he has an opinion, but if he does, I don't give a damn about what it is."

"Mother…"

"No Clark, don't you dare 'Mother' me. What the hell is wrong with Superman that he lets Batman take charge of a boy that's his own damn spitting image?"

"Ma'am, Superman has nothing to do with me. Batman's a fine mentor."

"Oh, like fun he is. Clark, who the hell leaves a kid with Batman? The man's a psychopath who thinks there's nothing wrong with sending children after the mass-murdering scum of the Earth. And when he's not dressed like a giant rodent he's off—

Conner throws his napkin down and stands up. "You are way out of line lady!" And before he can say something he might regret, Conner runs out of the kitchen and out of the farm house.

It's not until hours later that Jonathan Kent finds Conner out in a field.

"There you are, son," the old man calls out from aboard his tractor.

Conner looks up at him and sighs. "I'm sorry I yelled at her."

Jonathan gets out of the tractor and sits down next to Conner. "You were right, you know, she was out of line."

"Yeah. I know. But I still shouldn't have yelled at her."

"Probably not. But you realize that. Just goes to show that I was right."

"About what?"

"About you being a good kid."

Conner smiles weakly. "Thanks. Sometimes I'm not so sure. Superman certainly doesn't think so."

Jonathan sighs. "I don't think you know what Superman thinks, but I thought you said you didn't care."

"I don't. Not anymore."

Jonathan puts his hand on Conner's shoulder, just like Conner's seen him do it with Mr. Kent. "Good. I told you Superboy, you're a good kid. And Superman's an idiot for not figuring it out the moment he laid eyes on you."

"Thanks, Jonathan."

"So, I take it you really respect Batman?"

"Yeah. But, you know. It's more than that." Conner sighs. He really doesn't know whether he should tell Jonathan this. "I'm not an idiot. Not really. I know Batman's not perfect. Sometimes, if you squint just right, you can see the cracks, and you realize how impossibly broken he is. But he holds it together, most of the time, and you know, that takes strength. Real strength, not the cheap parlor trick of being able to bench press the Titanic. And you know, I haven't got a father. People think Superman's my father. But he's not. I'm not going to lie to you, we're not not related. But I guess it's like your son said, genetics are irrelevant. You know, Martian Manhunter pretends to be my father during parent teacher conferences. I haven't got a father, and you know, Batman's not my father either—heck, I don't even think he's Robin's father—but he is the closest thing I have to a dad. He's the one who bails me out when I'm in deep trouble."

"Well. I've never met Batman. I've never even been to Gotham. But I can tell Batman's a great man."

"How?"

"Because, apparently he raised you, and anyone who's done such a fine job of parenting has to be a great man."

Conner smiles, this time strong and genuine. "You know, Batman did admit he didn't think he was the best person to talk to me about college. He said he had a really hard time making the argument for college because he hated it so much there, and because he dropped out, but he also said he was particularly maladjusted during that time and that he could afford to drop out. And you know, I think he knew from the time that he was eight that he was going to be Batman. He has a secret identity. I don't know what it is, but half the time I feel like he feels like that secret identity is a burden. Like he wishes he could be Batman all the time."

"He sounds like an incredibly driven person."

"Yeah he is."

"I'm sorry about what Martha said about him."

"It's ok. She doesn't know him. And he tries, you know, tries to get people to think he's crazy."

"Yes, but let me explain: I know it sounded like she was insulting Batman, but I think she was really just angry at Superman. I mean, even if he's not your father, or whatever, as a parent, especially as a parent who waited as long as Martha and I did and longed for a child as much as we did, it's painful to see other people ignore children.

"But the other thing is, Martha and I, we didn't go to college. Clark was the first person in our family to do that. And, you know, we're just so proud of him, of the things he does. He'd have done great things anyway, even if he didn't keep going to school. But he wouldn't be a reporter. It used to be you could live well without a degree. That's getting harder now, and I don't know if this is still how people feel, but when Martha and I were growing up, it was really something to go to college and get a degree, it was a pathway to a better future.

"But ultimately, Black Canary is right. The choice is yours. And I'm sure you'll make a good choice. But even if you make a mistake, you can always fix it. If you go to college and don't like it, you can drop out, like Batman did. Or, if later you decide you want to go back to school, you can do that too."

"Thanks Jonathan."

"No problem, son."

Back at the farm house, Martha greets Conner with sad eyes and thick hot chocolate.

"Clark said you liked chocolate."

Without a word, Conner takes the mug she offers him and holds it. It's not cold enough for hot chocolate, but it looks and smells impossibly good. Martha sits down and Conner follows suit. For a long time, neither of them says anything. Everyone else is in the living room, watching TV. Finally Conner looks up. "Look, I'm sorry."

Martha's eyes still sad, but strong meet his. "No, don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. Never apologize, unless you've done something wrong. Never apologize for being yourself or for standing up for your friends or for doing the right thing."

"I'm a guest in your house. I shouldn't have yelled."

"And I shouldn't have talked about things I can't understand."

Finally, Conner takes a sip of the hot chocolate. It isn't as good as he thought it would be. It's much, much better.

"This is really, really good," he tells her, and for the first time since he got back, she smiles.

"How'd you get so good at cooking?" he asks.

"My mother taught me, then practice." She frowns briefly. "I always liked to cook and bake. I worked in a restaurant in the city before I met Jonathan, but the farm was here, and the restaurants in Smallville… well. I took a job as a secretary in town to make ends meet. But then, after we'd been trying for a while every time we failed to conceive, every month when it became painfully obvious we'd failed again, I'd go on a cooking frenzy. And then, later, when we gave up, I had a lot of free time." She set her own mug down. "Jonathan and I, we're so, so incredibly lucky to have found Clark. Not a day goes by that I don't thank the Lord."

"I think the really lucky one is him—I mean, to end up with, not just with people who really wanted him, but with you guys."

Martha smiles and shakes her head. "No. Clark was always destined for greatness. He was always going to be special and good. He was a wonderful boy, and as an adult… Jonathan and I are so proud of the things he does, of how good he is." She sighs, "Now, if only he wouldn't be so stupid about certain things."

Conner can't help but smile. "About Ms. Lane, you mean?"

Martha grins. "So you noticed too?"

"Well, at first, I thought they were together, 'cuz you know, they work so well, and then, after I realized that wasn't the case, I thought they'd be really cute together. But if you know about it, he must have it really bad."

"You have no idea. He's absolutely crazy about her."

"So why doesn't he just ask her out for a date?"

Martha sighs. "Because." Then she adds, "Clark, Clark's gotten a few stupid ideas into his head. I understand, I do, I get that it's hard for him, but they're still stupid. With Lois it's all about Superman."

"Mr. Kent thinks Ms. Lane is in love with Superman."

"And how can a mild mannered reporter compete with the Man of Steel?"

Conner crosses his arms, "By not being a total and complete asshole."

Martha laughs, then catches herself. "Language, Superboy."

"You sound like Batman." Then he grins. "I think Ms. Lane likes Mr. Kent. She likes Superman too. But I think she's cordoned them both off as unattainable men. She's too smart to believe that Superman is really real, but, she's also gotten it into her head that Mr. Kent's gay."

Martha laughs.

Conner leans in and raises his hand between them to whisper (even though he knows no one else is listening, couldn't, because they're all in the living room and it's not like they have superhearing). "She thinks he's with Bruce Wayne."

Apparently, it's more than Martha can handle, because she starts laughing furiously and has to wipe her eyes. "Clark… Clark and… oh… oh dear Lord… that's patently ridiculous. Clark and that vapid..." Conner starts laughing with her. "Oh," she sighs and start laughing again, "oh God… that would be like… like Superman and Batman!" She breaks down into peals of laughter.

"Ewwww," Conner can't help but be disgusted at the idea of his mentor and his… whatever doing… ugh. "That's so wrong."

"I know. But that's great. I'm going to tease him about this endlessly. How'd she get an idea like that into her head?"

Suddenly Conner stops laughing. "Luthor."

That kills the conversation.

They send message to Batman, asking if M'gann can accompany Conner to Metropolis—Conner adds that he wants to take M'gann out to dinner in the city.

The reply is immediate and telegraphic: "Dinner OK. Not to bodyguard Kent."

That's kind of odd, don't you think? M'gann asks Conner when he shows her the message.

Conner shrugs. There's something weird going on with Batman and Mr. Kent. Batman was the one who got some of the evidence Mr. Kent published against Luthor, and I don't think Batman wanted it published.

Why wouldn't Batman want to publish information that could help put Luthor in jail?

Conner shrugs. Some legal mumbo jumbo. Apparently, Luthor has a pretty good shot at getting Batman's evidence thrown out of court, something about warrants and the League's Charter. Mr. Kent seemed pretty worried about it after Luthor gloated about how he was going to get off, and Bruce Wayne seemed pretty upset about it too.

So, if Batman didn't want the information published, how did Mr. Kent get it?

Conner scowls. Superman stole it from Batman and gave it to Mr. Kent. You know how stupid Superman gets about Luther. Or maybe he's just stupid about everything. I wouldn't know.

M'gann frowns. So, what was it like seeing Luthor again?"

You know, the first time I saw him, he was wearing a business suit, and I remember, I thought to myself, 'This is just some puny bald human in a pansy suit, how bad could he be?' And then, of course, I found out just how bad he could be. Even though he was just some bald guy in a suit. And then, this time, he was just a bald guy in an orange jumpsuit and neck brace. He couldn't even see me, and I was terrified of him.

I'm the friggin' Superboy, and some guy in a suit makes my hair stand up. Do you think that's why Superman hates Luthor so much?

M'gann is silent, like she doesn't know what to say, or even what to think. Let's not talk about Superman, she suggests, and Conner nods. How are we going to get Clark and Lois Lane together?

By being deceitful and devious, he smiles.

You are getting really good at that, she smiles.

But, I only ever use my powers for good.

Mmm. So, what's the plan?

Well, since neither of us can hack into their email accounts to send Ms. Lane an invitation, I think we'll just take advantage of the fact that I can't go anywhere without Mr. Kent and that Ms. Lane will do anything for a headline.

Stealth double-date?

It's like you read my mind.

The bell rings about an hour and a half before dinner—Jonathan is on his way to open the door when Kaldur stops him: "Wait, it might be trouble, let Superboy check the door first." Jonathan stops and nods.

Conner looks past the door and sees who it is, "It's a woman. A pretty redhead, about Mr. Kent's age."

"Oh, that'll be Lana!" Martha exclaims happily.

Mr. Kent looks up, surprised. "You invited Lana?"

"Oh, yes, I thought, since you were in town, why not?"

"When?"

"Oh, just earlier; I emailed her."

"Oh."

"Why don't you go let her in?"

"Right," so he goes and opens the door. Conner keeps track of him through his x-ray vision, though, just in case. The woman on the other side of the door lights up when she sees Mr. Kent.

"Clark!" she exclaims, "I haven't seen you in ages."

Mr. Kent rubs the back of his head. "It's really good to see you Lana," he tells her, and then, a little awkwardly, he leans in to hug her.

"I brought apple pie," she says with a smile on her face and lifts up a bag to show Mr. Kent.

"My favorite," he smiles.

"I know."

Apparently, there's an unaccounted-for variable in our plan, Conner thinks to M'gann.

Lana?

Yeah.

"So, did my mom tell you how the Junior Justice League is here, on bodyguard duty?" Mr. Kent asks, as he leads Ms. Lang into the house.

"No," she answers.

"You know how I published an article about Lex Luthor, and now he's in jail?"

"Of course; you know I read everything you write."

"Superman is concerned that Luthor will target me or my family, so the Justice League has assigned Kid Flash, Miss Martian, Aqualad, Artemis, and Superboy to bodyguard duties."

"Superboy…"

Mr. Kent pushes back his glasses. "Yeah. I'll introduce you."

Mr. Kent and Ms. Lang appear in the living room. "Hi gang," Mr. Kent says, "This is my best friend, Lana Lang."

"Lana, this is Kid Flash," Clark introduces.

Wally gets up in a flash, trademark grin on his face. "Enchanté, babe-moiselle."

Mr. Kent sort of frowns, but Ms. Lang giggles, "Wow, you really are the fastest boy alive. Give me a call in ten years."

"I'll take it!" Wally grins and Artemis rolls her eyes.

Maybe we should work on Wally and Artemis after Clark, M'gann suggests.

I think if they haven't figured it out by now, they're probably pretty hopeless, Conner answers.

"Aqualad."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lang."

"Oh, please, call me Lana," Lana says.

"Artemis, and M'gann, the Martian Manhunter's niece, and finally, last, but not least, Superboy."

Conner gets up with as warm a smile as he can muster, because if this is Mr. Kent's best friend, he certainly wants to have her on his side. "Hi Lana, nice to meet you." He offers her his hand, and when she takes it, he can't help but notice that she's trembling.

"You're his spitting image," she says, and then she turns to Mr. Kent. "Clark, he looks exactly like—

"The resemblance to Superman is uncanny," he agrees.

Conner catches himself before his face can turn into a full-on frown. Dinner's a disaster. For whatever reason, Lana is clearly uncomfortable, and Conner has the distinct impression that she's doing everything in her power to stop herself from looking at him, and failing. The whole conversation at dinner is monopolized by Kaldur talking with Jonathan about fishing.

[I don't like how Lana is looking at you,] M'gann tells him when Martha passes out the meatloaf.

[Ok, so I'm not imagining it.]

[M'gann, you listening?] Wally butts in.

[Yeah,] she answers.

[I wanna make a joke about how Supey monopolizes the attention of hot redheads, but I'm kind of creeped out by how Lana's been staring at Conner all night long.]

[Yeah, we were just talking about that, actually,] Conner lets him know. He frowns into his plate. It's probably the whole Superman thing.

Dinner continues to proceed awkwardly, Lana keeps staring at Conner, then remembering and staring at her peas. Suddenly she starts up, looking bewildered, and then she looks at M'gann.

[M'gann, what did you do?] Conner asks immediately, but M'gann doesn't answer.

Lana swallows. "I'm sorry," her voice trembles, "I, uh, I should go. Martha, thanks for dinner, it was lovely, as always."

Clark reaches across the table and puts his hand on her hand, and once again Conner can't help but have a feeling that there's more between the two than meets the eye, though now the feeling just strengthens his resolve to fix Mr. Kent and Ms. Lane together. "No, Lana," he says, "Stay."

"Clark, I…"

"Lana, you haven't even had desert yet." He smiles that charming corn-bred farmboy smile of his. "More importantly, I haven't had desert yet, and if you leave now, I won't be able to enjoy it."

"Oh, Clark," Lana sighs, "you know I could never say no to that smile."

"It's settled then," he says, and then his gaze fixes hard on M'gann, "Lana's staying." Clark spends the rest of the dinner with his hand on Lana, and that, at least, seems to be enough to distract Lana from Conner. But the minute Clark's finished his desert, Lana stands up, thanks Martha for the invitation.

Clark stands up, "Wait, if you won't stay, let me at least take you home."

Lana laughs a bit emptily, "I'm afraid, Clark, that while that's quite gallant, we are living in the 21st century."

"Oh, come on Lana, I've always taken you home."

"That was when we were in high school Clark. I'm not a girl anymore. Besides, I drove here, and you can't exactly just walk from my place back here."

"Lana, it's dark…" Clark whines.

"And I drive on dark roads every day."

"I can take her," Wally offers. "I can run back, quick as a whip. Clark doesn't have to worry about Lana, Lana doesn't have to feel bad about imposing on Clark, and I get to spend more time with the luscious babe." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Everyone's a winner."

Artemis rolls her eyes. "And we don't have to put up with your ugly face, you're right. Everybody does win."

Wally wraps an arm around Artemis. "You know you love me."

"I know I'd love to make you into a pin cushion," she says poisonously, and Wally's smile falters for just a second as he unwraps his arm from around her.

"OK, let's go," Wally says to Lana. "I bet you're not used to having a genuine superhero escort you, huh?"