Week 9

Day 59 (12/04)

Clark made a face while drinking his coffee and finished his plate of oatmeal. He was looking forward to the opportunity to have a proper breakfast again.

"So, how's your new roommate working out? " Hal asked in front of him.

He shrugged.

"No idea. It's not like we've talked since they all got back from Westford. He collapsed from fatigue. "

Hal nodded his head and continued to eat. Barry continued:

"Ollie's asleep too. They must have only had a few hours of sleep, if they could get any. Their mission must be secret, because no one knows what it was about. "

Arthur, sitting next to Clark, put down his cup.

"Sniper says offensive operation. Westford had to retaliate in a more targeted and discreet manner. "

Diana pushed her plate back from her.

"Yes, but they still stayed for three days. Operations rarely take that long. "

Clark shook his head negatively.

"Arthur is probably right. Maybe their operation wasn't nearby. "

They all remained silent for a moment, pensive. They too hadn't slept much in the last few days, but certainly more than the snipers on the mission.

He finished his plate and stood up. With Wayne absent to lead his team, they had all been under Stone's command. Stone's orders were not specific, but from now on, when there was a particular outside intervention, they had an extra escort. And in half an hour, they were responsible for escorting a convoy to Westford.

He went back to his room and was careful not to wake Wayne. Finally, given his state of fatigue, there was little chance of that happening. He glanced at the sniper. Wayne slept on the bed on the outside, technically the one assigned to Clark. He thought it would be better to leave him the more accessible bed in case Wayne came home in the middle of the night. He congratulated himself for doing the right thing. Besides, it was more convenient.

Clark took a moment to look at Wayne's face, turned towards him while he was fast asleep. He could see the tired features on his sleeping face and the growth of his beard. If Wayne had taken a quick shower on the way home, he hadn't taken the time to do anything else. Clark could largely understand him.

He folded the sheet over the Major a little and got dressed. Seeing him like that, it seemed hard to be angry with him anymore. Maybe he could get used to it, living with Wayne, if Wayne put his mind to it. Anyway, it was only temporary. Once the investigation was unofficially closed, he would be alone again.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kent had kept his finger on the side of the trigger on his M4 all the way to the track. He wasn't the only one who was tense and fortunately their trip went smoothly. There was always a risk of ambushes on the way, or mines on the roads. In the Humvee, he was with Allen, Curry and Prince. Allen drove the vehicle, Curry was at the heavy gun, Prince in the back and he in the front.

The front walls of Westford had been completely destroyed. Kent examined them from a distance as he stepped out of the vehicle, easily recognizing the damage from an explosion. A very large explosion. He then took his eyes off the wall to see the rest of the base. In three days it had already recovered quickly, but the damage from the attack could easily be seen.

They all gathered around Stone as their main escort mission was completed. He gave them new instructions:

"There is still a lot of debris to remove and tents to put back up. Go help. Kent. "

The others left, and Kent stood by for further orders.

"I was told that the walls had been blown up with a bomb. Their bomb squad is gathering the debris and studying it. Go help them. "

"Yes, sir. "

Kent walked to the tent assigned for this purpose. When he passed it, he found himself in the midst of many boxes of debris and only two soldiers. One of them, a tall African-American, much stronger than he was, immediately dismissed him:

"We don't need any distractions go away ! "

Kent did not take his anger personally, he knew he was not the cause of it.

"I'm a demineur, maybe I can help. "

The two bomb squad members stopped. The second, a slender blond and a little shorter than them, walked towards him.

"A deminer, huh? So yeah, we're going to need some help. Experts in the field are scarce these days. "

Kent nodded his head and untied his M4 and put it next to him. He could see the other bomb squad members were on edge. He glanced at the tables in front of him. On the two large tables lined up were many burnt debris and on another table, at the back, a few small pieces of plastic. Needless to say, these were the few pieces they suspected were part of the bomb.

"Well, it's not complicated, we inspect what's on the table, we take out another crate and what may be part of the bomb goes on this table. "

Kent nodded his head.

"What did the explosion look like? " he asked to get an idea of what he was looking for.

The reaction to his question was synchronous: both men sighed long and hard. The blond man replied:

"No idea. Clyde and I weren't there and no one could agree on the description of the explosion. Whether it was the noise, the smell, the flames,... "

Kent sighed long and hard.

"We're leaving with nothing now. "

He then received a big pat on the back from Clyde, which he found hard to take.

"You've got it. I'll make us some coffee. We're going to need it. "

Kent nodded his head and turned to the blond man. The blond man reached out his hand:

"By the way, my name is Stephen. "

He shook his hand back:

"Clark. Let's find the pieces of this shit! "

The two men smiled at each other and then went to work.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

A puzzle. A real puzzle. They had spent all day on it and a good part of their evening. And they hadn't sorted out half of what they had. And the more time passed, the less they saw the end of their sorting.

"Guys, we're out of coffee. "

Stephen waved the empty thermos in front of him, a jaded look on his face. Clark dropped his head against the table and Clyde leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Clark, with his head against the table, asked the fateful question of the day:

"Do we draw straws? "

"Yeah. "

"Go ahead. "

Clark took the three different sized iron rods from the debris and reached out his hand to Clyde, the closest to him.

"Oh yes! I didn't do it. "

He then reached out his hand to Stephen.

"Damn it. "

Clark and Clyde had a huge smile on their faces.

"Look on the bright side, Steve, you've already got the thermos in your hands. "

Stephen fingered his black colleague.

"Fuck you," he said as he stepped out of the tent, with the other two looking on in amusement.

Clark and Clyde glanced at each other again and sighed and went back to work.

Day 60 (12/05)

The three deminers had taken turns during the night. Their mission was one of the base's priorities and their tents had been authorized to continue working with light. Very little light. And with such a large difference in light, their eyes tired even more quickly. So they made rounds to rest. Clyde had slept first, making a corner for himself to sleep in the tent. Clark had been the second and Stephen had followed.

They didn't get much sleep, but they couldn't really afford to spend the whole night. Major Stone had been away for a while with the convoy they were escorting and they had taken another soldier to replace him. They had agreed that he would go back with the next escorted convoy.

"Can you pass me some coffee?" Stephen asked.

Clark threw the thermos at him.

"We still have about ten crates left. How is it possible that there are still so many?! " he exclaimed in front of all the pieces in front of him.

Clyde rubbed his eyes and replied:

"Well, the bomb was in one of our vehicles. The convoy literally jumped over the walls, the other vehicles with it. "

And in there it also indicated the men on board.

"I'm sorry for your comrades. "

Clark sensed tension in the atmosphere. Stephen shrugged his shoulders.

"We have lost ten men and we have about fifteen wounded. We're lucky it's not more serious. "

Clark then dared to ask another question:

"Were you stormed after that? "

Clyde laid his brown eyes on him:

"Our boys didn't give them a chance. "

And after that, they had surely mounted an expedition to carry out reprisals. Clark was beginning to put the pieces of the story together in his head. The attack had been really well carried out. Prepared meticulously beforehand. Then suddenly, Clark felt a shiver run down his spine as memories came to the surface.

"Were there teeth in the debris? "

Stephen and Clyde looked at each other.

"No, not that we know of," Stephen replied. "It's a question... quite a peculiar one. "

Clark sighed, suddenly feeling paranoid.

"Sorry. It's just that... a little over a month ago, my unit ended up with a vehicle bomb too. I was wondering if it was the same guy. "

The other two bomb squad members took another look. Clyde approached him and bent down over his uniform.

"Kent. Clark Kent," he said, reflecting.

"Is that you, the Man of Steel?" Stephen asked as he approached.

Clark scratched the back of his head, suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm not sure that the nickname suits me very well," he said with a smile to hide his embarrassment.

His face froze when he saw the serious expression on Stephen's face. Clark tightened up immediately.

"I was in the Green Zone when they brought you back. The whole hospital was talking about you! The bomb squad guy who saved his unit by defusing a bomb when he was shot! Your story spread faster than herpes in a university club! "

Clark and Clyde laughed at the comparison. He was relieved that the other bomb-disposal officer took it that way. He hadn't really made many friends lately.

"I want to add that Steve didn't believe your story! Nor did I, for that matter," Clyde added smiling, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I have to admit that the version we're telling sounds really cool, but from my point of view not really! You still don't believe it? "

Clyde changed his expression. He became serious again.

"All the bomb squad received a report about the bomb you defused. Your report, right? Creepy. That's what made us believe your story. Too disgusting to be made up. Afterwards, whether you got shot during it or not, we don't care, just the teeth thing... Bwah! "

Clyde looked disgusted and brushed the conversation aside with a wave of his hand:

"Well, let's change the subject before I throw up! "

Stephen and Clark exchanged an amused look before resuming their work. These guys were pretty cool.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Time dilation. Clark felt like a victim of it. Or even a time distortion problem, where time would suddenly accelerate or slow down. He felt like he was in an episode of Doctor Who. Time was passing too fast for their coffee rations, and the outside world. Inside the tent, everything was slow, their sorting, their progress. Several times, Clyde and Stephen's direct superior had come to yell at them. They had to work faster.

Stephen obviously came to the same conclusions as him at the same time when he came back and served them another coffee:

"I think we have enough elements to identify a little bit the bomb. I suggest that one of us focus on the debris set aside and the other two continue sorting. "

Clark nodded his head and Clyde raised his thumb.

"We're drawing straws ?" he asked.

"Yeah. "

"Go ahead. "

Stephen and Clyde pulled a metal rod. He expressed his joy:

"Yes! Change is mine! "

"You're a lucky bastard, Clyde," Clark replied with a look of displeasure.

The African-American walked to the table reserved for him with a dance step.

"Yeah, and good luck sorting out the rednecks! "

Clark grunted as he leaned over the debris, and Stephen flipped him off. At least maybe they would move faster.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark was scrutinizing a burnt piece of plastic when he heard Clyde swear. He and Stephen turned their heads towards the big black man, who seemed upset.

"Something's wrong ?" Clark asked.

Clyde nodded his head, still staring at the pieces of the bomb he had gathered.

"Come and see. "

The other two bomb squad members approached. On the table, Clyde had gathered the pieces of a detonator and a larger box that had exploded. It probably contained the explosive. But it was rather small.

"It's the wrong box," said Stephen.

Clyde shook his head negatively.

"It's the right box. There's only one. "

Stephen folded his arms across his chest.

"Then it's not TATP. Too small an amount for the explosion. "

"Same with TNT. "

There was then a long moment of silence. These were the most likely explosives they could find here. Clark and Stephen then took a room each. They knew how they could find the explosive. They felt it. Beyond the smell of burning plastic, they could smell a faint odor of...

"C4. "

He and Stephen had spoken with one voice. Clark dropped the piece of plastic as if he had burned it. The C4. Again. The U.S. military had a monopoly of it in this country, and the explosive was easily detectable at customs and guarded buildings. It was very difficult to move it around the country without the Americans knowing about it. What the hell was that shit again?! A small amount, okay, but it wasn't the first time he came across it. How could it happen that they got caught up in their own equipment?!

"I thought the same thing... And considering the size of the box... "

Clyde didn't finish his sentence. He let out a long sigh before resuming:

"Didn't you ever once think that maybe you were on the side of the bad guys? "

His question remained unanswered in the void. There was no need to answer. Clark felt bad. He couldn't say exactly what he was feeling, but he felt bad. And so were the others. He was out of his mind when the tent flap suddenly opened:

"Kent! Get your stuff, we're leaving in 5 minutes! "

The intervention was so quick that he identified Wayne more by his voice than by his face. He sighed. He hadn't even had time to protest. He retrieved his things, reattached his M4 and turned to the other two, who remained with the same look of spite he had.

"Pay attention to you guys. "

"You too, Clark. "

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark had been silent all the way home, pensive. Much too pensive to be on his guard and in case of trouble, he knew it. When he got out of his vehicle, he acted more out of automatism than anything else, and then he went to his quarters. Clark got rid of all his equipment and then went to take a shower: he needed a shower to clear his head and for hygiene purposes. It gave him time to put his ideas back in place, and to keep his goals in mind: to do his job as a deminer, to prevent other people from dying because of the explosions.

When he came out of the bathroom, he was almost surprised to find Wayne. It's true that in the last few days they had barely crossed paths here. He congratulated himself internally for getting dressed before going out into the room. His eyes met Wayne's. The shade of blue in his irises had returned and Clark realized that Wayne was in a better mood than the time they had spoken. So was he.

"You look troubled. "

His intonation was so neutral that Clark was a little lost, but slightly defensive.

"Is that a question or a statement? "

Wayne stared at him for a moment before answering:

"A statement. "

Clark frowned slightly.

"So it doesn't really require an answer. "

Against all odds, Wayne displayed an amused grin, which had the effect of relaxing him.

"Relax, Clark. This room is now a private space that we share. I'm not your enemy. Not in here, not out there. "

He nodded.

"Sorry. I'm a little on edge and I confess I don't knowhow to behave with others. "

The words came out of his mouth so naturally that he was surprised. Where did she get that confidence? He must have been too tired or on edge. Wayne took out a cigarette and before lighting it, he asked Clark for permission to light it, and Clark nodded his head. Wayne lit his cigarette before answering.

"Everyone has the right to be tense. Feel free to talk about it. "

Clark nodded his head and sat down on the desk chair. It was either that or the bed Wayne was already sitting in. He preferred to keep a little distance. Then he changed the subject.

"How was your mission? "

Wayne shot his cigarette for a long time before answering, in a cloud of smoke.

"Confidential. "

The deminer looked at him for a moment, before he finally plunged into his reading. He and Wayne did not discuss the evening any further. Not because they were tense, or angry, but because neither of them was in the mood to talk.

Day 62 (12/07)

It was windy. Quite a lot of wind, and rather cold. Kent lowered his helmet visor to get a better view of the screen he was using to guide the EOD, aka Jerry, as he arrived at the target area.

"I don't like it," commented Jordan next to him.

Kent didn't raise his head, focused on his task. Queen replied:

"Ah, I think it's okay. I don't feel like we're being watched. "

The mechanical arm arrived at the hole. Jordan sighed.

"On target, " Kent indicated.

"I'm not talking about people, I'm talking about this wind," replied Jordan.

The deminer manipulated the EOD mechanical arm to slightly clear the wire and the metal end that protruded from the ground.

"They're predicting strong gusts of wind. I wouldn't be surprised if a storm came down on us," Allen added.

Jerry's arm cleared the piece of metal and Kent realized it was just an old piece of junk. So he followed the wire.

"Damn it. It's not storm season," Jordan grumbled.

"I don't think there's really a storm season in this area," Wayne added, his eyes glued to the video screen.

Kent then confirmed the on-screen observation.

"False alarm. Just old debris. I'm bringing Jerry back. "

Allen patted Jordan on the shoulder in a friendly manner:

"You see finally, it's rather quiet! "

Jordan glanced at him blackly with a big smile on his face.

"Stop kidding me Flash! "

Kent received the EOD and together with the others, they packed all the demining equipment. They had to admit to themselves, that kind of false alarm sometimes really relaxes him. For Kent, it made him feel like the world wasn't that dark. Wayne then used the radio.

"False alarm, you can move. "

The unit that had called them in had taken refuge 50 yards away from them, down the street.

"Copy that. We've just been called for security reinforcement in Mansour, you're coming with us. "

The team members glanced at each other with questioning eyes as the others stepped out of their cover. Wayne turned towards them to get a visual of them.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant-Colonel Arnold, I must first inform my superior. "

"This has already been agreed with Colonel Jones. Everybody over there. "

"We're following you. "

They were in the district next door. The road would not be long. They all got into the Humvee and followed the vehicles of the other unit.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"In the end, it wasn't a sign of a sandstorm. "

They all looked at Lantern with a black look, except Wayne. It was raining. It was cold. It was dark too. It was the first time that Kent really felt winter, until now. It had already rained, it had already been cold, and of course, they couldn't escape the night. But these conditions had rarely been met. It was really cold and they were soaking wet.

"It was more like a thunderstorm, yes," Queen cried.

They all looked up when they heard a vehicle coming towards them without headlights. They all pointed their M4s in that direction. Wayne went to meet the vehicle.

After their intervention on the false alarm, they had been requisitioned to set up a checkpoint in the Mansour district. Kent had assumed that it was to protect the Green Zone, which was a few kilometers behind them. And it probably was.

"Open the dam, he has the authorization. "

Allen and Kent removed the barbed wire fence to let the civilian vehicle through. They didn't know what they were up to, or what was really going on, but they just obeyed orders. That's how it worked.

"How long before we're relieved of duty again? "

"In less than an hour," Wayne replied as he walked back to them.

Wayne was probably the only one of them who didn't complain about the rain or the cold. Kent, having traveled a lot without much means, was more resistant to changes in temperature and climate. He may have been physically stronger, but he still found the rain unpleasant. He knew it could be read on his face. But Wayne himself... he seemed so... quiet.

As if he was capturing his thoughts, Wayne turned his head and came towards him. Kent would have liked to have a little chat with him, but it wasn't the setting he wanted. He preferred a more relaxed, warmer setting. Maybe for once he didn't want others to get involved in the conversation. Maybe he just didn't want anyone else to be there.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Clark smiled as he watched Bruce breathed in his cigarette. Bruce's eyes sparkled because of the story he had just heard.

"Your turn, tell another one," Clark concluded.

He saw Bruce start to think. They had been talking about their childhood for almost two hours, both of them with disconcerting ease. They took turns sharing some rather amusing anecdotes. Clark found it hard to believe that the intrepid, curious, and obviously happy little boy he was hearing in the stories was the same person who was telling them. Bruce was full of secrets that Clark really liked.

"Well... I remember one time, for my 8th birthday, I wanted to have a real Japanese katana. Not one that was forged with today's methods, one that was forged with traditional and complex methods. Instead, my butler saw fit to offer me a wakizashi, a much smaller model, more suitable for my age, but forged according to my requests. " Bruce paused, with a slight smile on his face. "I've been pouting at him for weeks! "

Clark burst out laughing, imagining little Bruce.

"Alfred still seemed to be really caring for you. "

The other nodded.

"He raised me up and looked after me to the end. I owe him a lot. But... not as much as you owe Betty! "

Bruce laughed. That was really nice to Clark's ears.

"I feel stupid with my cow story now! "

"We sure didn't grow up in the same world! "

They gave each other a knowing look when another memory surfaced in Clark's head.

"Oh, I have a good one like that! When I was about... five or six years old, I used to imagine that I was a superhero and that I had super powers that allowed me to fly, to be super strong and fast, and I could even throw lasers with my eyes! " Bruce then burst out laughing, causing Clark to look upset. "Hey! I was five or six years old! And I was telling everyone I was from out of town! The truth is that I came from another planet where it often snowed. "

Bruce was totally absorbed in his story. He waited for the rest, a broad smile on his lips. It was disturbing how well it suited him. Clark continued:

"So, after a while, it came to my parents' ears. You can imagine the uneasiness... They told me I was adopted much later, but when we talked about that "superhero" episode again, they told me they were totally panicked. I should have known that I didn't get my dog just like that! "

Bruce shook his head and looked serious again.

"They must have been afraid that you would remember something too. I can really imagine you acting innocently as you tell all this, without realizing what it must have been like for your parents! "

Clark struck on his thighs by reflex :

"Exactly! I was really in my fantasy world, saving the world! And they behind didn't know how to handle it. "

They remained silent, Clark remembering this time with nostalgia and Bruce imagining the situation from all angles. Then he asked a question:

"By the way, how did it go when they told you? "

Clark took a moment to think about it and then casually shrugged his shoulders.

"I was twelve years old, I think, when they told me. That they had adopted me when I was a year and a half old. All they knew about my parents was that they were from Eastern Europe. I didn't react badly because... somewhere, I suspected it at the time. I have almost black hair, quite pronounced blue eyes. My parents have brown hair and brown eyes for my father and hazel eyes for my mother. No one in their family had physical traits similar to mine. At twelve years old, it is very easy to understand how heredity works. "

Bruce nodded his head, slightly pensive.

"Have you ever tried to find your origins? "

Clark knew that Bruce already knew half the answer. The other just wanted to know more without being too invasive in his questions. He answered him with a smile.

"I've done quite a bit of research with the adoption agency, orphanages, former case managers... I learned Russian first, then French and German before leaving for Europe. My investigation led me to Lithuania. In the countries of Eastern Europe. The advantage is that Russian is a language quite spoken and understood in these countries. It allowed me to find the neighborhood where my parents lived. By talking with former neighbors or friends I was able to find, I learned that they were Russian immigrants. "

Bruce nodded his head, waiting for the next step.

"So I know that I was probably born in Russia and that my name was Kal. After that... I went sightseeing. "

Clark showed a big smile, proud of his little end. Bruce stretched out a pensive smile in turn.

"That's a nice name, Kal. "

Clark immediately turned tomato red, suddenly embarrassed. His ears were on fire. Bruce laughed again at his reaction.

"Haven't you ever been called that? "

He hid his face in his hands, still surprised that he hadn't really died of shame.

"Yes, my mother tried, but... it's so... weird. "

Bruce displayed a little smile that Clark only had time to see when he looked up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you so much. "

He meant it. It touched Clark deeply.

"I was surprised. Actually, I didn't reveal my original name to many people because, well, I'm still Clark Kent. But it's true that it's a name that I wouldn't want to lose. It's all I have left of my origins. "

Bruce nodded. Clark knew the man understood how important it was to him. Bruce may not have been demonstrative in his emotions, but he didn't doubt his ability to be empathetic and understanding. Not anymore.

"Thank you, Bruce. For this moment. "

Bruce gave him a sincere smile. Clark saw each of his smiles and laughter as a precious privilege.

"Thank you, Clark. For making these moments better. "

They looked at each other with a meaningful look, sharing a new complicity.