Pairings: Implied Green Arrow/Black Canary
Rating: K+
Categories: Family/Friendship/Angst
Warnings: None
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: Superboy and the case of the lost identity.

Notes: In response to a YJ Anon Meme request for Black Canary taking Superboy under her wing because Superman isn't mentoring him. A lot came up during the process of my writing this and it almost wasn't finished, but I'm glad I was able to pull through. This might have turned out more serious than what was prompted, though I'll leave it up to all of you to decide if it works or not.

This fanfic also takes place prior to the re-airing of Young Justice, so there might be some minor inconsistencies. Credit goes to Keppiehed for editing the story, despite their hectic schedule. If any blatant errors are still present, please point them out! I'm always grateful for the assistance. :)

"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known." – Chuck Palahniuk.

Individuality is new to Superboy. Such a concept is foreign to him, an ideal without weight because he was not taught how to be unique. Killing machines modeled after Superman were not designed with the intent of using freeform thought or creativity, but rather detached mimicry. The G-Gnomes taught him to fight and be an ideal, but what the mind embodied in theory was not easy to accomplish in practice.

It was a difficult lesson to learn, but a stubborn part of Superboy refused to comply. His teammates were not exact copies of their betters, but were on their way to becoming equals. He wanted what they had more than anything – the respect and camaraderie from a superior – but he lacked the understanding of how to achieve this. Superboy struggled, confused about how to break away from his preordained objective without losing it.

He wanted to become everything Superman represented, but he couldn't obtain that the way he was now. All previous attempts to change had ended in failure, and Superboy hated failure, though he hated this helpless sensation more.

That day, in particular, was the embodiment of that feeling. His one-on-one training with Black Canary usually inspired him, for she was permitted to work with Superman, and he always held out hope that, maybe, he'd absorb his characteristics by proxy or experience an epiphany through her guidance. Superboy thought training would help, and he'd grant that he had improved, to a point, as he memorized her techniques.

Except it wasn't enough; it was never enough. Frustration returned and grew as Superboy remained powerless to reach his goals.

"You're getting sloppy," Black Canary reprimanded him, deflecting his punch and sending him tumbling to the ground.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, blocking out the world lest he lash out at it. He wanted to be in control of his negative emotions, not be controlled by them, but it was a losing battle. Superboy rolled over onto his hands and knees and pounded the ground with his knuckles.

"I'm trying!" he snapped, and wished he could take the petty words back. Superman did not admit weakness and neither should he, much less in the presence of his instructor.

"I know," Black Canary said, and Superboy's eyes widened a fraction where she couldn't see them, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. The touch was unlike her other gestures – her fists were furious and agile things. This…this was warm – soft – gentle. He did not know what it meant, but his shoulders eased under her hand.

She removed it too soon and stepped back, returning to her stance.

"Now get up and face me."

Superboy rose to his feet, the patch of skin under his dark shirt tingling where Black Canary had made contact. Later, he would learn that the meaning he sought was 'comforting'.

Robin was sparring with Black Canary, having switched with Artemis, when the thirty minute exercise became too much. This week she held the record for endurance, outlasting the team in their mock contest. Superboy did not understand their need for competition, though Kaldur had reasoned with him that it did boost morale and was incentive to improve. He didn't argue, but mentally he considered it counterproductive and did not participate as eagerly as the others, such as Wally, who had a betting pool going on the side.

He was here to experience and improve, focusing on how Black Canary moved. The way she carried herself was a mystery to Superboy. Despite the varied ways he analyzed the situation, his sharp sight didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary. Nothing happened on that battlefield that she did not want. Her combat style was intense and brutal but graceful and sure. The strange combination had Superboy concentrating so intently that he missed his teammate speaking to him.

His lack of attention earned him a jab to the ribs that he didn't register, but instead he spotted the motion out of his peripheral vision. He looked away from the fight to see Wally there, leaning against him now that he had Superboy's attention.

"Checking Teach out a little closely there, eh, eh?"

His eyebrows spasmed in a way Superboy had seen a few times, but that had only occurred when around M'gann thus far.

"How else am I supposed to learn?" he asked.

"'Learning', yeah, sure, if that's what you want to call it," Wally said, voice carrying a tune as he spoke. "Can't say as I blame you. What guy wouldn't want her to tutor them on the side with that get up?"

"Her uniform is unrestrictive," Superboy agreed.

"I'm not quite sure we're having the same conversation here, Supey."

"Kid Flash, you're up!" Black Canary announced as a sweaty Robin made it to the sidelines. He didn't appear to have suffered nearly as many knock downs as the others that had taken their turns, but he also seemed the most worn out.

Beside him, Wally sighed and approached the center of the room, and Superboy was left alone to observe in uninterrupted silence. He watched the way Black Canary's muscles subtly shifted under her costume, a notion forming.

Later, Superboy approached his teammates. Most of them were in the lounge area with the television and sofa, and he took a stance in front of the giant screen to demand their undivided attention.

"What's up, Supes? You need something?" Robin deadpanned as he paused the game he and Wally were playing.

He nodded and said, "I need to go shopping."

That caused Artemis, who was sharpening her weapons on the couch, as well as both boys to perk up.

"What for?" she asked eagerly.

Superboy held out a sheet of paper with a list jotted in his scrawled handwriting. Attached with a paperclip were magazine clippings of various items. Wally snatched it and glanced at everything, as Robin and Artemis did the same over his shoulder. The redhead's face turned a shade that borderline matched his hair and then so did Artemis'. Robin frowned and scratched his chin as he analyzed the clippings.

"Um, Supey, what do you need these things for?" Wally asked and earned a harsh elbow to the shoulder blades from Artemis. "I mean, not that I'm judging – 'cause in our line of work who am I to say what makes for good costume design? – but this is…" He trailed off and waved the photos around.

"My wardrobe no longer suits my needs," he explained. "Why? Can you not help?"

"Some of these items might be difficult to find in your size on short notice, but nothing's impossible," Robin filled in and deftly grabbed the sheets of paper from his friend's hand.

"Yeah, we can definitely help," Artemis said. A glint showed in her eyes. "Especially to purchase that tight fitting-"

"Hey, Artemis? Remember that whole TMI thing we discussed?" Wally interrupted her and earned another jab.

At the mall, matters didn't improve. Superboy had visited once, but he had been alone with Wally. The addition of two people made matters slightly more hectic; he was pulled in so many different directions and tried on more clothes than he felt comfortable with.

"Dude, what's wrong with Forever 16? That's where he found stuff he liked last time!" Wally could be heard arguing with Artemis, as they had for the entirety of the trip.

"He doesn't want preppy. He wants punk! Goth! Get it right."

"Oh, come on!"

During the scuffle, Robin grabbed Superboy by the shirt sleeve and guided him toward an outlet farther down. He didn't fight the pull, but did drag his feet a little until he saw where he was being taken. A dimly-lit store blaring hard rock music was hidden back in a corner.

"Let those two amateurs hash it out by themselves," Robin said, leading him inside. "By the time they come to a consensus we should be finished."

There were racks of silk and leather clothes; chains and neon plastic accessories hanging on the wall; and cases showing off sharp, metallic jewelry. A girl at the checkout counter had on bright hot pink makeup and multiple piercings, her hair in a rainbow Mohawk. She offered them a smile.

He glanced down at Robin after his assessment and nodded in approval. His friend smirked and helped him browse the selection, going off his checklist as closely as possible.

"Okay, the fishnets I can tell you aren't worth the hassle, but we can substitute with some mesh shirts," Robin instructed, and Superboy listened attentively. He accepted Robin's advice; he was at a loss without him and was grateful for his expertise in the area. Robin had an impressive insight into clothing, citing personal experience and giving Superboy a wide selection to choose from.

They bought a good supply of mesh undershirts, black leather pants, some belts, and red fingerless gloves. He paid using the money Batman had allotted each member of the team and left to meet up with Wally and Artemis again.

That's when they talked him into a haircut.

Superboy felt self-conscious the next day wearing his new clothes and sporting a shorter hairstyle along the side of his head. Not for the first time, he experienced doubt: doubt in his ability to make good decisions and doubt in who he was. He thought a physical change would spark something within himself, but he felt no more empowered today than he had yesterday. It was disheartening.

Then Black Canary met him in the hallway, doing a double take when she caught sight of him. He ducked his head, the uncut hairs on top almost shrouding his eyes, but he still watched for her rejection.

It never came.

A slow smile graced her painted lips as she stepped closer and gave his pierced ear a light tug. He'd adorned a hoop earring at Artemis' suggestion and pierced it by hand, as no instrument was powerful enough to break his skin.

"Looking smooth there, Tiger. Love the new duds, though I'm glad you kept the shirt. I remember you working hard on that logo."

He could only stare dumbly as she spoke, ill-equipped on how to respond.

"Don't be late for training. I've got some important news at the end of the session," she advised, unperturbed by his lack of reply.

Black Canary walked off toward the area reserved for combat simulations and Superboy watched her go, a hand tentatively reaching up to his ear. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger along the metal, a kind of accomplishment filling him at deciding to get it.

His good mood didn't last. Black Canary's 'important news' entailed a two week reprieve. Everyone, save him, was excited at the information. The team returned to their families or homes – even M'gann, whose presence was requested by her uncle, J'ohnn. He would be alone with no distractions for days, and he'd resigned himself to a boring existence for the next couple of weeks when Black Canary approached him.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked, leaning on an elbow on the kitchen countertop.

He'd been staring listlessly into his cereal, so he nodded his head for her to continue.

"It's not much, but I run a business," Black Canary began and took a seat across from him. "I could use some part time help, if you're interested. I think you'd be apt at it."

Superboy didn't even wait for details; he got to his feet and volunteered on the spot. Members of the League didn't request help, not lightly, and he vowed to accomplish the task she'd bestow him or die trying.

Somehow, planting and selling flowers did not quite fit what he'd envisioned. Not that Superboy had a clear idea of what Black Canary did for a living, but creating bouquets was not his first guess. She was skilled at the inner workings of this establishment, though, and never again could he imagine her doing anything else as passionately. Her mastery as a florist reflected her fervor for strategic and tactical warfare, as her hands arranged flowers into wreaths and sowed seeds in the same precise way she was able to deal with her opponents.

By comparison, his hands were clumsy. The plants were delicate and bent or shed petals at the slightest touch invoked by him. Superboy did not like watching the flowers Black Canary had striven to help flourish as they withered or crumbled under his attention, but she was as patient with him here as she was with him in training. She sensed his irritation and redirected it accordingly, assigning him smaller tasks that he could become efficient at and then guiding him in bigger and bigger duties.

"You move the soil, like this, and then add some water to get it settled. Not too much, you don't want to drown it," Black Canary advised, though here, in this place, she insisted he refer to her by her civilian name: Dinah. She guided his hands with hers.

He found he enjoyed the sensation of getting his hands dirty, of accomplishing a long day's work. Superboy didn't realize it was possible to be happy outside of fighting crime, training or spending time with his teammates, but by the third day he was preparing pots and planting seeds on his own. Black Canary had been correct – he was good at this, he had a talent. Superboy was reluctant to move onto another task by the middle of the first week. The practice of turning dirt and setting seeds relaxed him once he got into a rhythm.

But he did not protest when that time came. Dinah demonstrated the results of what his labor would become. The selection at her shop was immense, despite the limited space with which she was forced to contend. There were cut flowers already in vases or containers in custom refrigerators to keep until sold and others grouped in separate containers to be individually picked. What space wasn't taken up by supplies was left for the growing variety that Superboy had helped cultivate, the weather outside allowing any excess to overflow to the sidewalk to be showcased.

"Roses are going to become popular again soon," Dinah said, indicating a section of wall dedicated to various showy colored blooms.

He knew what those ones were, even before he'd accepted the apron he'd been handed upon entering this shop. What he didn't expect were the intense smells, how soft and vibrant the petals were. Cadmus, while expert in the field of science, had failed in some respects – he'd been shown the world, but not how wonderful it could be.

"So will lilies and carnations. The holidays are always busy. I'm glad you're here because you'll be a great help to me when the customers start coming in droves," she continued, running a finger along one of the flowers before choosing it to go in a box with other long-stemmed roses.

"Why?" he blurted, already wishing he could clarify his question.

Superboy did not intend to sound unappreciative for his invitation here, but he wondered at the significance of those three flowers. As far as he could figure, there was little connection between foliage and celebratory events. He wasn't aware of the importance of this business to begin with, but hesitated in voicing his thoughts that far. The last thing he wanted was to offend her after she'd provided him a chance to experience life outside Mount Justice.

Thankfully, Dinah seemed to understand and picked another red rose. She held it up for him to see and explained, "Flowers are symbolic, Superboy. Not only do the plants themselves have meaning, but so do their individual colors. A red rose signifies love, but a red carnation stands for admiration. Adversely, a white rose represents purity, innocence and humility. Lilies, in general, signify majesty."

She smiled as she turned back to finish her work. There wasn't a reason for Superboy to suspect anything was wrong, but his gut was telling him that, somehow, Dinah seemed sad. He remembered Wally giving his tummy a pat and saying that intuition was the body's subconscious impulses warning him, and Robin had added that it could be the indicator that could mean the difference between life or death. After they had instructed him about such an impression, he tried trusting his instincts a little bit more. It was strange that it occurred now, but he did not ignore it.

"Though truthfully…no one pays attention to that sort of thing, not nowadays. People rush in and out, worrying more about their schedules than what they're buying. Provided it's big and expensive, that's all anyone cares to consider."

"I," Superboy started, speech stunted as he tried to gather his thoughts, until he decided to plow onwards when that failed. "I care."

Internally, he was puzzled behind the reasoning for admitting that. He wasn't sure it was true, but at the same time, he didn't think it untrue. Superboy was naturally curious about everything around him – what could it hurt, if he were to learn something harmless like this? The others, his friends, they had extracurricular activities that were unrelated to saving the populace.

This…could be his.

Steeling his jaw, he glanced around and pointed to a nearby bundle of yellow flowers on tall stalks.

"Those ones, what are they and what do they mean?" he demanded, harsher than he intended, but his determination brought out a tone in his voice he often couldn't control.

Dinah stared at him, long and hard, and then inclined her head to inspect the plants in question.

"Sunflowers," she said, pronouncing the name slowly. "They can characterize happiness, adoration and longevity. Negatively, they can also denote infatuation or foolish passion."

He filed the information away and pointed to many more; Dinah unfailingly recited the information. They continued this practice long past closing time, Superboy wanting to memorize each sample in the shop and Dinah obliging him.

"Thank you, and come again," Superboy said, handing the customer their change and purchase.

He'd been promoted to cashier. Up until the weekend he'd been limited to restocking, preparation work and inventory. His super strength had come in handy when carting around the heavier, bulkier merchandise, like bags of topsoil or cement urns. He had caught up with Dinah's backlogs and, as she'd forewarned, an onslaught of people arrived.

Superboy took over what he could, despite his misgivings concerning social interaction. The shop was claustrophobic with the number of people, and their chatter hurt his ears if he ceased focusing. He imagined this must be akin to what M'gann experienced surrounded by so many open-minded individuals if she, too, wasn't vigilant.

"You're not Dinah," the next customer in line accused him upon her approach to the counter. She appeared older than Dinah, and Superboy identified her attire as motorcyclist apparel from the times the team had adorned leathers. She reminded him of that mohawked girl in the mall, only this woman had double the piercings and makeup.

"She's in the back assisting someone else. I'm the new hired help," he said, minding his voice from becoming too gruff. Dinah had stated that it was a worthy intimidation tactic in battle, but not for business. Superboy wanted her shop to succeed, so he strove extra hard not to relapse and repeated the phrases she'd made him practice to say to customers.

"How may I assist you today?"

"My boy needs a corsage for a shindig tonight. You got any for sale, hotstuff?"

He glowered at her, unthrilled with the nickname, but directed her toward the case that kept such items. She nabbed one she claimed would match the date's outfit, though Superboy wanted to recommend an alternate choice. He thought that particular corsage would convey the wrong meaning – Dinah's guidance expanding his expertise on the matter significantly – but refrained from voicing his opinion. He'd already received backlash for arguing with the clients and didn't wish to be lectured a fifth time that evening.

"Will that be everything?" he asked.

"Yep. Tell Di that her old friend Sophia stopped in and said hi, will you?" she requested, and thanked him for the service, alongside flashing a hand sign he didn't recognize. Her middle and ring finger were pointed down and pinky, pointer and thumb stuck out. It didn't resemble any insulting gesture criminals had directed at him in the past, so he used it right back and hoped she wouldn't take offense.

"I will."

Moving to assist the next customer in line, there was a commotion out front. The woman he'd just served gave an alarmed shout as her wallet was snatched. The chain it was attached to gave way when one of the thugs took it, and the thief rushed off.

Spurred into action, Superboy leapt over the counter – leaving customers gasping in surprise – and ran after the crook and his associates. The criminals had a lead on him, and Superboy considered lifting the sidewalk entirely to remove their chance at escape. He got as far as setting his fingertips on the cement before recalling an incident on a bridge with Superman, his hands faltering.

No, Black Canary had taught him better than this.

He resumed his sprint and jumped into the air, estimating his landing to be in front of the culprit. The man rammed into his chest and rebounded hard to the ground. Before he could consider fleeing a second time, Superboy grabbed a fistful of his collar and lifted him off his feet.

"Return the woman's wallet and say you're sorry!" he yelled, gaze narrowing.

The thief's buddies scrambled to assist, but two of them cried out in sharp pain as their arms were twisted by Dinah's expert grip. She'd emerged after the sounds of an upheaval and pursued them, twisting their wrists when they reached for knives hidden in their shirts.

"Don't even," she warned them, tightening her hold, and they dropped the weapons as their nerves were pinched. "Your life isn't worth risking over a wallet."

They continued to struggle, so Dinah flipped them over onto their behinds.

The last of the group, a scrawny kid who couldn't be older than Superboy, tried to jump him from behind. He easily intercepted the boy with his freehand and tossed him to join the rest of his posse. Still keeping a firm grip on the thief, he carried him over to the customer and dropped him to the ground at her feet. He stuttered past an apology and handed over her wallet. A policeman already on the scene (he'd purchased a cactus because he claimed his wife continuously forgot to water plants) carted them off to the local station.

"Wowie Jehoshaphat," Sophia said, turning to glance at Dinah as she approached. "This kid? He's a keeper, Di."

Superboy's ears felt hot at the compliment and at the murmurings around him.

"Was that…is he Superman?"

"Nah, the hair's all wrong."

"He sure was brave like the Man of Steel, though!"

Unaccustomed to the recognition, his ears continued to burn as they intercepted conversations. The covert missions he primarily frequented didn't exhibit this level of publicity – that's why they were known as covert. The attention here was stifling, disruptive, and…nice.

"Yeah," he managed to hear Dinah say over the din, catching her eyes in his surprise. "He sure is, Sophia."

"Come on, hero," Dinah addressed him later that evening, after closing. "How's pizza at my place sound?"

It sounded too good to be true. She gave him a peculiar look and he realized he'd spoken his thoughts aloud by mistake.

"Consider it your reward for a good workout today," she said in addition.

He nodded, hung his apron up next to hers and followed Dinah to her motorcycle out back. She offered him a helmet, though he didn't require the protection. And he couldn't explain it, but the trip to her apartment was amazing. She went fast, took risks, and though he'd driven a motorbike previously on his own, this time it felt like what he imagined free flying must feel like.

Everything he did, everything he touched, was done with a delicacy to rival the actions he'd begun to undertake in his daily life. Superboy feared breaking her furniture, toppling over breakables or sneezing too hard and misplacing the order that encompassed the place. He took his time pulling out the bar chair stationed at the island in her kitchen as she ordered delivery. Over the months he'd assumed more and more balance between his powers, but right then he didn't trust himself.

"You can relax," Dinah said, noticing his discomfort. "I've had to replace more than one set of furniture and I'll have to do so again. Apparently, coffee tables can't withstand karate."

Realizing after a beat that it was a joke, he smiled.

"You're welcome to my spare bedroom, if you'd like. I meant to say so earlier, but it's impractical to Zeta Beam you to Mount Justice each night when you're just going to return the next day," she offered. "It's not much, but-"

"Okay," he said, wanting to agree before she had the chance to change her mind.

That night, while lying in the bedroom closet with his hands resting at his sides and staring blankly at the folding doors, he was unable to rest.

He wondered how Super Canary or Canary Boy would work. Neither of them had the right ring to them, and it hurt to realize but he continued to dream regardless.

Maybe, he thought as he finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he could make up his own. Red Crow, White Eagle or something that showed where he might be a legacy he could carry because rarely did he consider himself worthy of carrying anything else.

Superboy answered the front door since he was the closest, an insistent knocking interrupting their breakfast. A man with a beard stood there, holding dozens of red and pink heart shaped candy boxes tied with green ribbon.

"Hello! Special delivery for my… You're not Dinah."

Accustomed to that sort of reaction at this point, Superboy simply stared and waited. It was obvious that he wasn't, and as such the statement shouldn't require his input. No further comment was forthcoming, however, so Superboy glanced down at the packages.

"Are those for her?"

"Yes. Tell her they're from Ol-"

He accepted them on Dinah's behalf, shutting the door on the man's face now that the transaction was complete. He retreated to the kitchen, setting the items down on the island countertop.

"Who was that at the door?" she asked, eying the assorted gifts.

"FedEx, I think."

The man with the beard was back the next day. Superboy frowned at the sight of him. He didn't come bearing packages this time, but instead was empty-handed and loitered about the shop.

Superboy didn't like this.

He narrowed his eyes and watched his every movement as the stranger approached the counter, and Superboy went so far as to cross his arms over his chest.

"Is Dinah in?"

"She's busy."

"When will she have a free moment?"

"Don't know."

"Could you ask her?"

"No."

To his dissatisfaction, Dinah chose that moment to make her reappearance, carrying a wedding arrangement. The man bustled to assist her and greeted Dinah excitedly. Superboy not-so-discretely cut him off before he could reach her, pushing the swinging door attached to the checkout counter open to permit her past. The paneling worked as a barrier, the man grimacing as the door dug into his gut.

Dinah gave them both withering looks, not fooled by their sudden display. The bearded man was cowed, but Superboy stared ahead, unapologetic.

"Ollie, it's good to see you. What can I do for you?" Dinah asked.

"I wanted to check that you received my gifts."

"I figured they must be from you. They were quite numerous."

"That's not all you have to say about them, do you?"

They exchanged conversation for awhile, Superboy glowering at this 'Ollie' fellow, though Dinah was not intimidated. He wouldn't worry if she didn't, but that didn't stop Superboy from hating him.

Tomorrow marked the end of the team's reprieve. Superboy would glance at the clock periodically, despondent whenever he saw that the hands had moved.

His mood worsened throughout the day; until he worried his frown would be enough to wilt the plants within the shop. He couldn't prevent the expression, though, as his control was focused elsewhere.

Five o'clock rolled around, and it was with the greatest reluctance that he started closing. He did as much as he could tidying up, but Dinah ran a clean business, so he was finished all too soon.

"You can keep the uniform," Dinah told him, catching him in the process of hanging his apron on the hook designated to him. His fingers clutched the material harder, despite his relief. "This business has a lot of ups and downs. I could use your help later, if you want."

He nodded, not trusting his voice.

Something wasn't right – Superboy could sense that something was off in Mount Justice. He didn't realize what the disturbance was in the beginning because he'd been asleep, but his body was programmed to wake alert and astute.

There were two presences near the hanger that he detected, his superior hearing picking up additional voices. By process of elimination, he knew it wasn't his teammates because they were in their respective bedrooms; he could hear the consistent and soothing rhythm of Kaldur's breathing and what constituted as M'gann's lifeblood flowing through her body. Superboy recognized Dinah's anywhere, the time spent under her tutelage at the cave and working for her allowing him the opportunity to pick up on the unique identifiers that were simply her.

And Superman was the only one he knew with a strength in everything he did and was, even his heartbeat a steady thrum of power.

He exited the closet he substituted as his bed, hands gripping the doors tight enough for the tips of his fingers to pierce its exterior.

Superman was here and he found it difficult to believe. He listened with an increased attentiveness, forcing himself under control. Superboy wanted to leap through the layers of stone and straight to their location to see that Superman was really present with his own eyes. Not wanting to come off as an overeager fool in front of his idol, he refrained – his time spent with the team had taught him the benefits of patience and reconnaissance.

"Red Tornado informed me that you two had convened to discuss matters on the young recruits," he heard Superman saying to Dinah.

Superboy surmised that he was eavesdropping in the middle of a taut, drawn out conversation, and he closed his eyes to aid his other senses. He did not want to miss anymore of the conversation than he already had.

"Yes. He was updating me on the living situation here and the team's social progress," she confirmed, not a single hint of her thoughts showing in her voice. "Relations are improving, though they still have a long way to go until they're League material. I'm thinking it's time to incorporate more team building exercises in their training regimen. But that's not what you're here to talk to me about, is it?"

There was a drawn out pause, where Superboy frowned. He wished he had a visual, unsure as he was about what was happening.

"True. There have been…rumors spread through the news, lately. People are noticing activity in areas outside our reach. For now they're limited to the tabloids, but it won't be long until the secret is out."

"Let me guess – you've read a few that are cause for your concern, right?"

Another pause, longer than the first, made Superboy almost wonder if Superman and Dinah had left the grounds. If it weren't for their natural symphony, he would have been convinced that they were gone. A swishing noise, like a cape shifting, filled the silence until Superman's voice started back up again.

"I am…was worried, but I see now that he's in good hands. Reports of Superboy being spotted in your city were made. He looked different in the photographs for the papers. I almost didn't recognize him," he said.

"Yeah," Dinah said, a strange lilt entering her tone. "You know, when I was his age, I went through that fad, too. Most kids do, when they crave attention. Even someone like you must have gone through the same phase, right?"

"I remember," Superman admitted. "I'm just glad he's not going through it alone."

"He could do better."

"Black Canary…"

"You know as well as I that Superboy is compensating. He doesn't need a replacement like me – he needs his hero, his pillar, his mentor. It should be you guiding his hand, but instead I'm picking up the slack."

"That's not-"

"What are you so afraid of?" Dinah interjected.

Superboy unknowingly held his breath in anticipation of the answer, waiting for Superman's denial because what could possibly frighten the greatest man alive?

"Please don't sell yourself short. You're setting a great example for the kids. You, Batman and Red Tornado have positive qualities to pass on. There is nothing that I can add to this situation that isn't already being established."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I did," Superman said, an edge entering his tone that prevented challenge. "Look, I have to go. There's a circumstance in India that requires my immediate attention. I think you understand."

"Sure."

They exchanged last minute pleasantries and left not too long apart, but Superboy remained stock still – standing upright in the center of his room, where the acoustics were better. His head was tilted back and at an angle, listening when there was no longer a reason to. For the rest of the night he stayed this way, left with much to think about.

And the more he thought about it, the less he liked the conclusions he drew.

Superboy's skin crawled and itched, as if he were no longer suitable to wear it. The fit was all wrong.

His teammates noticed his discomfort and mood swings with no trouble. Robin's astute observation skills were not required to see that he was having difficulty adjusting to something. He was confronted throughout the day; Kaldur offered his services as a listener if he wished to confide in him and Artemis approached him with the suggestion that they spar.

The breaking point came without any sudden change or reasoning. One moment he was sitting on the couch as M'gann experimented with three recipes at once in the kitchen and the entire space was peaceful, and the next Superboy rushed to his feet and ripped off his jacket. He did so with such force that he shredded the toughened fabric in half. The action startled his teammate to splatter food across cabinets and the floor as her powers flung it away in a subconscious defensive maneuver.

"S-Superboy?" she asked, wiping sauce off her face as she watched him continue shredding the leather coat into tiny, useless pieces. It was unrecognizable when he was finished with it, the strips scattered across the floor.

He didn't respond as he stormed to his room, working on ruining his mesh shirt as he went. The attire was easier to wreck than the jacket, the thin material tearing as the barest hint of his fingers came into contact with the fabric. He slammed and locked the door behind him and proceeded to the closet, where he pulled out every new piece of clothing he'd obtained. First, he tossed them to the middle of the room, and when there was nothing but black T's with red insignias and blue pants, he attacked without mercy.

In his awakened rage, he couldn't distinguish one piece from another, and used his bare hands or teeth to destroy all of it – even the belts. Nothing went untouched and he kneeled amongst the piles of mismatched fabric, panting. Superboy wasn't sure what he'd hoped to accomplish during the stint, but emptiness was what he found.

A tentative knock came from his door and M'gann called to him. He keyed in on her voice, but refused to answer. Kaldur and Robin joined her, a flurry of exchanges made as they were informed of the situation.

"Superboy? Please respond," Kaldur ordered, the tone of voice he reserved for his leadership role entering his speech.

"Go away!"

"Well, what did you expect? You said 'respond', not that he had to be nice about it," he heard Robin say through the layers of stone. A little bit louder, he said, "Hey Supes, can you open up?"

"No. Go away!"

There was some shuffling, and his ears picked up on the sound of metal clinking with metal. Comprehending what was happening, Superboy slammed his back against the door to prevent entry, a surprised shout escaping his teammates and what sounded like Robin's lock picks dropping to the floor. For hours he remained huddled against the door, Wally and Artemis joining the other members at some point.

"Come on, Supey! You trust us, don't you? Whatever's bothering you, we can talk through this," Wally tried reasoning with him. "You don't have to leave your room, if you don't want to. Just…vent through the wall."

After his lack of a response, Artemis huffed and told Wally, "Shove over!" and must have kneeled in front of the door because her voice sounded closer to his level.

"This is ridiculous, Superboy! Friends don't lock friends out. It's obvious you're upset and we want to help, but we can't do that if you're hiding where we can't reach you."

"Dude! Don't patronize the guy." Wally reprimanded her, a noise like shoulders connecting too subtle for normal hearing, but Superboy picked it up easily. "Pressuring him is so not the correct course of action."

"Oh yeah? You allowing him to wallow in whatever self-pity he's experiencing can't be healthy, so why don't you take your misguided bro-attitude and put it where the sun don't-"

"Enough!" Kaldur said, effectively silencing Artemis and Wally's argument before it could get heated. "This is neither the time nor the place for such a dispute."

"He's right," a new voice agreed. Superboy's forehead lifted from his knees as he detected Dinah's presence. "I'll take over from here, you five. Give us some privacy."

Everyone filed away, dragging their feet, but soon enough it was only her and Superboy left in that wing of the underground base. He waited to see what her next move would be. Rarely did she visit Mount Justice outside of meeting with League members or training the younger heroes, and he didn't know what to expect in this situation.

"I am going to give you until the count of three to open this door," she said steadily but very seriously. "If you don't have it open by then, I'm going to scream. That is your only warning."

Dinah got to the count of 'one' when Superboy stood on numb legs and unlocked the door, his chin tucked into his chest. She nodded her head in his direction and surveyed the room, taking stock of the mess he'd made and the short supply left in his closet. Without another word, she approached his bed and sat down, and Superboy closed the door behind her. There was a dent in it where he'd slammed his body, but it went ignored.

"How much did you hear?" Dinah asked.

She cut to the chase, and Superboy respected her for that. Her ability to mince words normally made conversation easy to deal with, but this was personal.

He steeled his jaw and said, "You're not a replacement."

"So pretty far along in the conversation, then."

"You're not a replacement!" Superboy reiterated, unsure if she was even listening. He wanted her to understand because then at least one of them would.

"I think," she slowly said, "that might have been a poor choice of words on my part. 'Replacement' has a bit of a different meaning for you, and I wasn't implying that anyone is expendable or inadequate. I'm confident in my abilities and guiding all of you is an honor I take very seriously, but I do have my limitations.

"There exist some areas I cannot teach you – ones that you will have to discover on your own or be shown by a specialist in your field of expertise. For Robin it's Batman, for Miss Martian it's her uncle Martian Manhunter, and for you-"

"I know where I'm not wanted," Superboy interrupted.

Dinah breathed deeply and patted the spot of the bed that wasn't occupied, motioning for Superboy to join her. He maneuvered closer and slumped onto the covers, the entire back side of the mattress bouncing off the frame with his added weight, and a spring or two might have broken. He'd forgotten that beds were fragile, unaccustomed as he was to using them.

"That may be true, for now. I can't fathom why Superman is acting the way he is. I have my assumptions, but that's nothing concrete to go off of," she began. "But make no mistake: he'll come around. While you wait, there's a chance to evaluate yourself, so when the time comes you'll be ready."

"But, I…" Superboy started, and cut himself off when he couldn't gather his thoughts.

The entire situation was messed up, and everything was jumbled in his head, cluttered beyond repair. Both of his hands gripped his head as he tried to sort out his thoughts. But it was unlike anything he'd come across in the past, and language was not his strong point. The harder his attempt to sort things out became, the more his head hurt.

An arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, neither pulling nor pushing, and Superboy froze at the contact.

"Let me clue you in on a little secret, Superboy," Dinah said, leaning in and speaking in a whisper. "People aren't born knowing who they are. Even after they've reached adulthood, some go through the rest of their lives wondering. You have an opportunity to do something few people are allotted, and that's exploring what constitutes as you. Take a few days off, get some soul-searching done."

"How do I do that? How can I tell what's him and what's me?" he asked.

There wasn't a sure answer.

Superboy was excused from assignments until further notice, with Dinah personally confronting Batman with an explanation. He'd protested, demanding to know what would happen if his powers were needed, but Dinah hadn't held back and argued that he was a liability in the state he was in. Thus, for the most part, he was left to his own devices.

He'd been instructed to 'soul-search' – to ascertain who he was as an individual, though his confidence in accomplishing such a task was minimal. His previous attempts were blunders, and Superboy was perplexed about where to go from here. His instinct was to ask for advice, but he was not on comfortable speaking terms with the other team members after his outburst. Their pity was smothering and distracting, so he sought solitude outdoors.

Wandering the boardwalk of Happy Harbor did nothing for his concentration. The local residents and tourists amassed to great numbers that left him claustrophobic no matter what hour he went. This limited him to Mount Justice's immediate surroundings, walking the same beach and rocky paths.

It was during one of his excursions that he stumbled across the beginning of a revelation. He had been rock climbing a short ways up the dormant volcano that housed their secret base of operations, mostly for a lack of something to keep his mind occupied. There was a short outcropping that he sat on and surveyed the scenery, taking in the sight of the ocean, grassy fields, forests – this place he was forced to call home.

As he rested back on his hands something soft brushed them, and he glanced down to see a splash of color partially hidden under a rock. He could see a small, purplish bloom as he pushed aside the stone. Superboy was caught by surprise that such a delicate plant could survive in the conditions that existed at this altitude with so very little resources for it to tap into. Idly, he contemplated plucking it to admire later, but gently replaced the rock to its original position. If the flower had survived this far on its own, he reasoned, then it deserved to be left in peace.

Superboy was reminded of Dinah's talk about blossoms and their meanings, that each color and species was unique. There was a small library in the nearby city that he could use to research what this flower represented. With that in mind, he leapt off the side of the cliff with no regard spared for the several story drop he faced, intent on reaching his destination.

Gentiana verna: integrity, injustice, intrinsic worth.

The librarian, whose nametag read 'Addison', was eager to aid Superoy in his search, which had quickly escalated to all things gardening and plant related. There were magazines on the subject, along with self-help books with tips on cultivating vegetables, fruits, trees – everything imaginable.

"This should be the last one," Addison stated, placing a book on the extremely large stack Superboy clutched in one hand. Both arms were filled with all the agricultural reading material the library carried, though he handled the amount without breaking a sweat despite how the piles towered past his head.

"Thank you," he said.

Superboy found a spot by the windows and sat down to browse through the collection, skimming through most of the information. He anticipated that he was getting close to a breakthrough, and that somewhere in this jumble of literature was the solution to his problems.

If only he could find it.

The sun rose to its zenith and set during his browsing stint, the quantity of unread books having reduced significantly, but he was no closer to figuring out answers to the many questions he had.

Frustrated, he shut another book and shoved it across the floor to join the rest of the unhelpful material. Footsteps on tiled floor came from behind the heap he'd made, the librarian from earlier replaced by an elderly woman in a business suit.

"I'm sorry, young man, but we're about to close. If you'd prefer, we can provide you with a card and you can check out some of these for a couple days," she advised.

He shook his head. Superboy was disappointed that his research hadn't gone well, though he tried to console himself with the reminder that Dinah said not everyone succeeded in discovering their true selves in a single lifetime, but it rang hollow.

"Very well. Then have a good night," the librarian said.

Politely, she excused herself to start gathering the books he'd discarded and prepared to put them back on the shelves. Her fingers hovered over a small book buried under a few periodicals, a smile gracing her face.

"Oh, I remember this. My grandson is a farm boy at heart and is coming into himself. I bought this one for him to help with his personal garden. His parents, bless their hearts, let him have a small area in their backyard all to himself. I think he's grown as much as his corn has! Did you find this useful, too?"

He glanced over her shoulder to see the particular book she indicated: a beginner's introduction to gardening. He'd dismissed it as too juvenile because it was explained in a narrative intended for children, but hearing the woman's tale made him reconsider its value.

"On second thought, I would like to check this out," Superboy said, accepting it back. Reconsidering, he found a couple others to check out, as well, that he remembered being similar.

He subsequently apologized to each of his teammates the next day.

The act itself was no longer an issue, though he felt guiltier with each instance he'd made up to this point because needing to reconcile meant he'd made a mistake. A serious mistake at the cost of the same individuals who were closer than best friends and bonded tighter than blood relatives, as far as he was concerned. He'd say he was sorry as often as it took and work to earn their forgiveness, each time with a silent promise not to repeat his errors.

Superboy trudged into the common room carrying a sack of top soil under one arm and rubbing the back of his neck as he made his apology. In spite of his unease, Superboy strove to look each of them – M'gann, Wally, Kaldur, Robin and Artemis – in the eye. To refrain from doing so would otherwise be cowardly.

"You will always have our pardon, Superboy, and a place on this squad," Kaldur said after his apology and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We would have continued to wait for your return, if that is what you needed. Are you sure you are prepared?"

"I'm done wasting my life," he confirmed.

"We're glad to hear it. Way to take an initiative, SB," Artemis chimed in, offering him a smile and nod of approval.

"Yeah, fighting crime was lame without you," Wally said. He zoomed over to his side with the sack of dirt and gave it several rapid pokes. "What's with this thing, by the way?"

Apprehensive, he shifted the load and gazed into each of their faces, detailing his plan of action.

Kaldur was tending to the herb garden and using his Water-Bearers to control a steady stream of fresh water to moisten the ground.

Robin and Wally had teamed up to carry the containers of plant food and other supplies, spreading the contents over the assortment of plants using specialized tools and super speed, respectively.

To one side, Artemis was weeding.

"You're supposed to dig in so far, in a straight path, like this, and then sprinkle the seeds overtop of it," Superboy told M'gann.

They were kneeling close together on the ground, in a patch of land that had been cultivated for simple crops like carrots. With his initial instruction from Dinah and his additional studies on the subject, he was able to show the others what he'd learned and how to apply it. As he guided M'gann's hands in the correct way, the Martian had to tilt the sunhat she'd generated out of the way.

"This is much easier than cooking the finished product," M'gann said as they covered the rows of vegetable seeds, "though I can't wait until I can try! Most chefs on the cooking channel recommend home grown food, rather than processed."

"In a couple weeks these should be fully grown and can be harvested," he added, surveying their work so far.

The group was warned that nothing apparent could be planted because Mount Justice was still a hideaway, and obvious signs of life could blow the team's cover. However, there was enough growth to make a small clearing under the cover of trees and native wild flowers were permitted since they would blend in. Everyone was doing their part to join in and Superboy was grateful for their input. He was glad to be involved in something that created, as opposed to destroyed.

Superboy sat on the grass amidst the evidence of that day's hard labor, resting back on his hands. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was at peace. He inclined his head at someone's advance – possibly Dinah's, if her distinct walking pattern was any indication. Her boots were quiet and came to a stop near the fingers of one his hands. They didn't exchange words right off, with Superboy continuing to absorb the sight and Dinah taking in two deep breaths that she exhaled with a sigh.

"You guys really turned this place around. I think dedication like this deserves an award."

She tossed him something that turned out to be a leather jacket. Superboy admired the discovery as he eyed it.

"To replace your old one," Dinah clarified.

"Thank you," he said, and though the weather hardly called for it, he wore it anyway. "I have something for you, too."

He got to his feet and approached a hidden cluster of bell-shaped flowers near a line of trees. He plucked a single stem lined with five or so of the pastel colored blooms and offered it to her.

"It's a campanula," he explained.

"They're not really native to this area," Dinah pointed out, but didn't say he had to remove the plant. She smiled, gripped his shoulder with the hand not holding the flower and gave it a squeeze. "Your gratitude isn't needed, you know. I'd have been there for you no matter what."

Superboy nodded, giving her hand a solemn look before resting his over hers, pressing it into the leather of the jacket.

"I know, but I wanted to."

"You should invite Superman here if you two cross paths," she suggested and turned to leave, offering him a wave over her shoulder. "I've heard he's quite the agriculturalist himself."

He kept that in mind for the next time, though it was no longer a driving force behind his every action. Superboy still wished to learn about the man who'd made it possible for him to exist, but he'd found a purpose to keep him occupied until then – all thanks to his mentor, Black Canary.

-Fin-