At Home with Clark and Jim

[stands_for_hope]

[continued from here]

They'd fallen into a routine pretty easily.

Clark had managed to write up something about the church bust without incriminating either of them, which meant that his Perry had been pleased enough with his work for the day and had only yelled at him for five minutes about his failure to show up in the office the whole day. Lois had ribbed him a little, which had been remarked upon as she usually gave the new guy hell if he did anything remotely out of the line, and then she'd ribbed him a lot. He hadn't minded too terribly much since he had visited her afterwards at her apartment and she'd done plenty of kissing to make it better.

With a second person in the apartment, he'd started to fix it up a little, bringing home new linens, keeping the fridge stocked more regularly, and he'd even managed to find a new couch for them through a very kindly older woman and Craigslist.

True to his word, he'd gotten some rudimentary identification for Jim and he walked through the door with a spring in his step, closing the door behind him and plopping it down on the kitchen table with a smile.

Comments

[kolodnoykovki]

He stopped himself before he spoke. Of course Clark's mother would know his abilities. No mother could miss that. But it made him ask, "They're that worried about you?"

He wasn't sure that Clark's parents meeting him was such a good idea. It wouldn't exactly be encouraging, so far as he knew.

[stands_for_hope]

He breathes out.

"She doesn't usually worry about me physically, but she worries about me just about every other way. Growing up was... it wasn't exactly easy."

Listen to my voice, Clark. Use my voice to pull yourself out. Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.

The words echo in his mind and he doesn't shake them away. They're comforting, quiet and gentle, and he uses them as often now as he did then.

"I'd get overwhelmed in class or the kids at school would go after me because I refused to fight back," he explains, eyes distant. After a moment, he looks over at Jim.

"My dad didn't want me using the parts of me that set me apart, but she was always of a mind that I should do what made me happy as long as I didn't hurt anyone else. She said... she said I had to figure out who I wanted to be beyond the fear."

He turned a lopsided grin on his friend.

"I'm still working on it."

[kolodnoykovki]

Beyond the fear.

Fear still seemed alien to him. He didn't fear for his life. He didn't fear dying, but he didn't want to die, either. Especially not at the hands of Hydra. But to think of fearing what he was... Did he?

And fighting back...

Alleyways. Alleyways and loud voices and three against one. And that one smaller, slighter, brave and stupid at once. Steve Rogers. Too brave for his own good.

He shook his head, making his mind move to a different subject, making himself stop thinking about memories that kept miring him. There was so much he wanted to avoid.

"What kind of fear?" he asked instead. Easier to talk about Clark.

[stands_for_hope]

He's looking at Jim, so he saw the twitch of something in him, but he doesn't ask. As far as he's concerned, Jim can deal with his own trouble as quickly or as slowly as he wants. But since Jim asked, he'd be happy to answer... and if any of it rang true somewhere in Jim, so be it.

"When I was little, I was afraid of my parents abandoning me. I'd break something and I could see it in their faces that they were mad but the told me it was okay, that they weren't mad. But I could hear their heartbeats. I could hear it when they whispered in their room about how I was going to get found out, how the government would come, how maybe they were too old to take in a child."

He turns to Jim and waves it off a little.

"It's the kind of thing that parents say; it's not easy and there's always doubts. I know that now. But most parents can hide things like that from their kids."

Clark folds his hands in his lap.

"When I got older, I was afraid I'd break something important, something expensive. A little older than that and I was terrified I'd hurt someone. I wasn't..." he breathes in "the kids who picked on me, they couldn't hurt me, but it still burned that I had to put up with it. That I could knock every one of them on their backsides..."

He shakes his head.

"Some of that went away when we had an accident on the bus one day. I got a taste of what it was like to have people ask how I could have done that, what made me different, insisting they knew the truth. And that, that was when I started being afraid of being found out. What they could do to me, to my mom, my dad. And eventually, my dad told me about where I'd come from."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, pulling his feet back under him to stand up. He doesn't pace, but he walks over to the table and sits across from Jim.

"Then it was just the fear of the unknown. What was I? How was I supposed to be? Was I really a monster hiding in this teenager's skin? Was I just trained to be human? Why did they send me there? What was I supposed to be? And what did it mean to me since it seemed like I was just living my life, going along my way. Was I failing to live up to a destiny? Was I going to live up to it no matter what I wanted?"

He turns to give Jim an uneven, faint but ultimately hopeful smile.

"That's the one I'm working on, mostly."

[kolodnoykovki]

"I was an orphan."

The thought was there, clear, fully formed. He had been an orphan. Steve had had his mother, but she'd passed away, and--

'Til the end of the line.

He'd said it to Steve outside Steve's apartment after giving him the spare key, when Steve was being his usual stubborn self, trying to deny help when he needed it, but it was his job to help Steve because Steve needed it.

The vivid memory left him breathless and staring and aware, in the back of his mind, of exactly how unfair it was to think of that while Clark was being so honest.

"I... I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I think I'm glad my parents never saw me become this. Between us, I'm the monster. You... have heart. If you have a destiny, it's one you built, and it's better than mine."

[stands_for_hope]

Clark shook his head, unwilling to accept that.

"A heart isn't something you just have," he said gently.

"It's built up, from people and memories and relationships." He breathes in and looks Jim in the face.

"Do you think I don't think terrible things sometimes? That I don't... don't know how fragile the people around me are?"

He reaches over and gently, carefully, puts his hand beside Jim's on the table. He wouldn't touch him without the other man's explicit permission, but the gesture was made.

"Jim, monsters don't realize they're monsters. They think they're martyrs or saviors or unacknowledged heroes. They're everything they WANT to be.

"The one who think they're monsters? Are just the ones who need a little help to find their way."

"Whatever destiny I do or don't have... it's no better or worse than anyone else's. It just happens to be mine."

[kolodnoykovki]

His gaze settled on Clark's hand, his mind almost taking a step back as he listened. It was easy for him to near-dissociate. Easier than facing the images his mind had put before him. And listening to Clark gave him something beyond the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears to listen to.

"You're a better person than most," he said, though, once he could speak again, and it was as truthful as he could be. Clark and Steve. Both of them were better people. Definitely better people than him.

[stands_for_hope]

"I have different fears than most," he says honestly, "that's all."

He leans back then, running a hand through his hair before scratching at one ear.

"And you help me a lot. Just so that you know."

[kolodnoykovki]

His brows lowered with his frown. "How?" he asked. "I've... not done anything."

Not to Clark. Not really even with him. He'd made a few repairs and he tended to cook, but he couldn't see how that was a help. At least, not against fear.

[stands_for_hope]

"You have. It's... a little hard to explain," he admitted with a tilt of his head, "but you have."

He leaned up to look over at the crock pot, peering through the top before breathing in deep.

"And not with the handyman thing or the food. Though I'm pretty damn sure that I'm going to be a fan of your roast beef."

[kolodnoykovki]

"Half an hour. There should be enough for you to take for lunch tomorrow." It would save money. He preferred to save money. It seemed a precious and finite resource, one to be carefully saved and spent frugally. Prices seemed to have reached astronomical highs, but he'd adjusted - or he'd tried to. Two dollars still seemed expensive for a small meal.

But despite it, he said quietly, "If you want me to meet your mother, I'll try."

[stands_for_hope]

"If you're here the next time she calls, I'll pass you the phone," he says with a grateful smile.

"Honestly, I think you'll like her. And you're already making sure I get enough to eat so her usual line of attack is already taken care of."

[kolodnoykovki]

He shrugged slightly, provoking a quiet whir from his arm. "I think I used to do this a lot. Make sure there was food. Make sure it would last. I know I lived through the Depression, even if I don't really remember."

And that meant that food had been important. Ensuring that there was some sort of meal, at least one a day, had been all some people could do. Jim wondered if he'd been one of them.

[stands_for_hope]

"Anything else that feels comfortable?" he asks.

Not 'what do you remember?' or even 'do you want to remember?' because to Clark, that was up to Jim. He could build or recall as he liked.

Clark just wanted him to have a home, a genuine home, where he could figure that all out for himself.

[kolodnoykovki]

"Physical work. This apartment. It's... It's actually comfortable, being not in perfect repair," he said quietly, thoughtfully, his mind elsewhere. "I'm not sure about clothes yet."

T-shirts still seemed like underclothes to him. Like people should put on shirts with sleeves to go outside. It was why he kept his coat handy, besides hiding his arm.

[stands_for_hope]

"You'll find construction work aplenty at the moment. There's not a building in this city that didn't take a bit of a beating."

And yes, Clark feels guilty for the whole thing. No matter what Lois said or what his mother said, the whole thing really WAS because of him, whether that was his choice or not. All those people, all the damage, all that loss...

"Though the rate you're going, this place is going to be almost as good as new soon enough."

[kolodnoykovki]

"Not unless I get a bucket of plaster and some paint. Unless the landlord wouldn't let me paint." But the thought of getting construction work was welcome. It was something he knew he could do, though he knew he would have to hold himself back to a normal person's capabilities. Anything more than that would make him a target.

His eyes strayed toward the newspaper Clark had brought. After supper, he decided. He'd look at the classified ads after supper.

[stands_for_hope]

"I'll ask him next time I hand in the rent check," Clark promises as he stands up to get a glass of water. He feels a little bit bad that the dishes had all been done, as if he's not contributing, but Jim seems to enjoy it, so he's not about to say anything.

"He'll probably just insist he's not paying you for it."

[kolodnoykovki]

"He could hire me to repair the whole building, but then rent would go up." Things like that, he just knew. As if it had happened before. For all he knew, it had.

While Clark got water, he stood and lifted the lid on the crock pot, picking up a fork to test the potatoes. And surely enough, they were almost done. "Just a while longer."

[stands_for_hope]

"More than likely. Maybe once I've gotten a few more good columns under me, I'd say go for it."

He took another sip before leaning against the counter.

"Don't worry. I can wait. I should probably set the table, though."

He started assembling the plates and the silverware.

[kolodnoykovki]

Jim nodded. "I'll watch for stories for you while I look for work."

And he did need work, even with all the precautions he was going to have to take to keep from being discovered. Metropolis was recovering. Who knew what they would - possibly accurately - think of him if they discovered him.

[stands_for_hope]

"That'll be good," he says as he lays out the table and ducked into one of the drawers for napkins.

"Most of the unassigned folks keep getting put on 'Superman' stories and that's just awkward."

[kolodnoykovki]

Jim paused as he looked into the lid again, then back at Clark. "Starting from your story about the Food Mission, you could do a series on the charities helping people get back on their feet again."

[stands_for_hope]

"Not a bad idea at all," he admits, "though it might be a tough sell to Perry."

He leans against the counter.

"I got the job on the strength of my freelance work, which was largely covering conflicts, natural disasters..." but he tips his head up thoughtfully as he runs over a few scenarios. As long as he kept himself valuable, he could supplement it. And he likes the idea of promoting the humanitarian efforts in Metropolis. It's exactly the kind of thing he believes in promoting.

"If I make sure to keep a few other things in the mix, I think I can pull it off. It'll just mean a few trips here or there."

[kolodnoykovki]

After a quiet moment, Jim said, "I can offer you details about the downed helicarriers in DC. Not many, but I can tell you how they were brought down." It was insider information. Stuff that few reporters could have access to. And though he'd only been on one helicarrier himself, he had seen what Captain America had done.