bradygirl_12 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bradygirl_12) wrote2009-10-08 06:12 pm
bradygirl_12) wrote2009-10-08 06:12 pm
Fic: The Pretty Man (1/1)
Title: The Pretty Man (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, mention of others
Continuity: Smallville
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Pain can be lessened by a smile or gentle touch.
Date Of Completion: October 6, 2009
Date Of Posting: October 8, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 620
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for my LJ Third Anniversary Fic Request Meme for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
carolandtom. Pairing: SV Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Lonely (hurt/comfort). :) She requested Smallville Clark, so Bruce can be either movie-or-comicsverse. I do describe his eyes as blue, but your choice as to what image is in your mind! :)
He was lonely.
There were many things he didn’t know or remember. He didn’t know why he hurt so much, why his hands were so stiff or his legs so weak, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares he didn’t remember.
His room was nice, his bed comfortable, a brightly-colored quilt on top, red-yellow-and-blue. The birds sang outside his window that looked out at the big maple tree, and he liked the robins best. They were bright and cheerful, always hopping around on the grass, especially after it had been mowed.
He liked the smell of freshly-mown grass.
He was tired, so tired, all the time, but wanted to sit here in his rocking chair by the window in the sunlight. He always felt better in the sunlight.
He never spoke. His throat felt rusty. No, better to sit quietly, rocking back-and-forth, rocking peacefully.
The nurses and doctors were nice but could never stay long.
Visitors would come but he only stared, unable to remember them, guilty as he saw their sad eyes, so he simply retreated, the pain a dull ache, constant but not so bad some days.
They were all so sad: the woman with the short, blond hair and constant chatter, her earrings swinging as her head moved; the red-haired woman and the blond man with kind eyes, who always brought food that smelled and tasted so good; the woman with long, dark hair and constant movement, the blond man who always wore pretty green, and the bald man with the soft voice.
All with sad eyes.
He gazed out the window, then straightened up in his rocking chair, his left hand curling and un-curling his stiff fingers.
Maybe not so lonely anymore.
& & & & & &
The man was beautiful, dark hair pretty, his shirts and sweaters always soft, his hands always warm when they held his hands.
His eyes were so pretty, so dark-blue, and they were sad, too.
Sometimes he came with a younger man who had dark hair and bright blue eyes, whose smile was like sunlight, and sometimes he came alone.
Today he was alone.
The pretty man would talk only some of the time, but he couldn’t understand him, anyway, though once he had heard the words, “All three forms of Kryptonite mixed together…recipe for disaster…hurt him…played havoc with his physiology and memory…and what happened to him when he was missing…the nightmares…”
The pretty man would talk to the doctor, and he would always be sad, but he would smile after the doctor left, be so gentle and kind and even help him into the other chair and wheel him out into the fresh air.
& & & & & &
The pretty man came into the room and spoke his name. He kissed him gently on the temple and spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but the pretty man wheeled him outside to feel the sun warm on his face and the breeze cool on his skin. The pain was never quite as bad when the pretty man was here. The pretty man sat against the trunk of the tree, and his eyes were so beautiful as he spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but he loved the velvety sound of his voice. The pretty man picked up a golden leaf and tucked it behind his ear, pressing it gently against his skin as he kissed the top of his head.
The pretty man wheeled him back to his room and kissed him on the temple again, and walked out of the room and down the walk outside with the robins flying around.
He was lonely again until the next time the pretty man came to visit.
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, mention of others
Continuity: Smallville
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Pain can be lessened by a smile or gentle touch.
Date Of Completion: October 6, 2009
Date Of Posting: October 8, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 620
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Written for my LJ Third Anniversary Fic Request Meme for
carolandtom. Pairing: SV Clark/Bruce. Prompt: Lonely (hurt/comfort). :) She requested Smallville Clark, so Bruce can be either movie-or-comicsverse. I do describe his eyes as blue, but your choice as to what image is in your mind! :)He was lonely.
There were many things he didn’t know or remember. He didn’t know why he hurt so much, why his hands were so stiff or his legs so weak, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares he didn’t remember.
His room was nice, his bed comfortable, a brightly-colored quilt on top, red-yellow-and-blue. The birds sang outside his window that looked out at the big maple tree, and he liked the robins best. They were bright and cheerful, always hopping around on the grass, especially after it had been mowed.
He liked the smell of freshly-mown grass.
He was tired, so tired, all the time, but wanted to sit here in his rocking chair by the window in the sunlight. He always felt better in the sunlight.
He never spoke. His throat felt rusty. No, better to sit quietly, rocking back-and-forth, rocking peacefully.
The nurses and doctors were nice but could never stay long.
Visitors would come but he only stared, unable to remember them, guilty as he saw their sad eyes, so he simply retreated, the pain a dull ache, constant but not so bad some days.
They were all so sad: the woman with the short, blond hair and constant chatter, her earrings swinging as her head moved; the red-haired woman and the blond man with kind eyes, who always brought food that smelled and tasted so good; the woman with long, dark hair and constant movement, the blond man who always wore pretty green, and the bald man with the soft voice.
All with sad eyes.
He gazed out the window, then straightened up in his rocking chair, his left hand curling and un-curling his stiff fingers.
Maybe not so lonely anymore.
The man was beautiful, dark hair pretty, his shirts and sweaters always soft, his hands always warm when they held his hands.
His eyes were so pretty, so dark-blue, and they were sad, too.
Sometimes he came with a younger man who had dark hair and bright blue eyes, whose smile was like sunlight, and sometimes he came alone.
Today he was alone.
The pretty man would talk only some of the time, but he couldn’t understand him, anyway, though once he had heard the words, “All three forms of Kryptonite mixed together…recipe for disaster…hurt him…played havoc with his physiology and memory…and what happened to him when he was missing…the nightmares…”
The pretty man would talk to the doctor, and he would always be sad, but he would smile after the doctor left, be so gentle and kind and even help him into the other chair and wheel him out into the fresh air.
The pretty man came into the room and spoke his name. He kissed him gently on the temple and spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but the pretty man wheeled him outside to feel the sun warm on his face and the breeze cool on his skin. The pain was never quite as bad when the pretty man was here. The pretty man sat against the trunk of the tree, and his eyes were so beautiful as he spoke words that he couldn’t understand, but he loved the velvety sound of his voice. The pretty man picked up a golden leaf and tucked it behind his ear, pressing it gently against his skin as he kissed the top of his head.
The pretty man wheeled him back to his room and kissed him on the temple again, and walked out of the room and down the walk outside with the robins flying around.
He was lonely again until the next time the pretty man came to visit.
What can I say?
Re: What can I say?
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And not only that, its a longer story begging to be told.
Such vivid descriptions with such an economy of words. I don't know how you do it.
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I love how you worked the robins in there, and everyone from Smallville, too. :) Excellent work on this! :D
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Great job on this one!
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But it's nice that everyone from Smallville visits. Kind of an AU where things are better for everyone else, but worse for Clark.
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Fix this!
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Snif, snif, >reaches for tissues again
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Awww. Really heartbreaking to read and to imagine.
I know it's more for Smallville but the first thought that came to my mind while reading it was: Kill the Caldwells! It's all their fault!
Ops. I guess Rainbows definitely left it's mark with me.
;-)
On reading it a second time I felt like that could fit with Smallville after the Fortress crashed on Clark and Lex.
After reading it a third time I thought Major Zod captured and tortured Clark during current season, and this was a scene from early season 10.
Thanks for sharing, very sad but wonderfully written.
As long as the Bat and Little Bird come to visit, there is hope Clark will return.
*insists on this*
;-)
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I've been away with no connection and I almost missed it! What an awesome story! You tell a lot in a short fic and the writing is amazing! My heart breaks for Clark but I'm glad he has so many people who love him and are there for him. And Bruce gives him just what he needs. Such a sad but sweet story! Wonderful job!
I hope you could write more about this, if you ever have the time and willingness to do so.
Thank so much! I LOVED it!
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Great
Re: Great