Week 12
Day 79 (12/25)
It was one of the few times Clark made an outside call. On Christmas Eve and in the New Year. When he was deployed on Christmas Day, he learned that it was better to make his calls early in the morning, despite the time difference. The center that managed the secure lines was always available at those times. They made an effort to maintain the morale of the troops. Clark knew that he would be forgiven for calling a day earlier, with the time difference, and that he would be forgiven for calling Kansas so late.
He had called his mother, Martha. She had been living alone on their small farm for several years and although he sent her a few letters, Clark rarely made calls. He didn't feel it was necessary, preferring to give more time to those who had children or a spouse. And as he did every time he spoke live to Martha, he did his best to lie to her. His mother had always had the courtesy to never point this out to him, and he knew it. But he couldn't tell her about his daily life. Especially not now.
And then hearing her voice... it really did him good. If he couldn't see his mother's face because she didn't have a computer, he could easily imagine the features of her face at the sound of her voice. It was always emotional, those moments when they were talking to each other. When he hung up, he had tears in his eyes and a big heart. It was heavy.
He missed his life on the farm. He missed the tranquility and simplicity of that life. The gentle breeze of the wind, the familiarity between neighbors in this small town where everyone knew everyone else, the mutual aid that existed between them, the joy of life that came out of it. Clark had always told himself that his village was one of those rare little bubbles that the darkness of the world could not penetrate.
Clark let himself fall on his bed and took his head in his hands. No, he couldn't last more than three weeks on the farm. Already when he stayed to help his mother, all he wanted to do while he was there was go home. His home. A military base. In the end, Clark had no ties to anyone. His mother must have been the only civilian with whom he still had regular contact.
In the end, there weren't many people with whom he had any ties. He had made more friends in Iraq than in America. It was quite ridiculous. He would have even less of a social life back home, that's for sure. He was already happy that his friends were here today. Already, to make him forget what he had gone through, and also to make it less painful to live through.
He would see them again, just now, encouraging him to sing traditional Christmas carols with them, to tell funny anecdotes around a meal that was still as bad as ever, and for the moment, it created a real warm atmosphere. It was one of the few Christmas experiences at the front where Clark had participated. And then... it only took a moment for him to remember what he had done.
Then he was gone. He didn't have the heart to keep having fun while he searched the entrails of ten people. He was ashamed of himself. He was filthy. He looked up when he heard the door open on Bruce. Clark turned his head away.
The silence between them was really weighing on Clark. Too heavy. He got up and thought of finding another place to be alone for a while. But Bruce stayed in the way.
"Stay. "
Bruce was talking to him for the first time in days. Clark clenched his jaw to restrain himself.
"Do I exist for you again? Cool. But no thanks, I don't have your talent for ignoring people. "
He couldn't contain his bitterness as it echoed in his voice. Bruce, on the other hand, was always indecipherable. But when he pretended to leave, the sniper held him by the arm.
"Clark, wait... I'm... I'm sorry. "
It was so unexpected that it broke the control Clark had over him. He felt the tears rising as his vision blurred. He broke free violently from Bruce's hold.
"Are you sorry Bruce?! Sorry?! Fuck, after what I've been through I would have thought you'd be here! I thought you were my friend! I thought that... I thought we had... we were... I needed you, Bruce! "
His chest was clutching his heart like a vice and to his face, Bruce didn't even react. Clark had a sudden urge to hit him just to change his face.
"I know I screwed up. But I couldn't look you in the face knowing that...I should have seen it hurt you. I should've thought about it and I didn't check and…"
This time Bruce's face revealed his shame and guilt. Clark stepped back.
"You ignored me for that?! Are you serious?! "
Bruce moved closer, his gray pupils staring at him:
"You could have died, Clark! "
"Just like that! I could have died! I could have stayed there because I found myself plunging my hands into decomposing bodies, one after the other, to get some fucking explosives! Do you know what that feels like? To touch those dead organs, to open their skin to search the viscera, among the maggots, to have to do that in kids' bodies! Children! Children who have been stuffed with explosives! With each time the fear in their stomachs that it would explode! "
Clark burst into tears. Without warning. He burst into tears, letting his emotions come out for the first time since the incident. He then felt Bruce wrapping his arms around him. Clark cried too much to push him away. In truth, it was what he needed. That touch, that comforting embrace, Bruce's presence.
Slowly they let themselves fall to the ground without breaking their embrace. Bruce held Clark tightly as Clark flooded his neck and shoulder with tears.
"I'm here, Clark. Late, but I'm here now. "
Bruce slid his hand down the back of Clark's neck. They remained silent, huddled together, paying no attention to the passing of time.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
Clark was awakened by the beginnings of aches and pains he had. He was still up against Bruce, who was still hugging him as he passed his hand along the back of his neck. It was nice. It was really nice. He was feeling lighter and better. The presence of the sniper had finally calmed him down, even though it wasn't going to do much to make him feel better. But he was still there.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his head still in Bruce's neck.
Bruce didn't stop moving, probably because Clark hadn't done anything to move. He could then hear Bruce's amusement in his voice:
"So you're awake? "
Clark decided it was time to move before he became too ridiculous.
"How long did I fall asleep? "
Bruce shrugged his shoulders.
"A few minutes. "
And yet Clark's muscles seemed to be screaming that it had been longer than that. But now that he was calm and awake, there was no longer any reason to justify his position or his connection with Bruce. And yet, he really would have liked to stay where he was. But he stood up, passing a hand over his face to wipe away the last traces of his tears.
"I'm going to wash my face. "
He went to the bathroom and passed water over his face. He was hot. He wanted to stay close to Bruce. He wanted to stay in his arms, still feel his fingers on his neck... Unconsciously, he touched the area, as if he could feel Bruce's touch under his fingers. He then closed his eyes, thinking that he was making a serious mistake. Bruce was his superior. He had to keep the correct distance from him.
He came out of the bathroom. Bruce was changing for bed. It wasn't the first time Clark had seen Bruce's bare back or his scars. It wasn't the first time he had considered touching them either. But he'd imagined it with his fingertips. Not with the skin on his chest.
This thought led to a cascade of other thoughts that he had never had before and that he had never allowed himself to have. He walked over to the bed and sat there with his head in his hands. Damn it.
"Are you okay? "
Clark froze for a moment before raising his head.
"Yes, thank you. "
Bruce stared at him with his steely gaze. Totally gray. His gaze could be so changeable, in terms of color. It was a unique and beautiful look. He smiled as he understood what emotions were changing this color.
"Are you worried? "
The sniper grunted before answering:
"Yes. "
The firm tone he had taken amused Clark and it was enough to relax him.
"Actually, I thought it was your anger that was changing the color of your eyes, but worry does that too. "
He smiled broadly, proud of his find. Across the way, Bruce just shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps. Finally it was better when you were asleep. "
Clark had long guessed that Bruce didn't like to talk about his feelings. He changed the subject.
"Yes, I'm going to bed now. "
He got ready for it, and when he crawled into bed against the wall, he realized they didn't belong there. That the two beds were their beds. They changed all the time, depending on who went to bed first. He slept in the same sheets as Bruce. They had his scent.
Clark froze again at this thought, and even more so when he saw the light go out and Bruce take his place in the next bed. It was weird for Clark. For the first time, his perception of Bruce was changing, and it was changing too much. It was probably emotional. That must have been it. He'd get over it. But when he closed his eyes, he imagined Bruce hugging him again.
Day 80 (12/25)
He had had a restless night. It was the first time he had fallen asleep without taking the sleeping pills. With everything that had happened last night, he had forgotten to take them. So far, they had really helped him.
"Here. Merry Christmas. "
Bruce put a cup of coffee in front of him with a funny look on his face.
"Thank you. Sorry I don't have a present for you. But Merry Christmas to you too. "
Clark took his coffee while they were sitting at one of the mess tables. It was quite chilly and many of the soldiers hadn't gotten up yet, preferring to skip breakfast to get a few more minutes of sleep. Clark held back a yawn.
"Enjoy your days off to rest. "
He nodded, rubbing his eyes.
"You're right. I admit I'm slammed. "
And from the look on Bruce's face, he suspected that the sniper knew it. It must have been obvious, like on his face. Bruce must not have slept very well last night either, probably because of him.
Clark thought back to the night before. Ever since he'd cracked in Bruce's arms, Bruce had been acting as if the days when he'd ignored him hadn't come. If it had irritated Clark at first, he had come to understand that Bruce had acted this way because he blamed himself for his lack of alertness and that his spontaneous reaction to it was isolation. Clark was in no position to judge Bruce on that, since he tended to do the same thing.
"Do they hurt you? "
Clark came back to earth and didn't understand the question. He frowned and Bruce answered his silent question.
"Your hands. Do they hurt? "
The deminer looked at his hands, which were no longer bandaged, and thought about what Bruce had told him the day before. He shook his head negatively.
"No, I'm okay. It pulls a bit sometimes when I handle and it's very sensitive despite the bandages, but it's manageable. "
He looked at the burn marks still present, making his skin completely raw and discolored. As a reflex, he crossed his arms to hide them. He had difficulty accepting their condition himself, even though it was temporary. It didn't escape Bruce's gaze. He was about to make a comment when Jones arrived:
"Sorry Wayne, I need you. Get your team together, I'll debrief you on the way. "
Bruce nodded his head and did so. Clark watched him leave, a weight off his mind, and it was really good for him to get along with Bruce again. He couldn't hold back a smile and thought that maybe the magic of Christmas had worked here.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
He had continued the inventory that Jones had given him to do. It took a long time, but Clark wrapped it up during the day. He felt tired after finishing it and thought that a nap wouldn't hurt him. That's what the layoff was for. It was a really refreshing sleep. That's why he didn't hear Wayne come back.
When he opened his eyes again, Bruce was there. He was obviously writing his report, but Clark caught his attention as he moved. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling Bruce's scrutinizing gaze.
"You look better than you did this morning. It's been good for you. "
He nodded. He saw Bruce's gaze on his hands again. It was a random discoloration of his skin, in places bright pink or even red. He shook his hands.
"It's clear they're not pretty to look at. "
Bruce got up and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands in his own. He caressed them with his fingertips, with a softness that surprised Clark. The gesture itself surprised him even more.
"They will heal. But if you go back to the field, you'll have to protect them. Your skin is thin and fragile. You'll also need to put a lot of cream on to moisturize them. "
Clark smiles. That was his doctor's advice too.
"I would do that, Dr. Wayne. But the gloves might be a little tricky. We never work with them, they're too thick, it can be disabling. We can't afford to complicate things in this kind of situation. "
The Major nodded his head.
"I understand. "
Bruce straightened up and let go of Clark's hands. He returned to the office to write his report. The bomb squad watched him work again, focused on his job. He took his head in his hands and said he was really looking forward to going back to work.
Day 82 (27/12)
Clark had to admit to himself, he didn't know how to do nothing. He had always had something to do and now he was going around and around in circles in the camp. He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to crack. So, since he didn't know what to do, he thought that maybe he could make sure he went back to the field sooner. But before that, he would have to convince Hamilton, and then he would have to come back for another visit with Magnus, the psychotherapist. Bummer.
He had no other choice if he didn't want to die of boredom. He had already reviewed the two EODs they had available, gone through absolutely all of his equipment and materials, and even ended up looking at the report that the explosives disposal experts had done when they had gone after them on his last mission. He had learned more about the chemical reactions between the components of the TATP and now he would be more careful in the future.
After that, he didn't know what to do. He had helped some soldiers with inventory, he had resumed training without too much effort, and it seemed to be going pretty well. So, maybe he had a good chance at the medical check-up. He had to try. And then take care of Magnus.
He lay down on the table in front of him and breathed a sigh of despair.
"You're still stuck on your doctor story ?" Ollie asked as he looked at the pictures in an Arab car magazine.
With his head against the table, Clark's answer was slightly distorted:
"Yeah, they're boring to convince in general. "
Hal, who was cleaning all the parts of his handgun, commented:
"You look pretty good to me, in spite of your beaten-dog look. Try your luck. "
Clark growled.
"It's that stupid shrink... I don't feel him. "
Hal shrugged. Ollie replied:
"I don't know him, I confess. But I do know that he had helped John. When he had to shoot a child... Well, we all have that fear. If John is the best sniper, the weight of the title weighs heavily on his shoulders. "
Clark straightened up. He didn't think John Stewart had had this kind of trouble. Ollie took his eyes off the magazine and stuck his green eyes in his own:
"Do your physical and go see this guy. You'll see what happens. "
Clark nodded and stood up: the sooner it's done, the better.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
Hamilton pulled his stethoscope out of Clark's skin and he lowered his shirt.
"Well, everything looks okay to me. Your throat seems to be healed, you don't seem to have any respiratory complications and your hands are healing nicely. "
Clark had a big smile on his face.
"So you're declaring me fit to return to the field? "
Hamilton looked contrite.
"Normally I wouldn't have seen you for a few days. But since you seem to be healing very quickly... All you will need is the approval of Dr. Magnus. However, be careful with your hands, your skin remains fragile in places and you can easily hurt yourself. "
Clark nodded his head and the doctor in front of him signed the authorization sheet and gave it to Clark, who carefully retrieved it.
"Thank you Doctor! "
Clark hurried out the door for fear that the doctor might change his mind.
He rushed to Magnus' office and waited for his interview with another soldier to end. He waited a long time. He waited outside the barracks, watching Wayne smoke from a distance as he spoke with Palmer. Clark thought to himself that Bruce was no longer smoking in his presence. He would always walk away from him to smoke and would even leave the barracks to keep the smoke out. He wondered if he was the reason for this.
The door opened and the soldier came out, followed by Magnus.
"Oh, Sergeant Kent. You wanted to see me? "
Clark greeted him and nodded.
"I'd like your permission to return to the field. I'm physically fit and I need your approval to be psychologically fit. "
Magnus laughed and Clark thought he had just started a long conversation.
"You want me to declare you fit when I haven't even talked to you for more than five minutes? I'm still a professional, Sergeant. I would have been at the door a long time ago if I was just signing papers at the soldiers' request. I'm going for coffee, would you join me? "
Clark clenched his jaw.
"I don't really have a choice. "
He followed Magnus and had coffee too. Then they moved to a secluded corner in the middle of all the camp activity. It wasn't exactly quiet, but Clark knew the setting was supposed to make him more comfortable. But it didn't make him more relaxed.
"So tell me, Sergeant, was there anyone you could talk to? "
Clark held a sigh.
"A minimum. It was enough to make me feel better. I'm supported and it helps me. "
Magnus had a piercing look in his eyes. But Clark was determined to get his paper.
"And how do you sleep at night? Do you take sleeping pills? "
He clenched his jaw before answering:
"I haven't been on sleeping pills for a few days. "
"So how do you sleep at night? "
Clark knew it was useless to lie. His dark circles spoke for him anyway.
"It's restless. But my sleep won't keep me from doing my job properly. I've been through worse."
Magnus pouting as he drank his coffee.
"And just how do you feel in the face of difficult working conditions? All this pressure you feel every day, it must be a burden for you. "
Clark also drinks a few sips of his coffee.
"That's my job. I risk my life every time I get close to explosives. If it was too heavy for me, do you honestly think I'd do anything to go back? I'm certainly not suicidal. If my mind doesn't follow, I'm not good at what I do. "
The psychotherapist nodded.
"You say that now. But who's to say that once you're in the field, you won't lose your way? Can you guarantee me that by defusing a bomb, you won't be in danger of bending? "
Clark didn't expect that question. He straightened up, this time thinking seriously. Damn it. If boredom had motivated him to get back on the field, it didn't mean he'd be strong enough to face it head-on. But then... it was a bad chain of circumstances, wasn't it? He was hoping for it. He sighed, suddenly defeatist.
"No, I can't guarantee that. I wouldn't say that this whole episode is behind me. "
He finished his coffee in one go. Would he be able to do it again after all? Yes. Yes he would. Then he stared at Magnus with a determined look:
"But I know that if I'm faced with a bomb, I'll do whatever it takes to keep it from exploding. What I did last time, if I could go back, I would do the same thing again. "
Magnus nodded his head.
"What if tomorrow you were to fall back on the same scene? What would you do? "
Clark kept staring at him. He answered without hesitation:
"What was necessary to keep everyone safe. But I won't do that again. "
His last words came out in a harsh tone. He was certain he would never do that again in his life, that was a fact. He stood up, deciding that he was done with this interview that he didn't like at all. He said:
"And if I have to go back to the field and tell you that I can do it, then we're at an impasse. "
And he turned his back on Magnus. No, he would not change his position on the subject.
"Sergeant Kent. "called him Magnus.
He made the effort to turn around and listen to him.
"I'm going to give you this authorization, Sergeant. But on the condition that I can follow you and your team in the field for a while. "
Clark nodded.
"Very well, but we'll have to see about that with the Colonel and the Major. "
Magnus nodded.
"I've already talked to them about it. Wayne's not happy about it, but if it gets him to get you back... "
Clark smiled slightly at the psychotherapist's foresight. And it also heralded one thing: he was finally getting back on the job.
Day 83 (12/28)
He was back in the saddle again. Clark was trying to contain his joy. They had just been called in for an intervention that required his skills. He and Wayne got ready in a hurry, both of them getting their equipment back. They were ready in less than five minutes.
"Here, I wanted to give you this for your return to the field. "
Clark turned around before he walked through the door. Bruce handed him a cloth object that he retrieved.
"Gloves? "
Bruce nodded.
"They're thin enough not to get in the way and protect your hands. And you won't lose the feeling in your fingertips. I sometimes used them on certain missions. I don't need them anymore. "
Clark unfolded the gloves and put them on. Bruce had cut off the tips of each finger to make mitts. Indeed, the elastic fabric was thin and nice. It was also of very good quality. He was touched by the attention.
"Thank you very much, Bruce. Really. "
The sniper nodded his head and walked out. Clark followed him, a slight smile on his lips.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoo
They were right in the middle of the road, among the desert dunes. Kent didn't like the place, it was really conducive to an ambush. And it had already been the case, otherwise he wouldn't have been there. They had seen the incredible number of soldiers still present, who were visibly evacuating the terrain. Only two units had stayed with them to protect them in case the enemy returned.
"Are you sure there was only one mortar that did not explode? None of the others are defective?"
The man to whom he was speaking made a slight grin.
"Well, Sergeant, I think so. Otherwise it would almost be a miracle that they didn't explode in the midst of fire and grenades. "
Kent shook his head, preparing EOD Jerry.
"You were lucky, sir, that none of your men died in the process. "
The Colonel nodded his head and was well aware of this.
Kent began to guide the robotic device to the mortar in question. Everyone was staring at the screen that he used to guide the EOD and with which he could observe the mortar.
"And if not, what are you here for? " the Colonel asked Magnus.
If Magnus was equipped for the field, he had the bad idea to present himself as "Doctor" to the Colonel.
"I'm here to observe Sergeant Kent in the field. "
If Kent had been able to, he probably would have hit his face with the flat of his hand.
"That's not really the kind of thing you want to say when he steps in, you know," said the Colonel.
Kent held back a smile. Finally another superior he met whom he liked.
"Five meters from the target. " he told everyone.
They shifted their attention to the screen. Kent handled the robot very carefully. He could see the mortar on the screen. He was close.
The explosion surprised them so much that they all lowered themselves by reflex. Kent felt Wayne's hand on his shoulder to lower him down. They all raised their heads at the same time.
"What happened?! " Jordan asked as all the soldiers around them were already on guard.
Kent looked with displeasure at all the debris from his EOD that had been scattered all over the place.
"Jerry... "he said in a voice of resentment.
Wayne was using his scope to check the surroundings and the location of the explosion.
"The mortar looks like it blew up. The explosion blew Jerry away too. "
The Colonel frowned.
"Jerry, is that your robot? "
The Major lowered his scope and nodded his head before answering:
"One of our colleagues named it that. "
Kent looked at the scattered debris. He was unrecoverable. This jewel of technology was costing the army a lot of money...
"And to think that I had just repaired his direction… " he commented more to himself than anything else.
No one paid any attention to his remark.
"Now we can go, the road is passable again," asked the Colonel.
Kent shook his head negatively as he turned around and walked towards their vehicle.
"Not yet, in this kind of situation I have to go and make sure there are no extra loads. And I have to get the pieces of the EOD back. I can't take the risk that any convoy will be fooled by a lack of vigilance on my part. "
Queen helped him get into his protective gear.
"We'll cover you, the area is not safe. It's always good for you guys," the Colonel asked on the radio.
"Nothing to report. We're staying in position. "
The Colonel nodded his head. Kent advanced toward the area.
"You have time ahead of you. "
Kent rushed forward. He knew he was moving slowly. He retrieved the most important pieces of the EOD, the ones that had electronics and the rest of the camera. The pieces of plastic, he left them behind. He also left the main body emptied of anything that might be of interest. He then wandered a little on the road, poking his eyes through the debris of the last attack. He came back after several minutes without finding anything.
"Clear ! The road is yours gentlemen! "
Queen helped Kent remove his suit after throwing the remains of his EOD into the Humvee.
"Great! Thanks guys! "
And a few minutes later, the two groups split up. Magnus remained silent all the way home. Whatever he was thinking, he was content to keep it. There were no other outings for their group that day. But when Kent saw Magnus leave with a slight smile on his lips, he had the feeling that Magnus would be back on the trip with them again.