Reccing Notes: Continuation to Starry Night. h20sprincess loved it, and she wrote the first story! It's the angsty culmination of Chloe's relationships with Davis and Clark, when she finally learns about Doomsday. And she doesn't react the way Clark might have expected. It kinda breaks your heart.
by ellie06 at her livejournal.
989 words, pg, alternate universe
“Yes. Still. Always.”
“You knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
He towers behind her, his anger crackling the air and she wants to laugh for all the affect his rage has on her. As if Clark Kent has any right to his righteous indignation.
She brushes a stray hair away from Ollie’s face, careful to avoid the bandages. Like the others, he hasn’t awoken since his fight with Davi-
No.
Doomsday.
If she is going to do this, she needs to remember who she is dealing with now.
She turns away to collect her things only to be blocked in. It seems she has more than one confrontation to face tonight.
“I didn’t know. I wish I did. And please, before you continue, take a moment to examine the rampant hypocrisy in that statement.”
Her aim is true and she sees some of the anger drain away. But he doesn’t move, only continues to stare down at her, silently demanding an explanation he has no rights to.
“What do you want from me Clark? Some sort of magic explanation that will make everything better? Make it right?”
“I want you to tell me the truth!”
His face colors, reflecting an array of emotions he can hardly explain. But she still knows him better than himself. And she understands the real question beneath his ridiculous outrage.
If it wasn’t so tragic, she’d laugh at the irony. They haven’t spoken in months, each for their own reasons. For her, it is because she finally understood the difference between worth the wait and waiting to be worthwhile.
So now…now, they’re surrounded by their friends, battered and broken, hooked up to life support machines and it has finally comes down to this.
“Ask me what you really want to know, Clark.”
He is silent and the silence stretches, defining the space between them.
“Do I love him?”
Her answer is swift. And sharp.
“Yes. Still. Always.”
His face crumples and it’s humbling for her know that she ever had this much power over him. But there is no satisfaction in this. She has been a casualty of her own heart for far too long to relish his grief.
Gently, she brushes by him and he allows her to pass. He never really had a choice.
As she leaves the room, she pauses to answer the only question he should have asked.
“What will you do?”
Her answer is swift. And sharp.
“What you never could.”
************************************************************************
Between her resources at Isis and as Watchtower, finding Doomsday would have been a relatively easy endeavor. He wasn’t exactly subtle when making his presence known. But for the first time in her life, she doesn’t need any of her usual tricks to find what she’s after. She already knows where he will be.
Sometimes, it all comes back to the beginning.
The empty road stretches away from her and she hears before she sees him. It’s the sounds of metal grinding and tearing. The sounds of footfalls so violent, her car shakes even from miles away. The sounds of screaming.
She maneuvers the car as far it can go through the debris, stopping only when the shattered glass on the pavement punctures a tire.
Stepping out, she carefully picks her path towards him. Having had his fill of destruction, she has caught him in a rare moment of stillness. His back faces her, his shoulders heaving. She wonders if he is contemplating the devastation he has wrought, the lives he has destroyed. She wonders if he is even capable of thought anymore.
She hasn’t been back here since that day with the little boy and his mother. There was a death that day. Hers. But it was also the start of something so beautiful it forever marks this spot as a place of solace and hope. It should be disconcerting, even disturbing, this connection, but she never was the conventional sort. Beauty and tragedy have shaped her soul in equal parts, it’s no wonder they’ve long intertwined.
Sensing her presence behind him, a growl erupts and he whirls to face her. He is savagery personified, monstrous hate contained only by naked flesh and twisted bones that spike towards the sky in defiance.
She should be afraid, terrified really. But somehow the mindlessness of the monster calms her and strengthens her resolve. There is nothing of the man she loves in this…thing. Now, there is only Doomsday.
And only she has the power to kill the only man who ever loved her. Loved her with such grace and careless abandon. The only man who ever loved her first.
She braces herself against the concrete, holds out her hands in defense as he charges towards her with rage. All she can hope is to bear the impact long enough to use her power.
But in typical fashion, he surprises her. His roaring onslaught halts suddenly, only a few inches from her and he stares with confused wonder at her outreached hand. She follows his gaze to the glittering diamond on her finger. For a moment, probably the last they will ever share, they are caught together. Something stirs. A memory of their first time.
Standing in the kitchen, she washes the dishes angrily, trying to distract herself from his silence as he watches from a corner. Waiting.
They had argued. About what, she can’t recall. All she can remember is what happens next. How he approaches her from behind, cradling her body with his and silently absorbing her trembling until her anger washes away like so much running water.
The air in the room is still, almost expectant. A long moment passes before he speaks.
“I’m sorry.”
He breathes heavily into her hair, so she almost misses his whisper.
“I love you.”
It is his first and she presses against him.
“Do you love me?”
She responds and it is effortless.
“Yes.”
He smiles into her cheek.
“Still?”
“Always.”
She reaches out and takes his hand. Their eyes meet and there is a despair in his that will haunt whatever of her life will come hereafter. So she will give him the only peace her gift will allow.
Do you love me?
Yes. Still.
“Always.”
The light is blinding. And for once, she feels no pain.
Showing posts with label starry night verse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label starry night verse. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
starry night
Reccers Notes: Before there was Chloe and Davis on the show as we know them now, there were Chloom fans who saw the possibilities.
This is a pre-show spec that delves into Chloe's psyche post s7 and the almost dysfunctional friendship with Clark. Also, her first meeting with Davis Bloome, a different purpose she finds for her life and ... a scene I wished I woulda seen on the show.
Oh. I better just let you read.
by h20sprincess at her archive- filling the silence.
She's got tons of awesome stuff, check it out and leave her much love!
2160 words, pg-13, alternate universe
It doesn’t start the way these things should.
It doesn’t start the way these things should.
She’s reckless, driven to panic at the tiny body crumpled in the road. She can hear the sirens, knows she’ll be caught, but the boy is so little, and his mother’s desperate wail tears at her soul.
When she wakes, she’s not in a morgue. She makes out simple, mission style furniture in the murky light filtering through drawn blinds. It’s not Clark’s sun-dappled farm, and the hint of aftershave she smells isn’t Jimmy’s.
She slips quietly out of a comfortable bed. Spotting her sweater on the door, she wraps it around herself. The post-death chill is always hard to break.
When he coughs from the corner she practically jumps out of her skin. He’s standing immediately, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She remembers who she is, what she’s survived, and straightens even as her brows knit with the need to know. “Who are you?”
“I’m D…Davis. My name’s Davis.”
“Where am I?”
“My apartment.” He steps forward and she reaches for the doorknob, ready to bolt. He stills at the gesture.
“Why am I in your apartment?” She grinds, as evenly as she can manage. She was undoubtedly dead when he brought her here and tucked her in, so this might just be a brand of crazy she hasn’t encountered yet.
“You were…you were dead. We pulled up, and I saw the light.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I saw what you did.”
“No…you must be-“
“That little boy didn’t have a scratch on him. Everyone on the scene, save his mother, knew he was dead. Then that light, and you were, instead.”
“But why-“
“You took a chance on him. I had to take a chance on you. It was…a miracle.” The awe in his eyes reminds her a little of Jimmy.
Her lips thin to a tight line. “Please,” she begs. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw.”
He blinks, obviously surprised, but his answer is surprisingly firm. “Never.”
She stands her ground as he takes a tentative step toward her.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” Another step, and he pauses at the warning in her eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do when I saw what happened. I had to get you out of there.”
Something about the way he accepted her gift makes the hair on her neck prickle uncomfortably. She tilts her head suspiciously.
“But you didn’t know I would come back. How could you?”
“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’d just witnessed one miracle. It didn’t seem like too much of a stretch to hope for a second. I couldn’t just abandon you.” He runs a hand through hair the color of midnight. “I’m a paramedic. I deal with the worst of pain and death every day. You can’t know how much I needed something like you.”
She recoils. “I’m not some sideshow freak, Mr. Davis.”
His laugh catches her off guard. “Davis is my first name, though I’d prefer if you didn’t call me Mr. Bloom, and I never said you were a freak. When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel.”
She scoffs at that. “Believe me, I’m no angel.”
“Well, you’re not a freak, either.” He reaches out tentatively and cradles her cheek. It only strikes her later that she should have been uncomfortable, rather than strangely warm, at the uninvited familiarity.
Her only excuse is that he’s looking at her with dark, solemn eyes that somehow remind her of her best friend. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Later, when Clark asks why the Daily Planet basement is abuzz with rumors of an angelic intervention near her new apartment, she’s strangely reluctant to share. It doesn’t make sense, but somehow the intimacy of that one moment feels like a betrayal.
He frowns at her vague dismissal of the topic, but even with Lois riding him to help her land her first published story, she doubts he’ll chase this lead. He has enough going on with his own hero work.
Of course she’s wrong.
Three weeks later, she finds Clark waiting outside her apartment when she arrives just before dawn. His nostrils flare as he takes in the dark circles under her eyes, but she’s really too tired to care.
She’s never answered to him, but this might be the first time she’s completely disregarded his feelings on a topic. It’s an oddly heady sensation.
“Where’ve you been?”
She brushes past him into the apartment. “I wasn’t aware I had a curfew, Clark.”
He squints.
Her voice is raspy. So what? Dying three times a night will do that to a girl.
She drops her purse and keys by the phone and flops onto the couch, sinking deep in the worn cushions. God, she’s never felt such bone-deep weariness.
Clark’s voice breaks the illusion of privacy. “Where have you been, Chloe?”
She can’t contain a slight giggle at hearing his condescending “Kara voice” aimed at her. She rolls her neck, letting out a satisfied sigh as some of the tension flows out of her shoulders with a pop. Her answer is simple.
“Out.”
“Out, where?” The disbelief is almost tangible.
“Here and there.” She knows he’s not letting this go and she’s so tired. “I tagged along with a friend at work.”
“What friend?” Long strides and now he’s facing her.
She opens her eyes, offering what she hopes will pass as an ironic grin and burying the bitterness as deeply as she knows how. “Shockingly, I do have friends outside The Planet, Clark.”
She scoots up and tucks her feet beneath her. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping Ollie and the gang, but I’m pretty sure someone is going to wonder how I pay for this place if I don’t find a job eventually. The Inquisitor isn’t quite my style.”
He has the decency to look guilty, and Chloe knows she’s won.
“I’m heading over to the Watchtower at one. Is there something I can help you with before I go in?”
“No, I…uh. It can wait.”
“Okay.” She says around a yawn. “Can you lock the door on your way out?”
There’s a beat. “Sure, Chloe. I’ll see you later.”
As the door clicks shut, she wonders where Clark goes with all his unanswered questions these days. He hasn’t come to her much since he returned.
There’s no joy in twisting the knife of guilt, but she’s not ready to share her budding relationship. So many of her previous attempts at love have been borne of a need to show Clark that he doesn’t define her.
This time, she wants to prove it to herself.
Maybe it’s not forever, but Davis knows what it’s like to choose others’ needs over his own and he likes her for all of who she is. Clark never quite managed either completely.
They haven’t been intimate yet, but she feels closer to him than she ever did to Jimmy. They’ve spent almost every night together since she woke in his bedroom the first time, whether she tags along with him to work or not, and she can talk to him about things she’s never shared with anyone.
When he told her what he knew of his parents’ deaths, of the way he always felt like the odd man out in the foster homes he finished out his rocky childhood in, they cried together. She loves that he took all that pain and loneliness, and turned it into something beautiful.
He’s a survivor, just like her. She needs to be that right now.
When they make love the first time, it’s beneath a canopy of stars. He is dark and beautiful, and when he whispers his love into her skin, she can’t help the tears that slip past her defenses.
He is strong and powerful, caring and true, but she’s not blind. Secrets have been her life since she learned they existed, and his scare him.
She’s patient.
Chloe’s dreams have shattered around her, and she has to remake herself in a new image. She can’t be the girl she was, never leaving a story unexplored. Besides, she thinks, Davis helped her find a new calling. He’s earned the right to tell her when he’s ready.
She’s saved almost forty lives since that day in the road, and finally feels like she’s gained some control over her gifts. They take less from her every time, and the back of an ambulance is a much safer place when you glow.
She hasn’t sacrificed her Watchtower duties. Vic greets her at the door to “Isis” with a grim look, and the lightness that lingered after a night off with Davis falls away.
“What’s the matter?”
“We have a problem.”
Oh God. “Don’t tell me Lex is back.”
“No, but whoever this is seems to be even more dangerous.”
Their research leads them along a path of destruction through the urban warehouse district over the last few months, piecing together what they can of the pattern. The attacks are poorly scheduled, but rarely seem to happen at night. Every eyewitness account describes the same thing, a hulking mass of spikes and glittering eyes as black as midnight. The police have no leads.
She uses the contacts she has left to ensure Lois and Clark get the story.
Davis is on-call the next night, so she’s placing their standard take-out order at Dragon Palace and saving the last of her research when Clark blows in - literally. He grins and pulls the phone from her hand.
“Edward? It’s Clark. Cancel Miss Sullivan’s order. We’ll be right over.”
She’s still gaping in shock when he pulls a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. It’s too much.
“Clark! What do you think you’re doing?”
Maybe it comes out a little harsher than she intended, because he looks like she just kicked his puppy. In her defense, it’s been a while since he barged into her life. They’ve both been too busy for social calls.
“We just got slated for page one, and I owe it all to you. Can’t I take my favorite news hound out to dinner to say thanks?”
He’s looking at her with pleading eyes, and for the first time, they remind her of someone else.
It’s time.
“I can’t, Clark. I have plans.”
The incredulous tilt of his head makes her want to slap a little. “With who?”
“With Davis. He’s a…friend.”
Clark blinks and speaks slowly. “What kind of friend?”
She purses her lips at his practiced confusion. “The kind I date, Clark.”
“You have a boyfriend? What happened to Jimmy?”
“You work with Jimmy every day. You can’t tell me he hasn’t told you.”
For reasons beyond understanding, Clark looks stricken. She didn’t know he and Jimmy had grown so close.
There isn’t much else to say, so she starts gathering her things. He follows.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugs. “You were busy. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx anything before it really went anywhere.”
“Do I at least get to meet the guy?”
She can’t help but roll her eyes. “I already have a dad, Clark. I don’t need a spare.”
“You’re still my best friend, Chloe.”
She manages to contain a chuckle. Yeah, he’s the BFF that got her arrested and didn’t spend enough time with her to notice that she’s had a serious boyfriend for over two months. That definitely gives him the right to sign off on her newest beau.
“Look, I haven’t exactly mentioned you to him. I didn’t want to scare him away.” She puts a hand on his arm to comfort him, and he just stares at the spot where their skin meets.
There’s more to say, but her phone rings. It’s Davis, and she turns to give herself the illusion of privacy.
“Hey, beautiful.” God, just his voice makes her shiver.
“Hey you.”
“You’re late.”
“I know. I’m on my way.”
“Actually, I’m glad I got the chance to surprise you, for once. Go to the window.”
He stands in all his tuxedoed glory before a black limousine.
“You’re crazy, you know.” Her voice is soft, and she fights tears. She’s never felt this important to anyone.
“I know. Crazy for you.” He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “Come down?”
“Of course.” She snatches her purse and shoots Clark an apologetic look before sweeping out of the office and taking the stairs to the first floor.
When she exits the building, breathless from her rushed descent, she almost falls over. He’s on one knee, and the ring is far from plastic. Even in the dark, the diamond practically glows.
“Chloe Ann Sullivan, I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.” He’s practically whispering and they’re standing on a busy street in downtown Metropolis, but his voice is all she hears. “You’re the most giving person I have ever met, and if I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, I’m lost. Will you marry me?”
She lets the tears flow unchecked, nodding when her voice fails her. Slipping the ring on her finger, Davis sweeps her into the most mind-blowing kiss of her life.
When he holds the limousine door open for her, Chloe glances up at the window. She can’t be sure in the darkness, but she could swear Clark is watching her. It sends a chill up her spine.
Davis follows her gaze. “Do you need to lock up?” He squints, and tilts his head.
“Nope. I left a friend up there. They’ll take care of things.”
continued in Always.
This is a pre-show spec that delves into Chloe's psyche post s7 and the almost dysfunctional friendship with Clark. Also, her first meeting with Davis Bloome, a different purpose she finds for her life and ... a scene I wished I woulda seen on the show.
Oh. I better just let you read.
by h20sprincess at her archive- filling the silence.
She's got tons of awesome stuff, check it out and leave her much love!
2160 words, pg-13, alternate universe
It doesn’t start the way these things should.
It doesn’t start the way these things should.
She’s reckless, driven to panic at the tiny body crumpled in the road. She can hear the sirens, knows she’ll be caught, but the boy is so little, and his mother’s desperate wail tears at her soul.
When she wakes, she’s not in a morgue. She makes out simple, mission style furniture in the murky light filtering through drawn blinds. It’s not Clark’s sun-dappled farm, and the hint of aftershave she smells isn’t Jimmy’s.
She slips quietly out of a comfortable bed. Spotting her sweater on the door, she wraps it around herself. The post-death chill is always hard to break.
When he coughs from the corner she practically jumps out of her skin. He’s standing immediately, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She remembers who she is, what she’s survived, and straightens even as her brows knit with the need to know. “Who are you?”
“I’m D…Davis. My name’s Davis.”
“Where am I?”
“My apartment.” He steps forward and she reaches for the doorknob, ready to bolt. He stills at the gesture.
“Why am I in your apartment?” She grinds, as evenly as she can manage. She was undoubtedly dead when he brought her here and tucked her in, so this might just be a brand of crazy she hasn’t encountered yet.
“You were…you were dead. We pulled up, and I saw the light.”
Her eyes go wide.
“I saw what you did.”
“No…you must be-“
“That little boy didn’t have a scratch on him. Everyone on the scene, save his mother, knew he was dead. Then that light, and you were, instead.”
“But why-“
“You took a chance on him. I had to take a chance on you. It was…a miracle.” The awe in his eyes reminds her a little of Jimmy.
Her lips thin to a tight line. “Please,” she begs. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw.”
He blinks, obviously surprised, but his answer is surprisingly firm. “Never.”
She stands her ground as he takes a tentative step toward her.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” Another step, and he pauses at the warning in her eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do when I saw what happened. I had to get you out of there.”
Something about the way he accepted her gift makes the hair on her neck prickle uncomfortably. She tilts her head suspiciously.
“But you didn’t know I would come back. How could you?”
“You’re right, I didn’t. But I’d just witnessed one miracle. It didn’t seem like too much of a stretch to hope for a second. I couldn’t just abandon you.” He runs a hand through hair the color of midnight. “I’m a paramedic. I deal with the worst of pain and death every day. You can’t know how much I needed something like you.”
She recoils. “I’m not some sideshow freak, Mr. Davis.”
His laugh catches her off guard. “Davis is my first name, though I’d prefer if you didn’t call me Mr. Bloom, and I never said you were a freak. When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel.”
She scoffs at that. “Believe me, I’m no angel.”
“Well, you’re not a freak, either.” He reaches out tentatively and cradles her cheek. It only strikes her later that she should have been uncomfortable, rather than strangely warm, at the uninvited familiarity.
Her only excuse is that he’s looking at her with dark, solemn eyes that somehow remind her of her best friend. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Later, when Clark asks why the Daily Planet basement is abuzz with rumors of an angelic intervention near her new apartment, she’s strangely reluctant to share. It doesn’t make sense, but somehow the intimacy of that one moment feels like a betrayal.
He frowns at her vague dismissal of the topic, but even with Lois riding him to help her land her first published story, she doubts he’ll chase this lead. He has enough going on with his own hero work.
Of course she’s wrong.
Three weeks later, she finds Clark waiting outside her apartment when she arrives just before dawn. His nostrils flare as he takes in the dark circles under her eyes, but she’s really too tired to care.
She’s never answered to him, but this might be the first time she’s completely disregarded his feelings on a topic. It’s an oddly heady sensation.
“Where’ve you been?”
She brushes past him into the apartment. “I wasn’t aware I had a curfew, Clark.”
He squints.
Her voice is raspy. So what? Dying three times a night will do that to a girl.
She drops her purse and keys by the phone and flops onto the couch, sinking deep in the worn cushions. God, she’s never felt such bone-deep weariness.
Clark’s voice breaks the illusion of privacy. “Where have you been, Chloe?”
She can’t contain a slight giggle at hearing his condescending “Kara voice” aimed at her. She rolls her neck, letting out a satisfied sigh as some of the tension flows out of her shoulders with a pop. Her answer is simple.
“Out.”
“Out, where?” The disbelief is almost tangible.
“Here and there.” She knows he’s not letting this go and she’s so tired. “I tagged along with a friend at work.”
“What friend?” Long strides and now he’s facing her.
She opens her eyes, offering what she hopes will pass as an ironic grin and burying the bitterness as deeply as she knows how. “Shockingly, I do have friends outside The Planet, Clark.”
She scoots up and tucks her feet beneath her. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping Ollie and the gang, but I’m pretty sure someone is going to wonder how I pay for this place if I don’t find a job eventually. The Inquisitor isn’t quite my style.”
He has the decency to look guilty, and Chloe knows she’s won.
“I’m heading over to the Watchtower at one. Is there something I can help you with before I go in?”
“No, I…uh. It can wait.”
“Okay.” She says around a yawn. “Can you lock the door on your way out?”
There’s a beat. “Sure, Chloe. I’ll see you later.”
As the door clicks shut, she wonders where Clark goes with all his unanswered questions these days. He hasn’t come to her much since he returned.
There’s no joy in twisting the knife of guilt, but she’s not ready to share her budding relationship. So many of her previous attempts at love have been borne of a need to show Clark that he doesn’t define her.
This time, she wants to prove it to herself.
Maybe it’s not forever, but Davis knows what it’s like to choose others’ needs over his own and he likes her for all of who she is. Clark never quite managed either completely.
They haven’t been intimate yet, but she feels closer to him than she ever did to Jimmy. They’ve spent almost every night together since she woke in his bedroom the first time, whether she tags along with him to work or not, and she can talk to him about things she’s never shared with anyone.
When he told her what he knew of his parents’ deaths, of the way he always felt like the odd man out in the foster homes he finished out his rocky childhood in, they cried together. She loves that he took all that pain and loneliness, and turned it into something beautiful.
He’s a survivor, just like her. She needs to be that right now.
When they make love the first time, it’s beneath a canopy of stars. He is dark and beautiful, and when he whispers his love into her skin, she can’t help the tears that slip past her defenses.
He is strong and powerful, caring and true, but she’s not blind. Secrets have been her life since she learned they existed, and his scare him.
She’s patient.
Chloe’s dreams have shattered around her, and she has to remake herself in a new image. She can’t be the girl she was, never leaving a story unexplored. Besides, she thinks, Davis helped her find a new calling. He’s earned the right to tell her when he’s ready.
She’s saved almost forty lives since that day in the road, and finally feels like she’s gained some control over her gifts. They take less from her every time, and the back of an ambulance is a much safer place when you glow.
She hasn’t sacrificed her Watchtower duties. Vic greets her at the door to “Isis” with a grim look, and the lightness that lingered after a night off with Davis falls away.
“What’s the matter?”
“We have a problem.”
Oh God. “Don’t tell me Lex is back.”
“No, but whoever this is seems to be even more dangerous.”
Their research leads them along a path of destruction through the urban warehouse district over the last few months, piecing together what they can of the pattern. The attacks are poorly scheduled, but rarely seem to happen at night. Every eyewitness account describes the same thing, a hulking mass of spikes and glittering eyes as black as midnight. The police have no leads.
She uses the contacts she has left to ensure Lois and Clark get the story.
Davis is on-call the next night, so she’s placing their standard take-out order at Dragon Palace and saving the last of her research when Clark blows in - literally. He grins and pulls the phone from her hand.
“Edward? It’s Clark. Cancel Miss Sullivan’s order. We’ll be right over.”
She’s still gaping in shock when he pulls a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. It’s too much.
“Clark! What do you think you’re doing?”
Maybe it comes out a little harsher than she intended, because he looks like she just kicked his puppy. In her defense, it’s been a while since he barged into her life. They’ve both been too busy for social calls.
“We just got slated for page one, and I owe it all to you. Can’t I take my favorite news hound out to dinner to say thanks?”
He’s looking at her with pleading eyes, and for the first time, they remind her of someone else.
It’s time.
“I can’t, Clark. I have plans.”
The incredulous tilt of his head makes her want to slap a little. “With who?”
“With Davis. He’s a…friend.”
Clark blinks and speaks slowly. “What kind of friend?”
She purses her lips at his practiced confusion. “The kind I date, Clark.”
“You have a boyfriend? What happened to Jimmy?”
“You work with Jimmy every day. You can’t tell me he hasn’t told you.”
For reasons beyond understanding, Clark looks stricken. She didn’t know he and Jimmy had grown so close.
There isn’t much else to say, so she starts gathering her things. He follows.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugs. “You were busy. Besides, I didn’t want to jinx anything before it really went anywhere.”
“Do I at least get to meet the guy?”
She can’t help but roll her eyes. “I already have a dad, Clark. I don’t need a spare.”
“You’re still my best friend, Chloe.”
She manages to contain a chuckle. Yeah, he’s the BFF that got her arrested and didn’t spend enough time with her to notice that she’s had a serious boyfriend for over two months. That definitely gives him the right to sign off on her newest beau.
“Look, I haven’t exactly mentioned you to him. I didn’t want to scare him away.” She puts a hand on his arm to comfort him, and he just stares at the spot where their skin meets.
There’s more to say, but her phone rings. It’s Davis, and she turns to give herself the illusion of privacy.
“Hey, beautiful.” God, just his voice makes her shiver.
“Hey you.”
“You’re late.”
“I know. I’m on my way.”
“Actually, I’m glad I got the chance to surprise you, for once. Go to the window.”
He stands in all his tuxedoed glory before a black limousine.
“You’re crazy, you know.” Her voice is soft, and she fights tears. She’s never felt this important to anyone.
“I know. Crazy for you.” He pauses, his voice thick with emotion. “Come down?”
“Of course.” She snatches her purse and shoots Clark an apologetic look before sweeping out of the office and taking the stairs to the first floor.
When she exits the building, breathless from her rushed descent, she almost falls over. He’s on one knee, and the ring is far from plastic. Even in the dark, the diamond practically glows.
“Chloe Ann Sullivan, I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.” He’s practically whispering and they’re standing on a busy street in downtown Metropolis, but his voice is all she hears. “You’re the most giving person I have ever met, and if I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, I’m lost. Will you marry me?”
She lets the tears flow unchecked, nodding when her voice fails her. Slipping the ring on her finger, Davis sweeps her into the most mind-blowing kiss of her life.
When he holds the limousine door open for her, Chloe glances up at the window. She can’t be sure in the darkness, but she could swear Clark is watching her. It sends a chill up her spine.
Davis follows her gaze. “Do you need to lock up?” He squints, and tilts his head.
“Nope. I left a friend up there. They’ll take care of things.”
continued in Always.
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