Chloe/Davis fic: Remembrance (1/3)
May. 18th, 2009 11:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Remembrance
Fandom: Smallville
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark, Jimmy, Lois
Rating: R
Author’s Note: AU for 8x10 Bride. Davis doesn’t know he’s Doomsday, Chloe doesn’t remember Clark is Kryptonian, and Jimmy is engaged to marry her. Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vagrantdream.
Word Count: 2,788
Next Part: Chapter 2
Summary: Davis thought Chloe’s amnesia was cured. But there’s one thing she still can’t remember.
Davis threw fresh clothes on, Chloe’s words gathering power in his head like a growing storm. If anyone else had called for help at 3 AM, he would’ve had serious words to go along with any help he gave. But Chloe had sounded so scared, so… lost. She could’ve told him she was in Peru, it would’ve just meant he’d be buying a plane ticket.
By the time he got down to the stope, the cab he’d called still hadn’t arrived. He forced himself to sit and called Chloe. He imagined her looking at the phone, only picking up when she saw it was him. Wishful thinking. “Hey, Chloe, it’s me. I’m on my way, don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not in any danger.” He could hear the fragile smile at his concern in her voice. “I just don’t want to be alone right now. Which is the kind of stupid cliché I’d laugh at, only it’s happening to me. You want some coffee, when you get here?”
“I’d love coffee.” A Yellowcab pulled up. “My ride’s here. See you in a few, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
***
Somewhere in Metropolis, Jimmy Olsen was sleeping alone in a bed big enough for two. At the Isis Foundation, Chloe was touching up her make-up. She felt ridiculously disappointed in herself. She should’ve been a tough-nosed reporter on her way to her first Pulitzer by now, the girl in a Howard Hawks movie. But Jimmy was no Cary Grant.
Floors below, his head swarming with worried and dark thoughts, Davis got out of a taxi cab. He rode up in the elevator pacing, pressing against the walls and pushing back off. He felt a restless energy in him, the same energy he had to choke down when he treated a housewife who ‘fell down some stairs’. It was a hindrance then, but now it felt eminently suitable. Whatever had hurt Chloe, he felt like he could rip it apart with his bare hands.
The doors parted and he saw Chloe, breathtaking as always in a purple dress, waiting for him with a mug of steaming coffee. He was so happy to see she was alright that it took him a moment to think how weird it was to see her so… domesticated.
“Hey, Davis, sorry to worry you. Folger’s an okay apology?”
“No apology needed, but I’ll take the coffee just so I don’t fall asleep on my feet like a horse… with two legs…” He let the metaphor trail off.
“You need this,” Chloe said, handing over the coffee.
He gulped it down gratefully, then rubbed the last of the sleep out of his eyes. “So, what seems to be the problem, ma’am?” he said in his Dudley Do-Rightest voice.
She didn’t crack an eyelash, much less a smile. She just led him deeper into the Foundation, into a secret room dominated by a prop from some big-budget hacker movie. But Davis’s gaze slid right off the computer to the walls, which were covered in photographs, sketches, notepad writings, Post-It notes, and newspaper clippings.
“Chloe, what is all this?”
“The walls of weirdness… it’s my life, Davis. All the parts I can’t remember.”
He shook his head, fingers grinding into his palm. “No, you were cured, you got your memory back…”
“Not all of it. Something’s missing. A secret.” Like a sleep-walker, she ran a hand down the colored thread linking two mosaics. “Hidden between the lines.”
“Splinter in the mind’s eye,” he breathed.
“Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“I shouldn’t be here. This is private…”
“It’s alright, I trust you.” She tapped a Polaroid tacked to the wall. “See?”
It was a photo of him. He couldn’t resist looking. It was captioned ‘Davis Bloom – he’ll help you, no matter what’.
“That’s all? I could’ve planted that there to trick you.”
“You wouldn’t do that. I can tell just by looking at you. You’re a good person.”
“And Jimmy?”
Davis hated for himself for the way her face fell. “He’s a good friend. Maybe he never should’ve been anything more.” Chloe picked a Polaroid from the wall that told her she loved Jimmy, a message repeated on the walls so many times it was like graffiti. “I remember writing this. I don’t remember feeling it. That’s what I need back. I need my life to make sense again.”
“Okay, so it’s like a puzzle with a left-over piece. Find the hole. Who isn’t mentioned here that should be?”
“No one. I’ve looked. Everyone’s here, everyone…”
Davis’s eyes darted around like those of a hawk looking for a field mouse. Someone knew something. Someone had stolen from Chloe, molested her. He didn’t know how long he stood there, hand slowly tracking to the right, swimming through names and faces… until he stalked to the left wall and ripped out Clark’s photo.
He’s your best friend.
“This isn’t your handwriting.”
***
Chloe wasn’t ready to believe it. The thought moistened her eyes all over again. Davis wondered how long she’d lived with this before calling him. It must’ve made her life a living hell.
He assured her, lied to her. Held her close and rubbed her back and told her someone must’ve done this without Clark’s knowledge, a third party, a shooter on the grassy knoll. But he didn’t trust Clark. A third party ran the risk of Clark telling her the secret all over again. Only Clark could be sure.
“Have you told Clark about your amnesia?”
“Yes. He told me not to worry about it…” Chloe buried her face in his chest, shaking her head like a broken clock trying to tick.
Davis felt the restless energy, stronger than ever, and he assuaged it to be patient. Written under the photograph was Clark’s address.
***
Davis paced for five minutes in front of Clark’s door, blocked, uncertain how to translate this near-infinite energy into action. He was a doctor, for God’s sake! How could he even be considering this? And yet… how could he do nothing? How could anyone do nothing?
He kicked the door down. It was a start.
Davis looked around the cramped apartment. What was he supposed to do, now that he was playing avenger? Look for clues? Spray-paint his logo on the wall?
“What are you doing here?” Clark asked, somehow behind him.
Interrogation.
“Chloe sent me. She wants to remind you that you’re her friend.” Davis was shocked at how fast he was, grabbing Clark’s throat, slamming him against the wall. “Remember?”
Clark looked at the arms holding him off the floor with wild shock. “You’re hurting me!”
“I haven’t even gotten started. What’d you do to Chloe?” he demanded.
“You leave her alone!”
“Me leave her alone?”
“She’s happy now!”
“Now?” The energy was rising up in him so fast that Davis was shaking, his vision blurring. “It was you.”
“I won’t explain myself to someone who has no idea what Chloe’s been through.”
“You’re right. I only know what you put her through, you son of a bitch!” With a crescendoing scream, his body came alive. The wall… disappeared behind Clark, swallowing him up with a chaser of falling rubble. Davis backed away, looking at his hands in horror. In awe. He’d just shoved a man through a brick wall. “What the hell am I?”
Then he saw Clark stand up, dislodging a pile of broken masonry.
“What the hell are you?” Realization trickled coldly down Davis’s spine. “This is what you made Chloe forget? What you are?”
“It was for her own good.”
“Does that help you sleep at night?” Davis’s anger was so great it hurt, like a knife was sliding into his stomach again. He looked down at his clenched fists to see his knuckles weren’t white, they were gray.
He forced his hands open, but it didn’t stop jagged spurs from tearing through his knuckles. “It was me,” he realized, with the same nauseating certainty that came with being about to vomit. “All along, it was me. I’m the killer.”
He remembered the crucifix on his rear-view mirror and how it had hung from an old woman’s neck. He remembered how it felt to tear through flesh and shred bone and God help him, it felt good. “All those people.” He looked at Clark and saw so many ways to hurt him, not as many as a normal person, but so many ways, and they were all glorious. “You have to go, now!”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Clark picked Davis up with one arm and normally Davis would be impressed, but now part of him was horrified to realize and another, much larger part was elated to know it wouldn’t be enough. “You’re going to stay away from Chloe. She loves Jimmy, understand? She belongs with him!”
“I can’t control it! Clark...” Incisors protruded from his jaws. “Kal-El.” He grabbed the arm holding him and broke it in three places.
***
Chloe couldn’t sleep. It was like a battle was raging inside herself. Part of her was insisting that Clark could not have hurt her, he was her friend, he loved her. And another part of her was whispering that he didn’t love her, she was just a tool he used, and he was self-righteous enough to play with her life as he saw fit. Clark was her bedrock and doubting him made her entire life feel like a lie. She rolled over to look at Jimmy, her fiancé, and all she felt was numb.
Then she heard the first explosion. Chloe sat bolt-upright. A wave of concern for Clark went through her, then grew to encompass Davis. And then something just cracked, like a wall with too much pressure put on it. She was worried about Clark because he would be going to the disaster. He was the Red-Blue Blue. She was his confidante, his partner, the Watchtower. He was her best friend.
And then he had taken it all from her.
***
First minute and Clark’s face was already an unrecognizable mess, covered in blood and swelling. The monster that had erupted from Davis showed him no mercy. It shrugged off his mightiest blows and kept hurting him and all Clark could think was how impossible this was. He had a destiny! He was the red and blue blur!
He had to get this thing away from people, had to put it down. He charged, hit the beast’s midsection, felt a queasy moment of traction before its feet were ripped away from the floor. Then they hit the wall.
Bricks flew and glass shattered as they fell, Clark punching with his good arm until they hit the ground, the beast making a noise for the first time. A deep groan. It tried to sit up, but Clark grabbed it by the head and bashed it against first one side of the alley, then the other. He felt blood getting between his fingers. Then the thing punched him in the gut and he felt something weirdly like a pang of hunger as claws ripped him open.
Clark stumbled back and the beast hunted.
They fought for what seemed like hours and still Clark couldn’t understand how this was happening to him. This was the sort of thing that happened to people like Lex! What had he ever done to deserve it?
Then Clark felt an overwhelming pressure—fingers—on his leg and another set of claws cutting into his chest. He was lifted up, afraid of heights; then brought low with a sound he would’ve recognized as his spine cracking if thinking hadn’t gone away a moment later.
***
The basketball court of the Metropolis Manglers was covered in bodies evacuated from the war zone. Some had been pulled out of rubble stacked meters high. Others had shrapnel sticking out of them, waiting for one of the overextended medics to stretch to them.
Chloe wandered through, feeling like she was lost in a maze of blood. The squeaky smooth floor now was gouted with blood, partially dried and ripping horribly with every step. Behind her, Jimmy’s weight made the boards groan.
“Look for Clark.” Chloe nodded to herself spastically. That was the plan. “We have to find Clark.”
“What makes you think he’s even here?”
“Because if he wasn’t, this wouldn’t have huah… happened.” Chloe realized the lump in her throat came with the tears running uneventfully down her cheeks. That was the worst part, how quiet he was. Maybe there was enough morphine for everyone. The loudest noise came from the squeak and rattle of the medical personnel rushing around. Chloe felt horrible relief when a child started crying. At least it was life. She heard a camera’s blasphemous click and realized with a sick drop that it was coming from beside her.
She followed Jimmy’s telescope lens to a body seven rows down (rows). It was a woman so bloody Chloe couldn’t tell what color her dress had once been. A child with the same straw-colored hair was bent over the corpse, drying her own tears on the dress, in the process smearing her face with her mother’s blood.
Jimmy’s camera whirred again. Chloe ripped it out of his hands. “You heartless bastard!”
Jimmy’s eyes darted to his camera, broken on the floor. “Chloe…” His lips moved for a few seconds before words came out. “It’s news.”
“You think being a journalist means you can do whatever you want!? What about her? She has a right to… her grief…” Chloe forced the tears from her face with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry, it’s Clark, he… I have to find him. He’s still my friend… I think.”
And she realized, with the same kind of seismic shift that came with waking from a dream, that Davis must have gone to see Clark. He could be one of the bodies. She could be that crying child. Fresh tears flooded her eyes.
Jimmy moved to comfort her, arms spread wide. She shoved him away. “Get away from me. You’re still an asshole.” She pulled the ring off her finger and dropped it in a puddle of blood. Left Jimmy on his hands and knees groping for it. Probably needed it to buy a new camera.
“Chloe! Oh, God, Chloe!” It was Lois. Chloe felt a little of the weight shift off her heart. She made her way to her cousin.
“Lois, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m—not hurt.”
The words came out of Lois like a pot boiling over. “I saw it! Them! The Red-Blue Blur and this thing, this monster, was fighting him… And anyone that got in the way…” Lois pressed her hands against her head like she was trying to get the memories to stay in. “They have me handing out Aspirin. That’s all they can do. Aspirin…”
“Lois, have you seen Clark?”
Lois’s body nearly doubled over from the force of her sobs. Chloe grabbed her and held her until the steel returned to Lois’s spine. It didn’t take long.
“Over here,” Lois said flatly.
They walked over lines of bodies, some seizuring, some all too still. Clark she only recognized from the jacket lying in tatters around him. Lois bent down and tried to get him to take some pills.
“Stand back,” Chloe said. Her voice was so flat it might’ve been melted down, spread out over the floor like a pool of blood.
“That’s right! Your power! You can—“ The excitement drained from Lois’s voice. As she took in Clark, Chloe, everyone else. “You chose.” It was not an accusation. Not really.
“The choice I always make.” She kissed him and for a moment, the survivors of the Battle of Metropolis saw an angel glow. For many of them, it would be the last thing they ever saw.
Clark jolted upright. “Lana!”
“’Fraid not.” Chloe wiped the blood off her lips. “What was it, Clark? I need to know before I send the League.”
“The league of what?”
“I remember, Clark. For the next five minutes we’ll pretend I forgive you. What did this?”
“Not what. Who.” Clark’s eyes narrowed. “It was Davis.”
Chloe felt the last pillar of her world drop away. She wished the amnesia could come back and take her mind away. She wished she could join her mother in blissful sleep. Because she knew he wasn’t lying.
Lois sat, Clark’s head in her lap, watching as Chloe stood up as mechanically as Brainiac had ever made her. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s going to be just fine. Because I’m going to kill him.”
Clark lurched up, then crumpled up in pain. “You can’t!”
“Stay down, Clark. I didn’t heal you that well.”
Fandom: Smallville
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Clark, Jimmy, Lois
Rating: R
Author’s Note: AU for 8x10 Bride. Davis doesn’t know he’s Doomsday, Chloe doesn’t remember Clark is Kryptonian, and Jimmy is engaged to marry her. Betaed by
vagrantdream.Word Count: 2,788
Next Part: Chapter 2
Summary: Davis thought Chloe’s amnesia was cured. But there’s one thing she still can’t remember.
Davis threw fresh clothes on, Chloe’s words gathering power in his head like a growing storm. If anyone else had called for help at 3 AM, he would’ve had serious words to go along with any help he gave. But Chloe had sounded so scared, so… lost. She could’ve told him she was in Peru, it would’ve just meant he’d be buying a plane ticket.
By the time he got down to the stope, the cab he’d called still hadn’t arrived. He forced himself to sit and called Chloe. He imagined her looking at the phone, only picking up when she saw it was him. Wishful thinking. “Hey, Chloe, it’s me. I’m on my way, don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not in any danger.” He could hear the fragile smile at his concern in her voice. “I just don’t want to be alone right now. Which is the kind of stupid cliché I’d laugh at, only it’s happening to me. You want some coffee, when you get here?”
“I’d love coffee.” A Yellowcab pulled up. “My ride’s here. See you in a few, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
***
Somewhere in Metropolis, Jimmy Olsen was sleeping alone in a bed big enough for two. At the Isis Foundation, Chloe was touching up her make-up. She felt ridiculously disappointed in herself. She should’ve been a tough-nosed reporter on her way to her first Pulitzer by now, the girl in a Howard Hawks movie. But Jimmy was no Cary Grant.
Floors below, his head swarming with worried and dark thoughts, Davis got out of a taxi cab. He rode up in the elevator pacing, pressing against the walls and pushing back off. He felt a restless energy in him, the same energy he had to choke down when he treated a housewife who ‘fell down some stairs’. It was a hindrance then, but now it felt eminently suitable. Whatever had hurt Chloe, he felt like he could rip it apart with his bare hands.
The doors parted and he saw Chloe, breathtaking as always in a purple dress, waiting for him with a mug of steaming coffee. He was so happy to see she was alright that it took him a moment to think how weird it was to see her so… domesticated.
“Hey, Davis, sorry to worry you. Folger’s an okay apology?”
“No apology needed, but I’ll take the coffee just so I don’t fall asleep on my feet like a horse… with two legs…” He let the metaphor trail off.
“You need this,” Chloe said, handing over the coffee.
He gulped it down gratefully, then rubbed the last of the sleep out of his eyes. “So, what seems to be the problem, ma’am?” he said in his Dudley Do-Rightest voice.
She didn’t crack an eyelash, much less a smile. She just led him deeper into the Foundation, into a secret room dominated by a prop from some big-budget hacker movie. But Davis’s gaze slid right off the computer to the walls, which were covered in photographs, sketches, notepad writings, Post-It notes, and newspaper clippings.
“Chloe, what is all this?”
“The walls of weirdness… it’s my life, Davis. All the parts I can’t remember.”
He shook his head, fingers grinding into his palm. “No, you were cured, you got your memory back…”
“Not all of it. Something’s missing. A secret.” Like a sleep-walker, she ran a hand down the colored thread linking two mosaics. “Hidden between the lines.”
“Splinter in the mind’s eye,” he breathed.
“Yes. That’s it exactly.”
“I shouldn’t be here. This is private…”
“It’s alright, I trust you.” She tapped a Polaroid tacked to the wall. “See?”
It was a photo of him. He couldn’t resist looking. It was captioned ‘Davis Bloom – he’ll help you, no matter what’.
“That’s all? I could’ve planted that there to trick you.”
“You wouldn’t do that. I can tell just by looking at you. You’re a good person.”
“And Jimmy?”
Davis hated for himself for the way her face fell. “He’s a good friend. Maybe he never should’ve been anything more.” Chloe picked a Polaroid from the wall that told her she loved Jimmy, a message repeated on the walls so many times it was like graffiti. “I remember writing this. I don’t remember feeling it. That’s what I need back. I need my life to make sense again.”
“Okay, so it’s like a puzzle with a left-over piece. Find the hole. Who isn’t mentioned here that should be?”
“No one. I’ve looked. Everyone’s here, everyone…”
Davis’s eyes darted around like those of a hawk looking for a field mouse. Someone knew something. Someone had stolen from Chloe, molested her. He didn’t know how long he stood there, hand slowly tracking to the right, swimming through names and faces… until he stalked to the left wall and ripped out Clark’s photo.
He’s your best friend.
“This isn’t your handwriting.”
***
Chloe wasn’t ready to believe it. The thought moistened her eyes all over again. Davis wondered how long she’d lived with this before calling him. It must’ve made her life a living hell.
He assured her, lied to her. Held her close and rubbed her back and told her someone must’ve done this without Clark’s knowledge, a third party, a shooter on the grassy knoll. But he didn’t trust Clark. A third party ran the risk of Clark telling her the secret all over again. Only Clark could be sure.
“Have you told Clark about your amnesia?”
“Yes. He told me not to worry about it…” Chloe buried her face in his chest, shaking her head like a broken clock trying to tick.
Davis felt the restless energy, stronger than ever, and he assuaged it to be patient. Written under the photograph was Clark’s address.
***
Davis paced for five minutes in front of Clark’s door, blocked, uncertain how to translate this near-infinite energy into action. He was a doctor, for God’s sake! How could he even be considering this? And yet… how could he do nothing? How could anyone do nothing?
He kicked the door down. It was a start.
Davis looked around the cramped apartment. What was he supposed to do, now that he was playing avenger? Look for clues? Spray-paint his logo on the wall?
“What are you doing here?” Clark asked, somehow behind him.
Interrogation.
“Chloe sent me. She wants to remind you that you’re her friend.” Davis was shocked at how fast he was, grabbing Clark’s throat, slamming him against the wall. “Remember?”
Clark looked at the arms holding him off the floor with wild shock. “You’re hurting me!”
“I haven’t even gotten started. What’d you do to Chloe?” he demanded.
“You leave her alone!”
“Me leave her alone?”
“She’s happy now!”
“Now?” The energy was rising up in him so fast that Davis was shaking, his vision blurring. “It was you.”
“I won’t explain myself to someone who has no idea what Chloe’s been through.”
“You’re right. I only know what you put her through, you son of a bitch!” With a crescendoing scream, his body came alive. The wall… disappeared behind Clark, swallowing him up with a chaser of falling rubble. Davis backed away, looking at his hands in horror. In awe. He’d just shoved a man through a brick wall. “What the hell am I?”
Then he saw Clark stand up, dislodging a pile of broken masonry.
“What the hell are you?” Realization trickled coldly down Davis’s spine. “This is what you made Chloe forget? What you are?”
“It was for her own good.”
“Does that help you sleep at night?” Davis’s anger was so great it hurt, like a knife was sliding into his stomach again. He looked down at his clenched fists to see his knuckles weren’t white, they were gray.
He forced his hands open, but it didn’t stop jagged spurs from tearing through his knuckles. “It was me,” he realized, with the same nauseating certainty that came with being about to vomit. “All along, it was me. I’m the killer.”
He remembered the crucifix on his rear-view mirror and how it had hung from an old woman’s neck. He remembered how it felt to tear through flesh and shred bone and God help him, it felt good. “All those people.” He looked at Clark and saw so many ways to hurt him, not as many as a normal person, but so many ways, and they were all glorious. “You have to go, now!”
“I’m not going anywhere!” Clark picked Davis up with one arm and normally Davis would be impressed, but now part of him was horrified to realize and another, much larger part was elated to know it wouldn’t be enough. “You’re going to stay away from Chloe. She loves Jimmy, understand? She belongs with him!”
“I can’t control it! Clark...” Incisors protruded from his jaws. “Kal-El.” He grabbed the arm holding him and broke it in three places.
***
Chloe couldn’t sleep. It was like a battle was raging inside herself. Part of her was insisting that Clark could not have hurt her, he was her friend, he loved her. And another part of her was whispering that he didn’t love her, she was just a tool he used, and he was self-righteous enough to play with her life as he saw fit. Clark was her bedrock and doubting him made her entire life feel like a lie. She rolled over to look at Jimmy, her fiancé, and all she felt was numb.
Then she heard the first explosion. Chloe sat bolt-upright. A wave of concern for Clark went through her, then grew to encompass Davis. And then something just cracked, like a wall with too much pressure put on it. She was worried about Clark because he would be going to the disaster. He was the Red-Blue Blue. She was his confidante, his partner, the Watchtower. He was her best friend.
And then he had taken it all from her.
***
First minute and Clark’s face was already an unrecognizable mess, covered in blood and swelling. The monster that had erupted from Davis showed him no mercy. It shrugged off his mightiest blows and kept hurting him and all Clark could think was how impossible this was. He had a destiny! He was the red and blue blur!
He had to get this thing away from people, had to put it down. He charged, hit the beast’s midsection, felt a queasy moment of traction before its feet were ripped away from the floor. Then they hit the wall.
Bricks flew and glass shattered as they fell, Clark punching with his good arm until they hit the ground, the beast making a noise for the first time. A deep groan. It tried to sit up, but Clark grabbed it by the head and bashed it against first one side of the alley, then the other. He felt blood getting between his fingers. Then the thing punched him in the gut and he felt something weirdly like a pang of hunger as claws ripped him open.
Clark stumbled back and the beast hunted.
They fought for what seemed like hours and still Clark couldn’t understand how this was happening to him. This was the sort of thing that happened to people like Lex! What had he ever done to deserve it?
Then Clark felt an overwhelming pressure—fingers—on his leg and another set of claws cutting into his chest. He was lifted up, afraid of heights; then brought low with a sound he would’ve recognized as his spine cracking if thinking hadn’t gone away a moment later.
***
The basketball court of the Metropolis Manglers was covered in bodies evacuated from the war zone. Some had been pulled out of rubble stacked meters high. Others had shrapnel sticking out of them, waiting for one of the overextended medics to stretch to them.
Chloe wandered through, feeling like she was lost in a maze of blood. The squeaky smooth floor now was gouted with blood, partially dried and ripping horribly with every step. Behind her, Jimmy’s weight made the boards groan.
“Look for Clark.” Chloe nodded to herself spastically. That was the plan. “We have to find Clark.”
“What makes you think he’s even here?”
“Because if he wasn’t, this wouldn’t have huah… happened.” Chloe realized the lump in her throat came with the tears running uneventfully down her cheeks. That was the worst part, how quiet he was. Maybe there was enough morphine for everyone. The loudest noise came from the squeak and rattle of the medical personnel rushing around. Chloe felt horrible relief when a child started crying. At least it was life. She heard a camera’s blasphemous click and realized with a sick drop that it was coming from beside her.
She followed Jimmy’s telescope lens to a body seven rows down (rows). It was a woman so bloody Chloe couldn’t tell what color her dress had once been. A child with the same straw-colored hair was bent over the corpse, drying her own tears on the dress, in the process smearing her face with her mother’s blood.
Jimmy’s camera whirred again. Chloe ripped it out of his hands. “You heartless bastard!”
Jimmy’s eyes darted to his camera, broken on the floor. “Chloe…” His lips moved for a few seconds before words came out. “It’s news.”
“You think being a journalist means you can do whatever you want!? What about her? She has a right to… her grief…” Chloe forced the tears from her face with the heel of her hand. “I’m sorry, it’s Clark, he… I have to find him. He’s still my friend… I think.”
And she realized, with the same kind of seismic shift that came with waking from a dream, that Davis must have gone to see Clark. He could be one of the bodies. She could be that crying child. Fresh tears flooded her eyes.
Jimmy moved to comfort her, arms spread wide. She shoved him away. “Get away from me. You’re still an asshole.” She pulled the ring off her finger and dropped it in a puddle of blood. Left Jimmy on his hands and knees groping for it. Probably needed it to buy a new camera.
“Chloe! Oh, God, Chloe!” It was Lois. Chloe felt a little of the weight shift off her heart. She made her way to her cousin.
“Lois, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m—not hurt.”
The words came out of Lois like a pot boiling over. “I saw it! Them! The Red-Blue Blur and this thing, this monster, was fighting him… And anyone that got in the way…” Lois pressed her hands against her head like she was trying to get the memories to stay in. “They have me handing out Aspirin. That’s all they can do. Aspirin…”
“Lois, have you seen Clark?”
Lois’s body nearly doubled over from the force of her sobs. Chloe grabbed her and held her until the steel returned to Lois’s spine. It didn’t take long.
“Over here,” Lois said flatly.
They walked over lines of bodies, some seizuring, some all too still. Clark she only recognized from the jacket lying in tatters around him. Lois bent down and tried to get him to take some pills.
“Stand back,” Chloe said. Her voice was so flat it might’ve been melted down, spread out over the floor like a pool of blood.
“That’s right! Your power! You can—“ The excitement drained from Lois’s voice. As she took in Clark, Chloe, everyone else. “You chose.” It was not an accusation. Not really.
“The choice I always make.” She kissed him and for a moment, the survivors of the Battle of Metropolis saw an angel glow. For many of them, it would be the last thing they ever saw.
Clark jolted upright. “Lana!”
“’Fraid not.” Chloe wiped the blood off her lips. “What was it, Clark? I need to know before I send the League.”
“The league of what?”
“I remember, Clark. For the next five minutes we’ll pretend I forgive you. What did this?”
“Not what. Who.” Clark’s eyes narrowed. “It was Davis.”
Chloe felt the last pillar of her world drop away. She wished the amnesia could come back and take her mind away. She wished she could join her mother in blissful sleep. Because she knew he wasn’t lying.
Lois sat, Clark’s head in her lap, watching as Chloe stood up as mechanically as Brainiac had ever made her. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s going to be just fine. Because I’m going to kill him.”
Clark lurched up, then crumpled up in pain. “You can’t!”
“Stay down, Clark. I didn’t heal you that well.”
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Date: 2009-05-18 07:33 pm (UTC)