Clark has something to say

Clark's mental model is rather peculiar.

His perspective on the world is very grand, and the same is true for human beings. Tim once tried to speculate on Clark's cognitive model, but after some hard work, he gave up.

How much information the super brain can capture, what the world looks like in the eyes of superman-such problems, he can't imagine at all.

Tim tiptoed slightly.

He doesn't know what other people think of Clark, but there will always be no negative/negative/evaluation. Superman is more human than human, which is the consensus of all people who know Clark, including Bruce. He stared almost dazzled more than once. Looking at the red shadow flashing across the sky.

Tim surmised that for a split second Bruce was struck by what that pure positivity represented.

Only he himself held some different opinions, and that memory undoubtedly provided an argument for his opinion-Clark was always withdrawn from this world.

Relying on countless man-made connections and self-hypnosis, he forcibly binds himself to the world, first Martha and Jonathan, then the small-town residents of Smallville, then the metropolis, and then justice alliance.

Clark desperately wanted a place to live.

Family.

It's not a house, but a place that he can think about at any time, and the mere existence can make him feel safe and warm. He doesn't want to leave in mid-air and watch the planet alone.

Unlike Diana, the Goddess of War can go back to Paradise Island at any time, where she has her own kind, but Clark is the last Kryptonian, that glorious civilization has disappeared in the universe forever, and Clark has nothing but the earth.

Compared with the scale of his life, those human connections are so short that they can be called hopeless.

So when the nuclear explosion in Metropolis happened, the Son of the Sun fell into the abyss in an instant, and the panic that was suppressed by his subconscious and that was incompatible with the world exploded in multiples, and mixed with it, it could drive anyone crazy The excruciating pain—Clark had no choice, the string that had been holding him was cut by the Joker.

Tim calmly felt the fear inside him.

Not the kind of fear Jason has of Clark, he's not afraid of superhuman strength, but he's afraid of Oedipal tragedy, and at the end of the day he's not at all sure that Clark will ever be Kal-El.

He was putting himself back on the table, but the bargaining chip was his trust in Clark, which he didn't even know he had.

Not to Superman.

He has no confidence in winning this bet.

But Clark looked at him with slightly painful calm eyes, with a silent and clear expression on his face.

"The clown operated on Martha's heart. Her heartbeat is the switch of the nuclear bomb. Once it stops, the metropolis will be detonated by the nuclear bomb." Tim closed his eyes forcefully, and then opened them again, his own voice added a little more Unstable: "You inhaled fear gas..."

Clark: "—I think of Martha as Doomsday."

Tim licked his dry lips: "You put the whole world in a bottle, and the Justice League became the only regime."

It didn't take Tim to go on, Clark got it all right away.

Why did the entire alliance dodge when they saw him, why Bruce fell into a coma for no reason, and his vital signs stopped for a while, and why the time on Diana's body was no longer frozen.

Clark once fantasized about the future, and his fantasies always stayed within a few years, not long-term at all.

Buy a small house in the Metropolis, win a Pulitzer Prize, and invite Bruce to come with him to Kansas to visit Martha, and he can read Martha the article that won the prize.

Just thinking about it made him feel so soft inside.

But now he knew that the person who caused these injuries was all himself.

The coldness that could freeze the soul came to him one after another. Clark slowly lowered his head, tightened his fingers weakly, and then loosened them.

He can guess the general direction of the future, but he can't know the details-what did he do to the person he swore to protect?And what can he make up for now?

The heavy sin turned into a boulder, pressing on his chest, making him unable to breathe.

"Hey, Clark, look at me." Dick patted Clark's forearm: "Please, it's just a memory whose authenticity is questionable."

Seeing that Clark didn't respond, he pulled the chair closer, hugged him, and put his arms around the man's broad shoulders: "You can't blame yourself for something that hasn't happened, it's too unreasonable."

"I'm sorry." Clark's voice was hoarse, but he pushed Dick away quite forcefully.

Tim looked at Dick anxiously. He could force himself to tell the truth, but he couldn't comfort Clark, he couldn't relieve Clark of the burden.

Speak quickly!

But Dick stared at Clark with wide blue eyes, bewildered.

Clark: "Why didn't I get the memory?"

Because you are dead, because you exchanged these memories with yourself—but the words turned into another sentence, Tim said dullly: "I don't know, I'm also investigating."

Tim paused for a few seconds, then forced himself to speak again: "Clark, you can't blame yourself for all the mistakes, in fact..."

"Sorry." Clark blinked slowly, intermittently: "I need, I need to think about it."

Tim opened his mouth: "Clark, I..."

"No, Tim," Clark said softly, "Please, don't excuse me, Tim, it was my mistake."

After a creepy silence, Clark moved his lips: "I'll go first."

Tim: "Okay."

Clark didn't leave at super speed. He slightly folded his shoulders and walked out step by step. His steps were sluggish, as if he was bound by invisible shackles.

click.

There was a soft slam of the door.

The thin voice sounded like a sudden flip of a switch, and Tim paced back and forth, trying to say something to Dick, but couldn't say anything in the end.

He smashed himself into the sofa again, picked up the coffee, and took a sip of it forcefully, but his fingers tightly pinched the cup, almost crushing it.

At this time, Dick asked in a low voice: "Then what should we do?"

He was still in the gaze that Clark was looking at him just now, it was indescribable, but he was indeed frozen in place by that gaze, unable to move.

He screwed up.

He shouldn't have let Clark know that even if Superman could hear the whole world, he could at least try, and it wasn't impossible to stop Clark.

He stiffened and looked at Tim for help, trying to get a solution from him—he didn't want to think about what Clark would do to him in the future, but his heart was so painful that it was about to split in two.

"Let him figure it out on his own, and then come out on his own." Tim replied dryly: "The second way, you go to him now and spend this time with him."

Dick said in a low voice, "...he doesn't want to see me."

He had just realized Clark's strong resistance from Clark's actions.

Tim stared at him blankly for a while, then said at a loss: "Then which one do you think is better, Diana or Bruce? Bruce—do you think he can have a positive effect?"

He grabbed Dick, and then tightened his grip on the other's wrist: "Listen, Clark is different from Bruce, you go to him, and then talk to him, never lie - Superman actually knows everything."

Dick was dazed for a while, then nodded in a trance: "OK."

**

Clark at the Met.

It didn't take Dick reasoning to come to this conclusion, he just came to the answer instinctively, and Bruce doesn't know what he and Tim did at the moment, presumably his mentor will give that Batman-esque disapproving look soon To see him.

Dick stood under Clark's small apartment building, took two steps in the direction of the unit building, and quickly backed out as if he had been stabbed by a spike. He repeated this several times-he was quite afraid to knock on the door himself, and then Clark, like Bruce back then, drove him out with a cold face.

Fortunately, there was no one at night, otherwise his suspicious appearance might attract the police.

The temperature in the metropolis at night is not high. He only wore a thin T-shirt, not even a coat. The coolness spread from the soles of his feet to his knees. He raised his head and his eyes fell on the small window.

It was covered by curtains, but there was a warm yellow light inside, making it quite warm.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief, rubbed his stiff fingers, and flinched slightly.

He liked that lamp very much, and because of work, he usually came to see Clark at night. After he became an adult, he finally stopped naively opening the window, but Clark would still clean up all the sundries on the window sill.

When he broke into Clark's tiny apartment, he'd find plenty of snacks in the fridge, or he could sit on the couch and moan and harass Clark, who was writing, to bake him a pizza.

The man who usually wears a red cloak to save the world will look at him helplessly, then roll up his sleeves, hold a small fruit knife to cut tomatoes, the chopping board is knocked out with a sound, and the blue eyes of the god on earth are focused and gentle , The warm yellow light hit him, and the warmth floated to the living room along with the heat from the kitchen.

He sat down slowly on the bench.

The door of the unit is a combination lock, and Clark has never changed the combination. It is not difficult to go in and face Dick. He just doesn't know how to face Clark. Once the other party asks a question, he has to tell him about Dick Grayson in his memory. something experienced.

He didn't dare to go in, and couldn't leave, so he could only sit downstairs in a daze, waiting for the time to pass by.

pat.

Dick rubbed his forehead, looked up, and found that the sky had been completely covered by clouds, the moonlight could not fall at all, and the street lamps were also dim yellow, blurred by the night fog.

It's going to rain.

He leaned back and hugged his arms, trying not to lose his body heat so quickly.

Sure enough, raindrops kept falling one after another. The raindrops were not big, but very fine. In less than a minute, his T-shirt was soaked in moisture and stuck to his skin.

He shook his neckline, lowered his eyes, and there were green insects with transparent wings wet by the rain at his feet, feeling that his mood fell to the bottom of the valley along with the rainy day.

A shadow covered his shadow.

Dick's breathing rhythm stopped for a beat, his muscles stiffened, and he could see a pair of gray-blue slippers——

"Sigh." Clark sighed softly, "You obviously have the key here."