Oliver lay behind Chloe in the now-rumpled bedsheets, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist. They were both still trembling a little from the intensity of his homecoming present: her naked in his bed. He pressed his lips against her bare shoulder. He brushed some hair back and away from her neck, kissing her there, as well
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"Where were you shot, can you tell?"
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She looked down at his vest and she could see the bulled hole in it, he said it had been in his stomach, but it wasn't. It was higher.
Reaching down, she wrapped an arm under his shoulder and pulled him to her, "C'mon, help me."
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"Clark!" She called as loud as she could, not caring about who heard her, "Clark, help!"
"It's okay, just stay with me." But she knew it wasn't, he was shaking and she was already covered in blood, his skin was cold.
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"You can't give up," she demanded, sniffing as she tried to lift his head.
And then suddenly, she felt her own body getting warmer and warmer and somehow, she felt her warmth transferring to his, her hands glowing with that energy and a second later, her own chest was hurting, but she didn't let go of him, she kept holding him as tightly as she could, even when she had to lower him to the ground and had to lay over him, feeling herself getting weaker.
"Ollie?" She called quietly, trying to focus on his face.
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Oliver reached out and touched her face. Her skin was cold, far too cold to be normal, and despite the faint smile on her lips, the light in her eyes that was normally there was rapidly dissipating. "Chloe, talk to me."
He realized the pain he'd felt before was now completely gone and he sat up quickly, cradling her in his arms. There was blood everywhere. His blood? Or hers? But why would she be bleeding?
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With one more deep breath, she let her eyes close and she was completely out.
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