Chapter 18
Kenya, 5 months later...
The whole of East Africa had been experiencing drought pushing the region into famine and millions to starvation. In response refugee camps are set up to house the displaced who in their desperation and hunger have been forced to move to find food or die. Within these camps are many volunteers working for many different charities but all with the same goal of saving as many as possible.
One such person walking amongst the sea of tents is a tall man with long dark hair that hasn't been cut in 5 months. He has a full thick beard of 5 months growth. Sitting upon his nose is a pair of thick black rimmed glasses with a broken leg stuck back together using a sticking plaster. These glasses hide his eyes of deep cerulean blue.
"Clark!" a voice shouts out.
Clark Kent turns, pushes his glasses up his nose with his thumb, and waves. "Nathan!" Clark greets the man with dark hair. Nathan was from France and was the first friend Clark made after he left the States. Nathan was a doctor working for a charity, volunteering his free time to help those not as advantaged. Nathan is not alone Clark can see. As he walks towards Clark there is a small group of young people trailing behind him. "New arrivals?" Clark queries as Nathan reaches him.
Nathan grins. "Fresh meat for the grinder," he jokes in the gallows humour that Clark has learned is Nathan's trademark.
Surrounded as they were by hungry people and in many cases people who reach them too late to be saved Clark accepted that Nathan's jokes were his coping mechanism. Not that Clark minds the jokes but he really just endures it all with a kind of stoicism. In one sense Nathan wasn't wrong. Being in this place can be an emotional grinder when so many can't be saved but it has its brighter points by every person they do manage to save.
"I was just telling them that they'll cope fine," Nathan says. He then grins cheekily. "After all no-one can be as bad as you when we first met."
"Ha. Ha," Clark responds dryly. "I could retell the story of our first meeting and how doctors make the worse patients," he snaps back.
"I was nothing but the perfect textbook patient," Nathan says with an air of innocence.
"Uh huh. Oh look," Clark says pointing into the sky. "A flying pig."
The small group of volunteers burst out into a fit of giggles.
"Please excuse Clark. He thinks he has a sense of humour," Nathan says jokily putting Clark down.
"Please excuse Nathan. He thinks he's witty," Clark hits back with.
The usual bantering out of the way Clark and Nathan give the usual welcoming instructions about processing refugees who arrive. Taking their names and any family members' names as in the struggle to reach here many families often end up split up and need to be brought back together. There is obviously also, for those medically trained, doing an initial assessment about who needs treatment the most urgently and to prioritise them.
The Batcave...
Nightwing enters the cave. Over the last few months his relationship with Bruce had gotten a little better. At the moment they were working a case together involving the crime boss known as the Black Mask as his operations spread from Gotham to Bludhaven and beyond.
When Dick nears the Batcomputer what he finds is Bruce not working their case but using it to try and find someone else. "You're not still looking for him are you?" he asks unable to believe even Bruce is still on that.
"He's powerful and he's dangerous and..."
"And hasn't done a thing in 5 months. In fact he has so gone to ground that not even you can find him. Bruce...let it go."
Bruce turns round and looks at the young man before him with intense scrutiny. "When did you let it go?" he asks back.
"Bruce he was drugged. Barbara explained it. Clark Kent is no threat to anyone."
Ah. Now Bruce understands. Barbara has no doubt been working her charms on Dick ever since they took that month off together and reconciled. If Bruce was being honest with his opinions when they got back from that holiday both were obviously happier and Barbara was back being Batgirl with more enthusiasm for the work than he had seen in her for years. "Do you really believe that?" he asks just wanting to be sure this is Dick's beliefs and not Barbara's.
"Look if he was an alien who just arrived on Earth then perhaps I would be thinking like you do but this is different. He grew up here." Dick laughs at how strange this next bit sounds. "He grew up on a farm in rural Kansas for crying out loud. Maybe the reason you can't find him is that after what happened all he wanted to do was to go back to living a simple life like that somewhere. Would even you deny him that?"
If Bruce thought that was all he would probably leave Clark Kent alone...with the proper means of observation naturally but the point is Bruce doesn't know that. He doesn't know anything because he can't find the man.
"Are you even prepared to give him a second chance or is this still your wounded pride?" Dick asks bluntly about what is motivating Bruce. The fact that he got beat in his own city ridiculously easily.
"I never let my emotions cloud my judgement."
"Right," Dick says with a roll of his eyes. "That's why you are still playing this game with Selina."
Some days Bruce gets tried of how everyone raises that. It isn't like they think. Although he can't deny that from almost the first day he met her he has been drawn to her. Alfred even dared to raise the point that perhaps it was the forbidden fruit angle that draws Bruce in. "What about your wounded pride?" Bruce asks back.
Dick smirks. "I had Babs kiss it better." Which is not untrue. When you hear the woman you love tell you how much she loves you it does do a lot to boost your self-esteem.
Bruce closes his eyes and shakes his head. For once those are details he could do without.
"Bruce. If Clark Kent ever returns I'm willing to give him a second chance," Dick says and in fact he is willing to forgive the guy for the sole reason Babs said it was Clark that told her to come see him and talk. The fact Clark did that and Dick is now probably happier than ever is more than sufficient reason to forgive what happened in Gotham. Dick continues, "Maybe you should just do the same."
"When I get given reason to give him a second chance I will. Until then I'm not resting until I find him."
Dick sighs. He tried. "Alright since I can't dissuade you can we focus back on Black Mask for the moment."
Bruce nods and agrees as he turns his attentions back to that. "By the way where is Barbara tonight?" he asks.
"Recruiting. Barbara wants to expand the Birds of Prey to deal with the kind of stuff the Justice League misses yet is too big for the police. International criminal organisations and alike."
"You weren't listening," Bruce assumes from how vague Dick's descriptions was.
"I was distracted," Dick defends himself. Distracted by the fact Babs was explaining this idea of hers to him in the bedroom dressed only in one of his shirts which ended mid-thigh. Her legs are very distracting.
Kenya...
A few days later one of those new arrivals Patricia, a young woman, 23, with medium length brown hair from new York is working with Nathan when she spots Clark spending some time with a small brown-skinned boy. In fact she has noticed Clark spends a lot of time with that boy.
"So which one are you interested in?"
Patricia looks at Nathan puzzled. "What?"
Nathan smirks. "A joke. Something intrigues you about Clark yes?"
Patricia nods. "He is..." she trails off looking for the right word to describe him.
"An enigma I think the term you are looking for is."
"He's nice and funny and easy to talk to yet..."
"He says nothing about himself. That has been true from the moment I first met him."
"When was that?"
"About 5 months ago. I was in Haiti at the time working at a clinic. There was an earthquake and the building I was in collapsed. Clark was the one who dug me out of the rubble. He took care of me while we waited for the rescue teams to arrive."
"Is that what he was referring to when he said you were a bad patient?"
Nathan laughs warmly at the memory. "Indeed. I had a bad gash on my leg and a concussion but I kept insisting on trying to get up and help. Clark almost had to tie me down to stop me."
"How did the two of you end up here?"
"Clark may not say it out-loud but I could tell he was dealing with some painful things. You do this job long enough it isn't hard to spot pain and hurt no matter how well someone might try to hide it. Since he helped me when I was injured I decided to help him by being his friend. I could see he needed one. I persuaded him to stay when he wanted to leave. I taught him the basics of this job and basic medical training and he has been helping me ever since. After I recovered from my injuries in Haiti we went to Brazil and then Cambodia before the famine here began. That was a month ago we arrived here."
"Yet how much do you really know about him?" Patricia asks. Her mother always did accuse her of being nosy.
"Probably as much as you." Or in other words not very much even after 5 months of knowing Clark.
"He sounds like he is from the mid-West," Patricia deduces from Clark's accent.
"Kansas in fact. He's told me that much."
"Aren't you curious to know more?"
Nathan shrugs. "When he is ready to speak he will. Honestly he is better than he was. He was always so sad looking when I first met him but I think during the time since we met and the things he has seen has given him some perspective on his life. He is in fact much happier and more comfortable with himself than he was."
"Even amidst all this?"
"Yes. Even amidst all this," Nathan says with a wry smile.
"What about the boy he is with?"
"Abdi," Nathan gives the name. "He was almost dead when he arrived here. I missed the fact he was still alive. Clark somehow didn't and he has been bringing that boy back to life a little bit every day since," he explains and he isn't just meaning in the physical sense.
For Clark himself he guesses he shouldn't be surprised that people pick up how he doesn't talk about himself much. He had overheard Nathan and Patricia of course. He met Nathan when he was flying over Haiti shortly after he left Smallville and spotted the building collapse due to the earthquake.
Spending time with Nathan and others who voluntarily give up their time Clark has come to realise he fixated too much on those big flashy heroes in the costumes and not on the more mundane everyday heroes like Nathan who risk their lives in sometimes very unsafe places to try and aid the people there.
You don't need superpowers or a costume to be a hero Clark had concluded. He should have known that in all truth. Maybe he did once and this has simply reminded him. Maybe this is his calling and not to fly around battling supervillains. Clark liked doing this. As Nathan said it had given him some perspective on things...and on his life.
The people here had less than he ever did and had lost it all. It made Clark realise just how lucky he was to be found by his parents. He had found his grief had finally subsided and he could think back on his parents and he wasn't sad any more. He could remember them and a smile would come to his lips. Make no mistake he still missed them. Probably always would but the overwhelming grief that drove his red kryptonite rampage was gone.
Clark had started to focus back on positives like Abdi. When he arrived here at the camp the boy looked dead to most people but Clark's hearing could pick up the faint heartbeat and he determined himself to make sure Abdi would not be just another victim of this famine and he succeeded. It had taken a lot of time and patience and Clark had poured so much of himself into the task. It was one that all his powers couldn't aid him in.
As far as could be determined Abdi was an orphan just like Clark was. Maybe that's why he felt he had to spend time with the boy. The idea of adopting had popped into his head but Abdi wasn't the only orphan here. It wasn't fair he pick favourites so Clark dismissed it. A family of his own was probably just not something he would ever had. After all how could he? There weren't any females of his species left and somehow he doubted he could have a child with a human.
No those little dreams would just have to remain exactly that. Dreams.
Later Clark is sitting with the other volunteers having their midday meal with the scorching sun high in the sky. Clark always got comments about why he wasn't sweating. He had become very good at deflecting them and not really answering. There is the usual banter and jokes when suddenly the sound of gunfire can be heard and tears into the tent where they all are. They all dive under the table, Clark included.
There is a painful groan and Clark looks around to see a red stain spreading outward from a spot on Nathan's side. He crawls on his hands and knees to his friend and rips Nathan's shirt apart to expose the wound.
"Just like the 1st time we met," Nathan jokes through the pain at finding himself Clark's patient once again only this time at least Clark has some basic medical training.
Clark manages a tiny smiles as he tries to stem the flow of blood using Nathan's shirt. Using his x-ray vision he looks at the wound in a way no-one else could. There is no sign of the bullet. Flesh wound. Nathan was lucky. He'll live.
A bullet whizzes over Clark's head while he manages unseen to catch another one before it hits anyone.
This is madness. Who attacks a refugee camp for starving people?
A few Kenyan soldiers who are assigned to protect the camp enter and ask if everyone is alright.
"This man is hurt. We need a medical kit," Clark tells them.
The officer in charge orders one brought.
"Who is doing this?" one of the other volunteers asks.
"Most likely a Somali armed militia. They have been violating our borders more often lately," the officer in charge answers.
A soldier returns with a medical kit and Clark gets started on patching Nathan up. "I hate to tell you this," he says to Nathan.
"Oh no. I'm going to live aren't I," Nathan dead-pans.
"Fraid so," Clark says with a grin.
"And just when I thought I could get away from you," Nathan jokily laments.
Clark chuckles as he bandages Nathan up.
For the next hour no-one can leave the tent as the soldiers engage with the attackers. It means Clark can't do anything without revealing what he is and while he is tempted to say 'To Hell with it' and do something he also remembers what happened when Poison Ivy found out who he was and how much danger he ended up putting Lana in. It was why he left the States in the first place so that he could be forgotten and blend away into the crowd so as much as it pains him to not prevent the carnage he restrains himself. He just knows he'll end up regretting it.
Hard choices.
Wasn't this another reason he left the States because he didn't want to make them?
In the end his indecision leaves Clark as stuck and helpless as if he was just a normal man.
When it is finally over and they are let out of the tent they find a scene of carnage. Fires burning, tents wrecked and who knows how many dead and injured. Instinct kicks in as they organise themselves to find the wounded and treat them. As they go a few captured attackers are seen being dragged off shouting defiantly, "Allāhu Akbar!".
God is Great.
Islamic fundamentalists from across the border in Somalia most likely.
5 months since Clark started doing this and for his senses it isn't hard to decide who can be saved and who cannot. It still kills him inside though for every person he finds in the carnage dead or beyond the point of no return. Clark pushes his own feelings down and just tries to save as many as he can.
Time ticks by and Clark picks up bits of conversations about how the attackers who managed to escape have done exactly that. Escaped back over the border where they probably assume they are safe and justice or retribution can't find them.
As another body gets taken away for burial Clark cannot understand the mentality of people who think this can be done in God's name. The damning thing he thinks about himself is that he really isn't angry. More melancholic and sad than anything. Should he be angry? There are a lot of angry expressions around but not one adorns his face.
By the time he has finished helping the immediately injured even Clark is feeling the strain...emotionally at least. Physically his body rarely feels strain.
He decides to take a 5 minute break just to reorganise his thoughts. He rubs his face and his long thick beard. A small smile comes to him as he remembers all the times people have asked him when is he shaving it off. Truthfully Clark likes it and it serves its purpose in hiding his features. He doubts anyone would equate him with 'The Blur' as he was so briefly known as.
Another body is carried past him. A small child. Clark glances at him.
Abdi.
It had occurred to Clark that this was possible but he had tried to not to consider it. Seeing the body of the child he had spent so much time helping reality crashes in. He follows to where the body is laid down before burial and kneels down next to the boy. Clark places a hand on the now cold forehead.
Grief and pain well up inside him.
Again. It has happened to him again. Losing people he cares about.
All too soon the anger that was previously missing rises up inside him so fiercely it feels like he is choking. Anger at those responsible and at himself for sitting by and doing nothing. This isn't like losing his people and planet or his parents. There was nothing he could do to prevent those things but this...
This was entirely preventable.
This was the result of his own fears getting the better of him. This was the result of actions of people who made the rational choice to kill and for what?
From the snippets of overheard conversations it seems they had come here to steal food and medical supplies. Things they would have been given if they had asked but in fact the armed groups that rule over parts of Somalia had actually refused help saying it wasn't needed despite the fact it was.
It all just made Clark angrier. He feels like he wants to punch something...or someone.
Maybe he can.
He could punch himself over and over, an urge to do so he is experiencing at the moment, but that won't achieve anything. For once brooding in his own misery is the one thing he won't do.
Those who attacked them probably think they got away and won't face punishment. Well maybe they can escape from human pursuers. They can't escape from him. He'll find them and make sure they can't hurt anyone like Abdi again. As Clark looks north towards the border his face grown grimly determined and under his glasses his eyes glow red.
The Watchtower...
In the training suite Wonder Woman is running one of her programmes where she gets to fight a certain opponent one on one. She gracefully dodges the energy beams sent at her by her opponent as she flies through the air before reflecting one off her bracelets right back at him forcing him to dodge and giving her an opening.
Diana swoops in and rains blows into the torso of the green and purple armoured suit her opponent wears to protect himself and to try and equalise the balance in power between himself and her. The best thing about a simulation is that Diana can do what she can't do in real life and hit her opponent as hard as she likes and not worry about the consequences.
The armour cracks under the force of her punches and she drives her opponent back up against the wall and Diana just keeps punching and punching working out every frustration that has been built-up inside her for what seems like and probably is years.
Finally Diana draws her fist back and slams it into her foe's bald head. The simulation of Lex Luthor fizzles out of existence leaving only a humanoid robot with a crushed head.
Diana stares at it, breathing hard and trying to decide whether she should feel guilty for the fact that felt so good.
"Feeling better?"
Diana turns to find Hal standing in the doorway. How long had he been watching?
Hal walks forward. "You know it is okay to admit you dream of actually doing that. I know I have dreamt of doing that to Wally once or twice," he jokes.
Diana smiles slightly at Hal's joke.
Hal could be his usual charming self here but Diana is the one person who his charms never worked on so he is always perhaps more truthful around her. "Hard day?" Hal queries about what has driven Diana to this.
Diana sighs. "Just a normal day," she replies which is exactly the problem. A normal day involves yet another fight with the Injustice League which they won although Hawkgirl ended up in the infirmary with a broken wing.
"And this drives you to smash Lex's face in why?"
"How long Hal?"
"Huh?"
"How long have we known Lex Luthor is behind the Injustice League yet he walks around like he can't be touched. How long have we had to bear that smug arrogant expression of his that he knows we can't touch him and in public we have to play along with his façade of being a simple businessman? He deserves justice!"
"Which he will get one day Diana," Hal tries to assure her. "One day he'll slip up and we'll finally be able to nail him with something."
Diana thought that too...3 years ago yet they haven't managed to do it. Oh how she wishes she could just smash into his office and deliver justice upon Lex as she sees fit. It is what he deserves. Diana takes a cleansing breath. Those thoughts are not ones she should have she knows. It is just this seemingly never ending fight with Lex Luthor is starting to get to her...and beyond that she still can't figure it out what Lex is up to ultimately.
As for the Injustice League members they imprisoned today it was only a matter of time until Lex managed to organise their escape next time he required them. It was all a game it seemed that they played over and over again that never seemed to end.
Then there is Lex's ongoing war with the ever increasing in power Intergang who were coming into possession of weapons of increasing power and sophistication. The weapons had to be being derived from stolen alien technology. It was the only explanation. Hal had therefore made it more of his business to get into Intergang's business to see if he could track down the source.
In the meantime it created a conflict zone where innocent people were getting caught in the crossfire and once again no-one could seem to nail down the leading members of Intergang on charges. Like Lex they had a lot of influence and ability to cover their tracks.
It is not hard to see why Diana is so frustrated.
"You know," Hal says, seeing how worked up and tense Diana is. "Batgirl took a vacation awhile back and after she came back she was really refreshed. Perhaps you should take a break," he suggests.
"Hal. We have too much work to do," Diana dismisses that idea.
"I'm not saying take a month off like she did," Hal tries to mollify Diana. "I'm thinking a few days or something. Go home. Visit your mother."
Well it has been too long since she went home and saw her mother and sisters Diana is forced to admit. Hal's idea of a short break might be feasible...assuming she can find someone to cover for her...and then there's Tom. Since that argument 5 months ago things between herself and Tom have remained strained. Perhaps she and Tom need a break from each other too so they can take a step back and get some perspective. Perhaps it is simply the strain of their lives that is affecting their relationship.
In that case Diana has to say Hal's suggestion holds more and more appeal to her. Perhaps she will take a short break and go home for a few days.
Somalia...
No-one could really tell you what happened. One moment it was relatively peaceful. The armed group were celebrating what they saw as a victorious attack and seizure of necessary supplies. The next moment a few of them saw twin red beams shoot down from the sky above and impact one of their trucks upon the back of which they had fitted weapons.
The truck exploded followed by another and another and another in quick succession.
No-one knows where they came from or what is going in until it ascended from the sky. The creature with a thick beard and long wild hair and eyes glowing red like a demon's.
Their weapons were useless. Bullets bounced off the creature as if its skin was armour plate. It would melt their weapons to slag or with a mighty wind from its lips blow them away like leaves. Others it froze into statues of ice. Those that got close to it were thrown away with little care as if mere annoyances. Like bugs it wished to squash.
Fire and destruction now raged all around. More explosions filled the air as fuel ignited. Acrid burning smoke fills the air so thick in places it is hard to breathe. It burned the eyes. It is almost as if hell had come to earth.
The leader of this armed group stumbles through the smoke coughing and choking. His breathing becomes harder when an iron grip wraps around his throat and lifts him off the ground. He finds himself staring into the demonic red eyes of the monster which speaks to him in his language. "Women. Children. You killed them. Why?" it demands to know. When he does not reply it shakes him. "Answer me!" it yells.
"Necessary actions," is the answer given.
The creature...the monster...the demon...whatever it is narrows its eyes, the red glow intensifies and the whole air heats up. "Killing the innocent is a sin," it says.
"Allah will forgive actions taken for the greater good. It is all part of His plan," the leader says with no remorse.
"Is it His plan that I kill you now," it says squeezing the hand around his throat slightly tighter.
"I shall be welcomed into paradise as a martyr," the leader chokes out.
Clark glares at the man trying to read him. He does not fear death. A death Clark could deliver so easily. All it would take is a involuntary twitch of his fingers and Clark snaps the neck he is holding like a twig. The angry part of is thinking he should. This man deserves it for all the people he has killed.
Abdi.
That boy. Clark had grown so fond of that boy and his life has been robbed from him before it could really begin. He digs his fingers into the leader's neck and his nails draw blood as he breaks the skin.
"Go ahead!" the leader dares Clark. "Strike me down. A hundred will rise up in my place and when judgement comes Allah shall send you and your kind demon back to hell while I and the true believers shall enter paradise."
Clark lets out a low growl and tightens his grip to the point the man can't breathe. He pauses fighting within himself. One twitch. That's all and it would be over. Wouldn't even take a second...but he can't.
His parents didn't raise a killer. The opposite. They raised him to respect life and its balance. Clark drops the man who clutches at his throat and gasps for breath. In one way he was right. Clark could kill him but there are probably a hundred others like him just as he said.
Clark looks around at the destruction he has caused. The almost total devastation he has brought to this camp that they operated from. People are crying out in pain caught in the explosions. Clark did that. He could have killed every single one of them if he so desired. It would be so easy for him. Too easy. He could hunt down every last one of them...but that wouldn't really solve the underlying causes of what drives men to act this way.
This...everything he is witnessing...it has brought into stark clarity a thought in Clark's mind. This is not him. Oh make no mistake he is angry and he wants to make these people pay but killing them in cold blood...that he has just found out he can't do.
Deliver justice.
Perhaps Clark can do that he decides as he picks up the leader by his ankle and lifts off into the air with the man dangling below him. Clark flies back across the border and comes upon the camp. He drops the man from a height and he impacts in front of a group of soldiers.
They look up but Clark had made sure to position himself with the sun directly behind them. They can't really see him. He tells them who this man is and they pick him up and arrest them. In the time they do that Clark is gone from the sky and back in his tent.
In his tent Clark sits down on a small chair and and looks at himself in the mirror hung on the side wondering how foolish was he to go off half-cocked like that without really thinking it through. Was that about making those men pay or trying to make himself feel better for his inaction during the attack?
Clark doesn't have an immediate answer. He runs his hand through his beard. Time for this to go he decides in a strange sudden impulse.
Clark moves over to his bed and pulls out his bag from under it. From inside that he pulls out a shaving bag which has no normal implements. It contains scissors and razor blades with minute amounts of kryptonite in the cutting edges. Trust Clark when he says that wasn't easy for himself and his parents to concoct a way to create them but it was necessary if he ever wanted to cut his hair or shave.
Clark sits back down and gets to work trimming his beard back. It takes quite awhile until Clark is wiping the last of the shaving cream off his face and once more sees his face for the first time in months. Maybe that's why he decided it was time for the beard to go so he could look at himself again and see what was looking back at him. Clark takes a long hard look at himself and tries to determine who it is he is looking at and what they are.
"Well I haven't seen that face in awhile," Nathan says as he enters the tent. When he first met Clark he only had a few days worth of stubble and did not wear glasses. "You know I can't even remember when you started wearing those," Nathan adds pointing at Clark's glasses.
Clark slips his half-broken glasses back on his face. He literally found them off to the side of a road while he was in Haiti and thought them a good way to hide his, what he knows is, his rather unique eyes. It was just another way for him to blend in and disappear as he was wanting to do after the whole red kryptonite incident. He turns round to find Nathan standing there. "Shouldn't you be resting," he lightly criticises his friend for being up after being shot.
Nathan goes and sits on the bed with a small grimace. His flesh-wound stung like nobody's business but he'll live. "I was worried about you. I saw Abdi's body," Nathan explains feeling the utmost sympathy for Clark.
Clark sighs sadly. "I'll live."
"I don't doubt that," Nathan says with total belief. "You are, however, permitted to be upset."
Clark has to suppress the snort of sad amusement at the fact Nathan has no idea what he went off and did when he was upset. "I should have done something," he laments sadly, kicking himself once again about his indecision and inaction during the whole attack.
"There wasn't anything you could have done."
"Wasn't there?"
"No. Look if you had been outside what would you have done? Thrown yourself in front of the bullets and bombs?"
"Yes," Clark says without hesitation.
"I believe you. I would have done the same...only I would have looked far more heroic in the process," Nathan jokes soliciting a small smile from Clark. Nathan continues, "The fact was though Clark you were stuck with us."
Was he? In either scenario Clark was stuck. Help and end up back where he was with Poison Ivy by revealing himself. Don't help and...people die.
As if reading Clark's mind Nathan points out, "Even if you had been outside Clark you couldn't have saved everyone. Did you foresee this attack coming?"
Clark shakes his head. He did not. He would have not even thought to look for one so his senses weren't even attuned like that.
"It's easy to beat yourself up," Nathan says. "It's hard to accept that sometimes there are just things we can't prevent."
"I know," Clark says with the sad acceptance his life up to this point has afforded him with intimate knowledge of how there are things he can't prevent. He looks at Nathan and says, "You know what I really want is to understand why anyone would do this...attack innocent people but there's no point. I don't think I can understand the mentality of people like that."
"Probably better you didn't."
"But they could be stopped," Clark argues. "There are people...like the Justice League...who could just swoop in and..."
"What? Annihilate them? Kill them?"
Clark nods.
"They could. Probably really easily which is scary to think about but when you become judge, jury and executioner you become no better than them. Heroes, in my opinion, heroes are suppose to inspire others by their deeds. Leave judgements to the proper enforcers of the law."
"What are heroes?" Clark asks.
"Well now I just came here to check on you. I wasn't expecting a deep philosophical discussion," Nathan jests.
Clark smiles a bit. "Doing this work with you I have come to realise there are many types of heroes," he explains his thinking.
"Yes there are and each type has its place," Nathan replies seeing that his friend is obviously needing to get something off his chest.
"If one has the power like say those in the Justice League should they use it or can they be allowed to live a simpler life?" Clark asks the question and is meaning in relation to himself. Clark thinks that he may be at a crossroads about what where his life is going. Part of him would like to live a simple life where really no-one pays any attention to him but on the other hand if he had been prepared to use the power fate had given him maybe he could have prevented all of this and maybe he can prevent other people dying if he makes the choice to.
Nathan looks at Clark curiously wondering where this is coming from. It's almost as if it is personal like he knows someone like that or...nah. Can't possibly be the other option Nathan was thinking. Back to answering the question Nathan gives it a moment's thought. "Everyone has the right to choose how they live their life. I would say if one possesses the power it would be a waste of it not to be used but it is their right to choose to waste it. People like those who attacked us...they want to take that right away. Force people to live by what they decree is the only right way. They see the world too simply in blacks and whites. You've done this long enough to realise the world is shades of grey. If you want an extra opinion since you mentioned them that has become the problem with the Justice League. Once upon a time they use to live down here in the real world but now they sit up in space looking down and they paint the world in blacks and whites. They seem obsessed with a war against these supervillains and almost dictating in their press statements what is right and wrong. It doesn't work like that. People...if you give them a chance...if you give them an example to follow I believe they will try to do good but occasionally they fall down and that is where you and I step in and help them back on their feet. We've met people who stole in desperation but they weren't bad people really. They had just hit a bump and fallen down."
Clark finds he can't disagree with anything Nathan is saying. The question remains though does he use his powers to be an example or continue with this quiet life? He doesn't have an answer...but perhaps he is not suppose to.
Why did he leave the States?
There were a few reasons but primary amongst them was the need to do what he hadn't been able to properly before. Grieve for his parents and move on. He's grieved for them. Doing this...spending all this time with Nathan and in this world has helped him figure out how to deal with death. Yes it still hurts but like the people he has seen who had so much less then he ever did it was time to pick up the pieces of his life and rebuild it. The first part of the journey he embarked on is complete. The next part was...is figuring out his place in this world.
Clark has a couple of weeks left here. That is when they were all due to be relieved and allowed to go home. Clark won't be going home. There is still a lot of the world he needs to see... and there are people he needs to help. Clark knows for certain that one thing he wants to do is to continue helping people. The only question is how exactly does he go about doing that.
Just then another colleague enters. Dan his name is. A large rugged bald man with a handlebar moustache. He is looking distinctly unhappy about something.
"What is it?" Nathan asks recognising the look.
Dan let out a grunt. "You know all the stuff that was stolen?"
Nathan nods. "Yes...but we should be ok. We get another delivery of supplies in the morning," he reminds the other two men thinking Dan is expressing concern about them running out of food and medicines.
"No we're not. They've cancelled it because it's been deemed too dangerous to travel here from the port," Dan tells them.
"What!" Nathan exclaims. He knows it is not exactly safe. It's never been 100% safe travelling along the roads to here but it has never been stopped completely before. He has to do something about this and departs the tent to have a few strong words with whatever bureaucrat decided this.
Dan leaves with Nathan leaving Clark alone. He picks up his special scissors and gets to work cutting his long hair and mulls over what Nathan said.
The next morning Nathan wakes up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. After spending hours on the phone last night he had gotten nowhere in persuading anyone to allow more supplies to be delivered. Considering what was stolen and after they performed an innovatory that left them with a couple of days of supplies at most. After that there would be people starving to death.
Just then Patricia bursts into his tent. "Nathan!" she says with enormous agitation in her tone. "You've got to come see this!" she says as she grabs Nathan's arm and showing remarkable strength for a woman her size yanks him to his feet, still in the t-shirt and shorts he sleeps in, and drags him outside.
"Pat! What are you..." Nathan's question dies on his lips when his eyes takes in the camp. There hadn't be time to clear everything up yesterday before they lost the sunlight but it seems they don't have to because it is all cleared up and more than that there are all sitting in their neat rows replacement tents. Nathan can see from here also stacked cargo containers. He wanders over to where they are. Up close he can see the various stamps of charities on them. "These are our supplies," he says utterly confused as to how they are here.
"What's going on?"
Nathan turns to his left to see Clark has joined them now completely clean shaven and his hair cut short, his broken glasses sitting a little lopsidedly on his face.
Patricia sees Clark too and her jaw drops at her first sight of him without his facial hair. Dear god! He was gorgeous! She had no idea that under all that hair he was that good looking!
Clark points at something. "Is that a note?" he asks at the piece of paper stuck to one of the containers. The note he stuck there last night after he had flown to the port picked up each and every one of the containers, brought them here, cleared the camp of debris and put up the tents. Afterwards he spent a good few hours alone saying goodbye to Abdi, apologising for his failure and hoping he can be forgiven for his indecision, something that he has determined will never happen again, before he retired to bed.
Nathan goes up to the container and peels it off before reading it aloud. "Dear heroes. It came to my attention that to continue your vital and important work you needed supplies that were being denied to you. Since it was within my power to help I brought them here. It's not much and I can't guarantee that I can always be around to help but at this juncture I could. Please know there is one person who has nothing but endless admiration and respect for what you do. Keep up the good work. Signed 'A friend'."
"Some friend," Patricia says in a little awe at what whoever did this actually did. It was no easy feat. In fact it was near miraculous.
Clark pushes his glasses up his nose and smiles to himself. All in all not a bad way to end this part of his life and despite his sadness at what he failed to do here he finds himself looking forward to what's next. He finds himself imagining what he can do. No more indecision on his part. It was time he took control of his life and started making choices and that as wrong as it may sound he thinks he has learned an important lesson here. He will always carry within him though that it shouldn't have come at this price for him to learn it and Clark determines it is a price that will never be paid again.
Speaking of choices as Clark sat by Abdi's grave last night he made one. That it is now time to do what Nathan mentioned about how heroes should act. It is time for Clark to start setting an example.
Author's Note: This chapter had Clark facing what he could do in being a destructive force and seeing that it is not in him. It was about him being ready to move on which he is now. Thanks to everyone who wrote reviews. Next up; There is a new mysterious figure popping up all over the world rescuing people. Gee I wonder who that could be?
