It's just an illusion.
[ooc: Slowly working my way through the fail that is canon for Instinct!Clark. This one is for Injustice. Read at risk of spoilers. And beware... it will only go even epically sadder from here.]
He'd found her.
Finally.
She's here, in his home, sitting in front of the fireplace.
He's kneeling in front of her, so close, he can touch her. His hands hold hers, gently, and his eyes are on hers. It's so... intimate, for lack of a better word. Their faces are barely a few inches apart. So close, he could kiss her, if only he moves forward in the slightest way. And God, he wants to kiss her. So badly. He wants to take her into his arms, and kiss her and hold her, and tell her just how much he's been holding inside all these months. And there's a small part of him that wants to carry her up to his bedroom, and make love to her, and show her, without words, how much he cherishes her.
But it doesn't happen.
None of it does.
All he does, ultimately, is kiss her forehead and tell her goodnight.
And the next day, he discovers a painful truth.
He discovers it was all a lie.
He senses something off, but doesn't say a lot about it. A one moment, they're standing in front of the Isis computers, the next, she's collapsing into his arms, and unknown pain in her head wreaking havoc on her body.
"No... Chloe..." he whispers, tears filling his eyes, as it looks like his best friend is dying in his arms.
He's in a shock, and wants to scream, when suddenly, the woman in his arms transforms.
In an instant, she's no longer his best friend, the woman he's fallen rather hopelessly in love with.
She's a complete stranger, a woman he's never seen in his life, wearing his best friend's clothes.
And it's only then that he realizes the cold, hard truth.
An illusion.
It was all just an illusion.
He'd found her.
Finally.
She's here, in his home, sitting in front of the fireplace.
He's kneeling in front of her, so close, he can touch her. His hands hold hers, gently, and his eyes are on hers. It's so... intimate, for lack of a better word. Their faces are barely a few inches apart. So close, he could kiss her, if only he moves forward in the slightest way. And God, he wants to kiss her. So badly. He wants to take her into his arms, and kiss her and hold her, and tell her just how much he's been holding inside all these months. And there's a small part of him that wants to carry her up to his bedroom, and make love to her, and show her, without words, how much he cherishes her.
But it doesn't happen.
None of it does.
All he does, ultimately, is kiss her forehead and tell her goodnight.
And the next day, he discovers a painful truth.
He discovers it was all a lie.
He senses something off, but doesn't say a lot about it. A one moment, they're standing in front of the Isis computers, the next, she's collapsing into his arms, and unknown pain in her head wreaking havoc on her body.
"No... Chloe..." he whispers, tears filling his eyes, as it looks like his best friend is dying in his arms.
He's in a shock, and wants to scream, when suddenly, the woman in his arms transforms.
In an instant, she's no longer his best friend, the woman he's fallen rather hopelessly in love with.
She's a complete stranger, a woman he's never seen in his life, wearing his best friend's clothes.
And it's only then that he realizes the cold, hard truth.
An illusion.
It was all just an illusion.