Week 11
Day 72 (12/17)
Clark emerged from a deep sleep without a dream. He could easily recognize the effects of the painkillers he had been given. He opened his eyes. He could see the end of his oxygen mask placed on his face. He knew it helped him breathe a little better. Then he heard a noise around him and saw the doctor taking care of him. Hamilton. Dr. Hamilton.
"Stay calm, Sergeant. "
Clark was so doped up that he couldn't be any calmer. The doctor resumed his examination.
"Are you having trouble breathing? Any pain? "
He shook his head negatively, judging that he was not breathing too badly and that the pain was classic. Especially the pains in his hands. He then raised them in front of his eyes and saw that they were bandaged.
"Kerosene bandages, for your burns," Hamilton explained. "I think you know the cause... "
Clark nodded. He removed the mask with difficulty enough to speak.
"Between the acetone peroxide and the gastric juices... "
He had a sore throat. Talking made him cough and Hamilton helped him to sit up.
"That's what I was told. Chemical burns. Do you remember what happened? "
The images came back to him. It was enough to put his stomach back together again.
"I'd rather not. "
The doctor made a grimace.
"They explained it to me. When they brought you back here, you were in shock. Your throat and hands were burned and you were having trouble breathing. You had to be intubated quickly, and even though there was a risk of edema, they couldn't transfer you to the Green Zone. You're really lucky you're doing so well. "
Clark wouldn't have said anything about luck this time either. He tried to clear his throat before asking, taking off his mask:
"My hands? "
Hamilton smiled at him.
"Nothing serious, it's quite superficial and it didn't do too much damage to the dermis. You won't have any scars. In a month's time nothing will be visible! "
Clark closed his eyes in relief. He had no functional loss. That was the most important thing for him. He opened his eyes again to ask another question:
"When can I get out? "
The doctor smiled and put his mask back on.
"We'll see how you do in a few days. I'm going to lower the dosage of your medication. You've been unconscious for more than two days and that doesn't count as rest. "
Clark nodded. He was indeed tired. Hamilton was then called away. Clark nodded his head and he was alone again. He closed his eyes. That was enough to make him fall asleep again.
Day 75 (12/20)
Clark had had plenty of time to think, the time he was nailed in that damn bed. He had had time to review the images of the bodies dozens of times. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he saw someone walking by. He could feel the sensation of searching again and again inside their abdomen, he could still smell that stench.
And every time it happened, he would try to think about why he did it. Why he had forced himself to do it. To save lives. To protect his brothers in arms. To do his job. That's what he was repeating over and over again.
Ollie, Hal, and Barry came to visit him as soon as they got the okay. No one talked about what had happened, what Clark had had to do in that building. Ollie told what they knew about the rest of the dig and the other two about what they had done in the meantime as assignments that Clark had missed. In short, not much.
Colonel Jones had also come to visit him. To inform him of what was going on. That the decision had been made to give him a period of remission and that he would have to undergo a psychological evaluation to determine whether he was fit to return to work. Clark knew that the first interview with the psychotherapist would result in dozens of sessions with him. Probably to prevent post-traumatic stress disorder or to check that he wasn't already having one.
Clark hated psychotherapists. But he knew the disorder was quite serious, he had seen the damage it had done to other soldiers. He didn't want to go through that. On the other hand, he didn't want to talk to that kind of therapist either. He would rather talk to someone close to him about this than to a stranger. But he wasn't really ready to go back to that subject. He had considered talking to Bruce for a while, but...
Bruce didn't come. Not once had he visited him in three days since he had been awake. Clark thought it was because the Major had work to do, reports to write or exercises to supervise on the base or other missions that would require his sniper skills. But Ollie was there, and the others were surprised that the Major hadn't already been there.
Somehow that hurt Clark. More than he thought it would. He'd expected Bruce to come and visit him first. Or at least once. He had figured that now that they were friends, and even roommates, a bond had been created. Maybe it had only been in his direction. Maybe Bruce was too antisocial for that.
Clark thought that he had given too much importance to Bruce. He should never have seen him as a stable pillar to lean on. He should never have trusted him so much, listened to him so much when he told him that he was there to protect him. Indeed, that was his job as his superior, nothing more. He had been so stupid. How could his instincts have been so wrong about that person? He was pretty good in general.
He looked up when Hamilton appeared, a big smile on his face.
"Well, your latest results are good so you can go! Don't forget the instructions I gave you: go easy on the endurance efforts for the moment, change your bandages twice a day and see you in a week and a half! "
Clark smiled a thin smile back at him.
"It's going to be a long time. "
Hamilton winked at him as Clark began to get ready to leave.
"I'm sure you'll be less bored than here! "
"That's for sure. "
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
He drank his coffee alone at one of the refectory tables. Even when he wasn't on duty, the world kept turning. His whole team was on an intervention and he was just sitting there on the bench. He thought it wasn't a bad idea. In bed, he was dreaming about going back on the field and now that he was imagining himself going back on the field...
He closed his eyes. He was a deminer. He had seen and experienced horrors. He accepted it. He had to keep accepting it. He had done his job. It was his job. He had done it to protect people. He took a deep breath to get rid of the images. He had to get back on track quickly. He had to pull himself together before he toppled over.
He had to do something. He had to keep busy. He couldn't run, he couldn't practice, and he really didn't want to maintain his Arabic while reading it. Maybe it would be good for him to do something else. To work in another way. He stood up, determined not to let it get him down: he was going to have a little chat with Jones.
Day 76 (12/21)
Clark had managed to convince the Colonel to give him something to do. He had only been doing what Jones had asked for 24 hours and he was already upset about it. What an idea.
"Sounds like you're grounded," Ollie said in an amused tone.
He turned his head towards the blond man, who was having fun playing with the large caliber bullets.
"Put that back where you found it, Arrow, or my numbers won't be correct. "
Clark then saw the camera flash activate and he shot Barry.
"Do you really want me to smoke you before you go home?" Clark asked very seriously, looking hard.
Barry gave him a big smile:
"Come on, I've got to show my family who I work with! For once my perm' allows me to be there for the holidays! "
Hal smiled at Barry with a carnivorous smile:
"And will you show them pictures of your beautiful moustache? "
Ollie burst out laughing and Clark tried to stay focused, but he was really amused by the situation. Their joy of life made him forget his last mission for a while. That's how they supported him. By taking his mind off it. Clark had to admit that it was better than shutting himself away in his solitude. Which he had been tempted to do at first.
"You really want to bring this up, Hal ? " said Barry, giving him a menacing look.
Clark shook his head and smiled. Thank God they were there.
"You're walking down a slippery slope, Lantern. "
Hal winked at him.
"I like danger. "
Barry put the camera in his hands and looked at what was in front of him. The shelves with the grenades, the C4 charges and all the explosives. This time Clark stepped in:
"Barry, if you touch even one of these items while I've been inventorying them for hours, I'm going to drop you right out. "
Implied that he would take a load of about ninety kilos for every meter eighty-five that Clark was making. The Flash, on the other hand, must have been six feet tall for about 15 pounds lighter. In other words, Clark was the one in the ice chest between them.
"You don't want to load it on him instead," Barry replied annoyed.
Clark raised his arms.
"I don't want anything to do with this," he said with a smile.
"I'll make it up to you, Man of Steel," said Hal.
He raised his eyes to the sky, as he did every time he was called that. In addition to the fact that he didn't think he deserved the name, he found it far too pretentious and...
"You couldn't find a shorter nickname ?" he asked aloud.
They shrugged their shoulders and Ollie answered:
"Well, you tell that to Stone. I think he called you that," Ollie replied with a smile.
Clark swallowed.
"Maybe I won't complain then. "
Barry waved his arms to draw attention to himself:
"Hey, we're not changing the subject! As I want my beautiful face to be impeccable, I'll pay you back next year! "
Ollie threw an ammunition at him:
"Stop showing off! I too would like to spend the entire holiday season with my family! "
Ollie turned pale when he saw Clark's eyes. Without saying anything, he went to retrieve the ball, at fault.
"You've got family, you?" Hal asked.
Arrow winked at him.
"I'm sure I can find one in a bar! "
Clark couldn't stop laughing with Hal. Barry replied, petty:
"Because you think that you and your little blond goat can make hearts turn upside down? "
The sniper looked offended the moment Bruce Wayne walked in, breaking the moment of laughter.
"Stone needs us for surveillance. Be ready in five minutes. "
And he walked out. He hadn't given him a single look. Bruce didn't know that, he was now certain of it. Even in their own barracks, they managed to avoid each other.
"Good, the call of duty! We'll tell you about Clark," Ollie told him.
Clark greeted them with a wave of his hand. His cheerfulness had just vanished in one fell swoop.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
He looked at the stars again. He could easily stand the cold of the night, and with coffee it was even better. He preferred to look at the stars rather than go back to his quarters. Where he might run into Bruce. He didn't want to force him to be in his presence. He had clearly understood the message, when Bruce avoided looking at him at lunch, that in the evening he preferred to eat the meal alone despite the invitation of the others and that during the day, he had not addressed him a single word. And even in their neighbourhoods, they didn't speak to each other.
He preferred the silence to come from the fact that he was alone. If Bruce wanted to see him, to talk to him, Clark knew he would find him. Somewhere out there, that's what he was kind of hoping for. That he would come to him and ask him how he was doing. Pfff. He was ridiculous. Even pitiful.
It really hurt him. He couldn't understand why it was hurting him so much. Why it made him like that. Was it because of his trauma, that he had become so sensitive? Was it because he was morally and psychologically tired? Was it because Bruce was avoiding him? Because he had become weak?
He felt his tears flowing. Clark hated himself. All he felt now was disgust and anger towards himself. He looked at his hands. Breaded but functional. His hands that had searched their insides.
He closed his eyes and wiped his cheeks, swallowing all his bitterness. Tomorrow he would see the psychotherapist. If he wanted to stay on the surface and not sink, he had to be strong. He had to be sure of himself. He had to keep his goal in sight and stick to it. Just a little longer. Just long enough to finish his shift. After that, he wouldn't commit again. It was his last time.
He got up and went back to his quarters. All he had to do was sleep. Sleep, with the help of the sleeping pills Hamilton had prescribed for him. Sleep without dreaming. That was what he needed. He was sure of that.
He stopped when he saw Bruce standing by the door. He was smoking, obviously stringing cigarettes on cigarettes. Their eyes met for a second before the sniper turned away. Clark had got the message, there was no doubt about it now. He entered his quarters with an even heavier heart.
Day 77 (12/22)
Clark had prepared psychologically for this interview. He knew that there would be others, he couldn't get out of it like the other times. He wasn't the first one he had dealt with. So when he walked into the office, he was really determined. And slightly angry. At Bruce. Who else could it be? He was tired of him ignoring it. It was worse than anything. He couldn't take it anymore. Well, he was on edge.
It was the first time he met the camp psychotherapist in person.
"First Class Sergeant Kent! Please make yourself comfortable. My name is Will Magnus. "
Clark sat in the chair next to Magnus. Clark knew the communication techniques they used because he had seen them over and over again. Sitting close to the patient while giving them space. To build a trusting relationship more easily.
"Well, how about getting to know each other first? Shall I make you some coffee? "
Clark gave him a smile. As unfriendly as possible.
"No thanks for the coffee. I'd rather we cut to the chase. We don't know each other, it's true and I don't like you right away. I don't like people who do your job. "
Magnus displayed a smile.
"You're not the first to say that to me. "
"Great. So let me be clear. I've been through a traumatic event. I'll lie to you when I say I didn't, just as I'll lie when I say I don't have images that haunt me. What I experienced there, you can be sure that I won't tell you about it. I really don't want to talk to you. So my request is this: I'm leaving, I'm not coming to your stupid sessions that will waste both of our time and we'll meet again for an evaluation to get back on the field. Is that okay with you? "
This time Magnus burst out laughing. Clark looked slightly offended.
"Excuse me, excuse me Sarge. It's just that for someone who doesn't want to talk to me, you're giving me quite a speech! "
Clark smiled.
"Do we have a deal? "
Will Magnus sounded it with his green eyes.
"I've heard a lot about you, Sergeant. Unfortunately, I can't force you to talk to me. Although, you know, we don't have to discuss the incident. We can discuss something else as well. "
Clark cut him off with a wave of his hand:
"I don't want to talk about knitting with you, or anything else. If I need to talk to someone I have friends for that. You are not a friend. "
Magnus pushed himself back into his chair.
"Well, at times like that I would suggest a rapprochement, but... you don't really seem very inclined to create a friendly bond and I don't want to force you to do so. But I still have to do my job: I'll see you again for another evaluation before you take over, okay? "
Clark was internally surprised to do so well. He had built up tons of arguments for nothing.
"It's perfect. "
He shook hands with Magnus and stood up. The latter opened the door for him:
"Tell me about it, Sergeant. With whomever you like. But it will do you good. "
Clark nodded his head and walked out. Unfortunately, the one and only person he could have talked to pretended he didn't exist anymore.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
Colonel Jones frowned slightly as he observed his request. Clark had taken care to be as strict as possible in writing his paper.
"I'm sorry, Sergeant. Unfortunately I cannot accede to your request for lack of means. Your quarters have not yet been restored and I am going to have an influx of new soldiers that will have to be accommodated. I will already have to find a way to accommodate all these beautiful people, so... "
Clark nodded. At least he tried.
"I understand. Thank you Colonel for your time. "
He walked to the door and Jones resumed:
"Without indiscretion, may I ask why you want to go back to your quarters? Is there a problem between you and Major Wayne? "
Clark shook his head.
"No, it's just that it was a temporary solution. "
He was hoping to be convincing. Jones nodded.
"I'm sorry, Kent. But I think a little company won't hurt you anyway, even if it is Wayne. "
Clark smiled thinly and walked out. If only that could be true.
Soldiers leaving on leave were gathering to go to the plane. They were going to be short-handed for the holiday season. It was normal. Everybody made sure they went home to see their families. Arthur, Barry and Diana would come home. Arthur would return to his pregnant wife, Barry to his fathers and his adopted sister, and Diana to her island, which she considered to be her whole family.
They were greeting each other as they left. Clark joined them. He hugged the three soldiers in his arms, wishing them all a happy holiday. Somehow he was jealous of them, that they were all leaving this hellhole. At that moment, he thought that if he had to go home, he probably wouldn't want to come back.
His eyes fell on Bruce. Among all this crowd, all this agitation, he had to stay focused on him. And he had to turn his eyes in his direction. They stared at each other for a moment. Clark chose to turn his head away and leave, at the same time Bruce did the same thing on his side.