He's been patrolling over Metropolis for the last two hours, flying high above the dark city. He's stopped two women from being mugged in that hours
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She knows screaming won't help. Regardless of what the papers may be saying, regardless of the population's collective hope that the red and blue blur was back, or that Metropolis had another hero, she knows better. They are all gone.
But still, she screams when the man pushes her against the wall, the blade of a knife pressed against her neck, not because she is hoping to be rescued, but because that's what he expects her to do and she wants him to believe that he is in control.
So she struggles, or pretends to, as she flails her arms just enough to reach inside her pocket for her taser.
"Please, let me go." She pleads in her best panicked voice, distracting him so he won't notice the movement of her hand.
He finds the woman and her attacker in the alleyway within seconds. He hovers over the spot a mere moment before he realizes she's just the type of woman he's been trying so hard to protect in the time he's been back. He never notices, he doesn't think, he doesn't realize that it could be her. He doesn't take the time to. He just swoops down, fully prepared to bring the knife-wielding mugger to justice.
Before he even manages to touch the ground, he speaks. "Let her go." It's not often he speaks, but he feels the urge in this case. When he does, it typically catches the bad guy off guard just long enough for him to attack and then leave, all in the blink of an eye. His voice is low, deep, almost a growl, with a darkness coming from it that he was unaware he even had. And this time around, even more so than the others, he doesn't even recognize his own voice.
The third voice catches both her and her attacker by surprise, Chloe quickly glances behind the man but in the darkness, she can only make out the outline of the man, and the only thing she can tell is that he is tall. Very tall.
But she doesn't give it another thought, instead, she uses the distraction to press the taser firmly against her attacker's stomach, holding it on just long enough to make him pass out, looking down when the man falls unconscious to the ground.
He steps from the shadows, and lunges forward in superspeed to grab the woman's attacker, but doesn't realize the woman was armed until after the man begins to fall. It startles him, surprises him when he hears the crackle of electricity, and it throws him off a bit, making him move a bit slower than he usually does. None of the others have been armed before, have been prepared. The majority of them had been completely defenseless, in need of saving. This one? Maybe not so much.
The mugger is out cold by the time Clark lowers him to the ground, and he's fully ready to go about business as usual when he makes a startling realization.
He can't do that, because it's already too late.
The woman has probably already seen his face, or at least got a really good look at him.
For a moment, she keeps her eyes on the attacker, making sure he isn't about to get up, and then, her eyes fall on the other man, on her supposed rescuer, she is about to open her mouth, to tell him she's fine and doesn't need help, but then she sees his face.
Her eyes open wide, her breath catches in her throat and she can't believe it, it's him, she's sure of it, she recognizes his hair, even though she can't see much of his face, "Clark?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
He freezes in place, feeling his jaw drop. He'd recognize her voice anywhere. He could pick it out of a crowd in an instant.
His spine stiffens, and for a long moment, he feels like he can't move. He's tried so hard to stay away from her, and now, she's so close, he could probably turn around and touch her, if he wanted. And God, does he want to.
He straightens up, standing tall, and reminds himself to show no emotion. He can't.
He slowly turns to face her, and tries desperately to ignore the skipping beat of his heart.
Chloe freezes too when he turns to face her, without realizing what she is doing, she takes a step closer, her eyes widening even more, a lump in her throat. She hadn't seen him or heard from in for six months, she had searched all over for him, she had tried satellite images, radars, she had even used the key in the Kawatchi caves and tried to find him in the fortress, but there was no sign of him.
She doesn't say anything, she can't, a mix of anger, relief and shock overwhelming her, she can barely process the fact that he is indeed standing in front of her.
He knows he probably looks worse for the wear, but he realizes she probably doesn't even care. He's pretty sure he doesn't either. His eyes are dark, from countless sleepless nights he's spent patrolling the city. When he finally tires out and can't take anymore, he'll return to the Fortress. It's his home now. He's made it that way.
He stares back at her for a long moment, then turns his attention to the still-unconscious criminal at their feet.
"I'll... get rid of this guy. He won't bother you --or anyone else-- ever again."
And again, he doesn't even recognize his own voice. Maybe it's because he doesn't even hear it very often anymore.
"Is that what you're going to do?" The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself, her heart is pounding in her chest and suddenly, anger is overruling all her other feelings.
"Are you just going to turn your back and leave? Again? Pretend I'm a complete stranger like one of the hopeless women you save, Clark?"
He hears her heart, loud and clear and just about ringing in his ears. He hears her words, which hurt him far more than he'll ever let on.
He doesn't turn back to look at her. He won't let himself. It'll just weaken him. He can't let that happen.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds the same, the same deepness, the same roughness. "This man must be taken to the proper authorities. Would you really want to risk him waking up before that happens?"
Every one of his words feels like a knife cutting through her chest, stabbing her right in the hard. Clark Kent, her best friend for over a decade, the man she has been missing, worrying about and desperately trying to find for over six months is standing right there, a couple of feet away from her and he can't even turn to look at her.
It hurts, all of it hurts and she's still angry at him, at the situation, at her mistakes, at herself for everything that happened but him not even acknowledging her is a feeling she can't really describe, she just knows she can't take much more of it.
"Priorities, right?" When she speaks again, her voice is tight, "you're going to catch the bad guy and run away from everything else again, it seems to be what you do best."
Her stomach is turning with every word that leaves her mouth, "just do me a favor, Clark. Next time someone tries to attack me, stay away, don't come rescue me. I don't need you to be my hero if you refuse to be who I really need."
He tries to ignore the pain, the pain ripping through him at her words, and tries his hardest not to show how much it hurts. He tries not to react, to snap at her, to sound angry.
"And who do you need?" he asks, his voice still low. "If you're looking for Clark Kent, he's been dead for the last six months."
"Great," her voice lowers, mostly because hearing him say that, hearing his voice, or the way his voice is, completely void of emotions, it feels like it's killing whatever hope she had left, and it wasn't much.
She needs to take a deep breath before speaking, but her voice still cracks, "at least now I can mourn him along with everyone else I've lost."
And it's her fault that they are all gone, including Clark, but seeing him like this, it was almost unbearable, "because there doesn't seem to be any of him left in you."
She has no idea just how much of Clark Kent is left, under the surface.
He's fighting him right now.
Almost uncontrollably, he finds himself turning toward her, a deep sorrow hidden in those greenish blue depths.
"This is who I am." he says, softly, simply. "This is who I was always meant to be. This is my destiny. I am Kal-El, the last son of Krypton. And I'm meant to play the hero, while I spend my life alone, thinking about every single mistake I've made, as Clark Kent, and about all the lives I've ruined."
Her eyes are on his face as soon as he turns towards her, she is aching to just tell him to shut up and wrap her arms around him, tell him how much she missed him, but her anger is overpowering that ache and it's growing at his words.
"Thinking about your supposed mistakes isn't going to make a difference, Clark, you being here would." Her words are strong, loud, filled with everything she has been keeping inside for months, "but you don't seem to care anymore and if you don't, why are you even here? Just leave, your supposed destiny doesn't mean anything to anyone else. Humans can save themselves."
"I am here." he says, his voice hushed in the darkness. He turns away again, looking down at the ground. "Because not everyone can save themselves. They need me. Maybe I'm only there for a moment, but in that moment, that need me."
But still, she screams when the man pushes her against the wall, the blade of a knife pressed against her neck, not because she is hoping to be rescued, but because that's what he expects her to do and she wants him to believe that he is in control.
So she struggles, or pretends to, as she flails her arms just enough to reach inside her pocket for her taser.
"Please, let me go." She pleads in her best panicked voice, distracting him so he won't notice the movement of her hand.
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Before he even manages to touch the ground, he speaks. "Let her go." It's not often he speaks, but he feels the urge in this case. When he does, it typically catches the bad guy off guard just long enough for him to attack and then leave, all in the blink of an eye. His voice is low, deep, almost a growl, with a darkness coming from it that he was unaware he even had. And this time around, even more so than the others, he doesn't even recognize his own voice.
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But she doesn't give it another thought, instead, she uses the distraction to press the taser firmly against her attacker's stomach, holding it on just long enough to make him pass out, looking down when the man falls unconscious to the ground.
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The mugger is out cold by the time Clark lowers him to the ground, and he's fully ready to go about business as usual when he makes a startling realization.
He can't do that, because it's already too late.
The woman has probably already seen his face, or at least got a really good look at him.
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Her eyes open wide, her breath catches in her throat and she can't believe it, it's him, she's sure of it, she recognizes his hair, even though she can't see much of his face, "Clark?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
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His spine stiffens, and for a long moment, he feels like he can't move. He's tried so hard to stay away from her, and now, she's so close, he could probably turn around and touch her, if he wanted. And God, does he want to.
He straightens up, standing tall, and reminds himself to show no emotion. He can't.
He slowly turns to face her, and tries desperately to ignore the skipping beat of his heart.
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She doesn't say anything, she can't, a mix of anger, relief and shock overwhelming her, she can barely process the fact that he is indeed standing in front of her.
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He stares back at her for a long moment, then turns his attention to the still-unconscious criminal at their feet.
"I'll... get rid of this guy. He won't bother you --or anyone else-- ever again."
And again, he doesn't even recognize his own voice. Maybe it's because he doesn't even hear it very often anymore.
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"Are you just going to turn your back and leave? Again? Pretend I'm a complete stranger like one of the hopeless women you save, Clark?"
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He doesn't turn back to look at her. He won't let himself. It'll just weaken him. He can't let that happen.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds the same, the same deepness, the same roughness. "This man must be taken to the proper authorities. Would you really want to risk him waking up before that happens?"
Reply
It hurts, all of it hurts and she's still angry at him, at the situation, at her mistakes, at herself for everything that happened but him not even acknowledging her is a feeling she can't really describe, she just knows she can't take much more of it.
"Priorities, right?" When she speaks again, her voice is tight, "you're going to catch the bad guy and run away from everything else again, it seems to be what you do best."
Her stomach is turning with every word that leaves her mouth, "just do me a favor, Clark. Next time someone tries to attack me, stay away, don't come rescue me. I don't need you to be my hero if you refuse to be who I really need."
Reply
"And who do you need?" he asks, his voice still low. "If you're looking for Clark Kent, he's been dead for the last six months."
Reply
She needs to take a deep breath before speaking, but her voice still cracks, "at least now I can mourn him along with everyone else I've lost."
And it's her fault that they are all gone, including Clark, but seeing him like this, it was almost unbearable, "because there doesn't seem to be any of him left in you."
Reply
She has no idea just how much of Clark Kent is left, under the surface.
He's fighting him right now.
Almost uncontrollably, he finds himself turning toward her, a deep sorrow hidden in those greenish blue depths.
"This is who I am." he says, softly, simply. "This is who I was always meant to be. This is my destiny. I am Kal-El, the last son of Krypton. And I'm meant to play the hero, while I spend my life alone, thinking about every single mistake I've made, as Clark Kent, and about all the lives I've ruined."
Reply
"Thinking about your supposed mistakes isn't going to make a difference, Clark, you being here would." Her words are strong, loud, filled with everything she has been keeping inside for months, "but you don't seem to care anymore and if you don't, why are you even here? Just leave, your supposed destiny doesn't mean anything to anyone else. Humans can save themselves."
Reply
"I am here." he says, his voice hushed in the darkness. He turns away again, looking down at the ground. "Because not everyone can save themselves. They need me. Maybe I'm only there for a moment, but in that moment, that need me."
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