👀
The window broke against the smaller man, his own boots slamming against the floor of the Daily Planet, cape swirling around his ankles as he regarded his doppelganger with a curious eye.
This was the Superman in charge of saving the universe?
Did he even know how it felt to lose the one you loved?
To lose everything you loved?
His fingers dug into the esophagus of the kryptonian before him, the weak alien who didn’t deserve to have the life he had lost.
Why did he get to live happily ever after?
Why was his the universe that got to be saved?
“Clark!”
He froze, his grip never wavering, but his heart pounded against the hollow cavity in his chest. Her voice always had a way of soothing him.
And she sounded so much like her.
“Clark please,” She begged, “This isn’t you.”
He turned to meet her gaze.
Those soft brown eyes.
That neverending hope that had gotten him through Lois’ death.
Almost like she was back from the dead.
She even wore the old armor well.
She strode forward, curls falling exactly the way he remembered them, “Clark Kent stands for the Truth. He always has.” She urged, her voice piercing through the fog of his mind, reminding him exactly who he always has been, “Don’t let your friend’s deaths be in vain.”
His grip loosened, dropping the other kryptonian to the floor, shaking his head free from the fog Lex had placed over his mind.
“I-uh, I’m sorry” He stuttered out, meeting her eyes.
She smiled softly, the same smile he had gotten used to seeing the past couple years. The one he had woken up to.
The one that slightly chastised him when he made a mistake.
The one that always knew how to make him feel better.
Diana Prince was gone, but this version of her lived.
This version of her stood before him, the same smile plastered on her face, the same dark eyes scanning his figure, the same wild curls framing her face.
And he couldn’t fail her again.
FROM A SMALL CLEXANDRA DRABBLE I WROTE AFTER CRISIS
send me a 👀 and I’ll post art/writing that I never finished this year r.i.p.
