Doomsday with alwaysherhero

[chloesullivan]

Chloe is typing furiously, radar and satellite images flashing in the screen in front of her as she tries to find something, anything that tells her that maybe Clark made it out of it, that he made it through his battle against Doomsday alive.

After Jimmy's funeral, she came back to the place she had already been calling the Watchtower, the place Jimmy had gotten her, the place that would allow her to look over Metropolis and help protect it. But Metropolis doesn't stand a chance without it's savior, she and the others can't fight Doomsday without him, if Clark is-- No. She can't think about it, she needs to focus.

Focus on finding Clark, focus on making sure he's okay, focus on making sure Jimmy's death wasn't in vain. Just focus.

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[alwaysherhero.livejournal.com]

Clark paused in the doorway, a little unsteady and unsure about what he was doing. He was still in a bit of a daze. The guilt outweighed him, built up in and on his chest.

Jimmy was dead.

Jimmy was dead, and it was all his fault.

He'd had too much in the human side of Davis Bloome, had believed he could be a good man, was a good man. He'd believed it almost more than Chloe had.

And more than that, Clark wondered if Jimmy was dead for other reasons, deeper reasons. He'd been coveting the photographer's wife for months now, and he honestly wondered if his longing for Chloe, what some mind find a cardinal sin, was part of the reason why Jimmy was dead.

Sure, his logic was a tad bit twisted, but with everything piling down on him, he couldn't seem to help it.

He finally forces himself to walk into the room, his footsteps slow and heavy.

He stops, seeing the huge, dark stain on the concrete floor. Blood. Jimmy's blood. The blood of his best friend's ex-husband, the man who had unknowingly stood between Clark and the woman he longed for, loved. The man who could have easily been his friend, if only he had tried harder. The man who had died the hero Clark suddenly felt he could never be.

He stared, swallowing hard.

He was dead.

Jimmy was dead, and it was all his fault.

[chloeas.livejournal.com]

When he steps close to her, her hands automatically go up to his arms, hands gripping the sleeves of his coat. Even if she's trying to block it out, instinctively she knows what he's doing, knows what he is saying.

But when he steps back, she doesn't have the strength to hold on, she barely has the strength to stand anymore. So she just watches his face, looks him in the eyes, her own pleading as she shakes her head again. The gesture is small but she knows he's seen it, Clark always sees everything.