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."
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