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seriousficTitle: The Villain Of The Story
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,934
Author’s Note: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vagrantdream.
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Lois,
Last Part: Chapter 9
Next Part: Chapter 11
Summary: David decides he’s beyond redemption, just in time to be redeemed.
It was another leftover night, the kind Martha didn’t like to admit existed. The Kents reheated whatever they could find and ate in front of the TV. Davis just ate baked beans cold from the Tupperware container. They said drowning was a peaceful way to go, and Phelan had died the same as any demon. But he hadn’t been. He’d been a man, flawed and fallible, but Davis had judged him, found him wanting. Vengeance is mine, thus saith the Lord… but I helped.
Cop killer. The words slashed into Davis’s thoughts, bounced around his skull like a sniper’s bullet. He was past the point of no return, on the dark side of the moon. No one could hear him now. Judge not, lest ye be judged. That was in the Bible too.
It was all over the news. The reporter said it was probably an accident, but Davis could read between the lines. The sheriff would find the busted seatbelt. They would suspect foul play. His fingerprints were on the car, but the river must’ve wiped them off. But what if someone had seen him get in the car? It’d been the middle of the day. Just one person looking out their window and they’d know. Chloe would know. And she’d look at him like a monster.
“A dead cop in Smallville,” Martha exclaimed.
“Anyone remember when this was a nice, quiet town?” Jonathan asked. “Before the Luthors moved in?”
Davis said nothing.
***
History class was another boring sermon on the American Revolution. Davis doubted it’d been as noble as the teacher made it out to be. Nothing was. He spent the class practicing not looking at Chloe.
The bell rang and he was the first out of his seat, not in any hurry, just with long strides that carried him toward the door and away from Chloe. She caught up to him. “Hey, you heard about the cop killing? Crazy, huh?”
“Crazy,” he confirmed. “I gotta go. Big project due.”
“What’s it on? Maybe I can help.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Then maybe we can get together sometime, grab a burger. Milkshakes on me.”
Davis shouldered past a slow student. “Really busy.”
Chloe grabbed his backpack, jerking him to a grudging stop. “Are you seeing someone?”
“What would that have to do with anything?”
“I asked first.”
“No, alright?” He hoisted his backpack, which she let go of. “I just… don’t have time.”
“For me?”
“For anything. That includes you.” He disappeared into the crowd, washed away as they slipped into class.
Chloe stood in the middle of the hallway, not knowing what to do. She held it together. At least, she didn’t not hold it together.
Lois put an arm around her shoulders and led her cousin into the guidance councilor’s office, where she worked for some walking-around money.
“I’m not crying,” Chloe insisted, sniffling. “I have fucking allergies.”
“Runs in the family,” Lois assured her. She handed Chloe a tissue. “He is so not good enough for you.”
Chloe didn’t argue the point. She wiped her nose and threw the tissue away, then began massaging her temples. “I wrote him that letter.”
“Did it help?”
“Sure!” Chloe burst into laughter. “Now instead of thinking I’m in love with him, I know it.”
Lois frowned. “Can I see it?”
Chloe morosely dug through her backpack, bringing out a much-folded piece of notebook paper. Lois read it.
“It’s very… honest.”
“I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic. You’re the least pathetic person I know. You’re just all messed up on hormones at the moment. Date him, don’t date him, in ten years you’ll be laughing your ass off each time he cameos in your diary.”
“What if he’s on drugs, though? Or in a gang?”
“Chloe, it’s Smallville. What’s he gonna do, spray-paint the cows before he tips them?”
“I should talk to Mrs. Kent. She must know what’s going on.”
“For now, get to class. I get bonuses based on attendance records.”
Chloe nodded and zipped up her backpack. “He’s hurting, Lois. I can tell.”
“And you’re not?”
Chloe set down her backpack. “I think he might’ve had something to do with Harry Volk’s death.” She laid it all out as Lois sat down on the desk, arms slowly crossing, then tightening around her chest.
“Have you gone to the police?” Lois asked.
“No! I can’t. It’d ruin his life. Volk was a murderer, and if Davis killed him while trying to protect some innocent man from that monster… who gives a shit?”
“Point taken,” Lois said, standing up, pacing in the close confines of the office.
Someone knocked on the door. “Miss Lane?”
”Beat it!”
Eric Summers poked his head in anyway. “Miss Lane, I really need to go home, I can’t go on a field trip with my dad…”
“I said beat it. What, don’t you need to know English to go to high school? Go see the school nurse.”
“She says I should tough it out.”
“Well, she’s the one with a medical license! Shoo!”
Eric closed the door. Lois locked it. In the interval, Chloe had started crying again. Lois gave her some more tissues.
“I can’t imagine what it must be doing to him, suffering through this all alone. He’s such a good guy, I can’t imagine what taking a life would do to him… no, no I can. It would destroy him, Lois.”
“Hold on, you don’t even know that he’s done anything. What if he just got there and he saw who did it? What if he got there and he saw the body? I mean, c’mon, it’s Davis Bloom. He was literally a choir boy, remember? The guy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Then what’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a teenage boy! You think he needs an excuse to be moody? You’ve just spent too much time with that wall of whack, it’s got you seeing axe murderers and conspiracy theories everywhere. Just relax… no, you should lie down. Lie down and I’ll get you a Coke. Wait, you like Sprite, don’t you?”
“I’m fine.” Chloe glanced at the wall-clock. “I need to get to class, I’m already late…”
“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?
“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Chloe said, all out of tears, and then she was out the door.
Lois picked up Chloe’s letter from her desk. She really hated teen angst.
***
Davis closed his locker to find Lois was leaning against the wall, previously concealed by the door. He wondered if she was a drama queen or if his life just seemed more melodramatic these days. “Can I help you, Miss Lane?”
Lois shoved a piece of paper against his chest. “Read it.”
“I’m not really in a literary mood.”
“It’s from Chloe,” Lois said, her voice dripping with scorn.
Davis took the letter and started to read.
“I get what she sees in you, even if you seem to be doing your best to hide it. I guess being a good guy isn’t as cool as it used to be. But what’s the appeal in hurting Chloe? She is awesome and I know you’re smart enough to see it.”
Davis closed up the letter with numb hands, slumping against the lockers as if wrung dry. “I’d never hurt her. I’m trying to protect her!”
“From what?”
He handed the letter back to her. “Something dark.”
***
Geology fieldtrip. Davis sat alone in back of the bus, feeling nausea come and go. It’d been a while since he’d had a kill and that left a stirring that traveled through his body, like a hunger or a thirst. Like a lust.
Chloe sat near the front. She didn’t look back at him. He watched her golden hair ripple with each bump in the road. It took his mind off his appetites.
The bus came to a stop, ending the assault of rowdiness on his ears. Everything grated on his nerves like rusty nails. Except Chloe. He followed her off the bus, not daring to get too close.
It was still overcast, the storm that’d been gathering the last few days now was black as it was going to get. Davis could feel the charge of ozone in the air, the moisture begging to become rain. He saw Eric Summers awkwardly flirting with Holly and Holly’s boyfriend taking offense, testosterone as thick as humidity. He walked through it and wasn’t touched. He was cut off from their world. No direction home.
Davis sought out the minerals on his checklist and tried not to think of blood.
”We should talk,” Chloe said, sitting down on the boulder next to him.
“Probably. I seem to be getting out of practice.”
“Lois told me she gave you my letter. And after I finished ax-murdering her—“
“Don’t joke about that!” Davis said, quietly, but so vehement that Chloe actually flinched back as if struck. “It’s not funny.”
“Did you find out something about your birth parents?” Chloe ventured. “Something bad?”
Davis laughed harshly, again with the dark forcefulness that made Chloe feel as bruised and raw as he must be. “I guess you could say that.”
“So what is—“
Davis cut her off. “I know you’re waiting for me. You think someday I’m going to look at you and realize how amazing you are. And I do.” He reached for her, but his arm couldn’t extend all the way. It hovered between them, the fingers compulsively closing in agitation. “How could I not? I’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see how special you are. But it can never happen. I am not worth waiting for.”
“Davis, whatever’s going on with you…” she reached for his outstretched hand. “Let me help.”
He jerked his arm back. “You can’t help me, Chlo. Nobody can. Goodbye.” He forced himself not to look back as he walked away.
***
Davis took his seat, once more at the back of the bus. He braced his head against the window. His reflection stared at him. He could drive his head through the glass and it wouldn’t leave a scratch.
Whitney Fordman sat down beside him. “Hey, Davis, can we talk?”
“You can. I’ll listen. Maybe.”
“I deserve that. I deserve a lot that hasn’t caught up with me just yet, so I’ve been kinda doing the rounds, catching up with everyone I’ve been a douchebag to.”
“When’d you start, last August?”
“Last week, actually. When my dad went to the hospital.”
Davis almost asked if he was okay, but he reminded himself he didn’t care at the last minute.
“He’s been having heart troubles for a while. That’s what I was angry about, not you and Lana and the shoes. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Davis answered with a little hesitation.
“Thanks. You know, you’re the first person who’s really meant that? I can tell. How weird, huh? You’re the golden boy. What would you know about needing forgiveness?” Whitney looked down. “I never really believed that church stuff, you know. No offense, but it seemed like a load. But, if my dad doesn’t pull through… I’d kinda like to know what happens to him. If you’ve got time to talk.”
“Has anyone seen Eric?” Mr. Summers bellowed from the front of the bus. Davis had had him all semester and he had never called Eric ‘my son’ or ‘my boy’ or anything like that. Davis had used to think that was weird.
“I’ll find him,” Davis said. Anything to keep Chloe from taking her place as another regret, or from having to give Whitney an answer he didn’t know anymore.
***
He found Eric on top of the dam. Balanced on the railing like a scarecrow on a post, arms outstretched to meet the flaring storm clouds, the Von Bondies’ ‘Not That Social’ bleeding out of his earphones. Davis looked over the railing. Long way to fall. He climbed up beside Eric, waited to be noticed, just like him. It was peaceful on top of the world.
“What are you doing up here?” Davis asked.
“Same thing you are.”
“I came here to find you.”
Eric just laughed. “This is living!”
Davis looked down. “It could become dying real quick.”
“Ya know, I got a skateboard for Christmas last year. My dad made me give it back. Said it was too dangerous.”
“Eric, you. Are going. To die.”
“You’re right. You’re right.” Eric shook his head, suddenly contending with vertigo. “Help me down?”
“Sure thing.” Davis heedlessly hopped back onto solid ground. “You can’t let the bastards grind you down. I think that’s the crux of it. You just have to keep catching the curveballs.”
Then the finger of God touched him.
The entire world was light and a transcendent pain, the kind that blissfully distracted you from some other, more continuous hurt. He felt a sudden absence, like he couldn’t catch his breath, then on an entirely different level felt the concrete scraping his arms and back. He’d been laid out. His hip hurt where he’d landed on his rosary, the beads biting into his flesh.
Still mentally feeling out his sense of missing, he looked around. One of his shoes was lying on its side, the tongue smoldering. The prayer beads rolled around the ground like little dice. His limbs twinged when he sat up.
The railing they’d been standing on was red-hot. A pale hand clung to it, sizzling like bacon on a frying pan. The pathetic image swam out of focus. When Davis’s vision cleared, the hand was gone. I couldn’t save him. Of course not.
Davis got up, sorting it out. The sound of thunder helped. They’d been struck by lightning. Davis had landed on the dam. Eric had fallen off it. I really don’t have anything to offer but death. He put his shoe back on and made his way down the dam. No particular hurry. He’d killed enough people to know what the human body could survive.
But as he descended, he heard a voice shouting for help. Davis broke into a run. He came to the dam’s run-off to find Eric washed up on shore, at the head of a cloud of blood. Bone jutted out of his leg, a compound fracture. Davis thought of putting him out of his misery, but just as quickly shouted the idea down. To his surprise, it didn’t linger, disappearing into the ether as if in shame.
“Don’t try to move,” Davis said, and the words, the compassion, came easily. “I’ll get help.”
“Davis, wait… something’s wrong… why doesn’t it hurt…? Am I dying?” But while Eric was spilling out his hyperventilating inner monologue, his fracture was being sucked back inside his leg, the skin covering it up like lips smacking.
“You’re not dying,” Davis said, breathless. “I think…” He took out the boot knife he’d been carrying for what seemed like an eternity, flicked the knife out, ran it along his arm for two inches. The cut didn’t heal. The blood flowed freely. “I’m free.”
***
He helped Eric walk back to the bus, although Eric didn’t need the help. Davis was practically dragging him along anyway. “We have to keep this secret. Just between us, okay? We’ll talk later, but for now…” Davis was almost too overwhelmed to speak. He realized he’d broken into a wide grin. He felt the line of his jaw, just to make sure.
“Our little secret,” Eric agreed. “You don’t tell my dad, I won’t tell… anyone.”
“Good deal, good deal. We’ll tell them you fell in the river, your pants snagged on a rock. Got that?” Eric nodded. “Repeat it.”
“I fell in the river and my pants got cut on a rock,” Eric repeated proudly, flush with the excitement of their shared secret. Davis suspected it was the first time he’d been in someone’s confidence.
“Good man.”
They got back on the bus. Davis did most of the talking, while Eric just playacted contrite embarrassment. He was pretty good at it. Mr. Summers accepted their explanation with a blistering “We’ll talk later” directed at his son. Davis collapsed into his seat, head back, eyes closed, not realizing he’d taken his customary seat by Chloe. He concentrated on the slowing trickle from the cut on his arm. The dull, windy ache was perfect.
“You look pleased with yourself,” Chloe said acidly twenty minutes into the trip, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to move.
Davis opened his eyes. The blood on his arm was a dry brown that cracked with every flex. He chuckled softly to himself. And just that morning, he’d been burning bridges with Chloe. It seemed like some half-forgotten nightmare. “Chloe, I…” he stopped.
Words were too thick, too great a reminder. He blinked and simply wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He’d never be able to say what a relief it was when she completed the embrace, arms pulling him near to her, chin settling on his shoulder, hands patting his back. The nightmare was over. He was home.
***
Eric molded his hands into fists. They’d always felt impotent before, his fingers fitting together loosely, his palms feeling nothing but clammy. But now his fists felt like weapons. Lightning had struck him and he’d survived. He felt stronger, dangerous, like everyone had better keep their distance. All his life people had been putting him down, telling him who to be, what to think.
Well, no one was ever telling him what to do again.
Author’s notes: This chapter covers 1x12 Leech.
What, you thought Davis could just go around killing meteor freaks and angsting about it forever? I know you sick freaks lap up his man-pain like delicious maple syrup, but it’d get a little old (said halfway through a 21-part story). So now this happens and believe me, the repercussions are going to go down a while. But let’s talk about the chapter you just read.
This is a Davis who’s completely broken, completely resigned himself to his face, he feels he’s lost Chloe, he’s lost his faith. It’s more than not being in a relationship with Chloe, now he won’t even let himself be with her. Then his powers are taken away and he realizes that could only mean God wants him to SEX UP TINY BLONDE. Speaking of which, that’s why in my final draft I put the Clois sex scene where it was last chapter. That kinda jokiness just wouldn’t fit in this chapter.
The character of Eric Summers is one of those plot threads I wanted to develop further than Smallville did. If you go back and reread the previous parts, you’ll find references to him scattered all over. And in that vein, I added the little snippet of Whitney on the bus, which along with the bit of him helping out in the Earl Jenkins chapter, hopefully makes him a more well-rounded character than just ‘jocko’.
As for the “Fever” Letter and Lois deciding to give it to Davis… what can I say, yeah, I’m proud of that one. See, this is why you don’t get to be in the fic, Pete. Would you have thought of that? It’s the perfect, in-character way to move the story forward instead of just going in circles, which is the Smallville tradition. Tight-less, nonflying circles. So now all the Chlavis cards are on the table and Davis is Doom-free. You wouldn’t… happen to want to know where that goes, would you?
Alright, we’re heading out of endearingly cocky and into wannabe BNF, so what else? The last addition I made to this fic was the little scene between Chloe and Lois where they discuss the possibility of Davis murdering Harry Volk. When you plot a long series like this, there’s a chance of forgetting your shit between Point A and Point G. So, rereading this and seeing that there wasn’t a follow-up to Chloe’s sharp cookieness in deducing Davis’s involvement in Volk’s death, I put in that scene where Lois kinda talks her out of it. And she has a point. I imagine stumbling across someone’s murder would fuck you up pretty good, although not as much as having the ultimate killing machine using your mental real estate as a timeshare. But hopefully that partially explains why Chloe is being so patient with Davis. Plus, she’s in LUUUURVE.
Next time, the hits just keep on coming and the last shreds of the status quo circle the drain. Lex! Clark! Meteor freaks! And a special guest villain!Plus, SEX UP TINY BLONDE? Shit couldn’t get anymore bananas if it were made out of potassium!
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,934
Author’s Note: Betaed by
vagrantdream.Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis, Lois,
Last Part: Chapter 9
Next Part: Chapter 11
Summary: David decides he’s beyond redemption, just in time to be redeemed.
It was another leftover night, the kind Martha didn’t like to admit existed. The Kents reheated whatever they could find and ate in front of the TV. Davis just ate baked beans cold from the Tupperware container. They said drowning was a peaceful way to go, and Phelan had died the same as any demon. But he hadn’t been. He’d been a man, flawed and fallible, but Davis had judged him, found him wanting. Vengeance is mine, thus saith the Lord… but I helped.
Cop killer. The words slashed into Davis’s thoughts, bounced around his skull like a sniper’s bullet. He was past the point of no return, on the dark side of the moon. No one could hear him now. Judge not, lest ye be judged. That was in the Bible too.
It was all over the news. The reporter said it was probably an accident, but Davis could read between the lines. The sheriff would find the busted seatbelt. They would suspect foul play. His fingerprints were on the car, but the river must’ve wiped them off. But what if someone had seen him get in the car? It’d been the middle of the day. Just one person looking out their window and they’d know. Chloe would know. And she’d look at him like a monster.
“A dead cop in Smallville,” Martha exclaimed.
“Anyone remember when this was a nice, quiet town?” Jonathan asked. “Before the Luthors moved in?”
Davis said nothing.
***
History class was another boring sermon on the American Revolution. Davis doubted it’d been as noble as the teacher made it out to be. Nothing was. He spent the class practicing not looking at Chloe.
The bell rang and he was the first out of his seat, not in any hurry, just with long strides that carried him toward the door and away from Chloe. She caught up to him. “Hey, you heard about the cop killing? Crazy, huh?”
“Crazy,” he confirmed. “I gotta go. Big project due.”
“What’s it on? Maybe I can help.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Then maybe we can get together sometime, grab a burger. Milkshakes on me.”
Davis shouldered past a slow student. “Really busy.”
Chloe grabbed his backpack, jerking him to a grudging stop. “Are you seeing someone?”
“What would that have to do with anything?”
“I asked first.”
“No, alright?” He hoisted his backpack, which she let go of. “I just… don’t have time.”
“For me?”
“For anything. That includes you.” He disappeared into the crowd, washed away as they slipped into class.
Chloe stood in the middle of the hallway, not knowing what to do. She held it together. At least, she didn’t not hold it together.
Lois put an arm around her shoulders and led her cousin into the guidance councilor’s office, where she worked for some walking-around money.
“I’m not crying,” Chloe insisted, sniffling. “I have fucking allergies.”
“Runs in the family,” Lois assured her. She handed Chloe a tissue. “He is so not good enough for you.”
Chloe didn’t argue the point. She wiped her nose and threw the tissue away, then began massaging her temples. “I wrote him that letter.”
“Did it help?”
“Sure!” Chloe burst into laughter. “Now instead of thinking I’m in love with him, I know it.”
Lois frowned. “Can I see it?”
Chloe morosely dug through her backpack, bringing out a much-folded piece of notebook paper. Lois read it.
“It’s very… honest.”
“I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic. You’re the least pathetic person I know. You’re just all messed up on hormones at the moment. Date him, don’t date him, in ten years you’ll be laughing your ass off each time he cameos in your diary.”
“What if he’s on drugs, though? Or in a gang?”
“Chloe, it’s Smallville. What’s he gonna do, spray-paint the cows before he tips them?”
“I should talk to Mrs. Kent. She must know what’s going on.”
“For now, get to class. I get bonuses based on attendance records.”
Chloe nodded and zipped up her backpack. “He’s hurting, Lois. I can tell.”
“And you’re not?”
Chloe set down her backpack. “I think he might’ve had something to do with Harry Volk’s death.” She laid it all out as Lois sat down on the desk, arms slowly crossing, then tightening around her chest.
“Have you gone to the police?” Lois asked.
“No! I can’t. It’d ruin his life. Volk was a murderer, and if Davis killed him while trying to protect some innocent man from that monster… who gives a shit?”
“Point taken,” Lois said, standing up, pacing in the close confines of the office.
Someone knocked on the door. “Miss Lane?”
”Beat it!”
Eric Summers poked his head in anyway. “Miss Lane, I really need to go home, I can’t go on a field trip with my dad…”
“I said beat it. What, don’t you need to know English to go to high school? Go see the school nurse.”
“She says I should tough it out.”
“Well, she’s the one with a medical license! Shoo!”
Eric closed the door. Lois locked it. In the interval, Chloe had started crying again. Lois gave her some more tissues.
“I can’t imagine what it must be doing to him, suffering through this all alone. He’s such a good guy, I can’t imagine what taking a life would do to him… no, no I can. It would destroy him, Lois.”
“Hold on, you don’t even know that he’s done anything. What if he just got there and he saw who did it? What if he got there and he saw the body? I mean, c’mon, it’s Davis Bloom. He was literally a choir boy, remember? The guy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Then what’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a teenage boy! You think he needs an excuse to be moody? You’ve just spent too much time with that wall of whack, it’s got you seeing axe murderers and conspiracy theories everywhere. Just relax… no, you should lie down. Lie down and I’ll get you a Coke. Wait, you like Sprite, don’t you?”
“I’m fine.” Chloe glanced at the wall-clock. “I need to get to class, I’m already late…”
“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?
“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Chloe said, all out of tears, and then she was out the door.
Lois picked up Chloe’s letter from her desk. She really hated teen angst.
***
Davis closed his locker to find Lois was leaning against the wall, previously concealed by the door. He wondered if she was a drama queen or if his life just seemed more melodramatic these days. “Can I help you, Miss Lane?”
Lois shoved a piece of paper against his chest. “Read it.”
“I’m not really in a literary mood.”
“It’s from Chloe,” Lois said, her voice dripping with scorn.
Davis took the letter and started to read.
“I get what she sees in you, even if you seem to be doing your best to hide it. I guess being a good guy isn’t as cool as it used to be. But what’s the appeal in hurting Chloe? She is awesome and I know you’re smart enough to see it.”
Davis closed up the letter with numb hands, slumping against the lockers as if wrung dry. “I’d never hurt her. I’m trying to protect her!”
“From what?”
He handed the letter back to her. “Something dark.”
***
Geology fieldtrip. Davis sat alone in back of the bus, feeling nausea come and go. It’d been a while since he’d had a kill and that left a stirring that traveled through his body, like a hunger or a thirst. Like a lust.
Chloe sat near the front. She didn’t look back at him. He watched her golden hair ripple with each bump in the road. It took his mind off his appetites.
The bus came to a stop, ending the assault of rowdiness on his ears. Everything grated on his nerves like rusty nails. Except Chloe. He followed her off the bus, not daring to get too close.
It was still overcast, the storm that’d been gathering the last few days now was black as it was going to get. Davis could feel the charge of ozone in the air, the moisture begging to become rain. He saw Eric Summers awkwardly flirting with Holly and Holly’s boyfriend taking offense, testosterone as thick as humidity. He walked through it and wasn’t touched. He was cut off from their world. No direction home.
Davis sought out the minerals on his checklist and tried not to think of blood.
”We should talk,” Chloe said, sitting down on the boulder next to him.
“Probably. I seem to be getting out of practice.”
“Lois told me she gave you my letter. And after I finished ax-murdering her—“
“Don’t joke about that!” Davis said, quietly, but so vehement that Chloe actually flinched back as if struck. “It’s not funny.”
“Did you find out something about your birth parents?” Chloe ventured. “Something bad?”
Davis laughed harshly, again with the dark forcefulness that made Chloe feel as bruised and raw as he must be. “I guess you could say that.”
“So what is—“
Davis cut her off. “I know you’re waiting for me. You think someday I’m going to look at you and realize how amazing you are. And I do.” He reached for her, but his arm couldn’t extend all the way. It hovered between them, the fingers compulsively closing in agitation. “How could I not? I’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see how special you are. But it can never happen. I am not worth waiting for.”
“Davis, whatever’s going on with you…” she reached for his outstretched hand. “Let me help.”
He jerked his arm back. “You can’t help me, Chlo. Nobody can. Goodbye.” He forced himself not to look back as he walked away.
***
Davis took his seat, once more at the back of the bus. He braced his head against the window. His reflection stared at him. He could drive his head through the glass and it wouldn’t leave a scratch.
Whitney Fordman sat down beside him. “Hey, Davis, can we talk?”
“You can. I’ll listen. Maybe.”
“I deserve that. I deserve a lot that hasn’t caught up with me just yet, so I’ve been kinda doing the rounds, catching up with everyone I’ve been a douchebag to.”
“When’d you start, last August?”
“Last week, actually. When my dad went to the hospital.”
Davis almost asked if he was okay, but he reminded himself he didn’t care at the last minute.
“He’s been having heart troubles for a while. That’s what I was angry about, not you and Lana and the shoes. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Davis answered with a little hesitation.
“Thanks. You know, you’re the first person who’s really meant that? I can tell. How weird, huh? You’re the golden boy. What would you know about needing forgiveness?” Whitney looked down. “I never really believed that church stuff, you know. No offense, but it seemed like a load. But, if my dad doesn’t pull through… I’d kinda like to know what happens to him. If you’ve got time to talk.”
“Has anyone seen Eric?” Mr. Summers bellowed from the front of the bus. Davis had had him all semester and he had never called Eric ‘my son’ or ‘my boy’ or anything like that. Davis had used to think that was weird.
“I’ll find him,” Davis said. Anything to keep Chloe from taking her place as another regret, or from having to give Whitney an answer he didn’t know anymore.
***
He found Eric on top of the dam. Balanced on the railing like a scarecrow on a post, arms outstretched to meet the flaring storm clouds, the Von Bondies’ ‘Not That Social’ bleeding out of his earphones. Davis looked over the railing. Long way to fall. He climbed up beside Eric, waited to be noticed, just like him. It was peaceful on top of the world.
“What are you doing up here?” Davis asked.
“Same thing you are.”
“I came here to find you.”
Eric just laughed. “This is living!”
Davis looked down. “It could become dying real quick.”
“Ya know, I got a skateboard for Christmas last year. My dad made me give it back. Said it was too dangerous.”
“Eric, you. Are going. To die.”
“You’re right. You’re right.” Eric shook his head, suddenly contending with vertigo. “Help me down?”
“Sure thing.” Davis heedlessly hopped back onto solid ground. “You can’t let the bastards grind you down. I think that’s the crux of it. You just have to keep catching the curveballs.”
Then the finger of God touched him.
The entire world was light and a transcendent pain, the kind that blissfully distracted you from some other, more continuous hurt. He felt a sudden absence, like he couldn’t catch his breath, then on an entirely different level felt the concrete scraping his arms and back. He’d been laid out. His hip hurt where he’d landed on his rosary, the beads biting into his flesh.
Still mentally feeling out his sense of missing, he looked around. One of his shoes was lying on its side, the tongue smoldering. The prayer beads rolled around the ground like little dice. His limbs twinged when he sat up.
The railing they’d been standing on was red-hot. A pale hand clung to it, sizzling like bacon on a frying pan. The pathetic image swam out of focus. When Davis’s vision cleared, the hand was gone. I couldn’t save him. Of course not.
Davis got up, sorting it out. The sound of thunder helped. They’d been struck by lightning. Davis had landed on the dam. Eric had fallen off it. I really don’t have anything to offer but death. He put his shoe back on and made his way down the dam. No particular hurry. He’d killed enough people to know what the human body could survive.
But as he descended, he heard a voice shouting for help. Davis broke into a run. He came to the dam’s run-off to find Eric washed up on shore, at the head of a cloud of blood. Bone jutted out of his leg, a compound fracture. Davis thought of putting him out of his misery, but just as quickly shouted the idea down. To his surprise, it didn’t linger, disappearing into the ether as if in shame.
“Don’t try to move,” Davis said, and the words, the compassion, came easily. “I’ll get help.”
“Davis, wait… something’s wrong… why doesn’t it hurt…? Am I dying?” But while Eric was spilling out his hyperventilating inner monologue, his fracture was being sucked back inside his leg, the skin covering it up like lips smacking.
“You’re not dying,” Davis said, breathless. “I think…” He took out the boot knife he’d been carrying for what seemed like an eternity, flicked the knife out, ran it along his arm for two inches. The cut didn’t heal. The blood flowed freely. “I’m free.”
***
He helped Eric walk back to the bus, although Eric didn’t need the help. Davis was practically dragging him along anyway. “We have to keep this secret. Just between us, okay? We’ll talk later, but for now…” Davis was almost too overwhelmed to speak. He realized he’d broken into a wide grin. He felt the line of his jaw, just to make sure.
“Our little secret,” Eric agreed. “You don’t tell my dad, I won’t tell… anyone.”
“Good deal, good deal. We’ll tell them you fell in the river, your pants snagged on a rock. Got that?” Eric nodded. “Repeat it.”
“I fell in the river and my pants got cut on a rock,” Eric repeated proudly, flush with the excitement of their shared secret. Davis suspected it was the first time he’d been in someone’s confidence.
“Good man.”
They got back on the bus. Davis did most of the talking, while Eric just playacted contrite embarrassment. He was pretty good at it. Mr. Summers accepted their explanation with a blistering “We’ll talk later” directed at his son. Davis collapsed into his seat, head back, eyes closed, not realizing he’d taken his customary seat by Chloe. He concentrated on the slowing trickle from the cut on his arm. The dull, windy ache was perfect.
“You look pleased with yourself,” Chloe said acidly twenty minutes into the trip, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to move.
Davis opened his eyes. The blood on his arm was a dry brown that cracked with every flex. He chuckled softly to himself. And just that morning, he’d been burning bridges with Chloe. It seemed like some half-forgotten nightmare. “Chloe, I…” he stopped.
Words were too thick, too great a reminder. He blinked and simply wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. He’d never be able to say what a relief it was when she completed the embrace, arms pulling him near to her, chin settling on his shoulder, hands patting his back. The nightmare was over. He was home.
***
Eric molded his hands into fists. They’d always felt impotent before, his fingers fitting together loosely, his palms feeling nothing but clammy. But now his fists felt like weapons. Lightning had struck him and he’d survived. He felt stronger, dangerous, like everyone had better keep their distance. All his life people had been putting him down, telling him who to be, what to think.
Well, no one was ever telling him what to do again.
Author’s notes: This chapter covers 1x12 Leech.
What, you thought Davis could just go around killing meteor freaks and angsting about it forever? I know you sick freaks lap up his man-pain like delicious maple syrup, but it’d get a little old (said halfway through a 21-part story). So now this happens and believe me, the repercussions are going to go down a while. But let’s talk about the chapter you just read.
This is a Davis who’s completely broken, completely resigned himself to his face, he feels he’s lost Chloe, he’s lost his faith. It’s more than not being in a relationship with Chloe, now he won’t even let himself be with her. Then his powers are taken away and he realizes that could only mean God wants him to SEX UP TINY BLONDE. Speaking of which, that’s why in my final draft I put the Clois sex scene where it was last chapter. That kinda jokiness just wouldn’t fit in this chapter.
The character of Eric Summers is one of those plot threads I wanted to develop further than Smallville did. If you go back and reread the previous parts, you’ll find references to him scattered all over. And in that vein, I added the little snippet of Whitney on the bus, which along with the bit of him helping out in the Earl Jenkins chapter, hopefully makes him a more well-rounded character than just ‘jocko’.
As for the “Fever” Letter and Lois deciding to give it to Davis… what can I say, yeah, I’m proud of that one. See, this is why you don’t get to be in the fic, Pete. Would you have thought of that? It’s the perfect, in-character way to move the story forward instead of just going in circles, which is the Smallville tradition. Tight-less, nonflying circles. So now all the Chlavis cards are on the table and Davis is Doom-free. You wouldn’t… happen to want to know where that goes, would you?
Alright, we’re heading out of endearingly cocky and into wannabe BNF, so what else? The last addition I made to this fic was the little scene between Chloe and Lois where they discuss the possibility of Davis murdering Harry Volk. When you plot a long series like this, there’s a chance of forgetting your shit between Point A and Point G. So, rereading this and seeing that there wasn’t a follow-up to Chloe’s sharp cookieness in deducing Davis’s involvement in Volk’s death, I put in that scene where Lois kinda talks her out of it. And she has a point. I imagine stumbling across someone’s murder would fuck you up pretty good, although not as much as having the ultimate killing machine using your mental real estate as a timeshare. But hopefully that partially explains why Chloe is being so patient with Davis. Plus, she’s in LUUUURVE.
Next time, the hits just keep on coming and the last shreds of the status quo circle the drain. Lex! Clark! Meteor freaks! And a special guest villain!
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 04:33 pm (UTC)It's a delicious carrot! but You're daaaannnglliinnggg it.
Anyway, I'm in for the author's notes. (Dang such complexity! this tone here, this tone their flying in circles, hinting at *characters*). I'm also reading the fic again. What is it they say, first for knowledge second for enjoyment? Yeah, I fucked that order up.
“I know you’re waiting for me. You think someday I’m going to look at you and realize how amazing you are. And I do.” He reached for her, but his arm couldn’t extend all the way. It hovered between them, the fingers compulsively closing in agitation. “How could I not? I’d have to be blind, deaf, and dumb not to see how special you are. But it can never happen. I am not worth waiting for.”
“Davis, whatever’s going on with you…” she reached for his outstretched hand. “Let me help.”
They are so. Aww. And lovely. and awww!
Reminds me how much MORE I like the DAVIS SHOW! than the whole season 1, lanalanalana.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 05:12 pm (UTC)I liked how you have Chloe think he had something to do w/ Harry Volks death. And in that situation it does make sense for miss intrepid reporter to come to that conclusion. But I like how Lois talked her out of it. It works. And Chloe is really amazing and she just wants to be there for Davis.
And Lois as a councilor is kind of funny. Well, she's great w/ Chloe but she is really bad with everyone else and that is soooooo Lois. I'm not sure if Lois would betray her confidence like that but then again I can see her tired of the pining and wanted to put a stop to it. So go Lois.
And I can't wait to see a doom free Davis with Chloe. I have a suspcion it's going to be like Clark and Lana in the early 5th season when clark didn't have his powers so he figured there wasn't any secrets between them. I hope Chloe eventually does find out and is there for Davis. But I'll wait and see.
Anyway, update soon I want to see my Chlavis.
Oh, and I was getting a bit weary of all of the killing. So I'm glad your taking a bit of a break from that.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 06:04 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you're giving Eric more face time. So much happens to him that you can't help but wonder what's going on beneath the surface, even in canon (though here it's a bit more since he's now got Doom inside him, as opposed to average Kryptonian).
And Chloe and Davis are so cute! When he was telling her to stay away and then at the end when he could only hug her. Some serious shit's gonna hit the fan and you know it'll be horrible, but they're still adorable together no matter what.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 10:50 pm (UTC)THERE WAS HUGZ YAY!!! And Sex up tiny blonde is definitely some religion I could get behind hehe
I like Lois in this. Yay.
Poor Davis. I am waiting for him to find out what's wrong with him and what he really is and *why* he's killing and how his free will was violated. Is our special guest villain Brainiac? Are we gonna get out Nicodemus on up in here? Davis could really use some sexual healing hehe. *cuddles him and slurps up his ever so sweet man -pain*
Poor Eric Summers.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-02 12:29 pm (UTC)Dr. Hamilton is the New S9 Pete.
Date: 2009-08-04 03:12 am (UTC)And YAY Justin is coming!! And shi... STUFF is going to go down!! (It's the white cat. The white cat ALWAYS infuses evil into everything it touches... GO WHITE CAT!)
And I LOVE you're wonderous replacement of Pete. I mean... I liked Pete. Like in the way that I only like Kevin Jonas ("If I had to 'tap' any of the Jonas brothers, it'd be Kevin; the unknown one. Because I just feel sorry for him.") So, I'm sad that clueless-Pete got the boot. Because, you know, I pity him. Could he maybe get some cameo screen time? Just like a "HI, CHLOE, DAVIS!" scream in the hall or something? I feel sorry for him...