agoodyarn | for andimwearingtights: Man of SHIELD

for andimwearingtights: Man of SHIELD

The alien had come willingly.

Given the strange appearance of the digitized message they'd received on every electronic device, they'd all assumed he might look different. As alien as the message had claimed he was. And yet, other than the strange blue costume and the great billowing red cape, he was simply a young man: black hair, eyes as blue as any ocean, and a sad, dutiful expression that only seemed to more genuine through each indignity he was put through. He'd come for the reporter, the one who knew who he was. He'd come to save a friend who'd kept his secret and for that, he was put in handcuffs and treated like a criminal without a single trial.

Now, he was in a room being watched by SHIELD personnel as he sat and chatted amiably with Lois Lane, of all people. Handcuffed, surrounded by more terrifying weaponry than most civilians saw their entire lives, and yet he seemed calm. Determined.

But still, somewhat lonely.

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She wasn't expecting the shield to be thrown and the shield hit true, ripping through the breather and making her gasp and blink for a moment.

And that was cue enough for him to kick directly at her midsection. If he could just get her out of the way - even if it was just for a few seconds. Long enough to get the pod out. Kal - Clark - had already done his half. It was time for him to live up to his.

She went flying out the back of the cargo bay, clearly not expecting that kind of force from a mere human.

"You got her out of the way, Captain? It's time to deliver our package and get the hell out of here!"

Picking up his shield, he shouted back, "Ready when you are. Starting the push now."

And he did, bracing his feet against the quinjet floor and starting to push the pod to the ramp. Inch by inch. Foot by foot. He held it by nearly sheer stubbornness until he saw the ship below them and then he gave it one last shove.

The pod fell. The quinjet accelerated. And Steve overbalanced and fell. In the first moments, his stomach rose to his throat, but then he was clutching his shield in one hand, maximising his drag area to slow down before he hit the ground and hoping he'd miss the implosion. He had things he still needed to do now. He needed to stay alive for a while longer.

Please, God, he had another date. He needed to get to it this time.

Which was when there was an arm around his middle and he was flying upward, towards the quinjet again. They were against the quinjet and Clark was digging his hands into the metal of the jet to push the plane away from the implosion, which was slowly sucking everything into it's orbit.

And Steve was clinging to him, astounded - he'd been ready to fall, ready to take the wounds or--

Or not, but--

But he was holding on to Clark, shield covering his back, and he whispered, "We've gotta make it. Gotta get to our date. I'm not gonna miss this one."

That did nothing but drive Clark on as he shifted around to the front of the quinjet to push it away from the vortex. Pushing was easier than pulling and he started to gain some ground then, slowly extricating them and the jet until finally, finally, the hole in reality closed and everything went back to as normal as possible.

Of course, the quinjet wasn't prepared for that and Clark had to zip underneath, but soon enough he was floating the plane down to the ground in a clear area of the wreckage.

And Steve's feet hit ground - real, solid ground, that meant he could jog over to Clark, look into his eyes-- but with no smile of victory. The world was saved, but except for one, an entire species was gone. An entire people. And Clark had never even had the chance to really know them.

He reached out and rested his hand on the symbol covering Clark's chest. "Are you okay?"

Clark looked down at the hand on his chest, raising his eyes to Steve slowly as he considered his answer.

"This is my home," he said quietly. "And the people of Earth are my people."

He lifted Steve's hand to his lips and kissed his fingers.

"Like you said."

Then he looked around at the destruction.

"I only wish it hadn't had to be like this."

And that was enough reason for him to step in close and hug him, not caring for a moment if anyone saw. Clark wasn't a soldier. Clark was a civilian who had had war pushed on him. He hadn't chosen to see anything like this. "So do I. For your sake. And theirs."

But the Kryptonians had made their choice, too. They hadn't been willing to talk or compromise, and that told the tale.

Clark had been starting to lean into the embrace, settling against Steve and relaxing now that the fight was done. Until a voice rang out from across the desolation.

"KAL-EL!"

Instantly, Steve was back to battle-ready, alert and aware, and stepping in front of Clark with his shield at the ready. He still had one of the Kryptonian guns. He'd take this on. He'd stand in front of Clark - because this was his job. He was a protector.

"Stand down!" he ordered, unafraid. "This world isn't yours, and won't be."

Clark put his hand on Steve's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze as he stepped out from behind the protection.

"I have to see what he wants. His plans are finished now. He deserves that much."

Then he turned to Zod and started walking towards him.

"Zod," he answered, his voice deep and clear.

His jaw flexed, but he didn't prevent Clark from doing what he thought best. This was, after all, his choice. His people. But it didn't necessarily feel good to let Clark be a target.

Steve let Clark go ahead, but he didn't fall too far behind. Far enough that there was privacy, but close enough that if he needed, he could step in.

Zod picked up dirt from the ground and let it flutter from his fingers, speaking low enough that only Clark could hear him. Clark looked wary for a moment... and then he was shifting away from Steve as Zod came barreling at him at top speed.

The problem was that top speed for a Kryptonian was practically invisible.

That was when Steve's job changed. No matter how he wanted, if two Kryptonians were fighting, there wasn't much he could do unless Clark held Zod still, and he wasn't sure that was on the menu. What he could do, though, was run toward the city, motion toward civilians-- "GO!" he shouted. "Get down, get out, go where you can! Belowground if possible, away from the tallest buildings. Evacuate! GO!"

But while he did it, he watched Clark and Zod both, as much as he could, taking himself toward their conflicts.

They weren't so much two beings fighting as two incredibly destructive pinballs rocketing around the ruins of the city.

When they finally landed in the great central train station, Steve was just in time to hear Clark give a primal scream of deep horror from within.

And that...

He knew that sound.

He ran at his own top speed to get to the station, to get to Clark, to try to fix, to change...

But by then, all he could do was run to him, kneel beside him, and wrap his arms around Clark's shoulders. God, it was so unfair. So unfair that this gentle, altruistic person had been truly forced into this.

"I'm here," he murmured. "I've got you." If only he could erase what he saw right in front of Clark.

And Clark just... cried. He didn't want to, didn't want to ask someone he hardly knew to comfort him after what he'd done, but he didn't have it in him to do anything else. Everything hurt. Everything hurt and everything was terrible and he hadn't wanted to, God, how he hadn't wanted to... but he couldn't let Zod kill everyone. The family that had been in front of him were just... representative. The mother could have been his mother, the man could have been Steve...

And he wasn't sure that he'd ever stop feeling the sick snap, hearing the sound of it, for the rest of his life.

One thing Steve didn't do was shush him. He held him, rearranged them until he was wrapped around Clark, hiding him with himself and with his shield. His cheek pressed against Clark's hair, Steve rubbed his arm. Clark wasn't a soldier. It wasn't all right that Zod had forced him into it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "God, I'm so sorry. I wanted to be here..." He'd wanted to be the one to do it - if it had had to be done, he'd wanted it to be him. Just to spare Clark.

"But I've got you now."

Clark wasn't the only one to show up. A few of the others, Fury, Lois... they waited at the entrance as Clark wailed out his pain and held onto Steve for dear life. Lois bit her lip and couldn't help the tears herself as she saw what Clark, the sweet man she'd met in the cemetary that day, had been forced into. He'd only wanted to help. He'd only ever wanted to help.

It made Steve a little glad that now, he was big enough to hide someone. Clark needed the time to cry, to mourn, to ache all the way through. It wasn't going to get done in one day, though - enough reason for him to make sure that Clark had time to recover.

Only when his tears seemed to be slowing did Steve lean back enough to look at him, to gently wipe his cheeks. "Take a few deep breaths..."

Clark did as he was told, his breathes out moving debris across the floor since he wasn't in a place to be controlling the force of his lungs.

Finally, he looked back at Steve, and it was clear that he was shoving everything down. Pushing it away. Making himself be better even if he himself wasn't.

"Sorry. Sorry, Captain. I shouldn't-- I didn't mean--"

"Nonsense," came from the top of the stairs as Lois made her way down, "and if you don't let him take care of you, I'll kick your ass, Superman. You'd better watch out. I've got a mean right hook."

That made Clark smile, even if it was a brittle smile.

Steve's thumb traced his cheekbone and he mirrored Clark's smile. "You've done what you never should've had to," he murmured. "So now you need to take some time to recover. I think Lois and I agree wholeheartedly on that count."

He had the feeling that Clark would want to help with the cleanup - and that was fine. But not yet. Not yet. He needed to get over things first.

Clark breathed in deeply before letting his eyes closed.

"Thousands of others have done what I did to defend their lives, the lives of others, their country. I'm no better than anyone else."

for andimwearingtights: Man of SHIELD

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