Notes: First off, thank you Dannell! The wonderfulest beta'er for Superboy I have! :D Now, I actually wrote this before Rith's (I think it was 'Rith...) came out with a story titled 'Four Days.' And dangit, to change it I'd have to add another chapter and stuff, and I won't! laughs This is set when Superboy lost his powers--and Cadmus told him to take a hike, remember? It's between panels. What happens (or would have happened, since they never said how long his powers were gone for) in the four days that Superboy is powerless. It's also set after the Young Justice issues with a powerless Superboy.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Superboy, Roxy, Rex, or any of the other DC copyrighted characters I mention. I do own Brendan, Jenny, and the others. Please don't use them without my permission. Ask before archiving. Feedback. Feedback. Feedback. I'm making no money off this. Feedback. :)

"Hey. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm just gonna sit here for a little while, if that's okay with you?"

Jenny nodded and backed away, putting her order pad in the pocket of her red and white striped apron and heading toward the counter. She slid up onto a barstool, leaning against the red and white checkered bartop. "Hey. Andre. You know who that guy is?" she asked, leaning across the counter toward the cook. He was new. Until that past year, it had been only Jenny's mom and dad running the restaurant, but with her mom getting cancer and all they'd needed the extra help.

Andre, features dark and body slender, peered through the various hanging utensils to the lone man sitting at a window booth across the restaurant. "No," he said at last. "Why? He creeping you out?"

Jenny shook her head, blond hair bobbing around her chin. "Nah. He just looks really familiar, y'know?"

Andre looked again, then smiled bemusedly at Jenny and shook his head. "I don't recognize him. Sorry."

Jenny sighed and turned on the swivel stool. The teen--probably about her own age--was still sitting and looking out the window forlornly. There was a blue and red duffel bag stuffed to ripping at his feet. His gray sweater was baggy, as were his blue jeans. He had fair skin and blue eyes, topped with raven black, wavy hair. His hands looked strong, and he wasn't fat, but Jenny couldn't see enough else of him beneath his loose sweatshirt to tell much more.

He had a strong jaw. A nose that flipped up at the tip, and a dimple in his chin.

As if feeling her scrutiny, he looked toward her suddenly, blue eyes clear and focused.

Jenny looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught staring. The teen didn't seem to care though, and went back to peering out the window.

Jenny sighed and scuffed her tennis shoes against the red and while tiled floor. Everything was red and white: the tables, the chairs, the benches. Her parents thought a 50's soda shop would attract customers--and it did. It kept them in food and clothing, and paid for her mom's cancer treatments. Not that there was any way to tell how long the money would last with the sudden drain from her mom’s medicines, but for now they were doing okay.

The chime over the door rang, and Jenny looked up. She smiled instantly, walking swiftly forward three steps before stopping and letting the small group of teens come to her, instead.

"Hey, Brendan!" Jenny said, kissing his cheek. He smiled at her and adjusted his glasses, then ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair.

"Hi, Jenny," Danny said, and swooped her up for a hug and kiss.

Jenny thought her toes probably tingled, but she couldn't be sure. While Brendan was like a brother to her, Danny wasn't. They had known each other for years, but hadn't started dating until just a week ago. It was fun.

"Hi, Alicia! Hi, Kelly! You guys want anything?" Jenny chirped, untangling herself from Danny.

"You guys still got those really good milkshakes?" Alicia asked, flopping onto a stool and propping her head up with her hand.

Jenny nodded wordlessly, pulling her pad from her apron and writing that down. "Chocolate?" she asked without looking up.

"Yeah," Alicia sighed happily, carefully keeping her teeth covered. Jenny thought maybe the other girl was still anxious over her braces.

"Anybody else?"

"Fries. I'm dying for some fries," Danny groaned, smiling. His brown eyes flashed merrily, as they almost always did, and dark blond hair fell in his face.

"Me too," Brendan echoed. He smiled, exposing just one dimple in one cheek. Jenny grinned at him and winked, writing down an extra milkshake. He liked the strawberry ones, but would never order them for some reason. Probably worried about getting fat. He was always worried about stuff like that--and it didn't make sense, either. In spite of his glasses--really, they looked good on him--Brendan was one of the better looking guys Jenny knew.

Except for Danny, of course.

"Annnnd, Kelly?" Jenny asked, looking at the dark-haired, slightly heavy-set girl.

Kelly smiled and paused to think about it. "Nah," she sighed at last. "I'm not hungry."

"Want a soda?" Jenny offered. "On the house."

"Sure," Kelly said, smiling brightly. She was pretty, with a feminine round face and long hair. She was also the quietest of the group, and the one least likely to spend money. Her dad had left when she was young, and her mom struggled to make ends meet. Since Jenny and the rest of the gang knew that, they tried to help out when they could.

"I'll just put this order through to Andre," Jenny said, waving the paper around and smiling. She went around to the other side of the counter, then stopped and leaned over conspiratorially. "Hey, guys. While I'm doing this, someone go talk to that kid over there. I swear he looks familiar."

Kelly looked, and frowned sadly. "He looks so upset!" she said, always the compassionate soul.

"Go find out who he is!" Jenny whispered, then turned quickly to give Andre the order. She watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Brendan and Danny both went to go meet and greet the black haired teen. The three of them spoke quietly for a moment, politely, then Brendan turned to Alicia and Kelly and motioned for them to come over.

The black haired teen smiled sort of distantly and leaned back farther into the corner, shifting positions to see the others. Brendan and Danny slid into the seat opposite him, while Alicia arrived and pushed the teen's duffel bag farther under the booth, sliding down next to him. Kelly smiled shyly and pulled up a chair from a nearby table, sitting at the end.

Jenny watched curiously, trying to catch what they were saying.

"Here you go, Jenny," Andre said, and handed the French fries over.

Jenny took them quickly, smiling a thanks, and put them on a tray with the milkshakes and sodas, an extra milkshake for the new kid and a soda for herself. Quickly, she picked it all up and, thankful the rest of the restaurant was empty and she would have a chance to sit and talk, headed for the booth.

"Hey, Jenny!" Danny called with a grin. He stood and took the tray from her, setting it down on the table. "This is--how did you say it? Ko-nel?" he said, smiling and looking at the new teen.

"Kon-El, actually," the new kid said, shaking Jenny’s hand. "But Conel is fine." He smiled, though his heart obviously wasn't in it.

Jenny handed out food and drinks swiftly, then set the tray on a nearby table.

"Whose is this?" Conel asked, looking expectantly around the table while holding up the shake.

"Yours, silly," Jenny laughed, sitting down on Danny's knee after deciding there wasn't enough room for another chair.

Conel looked uncertain. "But I didn't order this," he said at last, smiling briefly and obviously confused.

"I know," Jenny answered. "It's on the house."

"But--" he started again, only to be interrupted by Danny.

"Just enjoy it, Conel!" Danny laughed, munching a fry. "It doesn't happen all the time, you know!"

Conel smiled slightly at that and thanked Jenny, then started slowly eating the ice cream.

He was like Kelly, sort of, Jenny noted. He watched. Everything and everyone, but not because he was shy, like Kelly. More like he just had nothing to say at the moment. And he looked sad.

"You new around here, Conel?" Jenny asked at last. He still looked familiar, and she still couldn't place him.

"Yeah. Sort of," Conel answered, studying his milkshake.

"You going to school here?" Danny asked politely.

"No. I mean, not that I know of. I . . . I had um, tutors. And stuff. Homestudy. Yeah." He'd looked up briefly, but stared back down at his shake as he finished the sentence. His shoulders were hunched, and his black hair fell in his face. He looked up again, smiled slightly. "Actually, I haven't settled in yet. At all."

"Just moved, huh?" Danny asked sympathetically. "That's cool. We'll help you move in, if you like."

Brendan nodded helpfully.

"No! I mean, that would be great but . . . well, I don't actually have a place yet." Conel squirmed uncomfortably, then flashed what was almost an arrogant smile, except that it was gone too quickly.

The table went silent, and it took Alicia's thoughtless question to bring noise back.

"Did you run away?"

Jenny kicked Alicia under the table, and the slightly older girl squealed.

"That's none of our business, Ali," Jenny hissed.

Conel was smiling, slightly uncertain, slightly bemused. But at least it was an honest smile. "No," he said at last. "I didn't run away. It's okay. I just . . . I'm not staying with my parents, is all."

"A--what are they called?" Brendan said, looking to Kelly for help.

She just shrugged, looking lost.

"A liberated minor? I mean, that's not the right term, but it's something like that. Where you live on your own and stuff?" Brendan was watching Conel closely, and the black haired boy nodded.

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "Like that. I--" He looked down, fingering the edge of the table. "I looked around for hotels and stuff, but there don't seem to be any rooms."

"The Rod Race is in town," Alicia said, frowning. "Things are all booked up."

"Oh," Conel said softly. He looked up and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's okay. I’ll just move on then."

Jenny frowned, not liking that idea at all. “Wait,” she said, getting up, “let me make some calls.” She smiled back over her shoulder, heading toward the phone in the back. Within a few moments she had her father on the other end, explaining the situation to him. Her parents occasionally took in people who were down on their luck--her mother was a soft heart.

The phone call didn’t last long, and she nearly bounced back into the shop itself. "You can stay at my house," she said, smiling brightly. “I mean, provided you don’t scare my parents and they think you’re okay when you meet them. You'll have to sleep on the couch, but it’s comfortable."

The teen looked distinctly uncertain. “Your parents are okay with that? I mean, it seems dangerous,” he said, frowning.

"Any old stranger who comes in here and needs a bed, they take in," Alicia said, giggling.

Conel was starting to look hopeful. He looked cute when he looked hopeful. "They wouldn't mind or anything?"

"Nah," Jenny said, smiling. "They'd love to have another person!"

Conel smiled, the grin gaining power. "That would be great," he said. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem!" Jenny chirped, happily. "Do you need to get anything?"

"No," Conel answered quickly. "Just my bag, and that's under here."

Jenny nodded and slid back onto Danny's knee.

Brendan's eyebrows rose. "That's all you've got? Traveling light, huh?"

Conel's smile faded and he nodded uncomfortably.

"Runaway," Alicia mouthed to Jenny. Jenny kicked Alicia under the table again, then smiled sweetly when the boys all looked at her sudden movement curiously.

***

Jenny smiled brightly as she let Conel into the small house. There was a note on the sink, and as she walked through the back door she picked it up and scanned it quickly.

"Mom's napping," she said in an undertone once she was done reading, "so we have to keep it down."

"Okay," Conel answered just as softly.

"We're having spaghetti tonight. If you'd like, you can sit at the table--I'm going to start chopping tomatoes for the sauce."

Conel moved to the table and sat down, fidgeting, folding and unfolding his legs. Jenny got the tomatoes out of the refrigerator, then put the chopping board on the kitchen island. She washed the tomatoes in silence, then got out a butcher knife and started slicing them.

"Can I help?" Conel asked quietly.

Jenny glanced up and smiled at him. "Sure. Here, you can chop tomatoes--I'll work on something else."

Jenny watched Conel out of the corner of her eye as he stood, walking to the island and taking her place. He picked up the butcher knife and very carefully started to cut through the tomatoes.

He must have felt her gaze on him, because he looked up and smiled uncomfortably. "I used to be really fast at stuff like this," he said in a slightly sad half laugh. His blue eyes dropped back to the board, watching where the knife went carefully. "Really, really fast," he murmured, as if to himself.

Jenny nodded for lack of anything else to do and got out green onions.

"Jenny? Is that you, dear?"

Jenny looked up at the welcoming voice and smiled brightly. "Mom! Hi, Mom! This is Conel--Kon-El?"

He smiled and nodded, wiping tomato juice off onto a rag before shaking the older woman's hand. "Just Conel is fine, though," he said, almost shyly, Jenny thought.

"Conel is a--a liberated minor?"

Jenny's mom smiled, her skinny face creasing into laugh lines. "Emancipated minor?"

Jenny nodded.

Her mom smiled wider and looked at Conel appraisingly. "I'm Martha, and we would be thrilled to have you stay for dinner, Conel. After that, we’ll have to see if we get along. My husband Todd will be home shortly--he just went to pick up some garlic toast. Now if you don't mind I'll just sit here," Martha said, making her way to the tiny kitchen table by the window and easing herself into a chair.

"Can I get you anything?" Conel asked quickly, looking around as if he should do something, but not knowing what.

"No, no, I'm fine. Thank you for chopping the tomatoes, though," Martha said pointedly, a twinkle in her blue-gray eyes.

"Oh, right," Conel responded, and took up his abandoned workstation in a hurry.

Martha adjusted her floral bathrobe, unworried that she wasn't dressed and there was company. Since the cancer, she hadn't bothered nearly so much with things like that.

Jenny smiled at her mother and went back to chopping green onions.

"So, Conel, do you have any family? Siblings?"

"Not . . . not really," Conel said, frowning.

Martha smiled. "You sound uncertain about that."

"Well," he said, still frowning, "it really depends on how you define siblings."

"The other children of your parents," Martha said patiently, and with some amusement in her voice.

Conel scowled at the tomatoes. "Yeah, but how do you define parents?"

Jenny stopped chopping to turn and look back at him.

Conel stopped chopping suddenly, too, and his blue eyes flashed around in a panic, though his head didn't move. He looked like he was suddenly aware of a giant error he'd made.

"Have you lived with many different families, then, Conel?" Martha asked, carefully still treating it lightly, as if the answer didn't really matter at all. And, of course, it shouldn't.

Conel was a long time responding. He cut another tomato slice, even slower. ". . . Yeah," he said at last, the word barely audible.

"Is there anyone you've grown close to?" Martha asked. She stood slowly, moving softly to the cupboard to get herself a mug.

"I'll do it," Conel offered instantly, and Martha shushed him and waved him back with one hand.

"Just chop your tomatoes and answer my questions," she said, smiling.

Conel smiled back, and his dark blue eyes seemed to lighten. "Yeah," he said. "This girl. Roxy. I guess she's like family. And her dad. And this one other guy--he was like, father and teacher both. We all lived together for a while."

Martha smiled encouragingly.

"We . . .we had a dog," Conel offered, and chuckled--at what, Jenny couldn't tell. He smiled again, a real smile--perhaps the first decent one Jenny had seen that day from him--and started chopping tomatoes faster as he didn't think about it so much. "He really hated me," Conel continued, grinning. "And it was supposed to be my dog!"

Martha chuckled.

"Once, he--OW!" Conel shouted, letting the butcher knife clatter to the floor. Almost as an afterthought he jumped away from it, so it didn't cut his toes.

"What's wrong?" Jenny asked, hurrying quickly to where the teenager stood, cradling his hand and looking stunned.

"I . . . cut myself," he said, softly.

Jenny reached for his hand, and he let her take it numbly.

"Oh my god, it's bleeding," Conel said, and there was almost panic in his voice.

"Not much," Jenny said as soothingly as she could. Conel tried to pull away, and Jenny tightened her grip instinctively. "Take it easy--just come wash it off so I can see--" she would have continued, but Conel jerked back as hard as he could, pulling her across the island and slamming himself into the cupboards on the other side.

"Let me go!" he shouted, his face pale.

"All right, it's all right," Martha crooned, standing and looking worried.

"It's bleeding," Conel whispered.

"Yes, you cut yourself. Let us see. Jenny, go get a Band-Aid."

Jenny nodded and ran off, darting through the small family room, into the bathroom. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out the box of Band-Aids, then ran back into the kitchen. By the time she got back her mother already had Conel standing at the sink, holding his hand under running water.

Conel had emotions warring for dominance over his features. Utter humiliation looked like it was about to win out when he saw the blood again and panic took over. It was usurped by a sort of green-looking tint, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

Jenny's mom took the Band-Aid wordlessly, drying Conel's hand on a papertowel as he watched, holding his own wrist as if it would jump up at him and bite at any moment.

Quietly, Martha put the bandage on his index finger, just below the first joint where he'd sliced it cleanly open with the butcher knife.

"Why don't you go sit down," Martha said softly, "and let me finish up with the tomatoes."

Conel looked like he wanted to protest, but was too sick to do so. He walked very meekly from the room, still holding his hand away from his body.

Jenny watched him go, then raced to her mother as soon as he was out of sight. "Do you think something's wrong with him, Mom?" she asked in a hushed whisper. She didn't want there to be anything wrong with him--she didn't want that of anyone--but at the same time it would be sort of exciting. She squelched that, though, ashamed of herself for even wishing such a thing on another human being.

"I think," Martha said equally as quietly, if quite a bit calmer, "that he's been through a very hard time recently and he needs some rest." The still-clear blue eyes pinned Jenny, and she suddenly felt like a wayward child. "Now go finish with your onions. I swear, sometimes you chop so slowly . . ."

Jenny sighed and slunk off to finish chopping. She hadn't gotten far when there was a familiar rap at the back door, and a head full of light brown hair popped in.

"Hey, Martha! Hey, Jenny! I brought salad--mind if I eat here tonight? Anthony's got his buddies over again." Brendan smiled, almost managing to hide his embarrassment.

He dined with them at least three times a week--Anthony always had his "buddies" over.

"Come in, Brendan," Martha invited cheerfully. "Why don't you put your salad in the refrigerator and go keep our young Conel company? Dinner will be ready shortly--I'm just about to put the noodles in the water, and the hard part of the tomato chopping is already done."

"Thanks, Martha," Brendan said, coming fully into the room and doing as she told him. "Danny says hi, Jenny," he said, slipping out into the family room where Conel was.

Jenny smiled just thinking of Danny. Yup, she liked him a lot. When she looked up, Brendan was gone and her mother was watching her knowingly. "What?" Jenny asked defensively, but grinned in spite of herself.

***

"This is really good," Conel said, still stuffing his mouth with pasta and homemade tomato sauce.

"Thank you, Conel," Martha laughed.

Todd, returned just in time to heat the garlic bread and sit down to dinner, smiled at the dark haired teenager across the table. “You’re staying the night, right?” he asked, as if they’d already discussed it.

Conel blinked, then nodded quickly, his cheek puffed out with unchewed food.

Todd smiled and turned his attention to Brendan. "Brendan, are you staying the night, too?"

Brendan hesitated and glanced at Conel. "Well . . . "

"There's enough room for you two boys in the family room," Todd said cheerily.

"If it's okay with Conel," Brendan said, still unsure.

"Sure," Conel replied, smiling. "The more the merrier, right?"

Brendan chuckled. "Yeah. Okay."

It wasn't much later that they finished dinner. Jenny headed upstairs to shower and change, and missed whatever happened below. When she came back down Brendan was wearing her father's sweatpants and T-shirt, and Conel was in flannel bottoms and a tank top. Her mother had already gone to bed, and the three men sat around the television taking bets on how their sitcom would turn out.

Conel still fingered his hand uneasily, as if it was causing him more pain than it should. Brendan leaned back against the brown recliner, pulling his glasses off and polishing them on his shirt before putting them back on. Somehow, his eyes always looked smaller without his glasses.

Jenny liked him much better with them, but maybe that was because ever since she'd known him--for years and years--he'd had them.

Her father chuckled at something, pointing out a flaw in the logic of the show for the two younger men.

Brendan was practically asleep already, but Conel looked interested. A flash of pain crossed his young features, and he looked down at his hand. His face went pale, and he swallowed, then--it seemed to Jenny--he purposefully looked away.

"Good night, guys!" Jenny called softly. Three heads turned to look up at her. "I'll see you in the morning!"

"Night, Jen!" Brendan called, smiling and showing off his solitary dimple.

"Good night, Jenny," Conel murmured. "And thanks."

"Bed sounds like a good idea," her father grumbled, and pushed himself out of the couch, starting toward the stairs. "You boys behave yourselves tonight," he said, meeting up with Jenny partway up the staircase. He put his hand on her back, a comforting touch, and walked with her the rest of the way to her room.

"Good night, sweetheart," he said, and kissed her forehead before leaving to his own bedroom.

Jenny craned her neck, but she couldn't see the boys anymore--only the flickering light from the television, and hear their occasional laughter.

***

Brendan lay on the soft brown recliner, cheek resting against the fuzzy weave. The world was a comfortable blur without his glasses on, and he could only barely make out Conel's form laying on the couch nearby. Idly, he wondered what was going on at home. And at the same time he was glad he didn't know.

The word was very soft, carried only just barely by the night air. "Brendan?"

Brendan blinked at the low, questioning voice. "Yeah, Conel?"

"You asleep?"

Brendan grinned. "Yeah, Conel. I talk in my sleep."

Conel chuckled ruefully. Brendan could see the shape move, only barely, as though Conel's shoulders shook slightly with the laugh. "Brendan, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he answered, always willing enough to talk.

"How long have you known Jenny and her parents?"

Brendan had to stop and think about it, but at last he answered, "About nine years, I think."

Conel was silent. Brendan breathed quietly, listening to the other teenager.

"What's wrong with Jenny's mom? Martha?"

Brendan frowned slightly. "She has cancer."

"Oh," Conel said, almost silently. "What can they do for that?" he asked after along time.

Brendan wiggled around until he was sitting up a little farther, and answered, "Chemotherapy and stuff. Radiation. Surgery."

"Oh," Conel said again. He was quiet for such a long time that Brendan thought maybe he'd gone to sleep. Then, "Where are your parents?"

Brendan squinted into the dark, trying to make out the features on the blurry shape before him. "My mom and dad divorced when I was little. My mom lives in California, and my dad is on parole." Brendan was quiet, debating whether or not it would be proper to ask questions of his own. Finally, he decided that turnabout was, after all, fair play--and he didn't want to answer anymore questions about his own family. "What about your parents?"

Conel was so silent for so long that Brendan thought he wasn't going to answer. Then, "I guess . . . I guess I don't really have any. It's complicated."

Brendan squirmed up farther, then reached onto the endtable and fumbled until he found his glasses. The world pierced into sharpness as soon as he had them on, and he blinked several times.

Conel was laying on his back, playing with the hem of the blanket idly.

"What happened? I mean, you seem . . . uncomfortable," Brendan asked softly. Conel looked up, and Brendan met dark blue eyes before they flashed away again.

Conel bit his lip, obviously trying to decide something important. Finally, haltingly, he said, "There . . . was an accident. And I--I lost some . . . motor control. I guess." He sighed and propped a leg up, blanket falling to one side.

"You mean like a stroke?" Brendan asked quietly. His heart thumped in his chest, afraid that these questions weren't his to be asking. But Conel could always refuse to answer, his mind whispered to him.

"Sort of," Conel said softly. He looked very sad in the moonlight coming through the window. Like he'd lost something so dear it would never be replaced. "I'm not as strong as I was, or as fast. I get hurt a lot easier."

Brendan itched his nose, then propped his head up on his hand. "But you can regain that, can't you? I mean, physical therapy and stuff."

Conel smiled sadly. "Not through any means of my own, no. But there are doctors working on it while I . . . rest." He sighed and turned over, shifting until Brendan could see his face easier. A thick lock of curly black hair fell over one of Conel's eyes, and the teen didn't bother to brush it out. Brendan considered doing it for him, but guys didn't usually take to that very well. He kept his hands to himself.

He almost said something, and then decided to keep quiet. If Conel wanted to keep talking now, he would. People usually talked to Brendan.

Conel was no exception. "It's scary, y'know? I don't know my own strength anymore. And I'm constantly hurting myself--bruises and stuff. Like I don't even know where my body ends."

"Well," Brendan said slowly, thinking, "on the other hand, even if you don't get your strength and everything back, you'll get used to this and stop hurting yourself. You'll know your own strength."

Conel looked at him briefly, and flashed a travesty of a smile. "Yeah. I think that's what I'm afraid of."

For just a moment, Brendan thought he saw tears in those gorgeous blue eyes. Then Conel looked away, turned so that his back was to Brendan.

"Good night," Conel said softly.

"Good night," Brendan responded. He watched Conel's back a moment more, then took his glasses off and closed his eyes.

*******************************

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Back to the living room