-For those who are active followers, yes: the first 5 parts are the exact same as in the oneshots book. For the new folk: WELCOME! this story is Conner-centric, and set about mid-august, year one (post-artemis, pre-wolf/school/bike-

"Does Clark Kent live here?" A deep and... uneasy voice came muffled through the door.

Clark frowned, its not that strangers never asked for him by name; he was a journalist, He, Lois, Kat and the others were familiar with discontented people ordering explanations and retractions, but at ten pm? That's new.

He'd ordered a new stationary set a few days ago; hoping it might be a delivery person, Clark inhaled and unlatched the door, opening it. "Hello?"

The door swung open and Clark jumped, he wished it had been a Lexcorp defender.

The figure stretched up to nearly his height, a feat few civilians achieved. It's eyes were the same fluorescent blue as his, but they lacked the spark Clark's had; they were shade-less and flat. It's cheeks too were empty, its lips thin, and its muscles were more contorted than naturally sculpted.

Clark felt like he was looking in a funhouse mirror: seeing a reflection that was shorter, smaller, and Uncanny. Like a real like caricature of himself.

He just stared, a cold ocean of sweat shuddering down his back.

The figure faced him, addressing Clark head-on. "Clark... Kent?" It said in a voice which was relatively deep and well spoken; very familiar, except that it held an undecided, vaguely east-American accent; in contrast to Clark's brassy Kansan undertones. "I was told this is yours."

Clark stumbled back at having an envelope shoved in his face, he leaned backward to read better from the lamp light. In the momentary step back from the door, it was left unguarded, and the clone pushed into the apartment.

Clark broadened his shoulders defensively. He unfolded the letter and raised it, watching the clone through the paper as he read:

______________

'Clark Jonathan Kent,

Due to recent events, Mount Justice has been temporarily closed for repairs and assessment of security measures. As I'm sure you remember from our recent meeting, the team must stay elsewhere for the time being as it appears they're unsafe with our current mount justice layout.

As the other team members have houses outside of the mountain, Ms Martian and Superboy will be sent to stay with adult counterparts. Unlike ms Martian, other leaguers could not care for Superboy, as he is still a potential hazard with untrained kryptonian powers.

Because of this, the only option is for Superboy to remain under your care until the mountain is repaired. It will be your responsibility to ensure Superboy's basic physical needs are met, and more importantly, that Superboy is not a threat to the public.

Follow ups will be sent to your inbox.

BW'
------------------------

No. No. Clark was not going to do this. He was not going to give the clone, who's soul purpose was to kill and replace him, personal access to him as he ate, slept, worked; he certainly wasn't letting the kid around his loved ones and coworkers. It was dangerous enough that it new Clark's name, didn't Bruce think this through??

"You're not staying. Sorry." Clark locked onto the kid, pushing him out the door. "Go find Wonderwoman, she has superpowers, she can manage you."

"I don't know where she is!" Superboy backed into the hall defensively.

"Ask Batman." Clark snapped his door shut. watching the kid through the door as he held his door shut, just in case.

"Wait--" The kid shouted at the door.

"Clark?" The man instinctively turned to the sound, seeing his neighbor, Jericho, approaching down the hall.

Oh no.
Oh No.

"Why are you looking at me?" The clone snapped, pushing his hair back angrily at the realization he was being watched.

"Bad day?"

"Leave me alone!" He growled.

Clark was doing to have to apologize to Jericho tomorrow. This damn clone had his face, his voice...
He could do anything under the mask of Clark Kent.

"Did I do something?"

"Shut up!" The boy suddenly froze. Clark could see the wheels turning in his brain. He knew. Clark itched to grab the kid before he could act on it. But what if Jericho saw two Clark's in one place? Well, one Clark and one copy. "Just go away!"

Oh god. oh god. This child was going to ruin his life, he was going to lie and turn people against him and god knows what else.

Once he heard Jericho's door snap closed and stormed across the room, unlatching the door and stepping aside. "Come inside." He relented, watching the clone closely. "Now, before anyone else sees you!"

'Superboy' stalked inside, throwing himself into the corner and crossing his arms, glaring at Clark as though he wasn't actively endangering himself by welcoming him inside.

He wore filthy boots (On the Carpet, of course), cargo pants with every pocket occupied in some capacity, and a mass produced made-in-Bangladesh T-shirt with the shield printed on it. Clark had felt strange about people wearing his symbol like it was a GAP hoodie, he'd felt more uncomfortable since discovering to was his family crest. On one hand: it was a nice thought that Superman cared for humanity like family, on the other: Clark didn't want to see his few, precious, pieces of kryptonian heritage on people he didn't affiliate with.

And that's without touching on how it felt to see this clone, created from his own violation, who clearly had no knowledge or respect for Clark's Kryptonian Heritage, wearing it. He'd helped himself to a spot on Clark's bloodline, mascaraing as a son of krypton when he didn't seem to care about it. Clark wanted so badly to tell Bruce that the kid is not allowed to wear the shield, but even he knew that was too vague and personal to enforce.

"What are we going to do?"

'We aren't doing anything.' Clark thought. "You can stay for tonight while I contact Batman about this."

"Batman said I had to stay with you."

"You read the letter?" The kid just looked away, not replying. "Ok. stay exactly where you are. I'm calling Batman to find somewhere else you can go." The kid stayed silent until Clark glanced down at his cell phone.

"I'm supposed to stay."

"I'm sorry. That can't happen." Clark locked his eyes on the kid again, finding it made both of them uncomfortable, he looked away again, dialing Bruce's number. Wanting the bare minimum of privacy, he turned away from the boy (against his better instincts), not that it would help if he had superhearing.

"Hello, Clark?"

"Batman?" He replied, not wanting to out anyone else's identity.

There was a sigh and a click at the other end of the line. Bruce had ended the conversation after three words. Was this some kind of joke? You can't just dump a (completely unvetted) kid with dangerous tendencies and a superman obsession on him and hen go intentionally radio silent!

He didn't trust the kid, none of them did, and he was actively a threat being put in the most populated city in the state. How could this end well? He didn't even see how the kid could benifit from him, he was loud and rude and violent, and hated Clark.
Red Tornado was always giving horror stories during weekly review about the Superboy destroying the mountain in a fit of rage, or attacking people for talking to him at the wrong time; why did they think putting this kid in close quarters with what was probably his least favorite person?

"What did Batman say?" The kid grumbled. Clark wasn't sure if it was sarcastic.

"Like I said, you can stay tonight, but the league will find somewhere else to put you."

"Somewhere else to put me?" He growled, sounding Clark's alarm bells.

"Tomorrow. You may stay until while we sort this out."

"Oh." It was said aggressively, but the pointedness faded pathetically. Clark took over the conversation.

"I'll... I'll let you use the fold out." He had never been so distraught to have a one-room apartment, he couldn't escape this situation.

"The what?"

"The couch, I folds out into a bed."

"Really?" The kid looked up at him under his eyelids

Clark had no idea what that meant. "Is there anywhere else you'd rather sleep?"

He shook his head, watching Clark intently.
Uncomfortably, Clark removed the cushions and pulled the futon out. Superboy just stared at it, eyes wide.

"How did that happen?" For the first time, the clone dropped his crossed arms and bounded to the couch, crouching next to the sofa with eyelids smacked wide open.

Clark, vowing to apologize to his downstairs neighbors, stood up. "You can have that tonight." He stepped away, flipping on his coffee machine (Thank god he prepares it the night before) He would not sleep while this kid was in the next room. "I have work in the morning." He didn't want this kid left unattended in his apartment--his life, when he could do anything.

The kid didn't reply, leaning down on his arms and crawling half-way under the futon.

Clark had no clue how to respond. He got out a mug and prepared his drink, glancing over his shoulder as the kid continued squirming around under the couch. He had to admit: it was less threatening, but faintly more concerning. I mean, what was his mental state like for this to seem like a normal and reasonable thing to do?

Armed with coffee, Clark retreated to his bedroom. Locking his door, he sat at his desk; might as well get some work done while he was up. He set up ten minute reminders to check on the clone, but the weren't needed, he found himself glancing through the wall every two to five minutes. Every time the kid was under or around the futon, seemingly fixated on it. Clark finished off his cup, frustrated that he was still awake and Clark couldn't refill his mug in peace. Why was he even awake? was he waiting for Clark to fall asleep? Well, Clark was a grown adult, the kid couldn't outwait him!

Clark awoke with a start to his emergency work alarm blaring. eight am. He had to hurry! For a few seconds, he was so caught up in the chaos of being late that he'd forgotten the events of last night.
Unlocking his bedroom door as silently as possible, he braced himself for what he might see, but as he scanned the room, all seemed in line... until he got to the couch.
The superboy, groggy and focused, twisting two metal springs onto a supportive base... of Clark's couch! He had COMPLETELY destroyed Clark's couch!

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting it back together!" The kid said defensively, screwing in a bolt with his fingers.

"Why did it come apart?"

"I wanted to see how it became a bed." The kid muttered, affixing something to the inside of the couch frame.

Clark sighed, exasperated. He didn't have time for this, he was late to work! Grabbing his cold pot of coffee from the night before, he considered his next move. "I have to go to work." The boy didn't reply, crawling into the frame of the sofa to reattach something. "Don't leave this apartment at all." He watched the kid firmly. "and don't destroy anything else."

"Work?" The Superboy asked, seemingly missing the important warnings in the message. "Like, fighting crime?"

Clark tried to ignore the implications of this, glad that the kid didn't know where he worked. "I'll be back later. Do not leave!" He repeated. "The league will find a foster location for you." Clark, awkward and not necessarily wanting to say goodbye, shuffled towards the door, locking it behind him.