Superboy and the Martian → Supermartian

~Two~

"Clark?" Connor called. He forced open the door to the bedroom that he shared with his older brother, and was met with a flurry of parchment paper.

"It's useless! I'll never get it done!" Clark was a carbon copy of Connor, but slightly more mature-looking with glasses hidden atop his bedhead of hair. And Clark was much more frazzled than Connor in general.

Connor grabbed a slip of paper that had been tossed on the floor and read the first paragraph scribbled in messy notes. Clark saved the fine penmanship Ma taught them for his final copies.

"You're kidding right? These are amazing, and you know that they are." He said, pushing Clark's glasses back down to his nose, where they could actually be useful.

"No, it's all wrong!" Clark moaned, banging his head on his writing desk. "None of it connects, and I can't figure out the ending!"

Connor sighed. "Are you gonna let me help you or are you going to keep complaining?"

Clark muttered something under his breath, inhaling deeply. "Would you please help me," He asked, as patiently as he could managed.

Connor started by getting some of their mother's tea and cookies, and then having Clark read what he had written out loud.

"That's all I have," Clark told him in defeat, dropping his manuscript on the table.

Connor thought, nibbling on a cookie. "It seems very out of character to have the princess need to be rescued at the last second, especially after she roused all those townspeople to help the prince."

"Yeah, but people like stories where girls get rescued." Clark put in lamely.

"But do you like it?" Connor reasoned.

Clark looked at the floor, slightly ashamed. "Not really, no."

"Then there you go! It's not your story if you write it for everyone else. You started this to write it for yourself, then I saw it, and Mister J'onn saw it, and he shared it with the children and-" He held up the parchment envelope.

"With the biggest publishing company in Metropolis."

"What?" Clark's head snapped up so fast he almost got whiplash.

"Go ahead, open it!" Connor shoved the envelope into Clark's hands.

Ma and Pa Kent appeared in the doorway of the boys' room. "What's happening in here, boys?"

"Clark's got a letter from a Metropolis publisher!" Connor said.

"And they want to publish my book." Clark said quietly. 

"Oh Clark, that's wonderful!" Ma applauded.

"See?" Connor told his brother as Pa clapped him on the back. "You've been writing this book because it's what you wanted to write, and everyone loves it because of that!"

Clark smiled at his younger brother. "Can you saddle Comet? I've got a chapter to finish and the editor says he wants to meet me as soon as possible."

"Well all right!" Pa said.

"I'll pack you some cookies and pie!" Ma said.

Connor ran out to the barn, leading their one horse out of the stall. "Come on, Comet," he murmured softly, "You're going to Metropolis."

Connor was jealous. Of course Clark was older, he'd get to do everything before Connor did, but the Kent family hadn't left Smallville since they escaped the plague that had flown through Metropolis years ago, when Connor was just a baby. The dead bodies from the Krypto-Martian war became infected, and disease ran through the city. Like many others, the Kents fled in the dark of night to the countryside, where they quickly established themselves as farmers. Jonathan Kent wasn't to best educated, but his wife was. Martha Kent taught her boys everything she knew in a scholarly area, while Jonathan taught them all he learned about farming. Their city background made them more tolerant and smarter than everyone else in Smallville, which was the root of the reason the family was hated. But the family didn't have the money to uproot themselves and start over in the city, especially so late in Jonathan and Martha's lives.

But the plague had passed, and Connor wanted nothing more than to leave the town and find adventure in the great wide...somewhere, anywhere in the world.

And hour later, Clark's sloppy first draft was finished and Connor reread it over a slice of Ma's apple pie, just to make sure it was good.

"I'll re-write it much nicer when I get to the tavern tonight," Clark promised. He hugged Connor, kissed his parents good-bye, and swung himself up onto the snow-white horse's back.

"Be safe!"

"Ride swiftly!"

"Good luck!"

We love you!" The three remaining Kents called as Clark spurred Comet from a walk to a trot to a gallop.

Connor ran down the dusty road alongside Clark and Comet until Clark pulled ahead and disappeared into the forest path.

"Have fun," Connor sighed as Comet's white coat disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

~~~~~~~

It would have been smart to bring a map, Clark thought to himself, a little too late as he caught sight of the sun setting through the snake-like branches.

Clark and Comet came to a fork in the road. There was a signpost indicating directions, but the arrows had fallen off. He could make out the faded word "Metropolis" on one arrow, pointing down the right fork.

"Alright then," He said to himself, "We'll go that way."

He spurred Comet onwards, but if he'd looked at the second sign, he would have noticed it read "Witch's Castle Ahead. BEWARE: WOLVES."