Clark Kent (
stands_for_hope) wrote2015-06-01 10:49 pm
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Clark and Karen | Continuation Thread
The problem with organized crime was that when a leader fell, all it did was create a power vacuum. Criminals were people as much as anyone else, and amongst them were people who wanted to climb to the top and others that desperately wanted someone to tell them what to do and how to succeed.
With the damage done by the Battle of New York and the 'war' that had been waged between the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the now-unmasked Wilton Fisk, the field had been left ripe for the picking in more than one way and the cream of the crop of the organized crime syndicates had noticed.
Bruno Mannheim didn't even try to play the philanthropist. No, he was there for one reason and one reason only: easy pickings. And that was why it was getting increasingly dangerous out there for the uniformed crime fighters... and their non-uniformed vigilante assistants. Criminals with guns that reminded them more of the kind of weapons the Chitauri had brought with them. Criminals with allies in other towns, alibis in other places. Nasty on all levels.
Which was why Clark came home that night and headed for his laptop instead of his favorite book. It seemed this journalist was going to have some work cut out for him after all here in New York.
With the damage done by the Battle of New York and the 'war' that had been waged between the Devil of Hell's Kitchen and the now-unmasked Wilton Fisk, the field had been left ripe for the picking in more than one way and the cream of the crop of the organized crime syndicates had noticed.
Bruno Mannheim didn't even try to play the philanthropist. No, he was there for one reason and one reason only: easy pickings. And that was why it was getting increasingly dangerous out there for the uniformed crime fighters... and their non-uniformed vigilante assistants. Criminals with guns that reminded them more of the kind of weapons the Chitauri had brought with them. Criminals with allies in other towns, alibis in other places. Nasty on all levels.
Which was why Clark came home that night and headed for his laptop instead of his favorite book. It seemed this journalist was going to have some work cut out for him after all here in New York.
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"I'm sorry, I am...I don't think I could explain, I am just--there is so much pain behind it, what happened. What I did," she said wearily.
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"If I'd realized it was such a sensitive topic, I wouldn't have made such a fuss over it."
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She buried her face in the croak of his neck, and just held her breath for as long as she could hold it.
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"Karen. Karen... can I tell you," he swallowed hard before he could continue, "can I tell you a story? I think... I think you might need to hear it."
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His words shake her out of her thoughts, and she nods a moment, and takes in another shaky breath. "Yes, you can tell me anything," she said softly. Moving then to press a kiss to his cheek. "Just, don't go too far, please?" She asks in a pleading tone.
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"My father died when I was a couple of years into college," he started, his voice low and quiet. It was clearly something that still had an impact on him till today. "And it wasn't a heart attack or... or a car accident.
"We were on the road and the cars all just... stopped. I'm from Kansas, so when I say 'tornados', it's not an uncommon occurrence, but it's also not something to joke about. One was coming and people were panicking. My father went to go help people get out, move away. He got his foot stuck in a car, wrenched his ankle. He was hobbling towards us, away from the storm, but he wasn't going to make it. I wanted to run to him, to help him...
"I'm fast. I'm strong. I was in no danger. But he shook his head. He waved me off. Because everyone would have seen. Because my secret might have come out. And to him, protecting me, protecting that secret, was more important than his life."
He gave her a soft squeeze, and he couldn't look at her as he spoke then.
"I don't know if I agree with him. I don't know if I ever will. But it was his choice, and when he told me no, I stayed with my mother. I watched him get swept away."
And unlike everyone else, he'd been able to see his father's body get ripped and battered by the storm. He'd never hated his powers more than in that moment.
He breathed in and out a few times before continuing.
"The thing is... it was his choice. And if I know anything about Ben Urich, I know that nothing he did with you, for you, was anything but his choice. And we have to live with what happened, we do... but we can't take those choices from the people we loved. We can't devalue what they did, even if we disagreed or we feel bad about it, because it's dimming the memory of who they were to us. How much they cared about us."
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She listened intently to his story, and she knew he was right, but her biggest problem was that Ben shouldn't have been there in the first place. That was on her, she tricked him into going to that nursing home, and talking to Fisk's mother. That blame was solely on her.
When he finished, Karen just wrapped herself around him for a hug, it was an intense hug. A hug filled with sorrow, regret, remorse, pain, but also filled with hope, understanding, and caring. "I am so sorry that happened, Clark. I can't even imagine what that must have felt like. And I do understand what Ben did, but if it weren't for me, he never would have - should have - been there. That was on me, and he had to protect me because I was too adamant to find the truth, to find a way to put Fisk away," she finished speaking, took in a shaky breath, and pushed up against him more fully. Wanting to hold him to her tight. "I get what you are saying, with all my heart, and my own heart goes out to you. But, I fucked up, and it wasn't the first time," she said in a shaky voice. There was no way she could tell Clark about Wesley, and she wouldn't want to get him in trouble as well, nor would she be willing to share what happened because she felt like a monster for doing it. No matter what the impetus was behind her actions.
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He took one of her hands in his.
"And people... people fuck up," though the foul language definitely felt awkward in his voice, "it's what they do afterwards that really counts."
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Karen let him slip his hand in with her own, and she gives his fingers a nice squeeze.
"I don't know if that matters in some cases, Clark," she said wearily.
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"Whatever you did, I'll make you a bet that you thought at the moment that it was the best thing to do. Maybe even the only thing to do. And maybe you were right. Maybe you were wrong. But at that time, you thought you were right. Now, you think different. So at this point, what you do with that wisdom is the most important thing. After all, you can't change what you did. You can only change what you're going to do."
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His words are wise, and it makes sense, but it doesn't change what she's done. Can't change what she's done, and how it could effect other people. Swallowing thickly, she tries to swallow the lump in her throat. "I hear you," is all she said.
She just couldn't deal with how he would look at her when he found out that she killed someone, and why, and how. It may seem like a good theory, but if felt like too hard a practice.
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The next words slipped out of her mouth, "I think I love you," she said quietly.
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"I love you too," and the words came easily she reached around and rubbed circles into her back.
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She rubbed her hands through his hair as they kissed, and she just relished in being with him. Calming down considerably.
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"I really enjoy kissing you, Clark," she said in a sweet, but sad voice. The concerns of those tenants she told him about still on her mind. Yet, she didn't want it to interrupt things.
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"It'll get done. Do you need me right now?"
And his expression was so earnest. She was his priority.
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Smiling toward him, she patted his arm, and moved to slide out of his lap.
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"I'll finish the article," he said easily enough, "and it won't run until at least tomorrow morning if I can get the Planet to run a story from outside Metropolis."
He'd known the editor there since he was a teenager, and the man knew news when it was emailed to him.
"But it can wait a few minutes. Really."
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He tells her that he'll finish the article later, and she nods, and smiles. "Okay, I mean, I don't want to impose is all," she said warmly.
She resettled into his lap, and leaned against him.
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"So... should I cook or did you want to go out tonight?"
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