scorched earth

Reccing Notes: What more can you ask for? Angst, 3 dimensional characterization and a look into life on the run. Plus, shower scene (think of Prey) but much more romantic. Did I mention true-to-her-feelings Chloe is back?

by nonky at her livejournal
2235 words, pg-13, post-beast

Chloe's hands felt like they were washing away something dark and lonely.
To anyone outside their shared understanding of the universe, the young man and woman in the dark vehicle signaling to turn off the highway would look like hell.

Davis and Chloe were both rather pale; paler since their lifestyle had become flight and particularly for him once he'd discovered how much of a fantasy she really was. He had self-control, but being in the presence of a woman he loved led to arousal more times than they could possibly indulge. His blood headed down and settled in his groin about ten minutes after he came, creating a problem solved only by more sex or road hypnosis.

He was bored. They were both bored and anxious. Their circumstances were difficult and tedious, forcing them to inaction. They were trying to prevent anything from happening, precluding much living.

It seemed odd to be ungrateful for the getaway, but they weren't on a vacation. They didn't stop at tourist spots, or meander on hiking trails. They drove as much as they could, changing radio stations as the miles made the previous channel drop out into static. Chloe picked up wireless networks and hacked into law enforcement databases. They didn't even dare strike up conversation with a waitress, just in case they were tracked to a particular diner. His romantic notions about stealing a little time to date were blown to hell.

It was no small consolation that Chloe had forced him to pull over a few miles back and sucked him off into the stratosphere. Davis hadn't been at all sure they were going to be together that way. It was – he cringed at calling it a miracle, but it was remarkable gift. There would never be a way to repay her, but he could show her how much he worshipped her.

Davis cringed again. He was having some problems with blasphemy since his multiple deaths. Religion hadn't done much for him lately, but he found some comfort in faith. If it helped, he would take it and show it the respect it was due.

Perhaps seeing his fleeting expression, Chloe turned and petted his arm. She had her wallet out. It was stuffed with twenties. In addtion to harbouring a murderer, she had also embezzled from the Isis Foundation. It wasn't more than a few years of her salary, but Davis knew she felt bad. Once they could stop somewhere, they'd get back to honest livings again.

“You okay?” He nodded, and she grinned. “I'll check us in, then. Can you grab my suitcase?”

“Of course.”

He stopped the car by the motel office. She stepped out after a quick grasp of his hand. Davis didn't even blink until she was under cover again. He felt The Beast try to stir, but only to the extent of following Chloe.

She'll be two minutes, he thought precisely, concentrating on the the little span of time and a lack of worry. Chloe is coming back. She will always come back.

The urges toward violence were mostly gone unless he thought too hard about the people looking for them. If he had to describe The Beast's mood, it was euphoric. It didn't understand the sacrifice she was making, but it was undeniably protective. The Beast might not have human emotion or the nuances of relationships; it was more a vague sense of Chloe being good, small and female. She felt petite to Davis, so he imagined The Beast must perceive her like a gorilla holding a beloved kitten.

Both he and The Beast were far too dumb to ever truly comprehend all of her. Davis knew enough never to suggest she was The Beast's pet. As far as he knew, The Beast hadn't ever spoken more than her name. Hopefully, it wouldn't get chatty. If it tried to tell her what to do, he expected bloodshed. She would emerge without a wrinkle in her blouse, but any version of him would let the beating come. Hard to hold a woman when she's ripped off your arms, he thought.

“Just don't make a fist,” he muttered, and The Beast rumbled. The blinds moved on the office door, and she stepped out. Her face was turned back to thank the manager. Davis reached over and pushed the passenger door open.

“Hi, you didn't have to wait,” Chloe said. She leaned over and kissed him lightly, her breath sweet from a mint that rolled against his tongue. Davis had come in her mouth less than an hour before. His legs were still a little numb when he thought about it.

“I did. It was getting crabby. I, uh, didn't want to take any chances.” Davis pulled around to the back parking lot, backing into the space so they could drive out faster if anyone came for them.

A transformation in broad daylight would be disaster. She played it off, but shivered on the inside. She couldn't lose him. They were doing so well. Two days of traffic, tension and rude truck stop service hadn't put a dent in Davis' control. Left to their own lives, she and Davis would be able to make it work safely. If anyone interfered, she might not be able to stop The Beast from killing them.

He's out cold for hours after The Beast gets loose, she mused. I can drag him away, but I don't even think I could lift him into the car.

They had fake drivers' licenses. She was working on fake passports to get them to South America. Any diligent government department would find something off and send up an alarm. They couldn't be ill or injured. They couldn't even allow for a whole day outside the car. Clark and Bart were so fast, and Oliver's jet would fly the rest of the boys. Then she would only be able to watch as they ripped Davis to shreds or died at the hands of Doomsday. But she couldn't waste time or energy on imagining horrors, because Davis was only functioning with her belief they could escape. He didn't even have suicide as an option. She couldn't betray any kind of doubt or let him brood so hard he lost control.

“I have some delivery menus,” Chloe told him cheerfully. “What do you feel like?”

We're kind of ridiculous, he thought. 'I nearly became an alien monster and slaughtered the first person I could grab, because you weren't in my sight for a minute.' 'Oh, don't worry honey, everything is fine now. What would you like for dinner?' 'Anything but red meat; I'm still full from that cab driver I chewed to bits.' I know she's being brave, but this is too much for anyone to handle. It's more than I would be able to ask from her.

“An Italian place maybe, if it does salads. I couldn't eat another burger right now,” Davis shrugged. “I'm not that hungry, I guess.”

She shook her head and stuffed the menus in her purse. “We can figure out something when you are. I'm dying for a shower.”

Chloe let them into the room and disappeared behind the unlocked bathroom door. She didn't leave girl stuff everywhere, like he'd heard his friends complain of girlfriends. Chloe opened her suitcase and took out a fresh nightgown and her bag of toiletries. She would change clothes and sort her laundry into a separate bag, packing it all up again. She put on lotion and a little bit of makeup, but for the most part she looked the same without any enhancements. Her shower kit was even smaller than his own. She had a tiny bottle of shampoo, one of conditioner, and a third of gel soap.

He could find her by scent alone, Davis thought. It wasn't even an ability from The Beast. He just knew the way she smelled that well. It was the only thing that allowed him to close his eyes without feeling cut off from any peers. He had Chloe to be with, her soft warmth pushing away the despair.

“Davis,” she called from beyond the door. The whirring of the fan was an irritating noise over her gentle use of his name.

He realized he'd been pacing right outside, and rubbed his chin ruefully. “Way to stalk,” he mumbled. “Yeah, do you need something?!”

“Shower with me,” she said, and her tone didn't even sound pitying. He pulled his shirt over his head as he kicked off his sneakers.

She saved his life about fourteen times a day, and he really needed to find a greeting card to express both 'I'm sorry I'm burying your life in my problems' and 'Please don't ever stop putting up with me because I can't even die properly.'

Davis stripped down as fast as he could, throwing the clothes on the floor. He wasn't sure if he was really horny or just desperate to be held. He went into a room already filled with steam. Chloe liked hot showers and his skin could withstand temperatures to melt steel. He drew the moist air into his lungs and felt better after hours of air conditioning chemicals.

She pulled the shower curtain open for him, her body already sleek with soap. Davis stepped into the tub with a sigh of pleasure, pulled Chloe's back to his front. She moved almost to the wall, too close under the shower head to be sprayed. He let his neck wobble loosely under the water, scrubbing at his hair.

“No shampoo,” Chloe asked.

“Heh, no,” he admitted. “I got excited, I guess. Being near you is about a lot more than just becoming The Beast.”

Her face showed discomfort, possibly another harsh bit of information about his destiny, but she didn't say it. She smiled after a moment, tipping her own bottle into her palm. “You can use mine, if you don't mind smelling the same.”

He was going to be hard all day, but he didn't care. He had so much to wash away. Her hands could do it and make the feeling stick. Chloe could will him to be a better man. She could smile him into grace.

She reached up and he immediately bent lower to help her. His face turned down under the spray, and his wet hair was nearly as inviting as the silky dark strands were when dry. She could touch him anywhere and he accepted it with gentle obedience. Chloe didn't understand how he didn't tense at every word or deed from another person. They had all let him down. It was probably another foster kid thing; premature attachment to new people. She wanted it to be genuine love, but if issues were boats they'd be dragging two cruise liners behind the SUV.

There are no ulterior motives, she told herself. He just wants to love and be loved. He doesn't know quite how it works, but he's happy to learn and works hard at it. The answer to every question now is 'I love you, Davis.' This is still right, even when it's not easy. We succeed or we don't even have to worry about living with failure.

His dark hair was cropped short, but without a trim it was quickly starting to look shaggy. Chloe flipped open her shampoo and pressed his hand flat to pour some into his palm. “Well, I love you anyway,” she said. “Even if you are using up all my shampoo.”

Davis' hand trembled, spilling before he closed it and brought his hands up to wash his hair. He took a step back and for a moment Chloe worried she'd told him something he'd rather not hear.

“That's very reassuring,” he drawled, meaning to make it ironic but ending up sounding wistful. He moved up as she inched behind him to the other side of the tub, sticking his head under the water.

“Is it? Good,” she said. “I'm glad. Now, let me wash your back before I get out.”

He was going to smell like a girl for a week, but the water and suds moving under Chloe's hands felt like they were washing away something dark and lonely. He smiled to himself and caught her hands around his waist, a blond weight belt to help him carry his load.

“Chloe? Thanks.”

Her fingers linked together and she squeezed him gently, her body pressing into him. “You're welcome. Remind me to buy shampoo later.”

She slipped away, bending her forehead to his skin for a moment. He listened to her getting towels and leaving the bathroom before putting his face into his hands.

She loved him. He was going to have to buy her a pony or something instead of another dumb little chocolate. He wondered if she'd sit on his lap while he drove. He thought about rings and mortgage rates in South America and whether alien destroyers could have blond babies with green eyes.

Davis caught his knees shaking and commanded himself not to freak out. It was the first big change in a long while that he was unreservedly happy to adjust to, and it would sink in as a good thing once he got over the shock. Deep breaths and more of Chloe's soap restored him admirably. He was suddenly, miraculously starving. Maybe rings and houses could wait, but he would have to insist she let him buy her extra spring rolls.