empty roads (part two)

Reccing Notes: An introspective look through Chloe's eyes at Davis. Really deals with the whole Doomsday aspect. At last their story comes to a climax.... and yet...
Be warned of the cliffie!

1146 words, pg-13/light m, beast
by somethingmore28 at ff.n

She imagines they are one and the same, that he ends where she begins and that she can follow this path forever.

Davis Bloome doesn’t sleep. He knows he could if he tries but as his body adjusted to the changes the beast brought forth within him, the need to sleep blurred away. To be truthful he is grateful for this, because the moment he slips away he sees the empty faces, hears the silent cry of death.

He remembers every face, recalls the searing desire to end the rhythmic pulse of life. There were days when he would hide inside, cut himself off from the world, as if he could suddenly dissipate into the walls of his apartment. He would starve himself, use every tool possible to tear his body apart. Nothing worked. He could not die.

And then there he was, the fragmented metal of the handcuff lying shattered on the ground, the beast brewing within as he fought for it to stop.

Her voice, warm gentle fingers pressing into his shoulder, and the angered silence of the beast.

“You saved me.”

Chloe’s body stirs beside him, and it’s only then that he realizes he has spoken out loud. He stills himself, in a way that very few people can and hopes that he hasn’t woken her from her slumber.

Sleepy eyes meet his, wide and alert, “Davis.”

‘So much for that.’

“Go back to sleep,” he urges her gently, pulling the blanket tighter around her tangled body.

It is too late; she is awake and staring at him curiously. “Do you? Sleep I mean?”

The answer is on the tip of his tongue, but he waits a beat, should he tell her?

“I could, but I don’t need too.” Another beat. “I don’t really need to eat either, it just feels weird not too.” It makes him feel more human, but he doesn’t tell her this.

There is a silence, but for once it is not weighted, it just is. Chloe turns her head to take in her surroundings, the damp wooden porch, the darkened night sky seasoned with stars, Davis’s form huddled protectively around her. She smiles lightly, not quite understanding why.

“This isn’t so bad.”

Davis hesitates, “Well if you ignore everything that lead to this moment, then no it isn’t.”

Chloe tilts her head back until she can get a good look at the sky above them. “I’m not ignoring it, I’m accepting it.”

“You can accept that I’m a killer,” as soon as the words are out he regrets them, wills them to get lost in the endless abyss above. His body tenses, she’s facing him now, he can feel it, but doesn’t know if he can handle the look in her eyes. Eventually he is forced to as her fingers pull his chin towards her. The words he is met with surprise him.

“Why didn’t you tell me that I could help you keep the beast at bay—before the kryptonite?” she adds to clarify.

This he believed was obvious, “Do you honestly think I would subject you to this if there was any other way?” He sighs, the sound is all too familiar, before reaching up to stroke the skin at her temple; his words are barely audible, “I wish I could take it all away.”

Chloe can still see the blood on her hands, can still feel the weight of the mangled corpse and wonders briefly what a 100 mangled bodies feels like. She reaches up, running her fingers lightly across his forehead; her voice is as hushed as his.

“Me too.”

Davis knows what he wants, knew the moment the smoke cleared and something inside of him fell into place. From the moment they met she became a force in his life, a pull, towards humanity. Sometimes he hates her for that.

She is the light that casts his shadow, allowing the darkness to follow, yet never consume.

Chloe watches the flurry of emotions play over his features, wishing she could smooth them away with her fingers. He looks broken, like scattered stars in the night sky.

She will never find all the pieces to put him back together; he’s left too long a trail.

“I wanted it to be you.” The words are sudden, but she’s known for some time. Somehow it’s easy, like gravity at work. “When I was walking down the aisle, I wanted it to be you.”

For a moment he is paralyzed, fear can be crippling, he is already imagining that he has lost her.

She brings his palm to her lips, fills it with gentle kisses before slipping it under her shirt. He slowly comes back to life.

She is on top of him now, straddling his waist as she bites the skin along his neck. His hands are pressing into the flesh of her back, moaning in response to her tongue sliding along his collarbone.

Chloe kisses along his jaw, lifts her head up until she can face him, her breathing is ragged and her mind is at a loss with the feel of him under her. She digs her pelvis into his, eliciting something primal from Davis.

“Wait,” he barely manages to get out.

A small smile tugs at her lips, “That’s not really an option.”

He returns the smile, before brushing his lips lightly against hers. “I may not feel this tomorrow, but you definitely will, you think you can make it to the bed without attacking me.” Davis is already picking her off the floor and into his arms as he is says this. She bites into the soft flesh at the base of his neck and Davis laughs in response.

“I’m not making any promises.”

…

Davis is everything inside of her, she is the world and he is her anchor.

He explores every part of her, taking his time, as If he is memorizing her inch by inch. It is excruciating and she doesn’t want it to stop, just closes her eyes as he takes her into oblivion.

…

Their bodies are a tangled mess of limbs, his head on her chest, her legs wrapped in his. She imagines they are one and the same, that he ends where she begins and that she can follow this path forever.

…

Davis gently presses his lips against Chloe’s shoulder, careful not to budge her sleeping form as he extricates his arm from around her. She moans lightly in protest and he controls the inherent need to return to her side.

The light from the moon illuminates his path as he heads toward the door. Grabbing his sweater along the way, he is careful to shut the door lightly behind him, taking one last look at Chloe before returning his gaze to the stars above.

Throughout his life he’s heard many theories about stars, some scientific, some religious. He remembers treating a man who claimed that stars were the souls that never made it to heaven or hell, cursed to burn forever yet allowed to watch over those they love.

“Stars die too,” he’d wanted to say, but held his tongue.

Davis slips his hand into the pocket of his sweater. The screen lights up as he dials the number. He waits.