Clair had never been one to need anybody, but Clark was not the type who took well to not being needed. Especially back then, he thrived on being useful. It never seemed to be a bad quality till he met Clair.
"Long distance doesn't usually work in my experience." said the school teacher who Clark had already a small amount of appreciation for; this comment hadn't helped his position in Clark's book.
"Well, we're making it work." The attempt at confidence was audibly shaky.
The school professor simply nodded a bit, his thick gray beard hiding the slight smirk that briefly came across his face. He walked back to his podium and began addressing the class once again about the history of their world, its great importance to them, and that his opinions were perfect in every way shape and form...blah...blah...blah. Clark's thoughts gradually disintegrated along with the attention he was paying to the lecture. Was their really an imminent doom on all long distance relationships? Were the percentages really going to work against him? The thought of losing her seemed ridiculous. How could he be with anyone else?
When the bell rang, Clark didn't lose a moment leaving the classroom. He dodged students crowding the halls which were built taller than they needed to be and lacking the width that the daily student trampling suggested was necessary. When finally he made it to his locker, he opened the door and automatically his eyes locked in on the picture hanging from the inside of the door. Clair, a blond, blue-eyed gem whose image Clark let reflect in the pools of his dark eyes almost as if to let the image burn into them. Are we doomed, he thought. The idea brought on by the history teacher was ricocheting across the thoughts of Clark's mind and seemed to be leaving a path of destruction wherever it went. Then it suddenly occurred to him that that history teacher didn't know him. He didn't know Clair either. Her image hanging on his locker hung perfectly across the lenses of his eyes, in his own mind. In their she had been idolized as a never failing and never changing goddess, hadn't she?
The memory is a funny thought now, so many years later and so far from the experience and of course the emotions surrounding it. Thinking of the irony of it all makes Clark laugh a little as he drags the still unconscious body of the bandit across the forest floor. Autumn leaves crunch with every step he makes and are pushed aside by the body being pulled behind. Before their interrogation had ended, the bandit, who it was discovered was a fairly young lad after a removal of his mask, simply passed out. Apparently he was a bit more jumpy than Clark had realized. One threat demand later, he was on the ground. So, now with the hope that the kid had truly been the only one out in the woods, Clark is forced to drag the vandal through the woods to the nearest ranger checkpoint, the hope being, when they get there, they have a radio to contact a jailing truck as well as a cell to hold him the night or till the jailing truck arrived. A side benefit would be a trail bike to get back to the city.
Clark drops the grip he has on the boys collar, shaking the tight soreness from his hand. Only a moment later, he is off again, his other hand dragging the boy. Why had he been thinking about Clair? Thoughts of her seem trivial at the moment, like teenager gossip, but still thoughts of her are arising. Why? At the end of the story, he was lonely. She left him and he realized he had nothing else to fall back onto. Loneliness ebbed on the periphery of the days immediately following and with it, Loneliness's close friend, Depression, hung nearby as well. A sad tale indeed, but, comfortingly enough, an old one too. So, again, Clark wonders with a half-hearted curiosity, Why do I keep thinking about ancient history? As often happens, Clark's mental conversation starts becoming verbalized, "Well, I'm feeling a bit lonely right now." says Clark, his only audience the passing trees and his unconscious companion. "That could be it. I'm lonely and thus I am recalling a memory of another time when I felt loneliness. Makes sense...Not really. Then, I had no one waiting for me at home like I do..." The next word should have been "now," but it falters on his lips as an epiphany hits him: I really like Rain. The thought is so pleasant to think about that Clark tries saying it, "I really like Rain." A smile grows with every word. The snort of a stifled chuckle behind Clark spins him around. His formerly limp companion, quickly snaps into fetal-position with Clark's sudden movement. Clark's gun aimed at his head, the young bandit is frozen to the spot.
"Oh-god-don't-shoot!" The phrase slurring together in his panic.
"Hands where I can see them!" The bandit thrusts the hand of the good arm into the air, a nervous shake taking over his arm and continuing down the rest of his body. "Good. Now..." Clark pauses, feeling himself in a somewhat awkward position.
"Oh man I didn't mean to laugh." Fear mixed with the pain of the broken arm hanging limply at his side causes the bandit's voice to waver. "I like rain too man. Very peaceful..."
"Shut up!" Clark can't help but be a bit annoyed the bandit caught some of his thinking-out-loud. The idiot has no idea Rain is the name of his girl.
"Oh-god, just cuff me man! I'll go quiet! I swear!" The kid's shaking evolves into a grovel, his face to the ground, hands up, pleading.
Handcuffs would be fantastic about now, but the only thing is..."I didn't bring any."
The statement must have taken a moment to process because the bandit freezes for a moment, his hands even stop jittering,"Why the hell not?!"
"I - I didn't think I'd need them."
The head of the bandit slowly raises till it is looking directly up into the 9mm barrel. "You were gonna..." And then his body goes limp. Once again, he becomes the quiet and quite useless companion. Clark lowers his weapon, then he raises it for a half second, thinking how nice it would be to not have the dead weight as well as avoid another awkward confrontation with his simple minded prisoner. He lowers the gun again. He's just a kid.
As he grabs the kid by the collar and once again plods onward, he thinks about Rain. Gosh golly she'd make much better company.
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