Chapter 11: Epiphany

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I just don't know how I'm supposed to be the man he wanted me to be without him here. (Clark Kent)
You're his son. You know what's right and wrong. Whether your father is here with us or not, you're a man he's proud of…a man he could look up to.
And, something tells me he won't be the only one. (Martha Kent)
– from Reckoning

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"She hasn't come by to talk to you, yet?"

"No, Kal-El, she hasn't."

"I don't know what to tell you, J'onn. I told her that she should see you—that you want to talk with her about what happened that night."

"Then, I suppose, she doesn't want to talk about it."

"Or know about it. It probably wouldn't make any difference anyway. From what Chloe's said to me about what she remembers, I doubt she can tell you anything new."

"That is assuming that she is remembering everything, Kal-El. It was a severely traumatic experience for her. But, if she would just allow me inside her mind, I could help her to recall any details she may have forgotten or is suppressing. Perhaps you might persuade her."

"I'm not exactly her favorite person in the world right now, J'onn. If she hasn't approached you about it already, I doubt I can change anything. Not to mention that having someone digging around in her head, again, so soon is probably the last thing she wants."

The Martian Manhunter sighed in frustration, "Well, make no mistake. I am still as determined as ever to find who is responsible for Green Arrow's death. I have looked into the still, dead eyes of Oliver Queen, and I vowed to bring to justice all those that are responsible for his murder. I have waited one thousand years. I can wait longer. This case may be cold, but it is far from closed. Even if it takes another thousand years."

With that, J'onn J'onzz rose from the table and parted company. As he left the room, Kal-El observed, "Now, there goes one dogged detective."

Wonder Woman, who was also present with them, happened to look up and see who would take his place at table. "Speaking of…" she trailed off. Chloe Sullivan entered just in time for J'onn to brush by her without a word.

Chloe slowed her stride and watched J'onn pass her as if she wasn't even there. She then turned back to Kal-El and Diana. With a questioning look and a hitchhiker's thumb gesture over her shoulder, she inquired, "What was that about?" Diana kept silent while Kal-El, feigning ignorance, simply shrugged and shook his head. Chloe gave the two of them a look of skepticism as she sat down in the now-empty chair.

"Coffee?" Diana offered with a smile as she passed a steaming-hot mug to Chloe while trying hard to act as if nothing was amiss.

"Thank you."

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Nothing. Not a single thing was familiar to him. It was like he'd never been there before. Which, technically, was true. He hadn't been there before. At least, not the 31st century version of it. He felt like such a fool. Here he was in the city that he was born in, raised in, and lived all his life in, and it was like he was a complete tourist. In fact, since his arrival in Star City, Connor Hawke had yet to recognize anything, and he had driven up and down street after street for well over an hour.

Now, he knew that things would be different. He knew that much of the city would have changed, even drastically so, over the course of a thousand years. But, he expected to recognize something. Even the streets all had different names. He decided to pull over to the side of the road and stop for a minute while he tried to get his bearings. Via deduction, Connor figured what quarter of the city he was in and what neighborhood and began to build a mental map over his immediate surroundings. However, the buzzings and commotions of the busy city street were making that difficult. There was one noise in particular that he found insurmountably distracting.

I wish to God that bell would quit tolling the hour. It's been going on forever, and it's sooo loud. It's got to be right around the corner or something. Connor tried again to ignore everything but what would help him figure out where he was and turn this immediate area into familiar territory. Connor shook his head and hung it in the palm of his hand. Then, suddenly, he picked his head up. Hold on…I know that bell. I know that bell! After coming across the first thing he recognized since leaving the Legion Tower, Connor quickly took back to the street on his cycle and followed those crisp, clear tones. He drove up to the next street corner, turned right, and followed the ringing of the bell for another two blocks. Soon, he discovered the source of the sonance still tolling over the city, and the bell that led him there was no longer the only thing he recognized. The place had changed, no doubt; it definitely was different. Nevertheless, the façade, the towering walls, the buttresses in support, and the Gothic architecture were all familiar to him.

Connor Hawke had arrived at Stella Maris, the Cathedral Church of Star City. Leave it to a cathedral to still be standing after one thousand years, Connor thought to himself. Even as he was thrilled at the sight of something he knew, he was quickly overtaken with mixed emotions. On the one hand, a part of him saw it as a welcome refuge that offered comfort and hope and just wanted to run inside. On the other hand, another part of him wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. The internal conflict waged on inside of him, and the part of him drawn to enter won out in the end. Connor parked the cycle, activated the security lock, and removing his head gear, climbed the steps of the cathedral plaza and went inside.

At first glance, Stella Maris Cathedral had obviously been renovated God knows how many times over the centuries. Like the exterior, it didn't quite look the way he remembered it on the inside. Yet, it seemed to Connor that everything was where it was supposed to be. The vaulted ceilings and columns of stone; the magnificent stained-glass windows depicting holy figures and biblical episodes; the floor of marble with its shiny, reflective surface; the crystal chandeliers that hung from above and illuminated the whole interior; the pews and benches of solid wood arranged with precision in an orderly pattern across the floor space; and in every niche and corner, statues of patriarchs and prophets, martyrs and confessors, angels and saints made of plaster, ceramic, resin, marble, and stone all seemed familiar and all seemed to welcome him and beckon him forth. Even the soft, organ music being played by someone practicing for a concert to be given later in the week added the right touch of ambiance to the scene.

As he made his way as quietly as possible up the main, center aisle, Connor did his best to go unnoticed. He briefly looked toward the far, side aisle at the handful of penitents that had congregated in a short line while waiting to have their confessions heard. A light above one of the confessionals was lit, indicating it was occupied. It soon went out and relit just as quickly as a woman pulled back the curtain to exit the confessional and another took her place drawing the curtain behind her. Another station had been set up in open, plain view a little further down the aisle where a priest sat behind a full, portable screen with kneeler.

Connor redirected his sight toward the nearing sanctuary before him. He briefly acknowledged the statue of the Blessed Virgin cradling her infant Son in the center of the ornate high altar in the midst of a dozen or so other saintly figures. With atypical reverence, he approached the Communion rail made mostly of marble with brass ornamentation, set his helmet down on it beside him, and knelt. Making a clumsily awkward Sign of the Cross, he rested his forearms on the rail, subconsciously folded his hands, and sighed. He didn't pray as much as he tried to collect his thoughts and feelings. He took another look around him. All of a sudden, Connor felt a whole lot better about his decision to come inside. Everything looked and felt so perfectly normal and right, right there and then. It could have been the day before he left for the future with his mom and Clark and Diana. The 21st Century and not the 31st could have been waiting for him beyond the doors of the cathedral. His mom, as human as ever without any superpowers, could have been standing right behind him alongside his still-living father. Connor sighed again deeply at that last thought. Oh, Dad…If I ever needed you, Dad…I sure need you now. He wiped his palms back and forth absently as he looked from his one side to the other down at the floor and frowned in distress.

"Hello, Connor."

The youth's eyes widened at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice that he'd just heard as clear as the bell sounding from the cathedral bell tower mere moments ago. Connor lifted his head to look up in the direction from which the voice had come. What he saw was just not possible. But, there was no mistaking the broad, square shoulders; the cleft chin; those boyishly handsome looks; the deep chocolate eyes; the spiked, flaxen hair; the way he swaggered as he approached Connor from within the sanctuary; the irreverent manner in which he took his perch atop the Communion rail, setting one foot upon it with his leg bent and knee gathered to his chest while he dangled his other leg over the side of it and rested his other foot on the floor.

"…Dad?" Connor managed to get out. He was so stunned and overcome by a combination of disbelief, confusion, and elation at seeing his father, Connor was very nearly speechless.

Whether this was an hallucination or the spirit of his deceased father had genuinely returned to him, "Oliver Queen" studied his son critically through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he observed, "You know, Son, I think you've gotten taller since I saw you last. When you top out, you're going to be as big as the old man." He concluded his prognostication with a broad, proud, and confident smile.

Barely registering what his father had said to him and still not quite recovered, Connor merely said, "Dad…I thought you were—"

"Dead?" Oliver completed his son's sentence for him. "I am," he confirmed, further explaining, "But, I still had to be here. After all, you said you need your father. So, here I am."

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"You know, Chloe, I don't think your son has a very high opinion of me," Kal-El noted with more than a hint of regret.

"That wasn't always the case," Chloe reminded as she blew away some of the steam from her cup, causing a layer of frost to form about the rim in the process. "Whoops," she commented as she took a sip. Then, she felt down-right silly. After all, extreme hot and cold temperatures didn't affect her anymore. Her sips gave way to whole gulps from her cup before she stopped, considering what Kal-El had just said. "Wait a minute…you heard that?"

"If you're referring to the little blowout between Garth and Connor, then, didn't you?"

"It was hard not to," Chloe admitted. Kal-El immediately looked downcast. Right away, Chloe further explained, "I only meant because ever since I got your super-hearing, I've been able to hear every word he says. Doesn't matter where he is in the complex." She paused in thought before adding, "Maybe it's just mother's instinct. Whenever I hear him, I keep listening to make sure he's okay—until I realize I'm eavesdropping in on my own son—then, I feel guilty about it and stop. I guess I've learned to tune it out, though. I haven't heard Connor in a while."

That's funny. Neither have I, Kal-El said to himself, now that he thought about it.

Misreading Kal-El's pensive facial expression as brooding, Chloe spoke up. "Give the kid a break, Clark," she admonished and encouraged at the same time, "He just wants to go back home to the Twenty-first Century." Kal-El nodded in tacit acknowledgment. Looking down in self-chastisement, Chloe conceded, "I've been avoiding him. I really should go and talk with him. Time to switch to mom-mode." Chloe resolutely rose from the table, finished what was left in her mug, set it back down on the table, and said, "Thanks for the coffee," as she headed out the door.

Diana watched her go then looked over for a moment at the once-again-empty chair before turning her attention back to Kal-El and asking of him, "Now…where were we?"

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"You know, Connor, I have to admit," Oliver confided to his son, "Of all the places I ever expected to find you in, this had to be one of the last. But, considering the…Source…of my information regarding your whereabouts, I decided to…take a leap of faith. So, here I am. And, here you are."

Connor thoroughly looked over his father. Oliver Queen was dressed in a sports blazer with a button-down shirt underneath, open from the collar down to about mid-chest level, and dress pants—all in solid white from head to toe, including dress shoes that appeared to be on the expensive side. Connor Hawke expressed his astonishment, "But, you're not…you can't be…real?" Oliver reached out to his son, but he flinched in response and instinctively pulled away.

"Relax, Son," Oliver reassured, bringing his hand to rest on Connor's shoulder despite his initial recoil, "I am real, and I'm really here with you. This isn't a trick or a trap."

"But, how…are you here? I mean, who—"

His father quickly interrupted, "Whatever you feel comfortable with: God, Fate, the Multi-verse, whatever is supposedly beyond the Source Wall at the edge of the universe. Whatever is pulling the strings, wherever the buck stops, whoever gets the final word, has allowed this. I'm not here to preach, just to see my son."

"Why did you leave, Dad?" Connor asked on the verge of breaking down into tears, "Why did you have to die? Why did all this have to happen?"

Oliver looked with intense compassion on his son. With pity evident in his voice, he asked him, "If I told you the answer to that, would it help? Would it make you feel any better about what happened? About any of this? Would knowing change anything? Would it help at all?" Connor simply looked down and barely noticeably shook his head in answer to his father. Oliver brought his hand to Connor's chin and raised his son's head up to look into those eyes that reminded him so much of those that belonged to the woman he loved—the woman he married. He, then, told his son, solemnly, "Then, let me tell you something instead that will help. I'm okay, Son. And you? You're going to be fine, Connor Hawke."

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"Diana, she didn't even look at me…didn't even say anything…about it. She still hasn't, and it's been close to a month."

"I keep coming back to the part where you kissed her." Kal-El gave her a look that was hardly complimentary. He was hoping for something a bit more encouraging from her. No such luck. "What did you expect, Kal? For her to fall into your arms and tell you that you were the only man she ever really loved? Look at everything she's been through—she and her son—since this whole thing started. 'Oh, by the way, I'm in love with you,' is not what she needs to hear, right now—especially from the person who wanted only to be friends with her her whole life."

"You're not helping, Diana, and I never said I was in love with Chloe."

"You didn't have to. How long have we known each other, Kal? Ever since you saw her again at Belle Reve, everything about you has screamed, 'I'm in love with Chloe Sullivan!'."

Kal-El looked her straight in the face and told her, "I doubt that."

Yet, even in his state of denial, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He thought back to that morning in Chloe's quarters and how she'd reacted to him, or more precisely, how she didn't react. He knew there was a time when she would have just melted into his touch, his gaze, his embrace, insisted that he caress her with his lips, welcomed the heat rising between them…but, that time was long gone. She was completely unresponsive to him. So cold, so aloof, so unreachable. He recalled the look on her face: unmoved, unchanging, resigned as she turned away from him and walked silently away.

Kal-El had been astonished at her. He could not believe this was the woman, his friend, whose feelings he had to keep at bay—even fight off her advances at times (even if she wasn't quite herself at those times)—while delicately trying not to fracture her heart at the same time all those centuries ago. For perhaps the first time, he understood what she must have felt every time he rejected her. Zod's blue kryptonite dagger stabbing in his abdomen was bliss by comparison. Great Rao, what had he done to her?

Kal-El's denials weren't convincing Diana, either. She was a very perceptive woman even without her empathic powers and Kal-El's best friend for many times longer than most mortals live. "Are you sure you aren't simply feeling lonely, Kal?"

"Hmm?" he asked, awakening from his vivid recall.

"And still feeling a bit guilty about Oliver's death, too?"

"What do you mean?" Kal-El asked defensively.

"Chloe represents a connection to simpler, happier times. A time when things made sense. You no longer feel cut off when you're with her. You see her as someone who could deliver you from your isolation that has lasted for longer than you can remember. You also told me, yourself, that you let Chloe down huge twice. You couldn't save Jimmy or Oliver before they died. You chose not to change the past and prevent their deaths from happening after the fact. Isn't it possible that you now think this is a way to somehow make up for that? What you're contemplating doing with Chloe has enormous, potential consequences for everyone. And, if you take that chance and can't make it happen between you…If you're not doing this for the right reasons or if you aren't sure…"

"You think I haven't considered that? Do you really think that I have not said those very same words to myself over and over again? That I haven't thought about this repeatedly from every possible angle? Weighed the consequences a thousand times? Or that I would be telling you any of this if I wasn't absolutely sure that this is what I wanted? Great Rao, Diana…"

Diana could see Kal-El was getting worked up. She clarified, trying to pacify him, "It's just that ever since Chloe and Connor have come back into our lives, most, if not all, of your actions have been on the emotional side. You seem driven by your feelings, and I haven't seen that happen to you in a long time. I don't mind saying that I'm worried about you, Kal. Chloe is a different person, now. For that matter, so are you. She isn't the girl you knew back in high school or college anymore. Plus, what she's going through now that she knows about Oliver—"

"I know all that," Kal-El interrupted, "But, I remember the woman she was before she and Connor disappeared. I remember the Chloe from 2029, and I…I want to be there for her this time, Diana. I need to help her and my godson. All I can tell you is that it is not what you think. This is real."

Diana stared for a long time at Kal-El. There was a lot that he was leaving out. A lot that he had left unsaid about himself and Chloe, and he knew it. Diana knew, too. And, they both knew that they both knew. No one was fooling anyone, here, least of all themselves.

"Speaking of whom, have you thought about how Connor would react?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Kal-El just shook his head then asked, "Who appointed you my conscience, anyway?"

"You did. Just before we left here to rescue Chloe and Connor, you said to me, 'Diana, I don't trust my judgment once I see Chloe again. But, I trust you. I need you to be my conscience so I don't do anything stupid or reckless.' Remember that?"

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"How's your Nietzsche, Son? Do you remember it?"

"Of course."

"Then, you must remember Übermensch. Too many people have less than a cursory knowledge of Nietzsche. They have no idea that the Nietzschean concept of the Übermensch is a lot closer to Lex and Lionel Luthor than it ever was to our favorite, blue-and-red-spandex-sporting "Superman." Friedrich Nietzsche would never approve of what Clark does with his superpowers all the time: Constantly helping the humans, saving lives, living by a quaint moral code based on an antiquated value system, corrupting this generation's Legion of Super-Heroes with his outdated beliefs about good and evil. The philosopher would be appalled." Oliver paused and looked all about the place as if considering his next words carefully. "Let me tell you something else about Herr Friedrich. He once said, 'Those who would fight monsters must take care not to become one, themselves.'"

"'And, if you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss will begin to stare back into you.' Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 146."

"I'm a little perturbed that you actually know that, Connor."

"Relax, Dad, it's the only one I can ever remember."

Oliver half-smiled then continued, "Our…friend, Lex Luthor probably knew Nietzsche better than anyone, but he failed to learn that lesson. That's why in opposing his father, Lionel—in constantly trying to beat him at his own game—he learned his father's tactics so well that he eventually became him and worse. You cannot defeat the darkness by delving deeper into it and trying to use its own weapons against it. You can fight it only with the light. But, hey, who am I to talk? That's a lesson I failed to learn, myself. That's why I killed Lex. I still like to think I did it for the greater good. And, even if I did, you know what? It didn't work. Lex came back. And the only thing I ended up accomplishing was just to take one, long step further down the path that I'd already begun a long time before. A path that would leave me in a pit of darkness as Darkseid's plaything. Because the thing of it is, once you blur that line between good and evil—light and dark—enough times it's hard to find after awhile, and you forget where it is, and those two sides get awful hard to tell apart. Once you step over that line enough times, you get used to doing it. You start to wonder why it was there in the first place. You forget that it was there precisely for your own good. A lot of heroes went down that way and never came back. I was lucky. I had someone like Clark around to save my ass when it happened to me. He knew that there are some lines that should never be crossed. And, he knew that whenever you took the chance to cross any line, there was always a part of yourself that never came back over with you. That you lose yourself in the process. That there are always consequences to our actions. He knew that better than anyone. Clark had to. Because if Superman ever went bad, I shudder to think what would happen." Another solemn, pregnant pause followed. "Did I ever tell you why I fell under Darkseid's influence?"

"No," Connor answered with his undivided attention on his father.

"It happened because I thought that one of his minions, a man named Desaad, had killed your mother. He told me she was dead, and I believed it. I should have known better than to listen to that lying son of a… Anyway, that was my first mistake. My second mistake was how I reacted. I was ready to kill anyone and everyone responsible for her death, starting with him," Oliver revealed honestly but regretfully.

"You loved Mom. I mean, that's what love is, isn't it? What it does to you?"

Connor's father responded gravely, "No. That is not what love is. I was so attached to your mother—so in need of her—that I couldn't imagine my life without her. And, while that sounds very romantic and probably tracks with what most people's ideas about what love is are, that is not love. True love is never about what you get from another person; it's about what you give to them. That's the difference between true love and selfishness. Your mother understands that better than anyone I knew. She is a person who truly loved, who truly gave of herself, who really sacrificed. It took her some time to grow up, but even before getting out of high school, she learned to really love your uncle. And, she did. She sacrificed career, other relationships, and stopped expecting anything in return after awhile. Clark chose not to return that love fully in the same way. His loss, big time. But, it turned out to be my gain…and yours. And, I did finally learn to love her the way she loved me. That's how I was able to give my life for her and why I did it. It's not anyone's fault, except maybe for the ones that shot at us. But, you can't go looking for someone to blame, least of all yourself, Connor."

"…I…don't—" Connor began to deny, stammering.

"Yes, you do. You blame yourself, you blame your mother, and you blame me. But, you blame your Uncle Clark most of all. I'm not sure why. Maybe because he's the one you feel the least amount of guilt over blaming. Maybe it's because you've never really forgiven him for abandoning your mother when she most needed him, even if it happened before you were even born. Or, maybe because you think more than anyone else, he was the one that could have saved me and should have saved me. Maybe you think of him the way you think of God, and he didn't miraculously save your father the way he does everyone else. And, like God, Superman is just the easiest person for you to blame. After all, with his super-strength and invulnerability, you know he can take it. So, why not withhold your love from your uncle and godfather since that's the only way you can really hurt him, maybe even stir up his super-guilt-complex to hurt him even more? Especially, when you know that he'll never stop loving you and caring for you no matter how much you try to hate him. How am I doing so far? Am I warm? Or, do I not know my own son as well as I should?"

Rather than admit to his father that he was dead-on (no pun intended), Connor countered, "I thought you said you weren't here to preach?"

"I guess I was wrong."

"When did you get all philosophical, Dad?"

"Hey, I'm classically educated just like you," Oliver defended himself to his son, "And, I did pick up a few things while I was at Excelsior Academy. Besides, when you're dead, you have a lot of time on your hands to think. Especially about all the things you should have done and wished you had done differently."

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"I still have my misgivings about this, but if it's really what you want to do…"

"It is…more than anything."

"All right, Kal. If you can remember the Chloe Sullivan from 2029, perhaps she can remember the Clark Kent from a thousand years ago. I mean the one that wasn't married to Lois Lane or even in love with her, yet. The one that Chloe loved before she was married the first time? Perhaps she could be reminded of why she fell in love with you in the first place," Diana surmised.

"So, what are you thinking?" Kal-El asked, a faint glimmer of hope in his voice.

"I am thinking that Chloe Sullivan has been working pretty hard lately and that she needs a short vacation, not just from the Legion but from the 31st Century. She needs for you both to be together in familiar settings where she can feel safe and unanxious and be free to know her heart again with you. Can you give her that?"

"Yeah, I think so," Kal-El replied, perking up for the first time since this conversation began. "But, do you think it's right? Chloe and I just dropping everything and going off together while the fate of the world is at stake?"

"You won't be gone long," Diana pointed out, "Apokolips isn't going to be here tomorrow. Besides, we can't put our lives on hold just because the end of the world is coming. And, if we are going to be fighting for our very lives, there should be something in our lives worth fighting for."

Impressed by such profound sagacity, Kal-El considered Diana's words and said, "I remember when I used to give you advice. When did you get so wise?"

"You may be a thousand years old, Kal, and you've spent a bit more time in the world than I have. But, I still have been at this a lot longer than you have," Diana reminded.

"Now, I remember why I asked you to be my conscience. Diana, you're a genius." Kal-El stood from the table, giving Diana a quick peck on the lips as he rose. As his mind struck with a plan, Kal-El entreated her, "I need something else from you…a favor." Diana raised her eyebrows and tilted her head slightly in anticipation of his request. "Chloe's going to need a dress in her size—one that's just on the violet side of hot pink."

"Hmmm…" Diana replied with a sly grin before agreeing, "If you're thinking of what I think you're thinking of, then I can help you there."

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"But, you guys were heroes, Dad. Why would you want to have done anything differently…other than, you know…not being killed?"

"I think we did eventually become the heroes we originally set out to be, but we weren't like that in the beginning. What did you think the Justice League was when it first started, anyway? A band of warrior angels who descended from heaven on high? I hate to break this to you, Connor, but your father was a thief and a murderer. Before you were born, your extended family was at odds with itself all the time. We would undermine each other, manipulate each other, sabotage each other, even abandon each other. We had to learn how to be heroes, how to be a team, to trust one another. And, even after we did, we were never saints. All of us made morally questionable decisions to put it mildly. All of us did things we were not proud of. All of us made mistakes and all of us failed. Believe me, I've had more than my fair share. Nobody—not one of us—was perfect. Not your mother, not me, and not Clark. We all just did what we thought we had to do, and there were plenty of things that I did that I wished I'd given more thought to before I did them."

"Like what?"

"Like what you and Garth were having such a heated discussion about, just before you learned from your mother what happened to me. Clark wasn't the only one to run away, you know. The whole team split up after that whole Doomsday thing. I mean, look what I did. Nobody gets a free pass on that one. We all shared in the blame. But, your mother…she still believed in us—all of us. She was the one who brought us back together. By the way, and since you brought it up with your Legionnaire friends, you should know that after that happened, the situation with me and your mother and Clark and Lois was way more complicated than you can ever know or understand." Oliver opened his mouth as if to elaborate but closed it again without speaking further on the subject. Perplexed, Connor cocked his head to the side and watched with furrowed brow. His father paused a moment in thought and then said only, "But, that's all I'm going to say about that. As for me, personally, from then on I had to clean up my act a lot; and I did for the most part. So, if your Dad lived to be a man you could be proud of, and died as one, then know that your mother and you had a lot to do with that. I have no regrets about what happened when it comes to you and your mother."

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Just as Kal-El eagerly turned toward the door to leave, Chloe walked back in through it. He registered the worried look on her face. Suddenly concerned, he asked her, "Is something wrong, Chloe?"

"I can't find Connor. Have either of you seen him?" Her voice sounded equally worried.

"No," Kal-El replied.

"Have you checked his quarters?" Diana suggested.

"I've checked his quarters, my quarters, the dining room, the lounge, the Kitchen—"

"Okay, just calm down, Chloe," Kal-El said as soothingly as he could. He gently gripped her shoulders and added, "I'm sure he's somewhere in Legion Headquarters."

Clearly upset, Chloe told him, "Clark, nobody has seen him anywhere. I haven't seen him all afternoon…I can't hear him." She spoke the last part barely above a whisper.

Diana tried to place her at ease, "It's a big complex, Chloe. He probably just got lost again and is wandering the halls somewhere."

"Got lost? After living here for a month?" Chloe asked, unconvinced.

"Shh…" Kal-El shushed as he listened very carefully for any sign of Connor. Hearing nothing, he reported, "I can't hear him, either. He's not anywhere in the citadel."

"We don't know that for sure," Diana speculated, "Maybe he's sleeping or reading or—"

"He'd still be breathing," Kal-El argued, "and his heart would still be beating. I can't make out either one. Wherever he is, it's not here."

As if on cue, Imra Ardeen hurriedly re-entered the room, next. "Hey, has anyone seen Connor?" she inquired.

Now, it was Diana's turn to answer, "No."

"I haven't seen him since he stormed out at lunch," Imra informed the group. "Something else—one of the cycles is missing from the launch bay."

Chloe's jaw dropped, and her alert status instantly jumped a couple of levels. "My God, Connor's run away," she concluded in dismay.

"Run away?" Kal-El echoed. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he found out that his father is dead," Chloe confessed.

"You told him?" Kal-El asked incredulously, his level of anxiety suddenly matching Chloe's.

"I didn't tell him! He just knew," Chloe asserted adamantly.

Kal-El sighed also in dismay. "All right, where would he go?"

"He said he was homesick," Chloe divulged.

"Star City?" Kal-El assumed. "What could possibly still be there for him after a thousand years?"

"I don't care…" Chloe said with eyes lowered. When she raised them to Kal-El's face, he could see the panic in them. "I've got to get my son back—I've got to find him and I've got to bring him back," Chloe said, already heading for the door.

Kal-El reached out and gently took hold of Chloe's arm, saying, "No, I'll find him." Chloe was about to protest, but anticipating her objection, Kal-El pre-emptively inserted, "A lot of time has passed, Chloe, and things are a lot different now, even in Star City. Besides, I'm the one that let him down. This is my mess—I'll fix it and bring him back."

"Kal-El, if what Rokk and I watched go down between Garth and Connor earlier today is any indication, he won't want you bringing him back here, either," Imra cautioned. "I'll go."

"I doubt he wants to see any of you, right now," Diana warned, "But, he'll still talk to me. I'll bring him home."

All eyes were on Diana until Imra decided to speak up, "Why do you get to be the one to go, Princess? Why will he see you and not us?"

Diana came back with, "Because, Imra, I'm not the one who has spent every day with him since he arrived arguably becoming his closest friend, and yet, chose not to disclose to him the fact that his father wouldn't be waiting for him when he returns to the Twenty-first Century… even though, as a leader of the Legion, you knew and could have." Turning in Kal-El's direction, she continued, "Nor has he ever idolized me the way he did you, Kal-El. After his father and mother, you're the one person he looked up to more than anyone—trusted more than anyone. You promised that you would take care of this and you didn't. You think he doesn't know that? He's not a boy anymore, Kal-El; he's a very perceptive young man. And, as for you, Chloe," she paused and softened her voice and her tone, "Well, Lil Sis, what do you think? You, apparently, were the last person to see him. Do you think he wants to see you again, so soon?" Chloe just looked at Diana, unwilling to answer the question and unable to say anything else. "If Connor did take one of the Legion's cycles, we can activate its homing beacon and track the signal right to his location. I'll find him and bring him back. He'll listen to me…I don't think I need to explain why to anyone here," Diana said, turning from the others and walking away.

"Try not to lead him on, Diana," Kal-El insinuated in uncharacteristic fashion that shocked even himself. Where did that come from? In self-reproach, he hung his head and looked behind him before anyone had a chance to say anything.

Diana stopped short. Taking a brief moment to silently contain her indignation, she responded without looking back, "For your sake, I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Insulting the honor of an Amazonian princess who happens to be your friend is beneath you, Kal-El. Even when you do it to deflect away from your embarrassment at the consequences of your own failure." Kal-El knew the rebuke was well-deserved, but he also knew that it was coming from a place where Diana cared more for Connor than she wanted anyone to know. She continued her pace toward the nearest window and without a further word or hesitation, took to the air through it.

Shaking off the exchange that just happened between himself and Diana, Kal-El chided his nephew, "You know, Connor ought to know better than to just take off like that."

"One reprove deserves another—is that it, Clark? Remind me, again, what you did when you were his age?" Chloe returned.

Kal-El knew he didn't have to, that she remembered well what he did. I ran away from home, same as your son.

.

.

"So, what am I supposed to do, now?"

"You have to grow up, Connor, much more than you already have. And, you can start by forgiving Clark. Whatever his failings may be, he doesn't deserve this from you. What happened to me isn't his fault, or your mother's, or yours. This is the price of being a hero—of fighting for what you believe in."

"And, sometimes you lose," Connor lamented.

"I didn't lose," Oliver said with absolute conviction, "I died doing right to the end what a hero does. If I'd cut and run and left your mother to die, Son, then I'd have lost. Then, everyone loses. The measure of a true hero is two-fold, Connor. First, you do what you know is right, every time, no matter the cost. That's sacrifice, and that's what a hero does. Second, you inspire others to do exactly the same even long after you're gone. Clark's mother, Martha Kent, once told him something along those lines. She was right, too. Not every hero wears a costume or a cape or a mask. But, they all do what they can; they all do what they must. Are you hearing what I'm saying, Son? Do you understand?"

"Why are you telling me all this, Dad?"

"Because there are things that you and your mother and the Legion need to know. You are going to be the one to discover them, Connor. You have to, if Darkseid is going to lose. But, it's not just about him. This goes way beyond Darkseid and Apokolips. This is for yourselves and your future and the future of Earth and the rest of the galaxy. You think that your mother is here because Clark and the others want her to teach the Legion how to take on Darkseid and that you're here so that she doesn't have to be without you. There is so much more to the story than that. The reason you both are here is so much greater than that. You both will accomplish so much. She has a destiny to fulfill, Connor, here in this time. And, so do you. You're going to be one of us. That's the beginning of your destiny. But, just because you're the son of heroes doesn't mean you were born a hero, Connor. So, if you are serious about following in the footsteps of your dad and your mom the way you always took for granted you would one day, then it's time to get serious. Because you're going to have to learn everything that we did the way we did—the hard way. But, you're going to have help along the way."

Oliver reached out with his hand and pressed his palm to Connor's chest directly over his heart. Connor felt a sudden wave—of confidence and courage, of hope and of peace, of a certain knowledge of what must be done, the strength to do it with, and the resolve to see it through to the end—rush all through him. It felt like something coming into him from outside, but at the same time, like something that had always been inside of him and was now being released.

Connor looked down and over himself. Out of curiosity and amazement rather than fear or anxiety, he asked his father, "What did you do?"

"Sometimes God stacks the deck in our favor. And, sometimes Fate cheats itself and gets away with it. When you see Clark, tell him that this one's on me…and that he needs to start making better choices in the future," Oliver Queen explained cryptically. Then, he looked for a moment at his son affectionately. He pulled into a firm embrace the youth who looked so much like himself that they could have been near-mirror reflections of one another. Oliver then planted a tender kiss on the top of the side of his son's head. He whispered into his ear, "Our time's up, Connor. I'm so proud of you, and I love you. I always did and I always will. Take care, Son."

Son…Son…Son…his father's last word echoed over and over in Connor's mind. Something pulled Connor back to this world as he slowly became conscious of his shoulder being shaken and aware that someone was calling nearby.

"Son? Hey, Son. You awake, Son?" Connor stretched his eyes open as if awakening from a deep sleep and looked toward the voice apparently addressing him. He beheld an elderly and kindly-looking face. It took awhile for Connor to realize it was the priest trying to get his attention.

"Sorry, Dad…I mean…Father," Connor corrected himself.

The clergyman chuckled good-naturedly. "Did you want your confession heard, Son?"

"Uh…No," Connor answered as he rose to his feet and scratched his head. He looked over toward the side aisle where all the people had been and then at the rest of the church. Everyone had left. Connor and the priest seemed to be the only ones still in the cathedral. Still in a daze and not knowing what to make of what he thought had just transpired, he said to the priest, again, "No, thank you…uhm, it's all right."

The priest smiled, nodded, and headed off around the sanctuary. Connor called after him, "Father, uhm, did you…see…anyone besides me, just now?"

"Is there someone else here?" the priest asked, as he turned toward the sanctuary and craned his neck, leaning this way and that to see all around the altar and check all the corners of the space.

"No, I mean…when you first came over to me. Was there anyone with me?"

"Not that I saw," the priest replied as he came back and approached Connor, again. "No, just you and me…and the Lord," the priest added, nodding his head toward the tabernacle in the high altar. Connor furrowed his brow at the priest, then turned and again took in the sight of the high altar, but quickly shifted his eyes to look elsewhere, searching for some trace that his father had really been there with him. The priest asked with some concern, "Are you all right, Son? You…going to be okay?"

Connor thought for a minute. "Yeah," he replied, nodding in conviction, "Yeah, I'm going to be fine." He quickly reached over to gather his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he strided down the aisle and exited the cathedral church.

Meanwhile, straight overhead, Wonder Woman had traced the signal Connor's cycle was transmitting all the way back to the source. As she flew into the vicinity of Stella Maris, she hovered among the Gothic spires and began scanning with her eyes all around the area far below. She spied a figure in black exit the cathedral church and cross the plaza toward what she could identify, even at this distance, was a cycle used by the Legion. She immediately descended toward the Legion's missing vehicle to intercept its rider. Connor had already straddled his cycle and was in the process of fastening the cord of his helmet around his head when Diana unexpectedly dove in from above and came to a halt just a couple of feet above the ground and just a couple of feet away from him. Connor was visibly startled at the sudden intrusion but quickly recovered. As Diana's feet came to a soft landing on the ground, he acknowledged her presence, "Diana…"

"Connor!" Diana called as she stepped closer, "Look, you have to come back with me, now."

"Diana—" Connor began.

But, Diana cut him off. "I know you're hurting right now, and we had no right to keep from you what happened to your father," she said apologetically.

"Diana…" Connor tried again with just as much success.

"But you running away is not helping anything. It isn't going to resolve the situation and it certainly is not going to bring your father back."

"But, Diana, I—"

"Connor, please, just listen to me. Your mother is worried sick, Clark isn't much better, and even Imra was anxious and hurt when you left without so much as a word about where you were going and why or if and when you were coming back, or—"

"Diana!" Connor yelled at her, finally getting her attention, "I know. I was just about to head back to Metropolis."

"You were. Oh…well, good," Diana concurred, if bewildered somewhat.

"By the way," Connor added, expressing his sincere, heartfelt gratitude, "Thanks for coming after me."

Diana nodded in acknowledgement. Clearing her throat audibly, she then offered, "You know, if you want, I can get you and your cycle back to Legion Headquarters much faster than it can."

Connor was sorely tempted to take Diana up on that proposition, but in the end, he decided against it. "That's okay, Diana. I…actually have a lot to think about. The couple of hours it'll take to ride back to the Citadel will help me to clear my head. I'll see you back there." With that, Connor tucked himself neatly into the cycle, engaged the engine and instrument panel, and speeded away. Diana watched him go, not sure of what to make of their exchange. Soon, she took to the air once again, flying back the way she came, on a direct course for the Legion Tower.

Don't worry, Dad, Connor thought to himself as the world blurred by all around him and his cycle, I'm gonna make you proud.