Fic: Silver Fire I: A Taste Of Silver, Laced With Emerald (4/6)
Title: Silver Fire I: A Taste Of Silver, Laced With Emerald (4/6)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Clark/Bruce
Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: None
General Summary: The JLA battles an invading army on a distant planet. All chapters can be found here.
Summary (this chapter): The enemy soldier is not finished with his prisoners just yet.
Date Of Completion: May 18, 2007
Date Of Posting: May 21, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 639
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by an illustration done by
rai_daydreamer entitled “Protective” and can be viewed here. :)
IV
MIXED WITH BLOOD
Clark lived in a world of agony. From the first blast that had sent him from the skies to the dust of this alien planet, he had suffered pain, but this was so unlike anything he had ever experienced that his mind could not quite comprehend it.
He thought of the cool, green fields of Earth and her blue skies and wanted to be there, free of this pain and away from this miserable planet and its sadistic invaders.
He wanted to be with Bruce, free from fear and letting their love flow like clear sunlit water down a mountain instead of being mixed with blood.
His thoughts jumbled more as he screamed, again and again, throat raw and all his sun-borne energy blasting out of him as the pain grew, tendrils of fire wrapping around his veins and squeezing, his brain ready to explode…
When the pain stopped, his brain didn’t register it until he was on his knees, retching and tasting blood and iron.
“Superman,” Bruce breathed, reduced again to crawling as he dragged a numb leg behind him. Bruce reached out and grasped his arm, fear in his face as a trembling hand wiped blood off Clark’s mouth.
Numbly Clark stared down at the blood on Bruce’s glove. He felt a strong wave of nausea again and Bruce held him as he vomited for the second time. Trembling, he grabbed Bruce’s hand and looked up at the soldier.
“Why are you…doing this? We have…no infor…information…to give you.”
Clark remembered the briefing that Hal had given the JLA about the sadistic pleasure that this race took in torture, but he wanted to stall for time, try to reason with this alien, or just stop the pain.
The silverplate remained silent. Clark coughed and tasted blood again. Bruce was putting his arm around him. He had to get Bruce to safety somehow. As much as the light was hurting him, it was causing Bruce that much more damage. He was more fragile; he was human and he would be hurt more…
Don’t let Bruce hear you call him fragile!
The thought made him smile and Bruce whispered, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
The alien turned away, speaking again to his commander.
Clark chuckled, then coughed. “Probably.” He grabbed Bruce’s hand. “I love you,” he whispered.
Bruce’s eyes were wet, shimmering like the color of a lake Clark knew back home in Kansas, dark and cool and shaded in a secluded place, but welcoming for those who knew how to find it and plumb its depths. “I love you, too.”
They exchanged a look of which the stuff legends are made, then Clark’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Any plans, O Great Bat?”
Bruce answered with a strained chuckle of his own. “The silverplates have a weakness. A small orange light at the base of the skull. When I lob explosives at it, it causes the suit to split in two.”
“Then we have to attack there…”
The soldier swung back. “Kal-El of Krypton, it is time.”
Confused, Clark and Bruce had no time to ponder those words as the light beamed out, striking Clark with such intensity this time that the Kryptonian sobbed his pain, then he deliberately blocked Bruce’s body with his own, absorbing every ray of torturous light as tears ran down his face and his hand dug into the dirt, his other hand weakly grasping Bruce’s hand.
“Stop it! You’re killing him!”
Clark saw Bruce shudder as rays of light suddenly glanced off his body and onto the fragile human one, felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his, the other hand cupping his face, midnight-blue eyes a wealth of agony, but he began to slip away…please don’t let him blame himself…his screams growing weaker as he felt the life drain away from him…
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters (this chapter): Clark/Bruce
Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: None
General Summary: The JLA battles an invading army on a distant planet. All chapters can be found here.
Summary (this chapter): The enemy soldier is not finished with his prisoners just yet.
Date Of Completion: May 18, 2007
Date Of Posting: May 21, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 639
Author’s Note: This story was inspired by an illustration done by
rai_daydreamer entitled “Protective” and can be viewed here. :)
IV
MIXED WITH BLOOD
Clark lived in a world of agony. From the first blast that had sent him from the skies to the dust of this alien planet, he had suffered pain, but this was so unlike anything he had ever experienced that his mind could not quite comprehend it.
He thought of the cool, green fields of Earth and her blue skies and wanted to be there, free of this pain and away from this miserable planet and its sadistic invaders.
He wanted to be with Bruce, free from fear and letting their love flow like clear sunlit water down a mountain instead of being mixed with blood.
His thoughts jumbled more as he screamed, again and again, throat raw and all his sun-borne energy blasting out of him as the pain grew, tendrils of fire wrapping around his veins and squeezing, his brain ready to explode…
When the pain stopped, his brain didn’t register it until he was on his knees, retching and tasting blood and iron.
“Superman,” Bruce breathed, reduced again to crawling as he dragged a numb leg behind him. Bruce reached out and grasped his arm, fear in his face as a trembling hand wiped blood off Clark’s mouth.
Numbly Clark stared down at the blood on Bruce’s glove. He felt a strong wave of nausea again and Bruce held him as he vomited for the second time. Trembling, he grabbed Bruce’s hand and looked up at the soldier.
“Why are you…doing this? We have…no infor…information…to give you.”
Clark remembered the briefing that Hal had given the JLA about the sadistic pleasure that this race took in torture, but he wanted to stall for time, try to reason with this alien, or just stop the pain.
The silverplate remained silent. Clark coughed and tasted blood again. Bruce was putting his arm around him. He had to get Bruce to safety somehow. As much as the light was hurting him, it was causing Bruce that much more damage. He was more fragile; he was human and he would be hurt more…
Don’t let Bruce hear you call him fragile!
The thought made him smile and Bruce whispered, “You’re crazy, you know that?”
The alien turned away, speaking again to his commander.
Clark chuckled, then coughed. “Probably.” He grabbed Bruce’s hand. “I love you,” he whispered.
Bruce’s eyes were wet, shimmering like the color of a lake Clark knew back home in Kansas, dark and cool and shaded in a secluded place, but welcoming for those who knew how to find it and plumb its depths. “I love you, too.”
They exchanged a look of which the stuff legends are made, then Clark’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Any plans, O Great Bat?”
Bruce answered with a strained chuckle of his own. “The silverplates have a weakness. A small orange light at the base of the skull. When I lob explosives at it, it causes the suit to split in two.”
“Then we have to attack there…”
The soldier swung back. “Kal-El of Krypton, it is time.”
Confused, Clark and Bruce had no time to ponder those words as the light beamed out, striking Clark with such intensity this time that the Kryptonian sobbed his pain, then he deliberately blocked Bruce’s body with his own, absorbing every ray of torturous light as tears ran down his face and his hand dug into the dirt, his other hand weakly grasping Bruce’s hand.
“Stop it! You’re killing him!”
Clark saw Bruce shudder as rays of light suddenly glanced off his body and onto the fragile human one, felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his, the other hand cupping his face, midnight-blue eyes a wealth of agony, but he began to slip away…please don’t let him blame himself…his screams growing weaker as he felt the life drain away from him…