Smallville fic: Apocalypse's End (3/8)
Sep. 28th, 2010 08:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Apocalypse's End
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,433
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis.
Author's notes: Takes place after season nine. Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nonky
Previous: 2/8
Next: 4/8
Summary: Davis doesn't even know what he wants from Chloe anymore. Is redemption too strong a word?
There are plenty of cars around. You take one out of a two-car garage, so just in case some family is waiting for the last minute to leave, you're not stranding them. Chloe jimmies the window, opens the door, then slides into the driver's seat and hotwires the ignition. You didn't know she could do that. Maybe she learned.
You help Clark into the backseat, his wheelchair taking up the rest of it, then get into the front with Chloe. She quirks an eye at you, but doesn't say anything. The engine catches. She backs up, hits the gas, and you go. The rear-view flashes red every now and then, catching the light off of Metropolis. You don't look into it, you don't look back.
A full day of driving. Chloe doesn't stop. At first, you're part of a wave, surrounded by other cars and even hearing planes and helicopters overhead. But it thins out as time and distance go by, someone directing the evacuation toward a nearby site. Chloe keeps going, taking each turn as it comes like she has the map memorized. But it's all empty roads and Kansas farmland to you. When the view out the window becomes Colorado desert, you find your head drifting against the window, and sleep dragging you even lower.
You wake up in Edge City, after dark. Chloe's shaking you awake and when you open your eyes… and in the night, the city's just stars and streetlights… and Chloe's just a smell and a set of eyes looking at you… and you're seized by déjà vu, it barges its way in and makes you think you've just woken up from a dream, and in the real world it's like Chloe said, you and her on the road, nothing but each other. You kiss her fast, before you can wake up or go back to sleep. She makes a small noise in her throat and you stop, feeling sick to your stomach.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were… I thought I was…"
"We're here," she says, after a moment.
She gets out of the car. So do you. Clark is long gone. You're parked under the kind of hotel that belongs in a James Bond movie, the kind that should be booked solid a year in advance, but apparently the alien invasion has freed up some reservations. You wonder how long it took Chloe and Clark to remember you were back there, asleep.
"Do you hate me?" you ask suddenly, because you've realized that's what you've been worried about all this time.
"Does it matter?"
"I don't want you to," you say. "I know I can't ask anything of you, but the person who did those things to you… to Jimmy… I don't know what he went through. But he's not me."
She doesn't say anything. In the dark, it's hard to tell if she's even looking at you.
"Do you know how different my life would be if I'd never met you?" she asks you.
"I know how different mine would be. I'd have nothing."
"Shut up."
She walks inside. You follow. More than that, you catch up to her, grab her arm, pull her around. The lobby's empty, shadows on the walls where it's been looted, some graffiti from people who had the time. Hardly romantic, but you're alone. You don't know whether that's good or bad.
"It hasn't been easy on me," you say. "Not seeing you…"
"That's what you're going to complain about? You didn't see me? Like I got to see Jimmy? Like I got to go to his grave and—"
"They fed me," you say. And now you have to tell her everything, because she won't let it lie. "That's how they kept me from escaping. Every week or so, they'd bring in a guy in an orange jumpsuit. People scheduled to be executed. They'd get in the gas chamber, but they wouldn’t die, they'd be knocked out and shipped to me. And I'd kill them, and that would stop me from changing. I went along with it because if I changed, it would be worse. I don't want you to forgive me. I don't want you to understand. I just don't want to be the man who hurt you."
"Good for you. You can start by letting go of my arm."
You do. She leaves.
There's a chair in the lobby no one's bothered to take. You sit down on it and wonder how long you can be out of a cell before you're free. Some time later, Chloe is back down. She's brought some vending machine food. You take a candy bar.
"Watchtower's back online. There's a room you can take, if you want." You go with her into the elevator. She rips into a Kit-Kat, talks while she's chewing. "I'm seeing someone."
You nod, more impressed that she feels the need to make the excuse than that she found someone. Who wouldn't want a girl like Chloe? "Clark?"
"No. Ollie."
"Who?"
"Oliver Queen."
"The billionaire?"
Chloe hems.
You go into your room. You lie down. You don't sleep.
You hold very still and don't make much noise. You don't see much need to spend your time doing things, moving. It's a habit the last year has broken. Now you do something almost like meditating. You rattle the beast's cage and press it down a little deeper, make it wait a little longer to slip the leash. You think of the curve of Chloe's ear, the back of her hand, the scent of her neck. The things you haven't explored yet. It's a curative. You still feel this way about her. Maybe you're still human, even.
The sun has set. Your door opens. You don't open your eyes. It's Chloe's scent. You want to enjoy that for a minute, before you have to trade words like sharp rocks. When you open your eyes, she's standing over you. There's a knife in her hand.
"His name was Henry," she says.
The knife goes into you. Once, then twice, and you didn't think it would hurt this much. The raw pain, the way it's Chloe, jolts the animal out of hiding. Instinct grabs the wrist of the arm holding the knife, the front of her shirt, and flings her to the bed under you. You pin her down, hold her arms out to the side, keep your head up and clear so she can't bite. Her body is warm and curved and sweet, and everything about this is muscle memory, déjà vu, someone walking over your grave. Then she looks up at you. Fear in her eyes.
You let her go. The knife stays in her hand.
"There was a guard… blond guy, green eyes, beard. I killed his brother… or some other relative. He used to come over to my cell at night, shoot me through the bars in the door. He had a silencer rigged up. Bought his own bullets." Her eyes are closed. "It's better if you're doing it."
She stabs you again. She's crying now, as she does it, and she's not twisting the knife. The blade is just going in and out, like she doesn't know what else to do with it.
"I'm sorry," you say, your arms around her now. "I'm so sorry."
The knife clatters to the ground.
You're healing, but it's not fast enough for her. She puts her hand to the wound and it glows. Feels like a kiss. You have a vivid imagination.
You're both covered in blood. So is the bed. So is the floor.
"I was so surprised that it wasn't you and Clark," you say, your usual monotone. It would be hard to tell, for someone listening, that you're in the arms of the woman you love. But then, you're not really there. And neither is she. "Everyone but him was only ever just… a secondary component to you. Something to complete this obsession of yours. You take everything from him, but there's a teeny slot left over for someone to fill. An iota of affection you need to have a life you can call adequate. I think that’s why you rejected me. I could've replaced your feelings for Clark, returned them. With me, it would mean something. With me, you could get hurt."
She gets up. Your blood is like a second skin, the moonlight a third. She's never looked so beautiful.
"I already got hurt," she says. She leaves.
You go to sleep. The room still smells of Chloe and blood, but you've healed.
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,433
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis.
Author's notes: Takes place after season nine. Betaed by
nonkyPrevious: 2/8
Next: 4/8
Summary: Davis doesn't even know what he wants from Chloe anymore. Is redemption too strong a word?
There are plenty of cars around. You take one out of a two-car garage, so just in case some family is waiting for the last minute to leave, you're not stranding them. Chloe jimmies the window, opens the door, then slides into the driver's seat and hotwires the ignition. You didn't know she could do that. Maybe she learned.
You help Clark into the backseat, his wheelchair taking up the rest of it, then get into the front with Chloe. She quirks an eye at you, but doesn't say anything. The engine catches. She backs up, hits the gas, and you go. The rear-view flashes red every now and then, catching the light off of Metropolis. You don't look into it, you don't look back.
A full day of driving. Chloe doesn't stop. At first, you're part of a wave, surrounded by other cars and even hearing planes and helicopters overhead. But it thins out as time and distance go by, someone directing the evacuation toward a nearby site. Chloe keeps going, taking each turn as it comes like she has the map memorized. But it's all empty roads and Kansas farmland to you. When the view out the window becomes Colorado desert, you find your head drifting against the window, and sleep dragging you even lower.
You wake up in Edge City, after dark. Chloe's shaking you awake and when you open your eyes… and in the night, the city's just stars and streetlights… and Chloe's just a smell and a set of eyes looking at you… and you're seized by déjà vu, it barges its way in and makes you think you've just woken up from a dream, and in the real world it's like Chloe said, you and her on the road, nothing but each other. You kiss her fast, before you can wake up or go back to sleep. She makes a small noise in her throat and you stop, feeling sick to your stomach.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were… I thought I was…"
"We're here," she says, after a moment.
She gets out of the car. So do you. Clark is long gone. You're parked under the kind of hotel that belongs in a James Bond movie, the kind that should be booked solid a year in advance, but apparently the alien invasion has freed up some reservations. You wonder how long it took Chloe and Clark to remember you were back there, asleep.
"Do you hate me?" you ask suddenly, because you've realized that's what you've been worried about all this time.
"Does it matter?"
"I don't want you to," you say. "I know I can't ask anything of you, but the person who did those things to you… to Jimmy… I don't know what he went through. But he's not me."
She doesn't say anything. In the dark, it's hard to tell if she's even looking at you.
"Do you know how different my life would be if I'd never met you?" she asks you.
"I know how different mine would be. I'd have nothing."
"Shut up."
She walks inside. You follow. More than that, you catch up to her, grab her arm, pull her around. The lobby's empty, shadows on the walls where it's been looted, some graffiti from people who had the time. Hardly romantic, but you're alone. You don't know whether that's good or bad.
"It hasn't been easy on me," you say. "Not seeing you…"
"That's what you're going to complain about? You didn't see me? Like I got to see Jimmy? Like I got to go to his grave and—"
"They fed me," you say. And now you have to tell her everything, because she won't let it lie. "That's how they kept me from escaping. Every week or so, they'd bring in a guy in an orange jumpsuit. People scheduled to be executed. They'd get in the gas chamber, but they wouldn’t die, they'd be knocked out and shipped to me. And I'd kill them, and that would stop me from changing. I went along with it because if I changed, it would be worse. I don't want you to forgive me. I don't want you to understand. I just don't want to be the man who hurt you."
"Good for you. You can start by letting go of my arm."
You do. She leaves.
There's a chair in the lobby no one's bothered to take. You sit down on it and wonder how long you can be out of a cell before you're free. Some time later, Chloe is back down. She's brought some vending machine food. You take a candy bar.
"Watchtower's back online. There's a room you can take, if you want." You go with her into the elevator. She rips into a Kit-Kat, talks while she's chewing. "I'm seeing someone."
You nod, more impressed that she feels the need to make the excuse than that she found someone. Who wouldn't want a girl like Chloe? "Clark?"
"No. Ollie."
"Who?"
"Oliver Queen."
"The billionaire?"
Chloe hems.
You go into your room. You lie down. You don't sleep.
You hold very still and don't make much noise. You don't see much need to spend your time doing things, moving. It's a habit the last year has broken. Now you do something almost like meditating. You rattle the beast's cage and press it down a little deeper, make it wait a little longer to slip the leash. You think of the curve of Chloe's ear, the back of her hand, the scent of her neck. The things you haven't explored yet. It's a curative. You still feel this way about her. Maybe you're still human, even.
The sun has set. Your door opens. You don't open your eyes. It's Chloe's scent. You want to enjoy that for a minute, before you have to trade words like sharp rocks. When you open your eyes, she's standing over you. There's a knife in her hand.
"His name was Henry," she says.
The knife goes into you. Once, then twice, and you didn't think it would hurt this much. The raw pain, the way it's Chloe, jolts the animal out of hiding. Instinct grabs the wrist of the arm holding the knife, the front of her shirt, and flings her to the bed under you. You pin her down, hold her arms out to the side, keep your head up and clear so she can't bite. Her body is warm and curved and sweet, and everything about this is muscle memory, déjà vu, someone walking over your grave. Then she looks up at you. Fear in her eyes.
You let her go. The knife stays in her hand.
"There was a guard… blond guy, green eyes, beard. I killed his brother… or some other relative. He used to come over to my cell at night, shoot me through the bars in the door. He had a silencer rigged up. Bought his own bullets." Her eyes are closed. "It's better if you're doing it."
She stabs you again. She's crying now, as she does it, and she's not twisting the knife. The blade is just going in and out, like she doesn't know what else to do with it.
"I'm sorry," you say, your arms around her now. "I'm so sorry."
The knife clatters to the ground.
You're healing, but it's not fast enough for her. She puts her hand to the wound and it glows. Feels like a kiss. You have a vivid imagination.
You're both covered in blood. So is the bed. So is the floor.
"I was so surprised that it wasn't you and Clark," you say, your usual monotone. It would be hard to tell, for someone listening, that you're in the arms of the woman you love. But then, you're not really there. And neither is she. "Everyone but him was only ever just… a secondary component to you. Something to complete this obsession of yours. You take everything from him, but there's a teeny slot left over for someone to fill. An iota of affection you need to have a life you can call adequate. I think that’s why you rejected me. I could've replaced your feelings for Clark, returned them. With me, it would mean something. With me, you could get hurt."
She gets up. Your blood is like a second skin, the moonlight a third. She's never looked so beautiful.
"I already got hurt," she says. She leaves.
You go to sleep. The room still smells of Chloe and blood, but you've healed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 05:18 pm (UTC)Still great btw. I'm just a mushball and like happy endings and fluffy bunnyrabbits.
O when O when will Norrific return?
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 07:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 08:10 pm (UTC)Yow. Harsh. Is he going to go boff his way round a post-apocalyptic planet? Can't see Davis with non-Chloe, but it would be interesting...
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 11:09 pm (UTC)wow...just wow.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 11:52 pm (UTC)