SV Fic: Always
My goodness it's been awhile. And unbelievably, I have fic! Trust me when I say no one is more surprised than me, lol. It seems with all the spoilers, somehow Chloom snuck its way into my affections. Again, call me flabbergasted. But, there is some Chlark too. That damn Chlarker in me can't ever quite let go :p.
Title: Always
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, niente!
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chloom, Chlark
Spoilers: Season 8 spoilers
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to h2osprincess’ Starry Night
A/N: I’ve been sucked into the Chloom. It’s all h2osprincess’ fault :p. Seriously though, I would like to give her much credit and thanks for this story. Thank you for so generously lending me your universe. It’s been a privilege. And if you haven’t read her Starry Night, close this page and go read now. It is fantastic as is everything she writes.
“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.
Title: Always
Disclaimer: I own nothing, nada, niente!
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Chloom, Chlark
Spoilers: Season 8 spoilers
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to h2osprincess’ Starry Night
A/N: I’ve been sucked into the Chloom. It’s all h2osprincess’ fault :p. Seriously though, I would like to give her much credit and thanks for this story. Thank you for so generously lending me your universe. It’s been a privilege. And if you haven’t read her Starry Night, close this page and go read now. It is fantastic as is everything she writes.
“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.