Monday, December 21, 2009

beyond recognition

Reccing Notes: So some fics can be amazingly, blatantly romantic. others are more like a look across a crowded room. This is one. So amazing because it shows the sort of beautiful unfulfilled quality of this ship. and I requested it. hee.

by keeper of stars at squeeka quack
1184 words, pg, hex

It was as if he were unconsciously drawn to the very essence of her being no matter what form she was in.



“Order up! Coffee black with a sausage and egg croissant,” a harassed sounding voice barked out of the moving deli’s tiny window. It couldn’t have been more obvious that the barker hated his job. It laced his voice and was firmly etched into the many wrinkles that lined his face.

As he reached up to grab his breakfast, Davis Bloom stuck a dollar in the white Styrofoam cup labeled “TIPS,” understanding what it was like to wish you could do something or be something else. He’d always loved being a paramedic but not anymore; now it seemed like a waste of time when the thing inside of him wreaked so much havoc and destruction of its own.

He’d thought about quitting and taking himself away from people altogether, but he hadn’t been able to. Davis knew it would be safer for everyone, but he just couldn’t do it. He felt as if the more people he saved or helped, the more he was atoning for his sins. Deep down, he knew that there was nothing he could do to feel fully forgiven, but he strived for absolution anyway. He had to. Because if he didn’t, if he freed himself of all guilt and blame, there was no telling what would happen.

So he’d worked to keep the beast under submission, placating it with the murders of petty criminals and then confessing to a priest as he begged for forgiveness. It had become a weekly routine, one he’d performed the night before.

After he’d dropped the dollar in the cup, the man in the van didn’t say thank you. Instead, he grunted as he set the steaming cup of coffee and sandwich on the little counter in front of Davis.

No, the grumpy server didn’t thank him, but his low huff was enough. Davis recognized the sound as gratitude for the buck. It wasn’t much, but Davis knew that it helped to make his job slightly less unbearable.

And that too was something he understood all too well.

He had his bright spots, his own equivalent of a dollar tip. There was the satisfaction of knowing he’d made a difference, that he’d helped to save someone’s life. And that was a feeling like no other.

And then… there was Chloe.

The brightest spot of all.

She didn’t really make Davis’s job better; she made his entire existence better.

There was just this indefinable quality about her that he couldn’t even begin to explain. She was good and kind, not to mention beautiful. But more than that, she’d always been there for him and believed in him even when Davis didn’t believe in himself. He would always be grateful to her for that. And while these were adequate descriptions, they couldn’t truly compare to how he felt about her. The only way he could possibly sum it up was to say that he loved her. And even then, that wasn’t nearly enough.

He knew that she was happily married to Jimmy and that there was no way they could be together. The last time he’d seen her, which incidentally was the first time since the wedding, he’d told her he was fine, that he was moving on. Both, of course, were lies, and he couldn’t help but feel like she knew that. Chloe had smiled and tried to show him how happy she was to hear it, but it was in her eyes. They both knew he was lying.

And he could live with that.

Would have to live with that.

Was living with that.

When the man behind the counter let out a gruff, “Next!” Davis grabbed his coffee and sandwich and moved out of the way of the slew of construction workers who were lining up behind him.

Once he was finally away from all of the men in their hardhats and flannel, Davis began to strip the waxy paper off of his croissant. Sandwich in one hand, steaming hot coffee in the other, it should have been an impossible task. But after years of practice and an impatient stomach, Davis had gotten it down to an art.

Gripping the bottom of the pastry in one hand, Davis used his teeth to pull back the top corner of the paper. The crinkling of the wrapper filled his ears, mingling with the sounds of early morning in Metropolis, traffic and people rushing past him on the sidewalk stating out their workday on their cell phones. It was a symphony of sound he’d come to know and love.

Davis was halfway to his rig and an inch away from taking his first bits of egg, sausage, and bread when he came to a sudden, unexpected halt, causing a woman to walk right into him.

A few people stopped and stared, and one man even barked at him for stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. But Davis couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t bring himself to move.

As if someone had called his name, Davis looked across the street.

The croissant long forgotten, Davis’ deep brown eyes found Lois instantly. But even though it was her body, it wasn’t Lois he was watching walk towards the entrance of The Daily Planet.

No, it was Chloe.

Davis couldn’t think of any way to explain it, but it was her. He was sure of it.

There was a drive behind her hurried steps that he’d come to associate with the blonde. And her hair was styled in a way that he’d seen many times, but never once on Lois. And that was to say nothing of the outfit she was wearing which looked as if it were meant for someone with a much smaller bust and much shorter legs.

But even though he noticed those things, they weren’t what made Davis recognize the woman across the street as Chloe Sullivan.

Somehow, in his heart, he just knew. It was as if he were unconsciously drawn to the very essence of her being no matter what form she was in.

Davis wanted to drop his food and charge across the street to her. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders so that he could find Chloe in the depths of Lois’ eyes. But his feet wouldn’t let him. He was glued to his spot on the sidewalk, frozen. By what, he didn’t know.

Abandoning all hope of moving, Davis wanted to call out, to yell out the blonde’s name as loudly as he possibly could to see if ‘Lois” would turn to him. But when he was finally able to make his mouth work, all that came out was a softly whispered ‘Chloe.’

She didn’t stop and turn toward him because of some connection they shared. Chloe didn’t even seem to know that he was standing across the street seeing her even though her body wasn’t there. Instead she’d pushed her way into the mass of people trying to get into the Planet building. And Davis couldn’t blame her. As much as he believed she had feelings for him, he also understood that she was married.

But he still wished that she would turn and look at him.

His breakfast long forgotten, Davis stood and watched the revolving doors of The Daily Planet long after Chloe had disappeared into them.




Leave her comments y'all.

first and final desire

Reccing Notes: This fic beautifully brings to a head the tragedy of Davis arc. Did you think the little taunting that Branic did to Davis in Legion was hard to watch? Well, try this.

Here Davis is both someone who can make the hard, gnarly choices but also intensely naive and vulnerable. What if Braniac truly won? After Clark's death, Davis has to make that one choice.
The concept of this is brilliant and its conception is heartbreaking. Scream after me. NOOO!!!

by Brainzz_Insanee at chloesullivan
2078 words, r/m, bride


There was enough crazy in him that thought if he asked, she’d come back.



A man who has committed a mistake and doesn’t correct it is committing another mistake - Confucius


He used to watch all sorts of cartoons and creepy television shows when he was a kid, staying up as late as he could.

The things that went bump in the night intrigued him for reasons he had no idea of, despite them causing him to shove his face into the nearest surface to him. The dark and nasty critters were things he wished to be because those were the kind that made all the other creatures nervous.

Maybe that was the reason that a part of him loved what he was, or had always been. The first time he killed, the blood drenched more than his body. The shower only cleaned the outside. The inside would never be clean. It had kept happening though but he never did it on purpose, or so he told himself.

There was that thing that had acted on it’s own, leaving him without a memory and with the sickening smell of death on his skin. He still felt like it never left.

She never gave up on him. She told him he could fight it. Her voice and her eyes and everything about her kept back his inner demon, the critter who was apparently insatiable. He was proved wrong however when he saw himself, having been stuck inside the creature’s diabolical form, kill the one whom he always instinctively searched for.

As soon as Clark’s body fell from his grasp, his vision began to clear and he saw the evil form he was encased in, fade away. His bare body collapsed to the ground, sucking in harsh breaths. His fingertips dug into the dirt, attempting to stand but he only fell back down. Moisture had built in his eyes when he saw Clark’s limp form, the body charred and bruised. He couldn’t feel the darkness in him anymore.

Was it the mission?

Clark never did any wrong to him, and neither did Jimmy. His eyes shut tightly when the flashes of Chloe’s wedding came back. He could see the blood come from the innocent man, feeling his stomach clench and taking several long breaths to keep himself afloat.

His soul could never soar for what he had done.

Somehow, he stumbled to his feet and he heard rocks move behind him. The sound sharpened his blurry senses in a small way as he turned around, shivering from the bitter wind when Chloe gradually came into his vision. Her eyes pupils were dark and void of that distinct sparkle he fell in love with. Her blonde hair was everywhere, strands flying in her eyes and the white gown she was dressed in, was tattered at the bottom. His eyes widened in horror and he finally stopped to look at his surroundings, the city was in shambles.

Her hands were abruptly on his cheeks and his body couldn’t be happier, his skin warming to her touch but his mind knew better. This was not Chloe; this was not the woman he wished to be at his side. He had marriage in mind when he imagined them together, far from this grotesque and happening-now visage.

She cocked her head to the side, studying his eyes and he couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Now, more than anything, he wished that this never happened. He never wanted this to happen; not her, anyone but her. She was supposed to be his light and now, she was his bride of darkness.

Tears spilled from his eyes, and a strangled sob left him as he clutched onto the top of her gown. His body wobbled and knees lost their ability to stand, sending him tumbling to the ashen ground. He heard her confused voice, vaguely, as she went down to his level. Her eyes sucked in the sight of him.

Her lips hovered by his mouth, “My love…what’s wrong?”

“Everything… this is not supposed to be.”

“You have me. Isn’t this what you’ve wanted… craved for?”

“I need to fix it.”

She hissed and laughed, caressing his cheek with her fingertips.

“What do you wish of me, my King?”

His eyes squinted shut, “I wish of your death.”

“You can’t kill me… you love me and the power.”

She didn’t let him answer, tangling her cold fingers into his hair and he couldn’t help the moan that left him when she kissed him. She drove him to this, he repeated to himself. Again, his tears fell because she evoked feelings in him that no one had done before her. He loved her, and had for so long.

She was the one that made him feel whole but now, it was different and this thing that used her body, only caused a feeling of emptiness in him. Before she was his cure and the time now showed her to be his undoing.

Her hands strayed down, and her touch reminded him of his naked body. His body trembled against the contact. She pressed her form flush to his own, causing him to drop down on the dirty surface. He grimaced when his back hit it, rocks digging into his skin. Her face hovered right above his, dress hanging open slightly and his eyes weren’t oblivious to the sight available. He swallowed thickly and kept his gaze on her eyes alone.

She pulled up from him, confusion clear.

“You’re different...”

He struggled to maintain some grasp on what was real. One hand tugged at his short hair while the other wrapped around his length, bucking his hips in natural lust.

“I’ll save you…” He muttered and ignored her, fingertips skating down her sides.

Her lips went down to ravage his. Her waist collided continuously with his, and the whine that left him couldn’t be stopped. His body ached and screamed for her.

She stood up then, lips swollen and skin flushed. He couldn’t help it, the blood previously in his head was leaving. She started to back away and he now, he needed to act. He too stumbled to his feet while gathering the knife by Clark.

Chants left her, or started to, before she clutched her head. He hid the knife behind himself and cornered her. The pitch dark eyes corrupting her, were widened and she shoved at him; an action that would previously have sent him flying several feet. He tried not to smile. Grinding his teeth together, he refused to have hope that she’d be normal and wonderful again.

“Bring her back…” He whispered brokenly, “Please.”

Her fingers grabbed his chin roughly then, “Do you really think it’s that easy, love?”

“I miss her.”

He knew he sounded pathetic, and he was completely desperate. There was enough crazy in him that thought if he asked, she’d come back.

She kissed him, pulling back with a smile.

“To kill me, you kill her.”

He opened his closed eyes, “I’m done.”

The knife slid far too smoothly into her skin and he sobbed in the action, tears falling from his eyes. The black, putrid liquid spilled from her then.

He didn’t feel the tears on his own skin but he froze upon seeing actual ones drop down her cheeks, glancing down to see that the previously black liquid pouring from her wound gradually change to blood. It sickened him to a degree that he was thrilled to see the dark, crimson red and his hand shaking, pulled out the blade.

“Chloe…” He cried, lowering them both.

He cradled her in his arms, resting his body against a shambled wall and couldn’t even feel the broken rumble scraping his skin. Her body shook viciously and bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers. Her fingers reached up and her nails scratched deep by his neck. He took the pain and held her close, body shivering.

He stroked her hair reverently, whispering things inaudibly. He waited and he hoped, watching with pressed smile as her eyes began to open. His brown eyes glittered when he saw her wide, hazel eyes make contact with his own. Her skin was already turning a shade paler and he forced a calm smile, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

“Hi…” He murmured, eyes still moist.

She looked up, sending him one of her signature pressed, adorable smiles. He went to speak but his voice broke, smiling at her and his fingers stroked her bare arm absentmindedly. Her brows scrunched, reaching up to caress his cheek softly and her eyes filled with such concern.

“Davis… hey… what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, “Nothing…I um-- nothing. Just happy to see you.”

“You’re hurt… what happened?”

He forced himself from choking up again, feeling horrible for thinking that he was thrilled that she was memory-less. He couldn’t let her see what destruction she had been apart of, by his side as his one and only queen. Again he froze, remembering the hero he had killed; Clark. He pulled her up into a hug, her face into his shoulder as he finally sobbed. He couldn’t let her see her best friend.

“Where’s everyone?” She whispered into his skin, fingers reaching into his hair.

He released a slow breath, feeling her skin and biting his lip.

“They’re um… they’re not far. Probably at the Daily Planet.”

She shivered in his arms, “Davis…I’m cold.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll warm you up.”

He kissed her softly, working his tongue into her mouth. She gasped but she sank into it, returning with the same pressure. Both of her arms wrapped around his neck. He kept one hand on the wound, keeping force on it as the other threaded into the blonde strands of her hair.

She pulled back from him slowly, “Something feels wrong.”

He was never a fan of lying, not really, but now… it was the opposite. He refused to tell her the truth. It would damage her. She couldn’t and wouldn’t know.

“It’s more than right… trust me.”

She smiled, “Okay. I can do that.”

Again, she trembled and he fought his tears. Her skin was getting far too pale, an ashen white and her eyes were beginning to close more. He simply rocked her back and forth, kissing all over her face.

Her laughter was shaky, “Why you naked?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“Long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

She grinned, “Promise?”

He nodded and held out a pinky finger, “Would I lie to you?”

She shook her head with a smile, clutching onto his form. She shivered again, and he watched in bittersweet relief as her eyes kept closing and opening.

“Is it okay if I sleep here?”

He chuckled, “Yeah…yeah. Go for it.”

Chloe tucked her head into his skin, smiling. He couldn’t be happier that she was in shock; that she couldn’t feel her own life leaving her. Knowing that she wouldn’t feel her own death, that kept him sane. It wasn’t easy, no, especially when her form began to stiffen and her breaths became shallower.

“Davis, why’s it so cold?”

He let out a shuddering breath, “It’s cold out… nothing more…”

“But you’re warm and…”

His brown eyes fell upon her face, eyes closed. Her lashes rested lightly on her cheeks and her blonde hair fell all around her. In her dirtied gown, dirt here and there on her skin, she still looked like an angel to him. She was never anything less than beautiful. She was his savior and he was her corruption.

He whispered then, “I want you to know… I’m sorry. I‘m your mistake.”

He couldn’t even hear her breath now, it was deathly quiet. He shook her lightly but yet, she didn’t move at all. He whispered her name and stroked her cheek. The skin barely had warmth to it and he knew she was lost.

He kissed her forehead, before laying her down fully.

“I’ll find you sooner next time around."

Monday, December 7, 2009

sight

Reccing Notes: In case you don't know already. I love this verse. I reallyrealy do. One of the beast things to come out of beast. it's beautiful because it stays true to the realtionshipp, but then fates not cutting them any breaks. (And I was having such fun with Davis and his sweet undercurrents and sexy-ish thoughts. Dang it, then the plot had to intrude!)

by nonky at her livejournal
1367 words, pg-13 (a much better Beast- her verse)

He was fairly stricken with anxiety about it. When the lights were out and he was barely touching her, letting her sleep, her scent was the anchor for his humanity.

He knew how she smelled, of course, and might have been absorbing details like that into his DNA; pushing out alien killing machine know-how.


“'Paba free' is good,” she said. “But 'all natural ingredients' isn't always better.”

Chloe taught him things all the time, most of the information slipping away soon after she finished speaking. He listened intently, because she was interesting no matter what she said or did. The words held so much emotion he was distracted. One whole level of his being was thrown just picking up on the range of feelings she expressed in short, factual sentences. She commanded tones of her voice like symphonies of gentle mockery, sweet loving kindness, and fearless protective instincts.

Eyes brimming with love is real, Davis mused, brimming and overflowing with love for me. Only everything she is does that.

She picked up another bottle of shampoo, because the out-of-state mom and pop drugstore didn't have her brand. Davis was entrusted with deciding what her hair would smell like. He was fairly stricken with anxiety about it. When the lights were out and he was barely touching her, letting her sleep, her scent was the anchor for his humanity.

He knew how she smelled, of course, and might have been absorbing details like that into his DNA; pushing out alien killing machine know-how. Chloe had been all over him, and he remembered each second like the gold nugget of living it was. Those moments in the car and cheap hotels were as far from shame as he could imagine himself at his present point. He couldn't talk about that in front of the nicely greying couple behind the counter, though, who glanced over periodically and met their customers' eyes to give them the opportunity to ask for help.

Besides, if Chloe smelled like arousal, sweat and contentment all the time, he would have to get himself chemically castrated before they maimed each other.

“Okay, these three,” Chloe proclaimed, lining up the bottles in her arms. “They're basically the same, good stuff for hair, so locate my essence.”

With a flirtatious pat of encouragement, Davis' entire world strolled away to give him privacy to deliberate. He flicked open the top of the first bottle, and glanced over his shoulder at her. Chloe was within their safe zone. If he put his arm out and she did the same, they would touch. It was late at night, they were moving again, and he worried about random loss. He was watching for Clark or his allies to take her, but a stray bullet in a robbery could do the job. Davis drove very cautiously, he worried over diner kitchen cleanliness, and he tried not to obsess over her human vulnerabilities.

She stretched for a tall shelf, and her neck was bared for a moment. The Beast purred appreciation, and Davis sighed.

He was getting over some of his horror about his alien body. It could shield her in a building collapse, deflecting lethal shrapnel and glass. Davis would not wish his fate on anyone, but it eased his mind to think he didn't have to worry about leaving Chloe. He could sacrifice himself for her as many times as she was in danger. She didn't like to talk about it. Her face told him her calm in life-or-death situations was the result of practice more than temperament. The Beast didn't like talking about it, either, so Davis tried to live with the vague dread.

He wrinkled his nose at the heavy perfumes rising from the three selections. He was used to the muted shower scents dissipated by steam. The kiwi was too much, the strawberry was okay, but the third - called Snow and Honey - was blissful. It made him shiver as he sniffed, but then a wave of warm sweetness blanketed him. Davis put the other two back and carried the winner to Chloe.

“This one is you,” he said certainly. “At least, it's the closest imitator to how good you smell. Nothing could ever match.”

Her cheeks went pink as she took the bottle, and Davis leaned down to kiss them. She ducked away playfully.

“They're looking at us,” she mumbled. “Come on, we're in the Bible belt. No kissing.”

“No kissing in the Bible belt,” he asked, chuckling, but pulling his black baseball cap down just in case. “Wow, that's strict. I thought they'd have more of population problem though, if there's no kissing. Besides, they're not looking at us, they think we're cute.”

Not even in his childhood had anyone ever thought him cute. The social services people and doctors called him 'healthy' or 'advanced in his development'. Prospective foster parents sometimes commented on his good posture and manners, but his wounded silence dissuaded all of them from wanting him. Once he started growing, thin and strong, cute wasn't the word to match his serious nature. A few elderly patients had called him sweet, but that was because they were grateful to him. Davis tried to be pleasant and helpful, but he couldn't remember ever having unforced joy until he met Chloe.

Cute, he thought, mulling it over as he let her go. We're cute together. Most of it is her, of course, but I don't ruin the picture.

“A few more things,” Chloe said, still blushing prettily. “I know we haven't gone that far tonight. We'll make it up with quick lunch stop and then I can drive for a while.”

“I'm not tired,” Davis told her. “What do you need?”

“Shower gel, and snacks. One of these nights we're going to end up somewhere without an all-night restaurant that delivers.”

They drove evenings and nights, into the early hours of the morning. They were farther from Kansas, but still being careful. Chloe had explained that distance wasn't a problem for Clark if he was really looking for them. Davis seemed rather awed by his fellow Kryptonian's powers, but not envious. He had thought himself normal but flawed for most of his life. He likely wouldn't feel better about himself if he thought of his alien origins made him exceptional. What Clark professed to want would mean giving up all the entitlement he'd been raised to believe was his, and Davis was without that arrogance.

She touched his chest and he curled down toward her. It was nice to do something normal with him, but she suddenly wanted privacy. He didn't protect his feelings at all, and Chloe didn't like having everyone else staring at the frank longing in his touch. She'd never been able to tease him, or joke around, so she couldn't say if he'd take it well or be hurt. Her sense of humour wasn't razor sharp anymore.

She'd seen him covered in blood, caked in it so thick it didn't drip but rather slid in sheets down his naked flesh. There was little to joke about after that.

Chloe unwound from Davis' arms and located the shower gel, hefting the huge bottle. He took it from her and held her hand as they went to another aisle.

“Industrial sized,” he said. “You expect to be doing some mud-wrestling?”

“It's one hundred and forty showers, for one person; so seventy combined showers,” Chloe told him, grabbing a box for his approval. “Good?”

He nodded. The idea of months of showers with her was the best proposition he'd ever heard – easily surpassing the time she begged to go home with him because he was all she knew and trusted. Davis thought about the tiny shower kit in the car, bought in a hurry before they left Kansas. She hadn't bothered stocking up because they just didn't know how far they would get. He had recognized her coaxing as fake confidence, but it hadn't seemed right to pick at her for it. She was trying to help him.

Chloe believed now, honestly. She saw the happy ending.

“Great,” he said deeply, kissing her. “Perfect taste.”

They paid for their stuff and Davis picked up the shopping bag. He nodded to the woman who served them, then took Chloe's hand for the walk through the parking lot. She smiled at him as the door swung shut behind them.

Two minutes later, the man behind the counter joined his wife and picked up the telephone grimly.




This fic verse needs moar comments. So, comment? ;)

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

you tame the beast within, trust

Reccing Notes: About the time of Abyss, Chloe and Davis gave off tragic-in-love-but-doomed vibes. *Even before Eternal*.
restlessme takes all these possibilities, and in few words, fulfills them so that you can't help but feel heartbreak for them both and what they feel. Angst, angst- delicious beautiful angst.


by restlessme at her livejournal
114 and 137 words respectively, pg, prey and abyss

The beast inside him screams for more scarlet upon the city of Metropolis; for the Krypton boy. But the man just wants blond woman, woman who with just a touch rebuilds walls slowly breaking.


(you tame the beast within)


Her touch is the faintest memory in his mind as he struggles not to become the monster hiding deep inside.

Shuts his eyes, gasps are broken breaths that never seem to even. Bones snap through flesh; screams of pain lodged in his throat, choking him.

Memories of blond hair threading through his hands fly past, so quick he can barely remembering even bringing them up.

The beast inside him screams for more scarlet upon the city of Metropolis; for the Krypton boy.
But the man just wants blond woman, woman who with just a touch rebuilds walls slowly breaking.

Eyes clench tighter as he lets out a scream that cuts off into something more feral.


---------------------


(trust)

She doesn't tell him her secrets; he doesn't bestow her with his.

He supposes they don't tell each other those secrets simply because betrayal hurts too much to bother trying.

Eyes turn away as he walks out the door, gone for hours upon hours.
They used to be spent worrying that perhaps...perhaps he'd never come back.

Until she found the blood splattered on his clothes one night.
Pretended to be blind because that was easier then the truth.

He grips her face between his palms, tears falling down her face.
"I have to do it Chloe, its destiny," he whispers, voice broken into so many pieces.

She clenches her eyes shut and nods her head. He trusts her, even through all this, trusts her not to betray love for friend.

"I'll miss you," she murmurs, voice cracking as she falls apart, seven years of bad luck.