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Vatman: Clark Kent
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“Almost.”

Such a small word. Such a terrible void.

Everything was all right with the world…almost. Because for once--for the first time in Clark’s life--there had been someone like him. There’d been someone who could follow Clark up into the air; who could shake hands with him without either one of them having to worry about the amount of pressure they applied; who could understand him when he wanted to talk about the responsibility--the joys and the tragedies--of rescues.

For the first time--for the only time--there’d been someone he was actually, really connected to.

And now there wasn’t. Now the world was once more alien, and Clark was once more all alone, and there was no one he could let loose with, no one he could share horrors and triumphs with.

Lois was at his side, leaning into him, smiling and laughing, and it should have been enough to make him happy. But much as he loved spending time with her and talking to her, his secret--his truth--stood between them, and it was every bit as small and encompassing as that almost.

The sky spanned the heavens above him, a thousand times ten thousand stars glinted their hidden lights down at him, and Clark had never felt so small before. He could still feel the weight of his clone--his brother--in his arms, could still hear that erratic heartbeat falter and fade and those shallow breaths just…stop. He could still see the limp form of his brother, wrapped in his red cape, looking so terribly fragile, drifting toward the flaming pyre of the sun.

He’d come back through the cleansing fire of the atmosphere, had showered, had been purged of one fear only to have another thrust at him with Jimmy’s mistaken news about Perry, but none of that was enough to distance him from the tragedy of this afternoon.

He hadn’t been alone. For just a few days--filled with confusion, then rage, then panic, then desperation--he hadn’t been alone. That was a new feeling for him, one he wished he could have savored more before it was so cruelly yanked away.

But maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better not to have gotten a full taste of having someone bound to him by blood and genetics and powers. Maybe this way it would be easier for him to settle back into the chains of the isolated life he had before. Except…he had never thought of himself as chained before, had never realized just how cut off he felt, and it didn’t seem to matter how short a time he’d known about his clone--it still affected him.

Almost. He’d almost been a part of something. He’d almost had the same feeling every human in the world--no matter how alienated they felt at any given moment--had and took for granted. He’d almost been a part of a group, a collective, a plural.

Almost, but not anymore. Now he was alone…again. Cut off…again. Trapped…again.

And he was just going to have to get used to it because he couldn’t risk the kind of danger another--unpredictable--Superman brought. It’s better this way, he told himself, and he believed it.

Almost.

***