Behind Glass: Part Two
Title: Behind Glass
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An accumulations of moments in the Watchtower as Chloe begins to heal and Oliver helps her get there. Begins directly after Warrior, and will eventually spoil everything up to Conspiracy.
A/N: The story will be completely from Chloe’s perspective as she deals with everything, so no shifts of POV for this one. This is a Chlollie fic and most of the scenes will revolve around the two of them, but it will be dealing with other relationships too, including Chloe and Clark’s friendship (because I couldn’t not delve into that at least a little) and mentions of her relationship with Jimmy. I’m trying to weave my story around S9 canon, or at least my interpretation of it.
Sorry this took so long guys, I’ve re-edited and changed this chapter a lot, extended one of scenes, and I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I hope you guys like it. Like I said before, thisone has me way out of my comfort zone.
Comments are loved and appriciated!
Part Two
Cold
Jimmy stood before her and for a moment everything felt right. He was smiling that goofy smile; his eyes were twinkling like they did when he had an assignment he loved, and it was all directed towards her. And she couldn’t understand why because she was sure that he should hate her, positive of it, though she couldn’t remember why. But he was happy and he was looking at her liked he still cared about her and she just couldn’t bring herself to question it. It had been so long since she had seen him happy, since he had smiled at her that way. She missed having someone smile at her like that.
And then everything shifted. Any trace of happiness disappeared from his face and he was left pale and terrified, a gasp of pain escaping his lips. He collapsed slowly, his eyes never leaving her own and all she could see was blood as it pooled around him, as it soaked through his shirt. She wanted to reach out, wanted to stop it, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him through wide eyes.
“You did this.” He whispered, his eyes trailing from her face to her hands. She followed his gaze, her breath catching. There was blood. So much blood. It had soaked through her own clothing, and it covered her hands as they gripped the familiar steel pipe. The one she knew had killed him.
She gave a small cry and the pipe dropped from her hands, clattering to the ground echoing loudly in the empty space. She followed it with her eyes as it rolled across the floor, until it stopped when it collided with something. With someone. Her gaze turned upwards and she saw Davis standing there, his expression soft and loving as he smiled at her, his own clothes drenched in blood.
“We did this.” He told her.
Chloe jerked awake, pushing back panic and tears as she tried to adjust to being awake and reminded herself that she was safe, to remind herself of where she was now. It didn’t help. She was in the same place she had been in her dreams, the same place she had watched him die. Watched them both take their last breath. It was hard to separate yourself from your dreams when parts of them were staring at you.
Some days it didn’t bother her. Watchtower was a gift, it was what kept her connected to Jimmy and she loved it for that. Other days she hated it for the same reasons, for everything it reminded her of. She had finally finished the remodel, had finished in her attempts to make it into a home, but sometimes all she could see was a bloodstain on the floor that had long ago disappeared.
Pushing the covers aside, Chloe forced herself up and out of bed. She couldn’t dwell on dreams of the past. She couldn’t change want happened, she couldn’t stop Jimmy from dying, couldn’t stop Davis from killing him. Nothing she could ever do would change what had happened. But she could stop more people from meeting the same fate. Clark thought he had a handle on the Kandorian situation, that he could prevent the future Lois saw by giving the Kandorians a choice, a different path to follow. And maybe he could. But Chloe couldn’t help but think it wasn’t going to be enough. You can’t save someone who doesn’t even realize they’re lost. She had learned that lesson the hard way. She had thought Clark had too, apparently she was wrong.
She had her own ideas of what to do, a backup plan in case she was right. One that would ensure that no one else ended up like Jimmy. One to ensure that no one else had to end up like her.
------
She had fought with Clark again, about their methods of dealing with Zod, about how wrong he thought she was, about how his inactions were going to affect everyone, the consequences they could both have. She hadn’t wanted to fight with him, it always left her feeling tired and cold, but she just wanted him to see her side. Needed him to understand what she was saying. Needed him to be prepared, needed him to understand that this could end badly, could end bloody. But no matter what she did or said, it didn’t make a difference. He wasn’t listening to her.
He just stared at her, kept looking at her as though he was trying to find his best friend when she was stranding right in front of him. Kept looking at her as though he didn’t know her at all. And she realized he didn’t. He had really known her in a long time. And she was sure that it should have left her feeling heart-broken when he turned and walked away again. She should have been upset or angry, possibly even crying. But she wasn’t, she was left feeling nothing but frustration that once again he had waved away her concerns like they didn’t mean anything at all. And it scared her. Because the realization that her best friend wasn’t even her friend anymore should have affected her more, it should have caused more of a reaction. Once Clark’s opinion had meant everything to her, her entire life was wrapped up in his own, they were partners and confidants, and she could feel that all slipping away. She could feel everything they had crumbling in her hands and she couldn’t do anything about it. Wasn’t even sure she wanted too. Her last connection to the girl she had once been and she didn’t care if it was severed. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He had left hours before and she had tried to get back to work, tried incredibly hard to bury herself in everyone else’s problems, to focus on anything but herself and the empty feeling inside her. But it hadn’t worked. Not in the slightest. She couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about Clark, about what had happened, trying to figure out who she was now and what she wanted. Her mind kept turning despite her protests, coming up with questions she was sure she never wanted the answers too.
She found her hand constantly hovering over her phone, ready to give in and call Oliver. That night together, for a little while she had felt fixable; she had felt less alone than she had in a long time. For a little while, she had felt connected to something, to him. She wanted that again. But her hand always remained hovering over her phone, she never let her call him in fear that he might say no, that he might not show up. She couldn’t handle that on top everything else. They hadn’t talked about what happened, not since that night. She could see it his eyes sometimes though, he wanted to bring it up, wanted to talk about it. But he never did and she was grateful for that. She was scared about what he would say. Didn’t want him to tell her it had all just been a mistake. She could handle a one-night stand, she could handle a heat of the moment situation, but she didn’t want that night to have been a mistake. Because right now she was clinging to it like a lifeline, clinging to feelings she thought had disappeared, and she was tired of holding on to things that were never really hers.
Oliver showed up on his own, work Victor had sent him under his arm, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow read her mind. Clark used to do that sometimes, showing up when she needed him, and she always wondered if he had some sort of power that told him when people needed him, even if it wasn’t for saving. Oliver didn’t have any superpowers to tell him when she needed him. He was just there. He had been there a lot lately.
He was talking about figures not matching up and discrepancies in shipping manifests, but she could barely hear it. All she could see was him, all she could feel was his presence beside her, and how far away from him she felt. She felt horribly disconnected from everything he was saying and she just wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop feeling like an observer of life and start feeling like a participant.
He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he turned to look at her confusion on his face and she suddenly found herself standing right in front of him. “Chloe…”
Her lips connected with his, forceful as she tried to tell him what she wanted, tried to get him to understand. He pulled away, looking down at her with confused and worried eyes, but he must have seen something in her, something that even she didn’t understand, because suddenly he was leaning back down, capturing her lips with his own and drawing her closer.
She kissed him harder, her hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt as his hands tangled in her hair. She could feel it, that same spark she had felt last time, the beginning of that connection she was longing to feel again, but it wasn’t coming fast enough. It wasn’t there yet.
His hands slipped from her hair, sliding down her neck and then to her sides, caressing and stroking as they worked their way under her shirt and up her back. He groaned into her mouth when he reached high enough to realize she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and the sound drove her to push further. She broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as she pushed his hands down to remove him from his shirt.
When it was gone, thrown away to the corners of the room, he moved closer to her again his hands trying to find their way back to where they had been but she pushed him away again. He was moving too slow. Her own hands found the hem of shirt pulling it over her head. She wanted skin on skin contact. She wanted to feel more of him.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark as he took her in. This was new for both of them. Before when everything happened it had been rushed and they hadn’t bothered removing anything other than her underwear. But now, he was seeing her for the first time.
His lips descended on her own again, possessive and hungry as he pulled her closer, his chest warm and hard against her own. He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, memories of what happened their night together flashing through her head as he backed them up. This was different though, he didn’t stop, didn’t get carried enough away to search out the nearest place. Instead his feet found her bedroom door and kicked it open, his hands going to her lower back holding her closer.
He landed on top of her when they reached the bed, heavy and hard against her, and under normal circumstances she would have told him to be more careful. But this wasn’t normal circumstances. His lips tore away from her own, moving to her neck, kissing and sucking as his hands moved back to her sides, tickling her ribs as he explored.
He was going to slow, like he wanted to take his time to get it right. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She bucked beneath him. They weren’t close enough. He was right there with her, but he still felt far away, as though she wasn’t really even touching him. She wanted to feel him inside her. Wanted to feel connected again. She didn’t know why and didn’t know how; she just knew that he made her feel alive, made everything seem more real. She bucked again.
“Damn it Chloe.” He gasped into her neck. And then his lips were back on her own, faster and more forceful as his tongue battled with her own in the most pleasant way. He was done with slow. She could tell. Her hands went to the zipper of his pants, and he groaned again before reaching down to help her. They were halfway off before he froze on top of her. Why did he always stop just before it was about to get good?
“What?” She breathed.
“I don’t have anything.” It took a minute to realize what he was talking about and if she wasn’t very frustrated at that moment, she probably would have laughed. If there was anybody she would have thought carried protection at all times, it would have been Oliver. His reputation certainly implied it.
“It’s okay,” She said lifting up to kiss him again. “I’m on the shot.”
He pulled away again, his eyes connecting with her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”
She knew his reputation, knew why he thought she might be concerned, but she had access to the team’s medical records just like he did and she knew she didn’t have to worry. She honestly wasn’t even sure why he was asking. She had already proven she wanted this. Hell, she was the one that initiated it. Why couldn’t he just go along with it? She didn’t want to stop and think about it. Thinking just lead to bad things, made her more confused and upset. She just wanted to stop thinking.
She gripped his shoulders, pushing him back down to her as she crushed her lips against his own, her hips rolling against his own. She wanted this, wanted him, and right then that was all that mattered.
------
“Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver’s voice startled her. They hadn’t said anything for a while now; it had been nothing but harsh breathing as they lay beside each other. She kind of preferred the breathing.
“Talk about what?” Chloe asked, turning her head to look at him. It was strange to see him in her bedroom, in her bed. The last time it had happened there hadn’t been much of an after period. Having him beside her now, it made it feel more intimate. It had always felt real, she was always acutely aware of what happened between them even when she was pretending not to be, but having him in bed, next to her, it felt different somehow.
“About the reason we ended up in here.” He said gesturing to the bed.
His question surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to realize that there was something behind what had happened, hadn’t expected him to question it if he did. But then Oliver had always been more perceptive than other men in her life. He had his clueless moments, but he could read her better than Clark ever had been able too.
“It’s nothing.” She said, trying to brush it off.
“I’m pretty sure the scratches down my back prove otherwise.”
Chloe blushed and she could feel him smirking down at her.
“Seriously Chloe, I know…I know that this is a different dynamic for us,” He said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “But I’m still your friend. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“I know,” She said quietly. And she did. Oliver would listen without judgment. He would hear her out. He might even be on her side. But she wasn’t ready to say it, didn’t want to admit any of it out loud. She wasn’t even sure what she would say if she did. But it was nice knowing just the same. “Thank you for that.”
She expected him to say something, try to convince her to say what’s on her mind, to push her for answers, but he didn’t. He just smiled slightly at her, a look of determination flashed over his face before it disappeared and he turned back to stare at the ceiling. He didn’t bring it up again and she went back to trying to ignore it.
-------
Chloe pulled on the duct tape, tugging it up and watching as the cardboard box folded in on itself, before tossing it on top of the pile. There weren’t a lot of boxes left to go through. Just six or seven, most of which she was sure that would get repacked and put into the closet with Jimmy’s things.
She had finally brought the last of her things from the Talon; it had taken her longer than she wanted to get completely moved in. She had been living half at the Talon and half at the Watchtower for months now, but she had been determined to do it on her own. Lois had kept pestering her about letting her ask Clark to help, but she hadn’t wanted too. He would have helped her, she was sure of it, but she wouldn’t have known if it had been because of her or because it had been Lois asking. Instead she had opted to do it by herself, one trip at a time, denying even Lois’s offers of assistance.
She preferred doing it alone anyways. She didn’t want anyone else going through her things, going through Jimmy’s. She didn’t want them offering advice about where to put things or what to change. Watchtower was hers and while it was open to everybody, there were parts of it she wanted to keep just for herself.
She reached for another box, pulling it closer as she sat cross legged on the floor. It was a slightly odd mixture of items, making her think it was one of the few boxes Lois had packed before she could stop her. She had never really gotten the idea of organizing boxes to make unpacking easier. It was why there was a box in the kitchen filled with coffee mugs, bathroom towels, and part of her shoe collection. Lois was a firm believer in putting together whatever fit, even if it didn’t make sense. Chloe preferred things more orderly. Or at least she had recently.
Most of the stuff in that particular box had been in the living room; a few knickknacks and souvenirs from her father’s business trips, some old cassettes, a few reference books, and the scrapbook from her wedding buried at the bottem. She lifted the lace covered binder out of the box, barely stopping herself from jumping when a DVD slid out, falling directly onto her lap. It was the footage Jimmy’s cousin shot at the wedding. The copy that cut off before everything went to hell.
She found herself standing and walking towards the television in the corner before she even realized she had decided to watch it. She hadn’t watched the video a lot. Once before she had left for Star City to see Jimmy. Once after he had returned to Metropolis in hopes to remind herself of how happy they had been. She had watched the other copy, the unedited one, after she had learned about Davis. She had tried to find something to see if she should have been able to put the pieces together about who he really was. That had been the last time.
She settled in on the floor, her back against the glass coffee table as she looked up at the screen. It was staticy for a moment, before Lois, Jimmy coming up next to her, smiling and looking happy, completely unaware of events to come.
Oliver found her there hours later, sitting in the same place, boxes still littered across the floor, as she watched the video again. She didn’t notice him at first, didn’t hear him enter or him call out to her, but she felt him sit down beside her. Knew it was him without looking. He didn’t say anything, just sat and watched alongside her.
They watched it two more times before she said anything.
“You know, I don’t remember that day. Not really.” She told him quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something a lot of people knew either. She didn’t remember walking down the aisle, Clark at her side. She didn’t remember saying ‘I do’. She didn’t remember their first kiss as husband and wife or their first dance. She just remembered feeling cold and terrified and alone.
“I remember Lois calling me goldilocks. I remember getting my hair done, someone calling my cell phone, and…And then I was waking up in the barn with Clark beside me. But I don’t remember anything in between.”
He reached out of her then, bridging the gap he had carefully kept between them as they sat, taking her hand in his own. She didn’t pull away, didn’t feel the initial desire too that she normally had when anyone touched her nowadays. Instead she let him weave his fingers through her own, taking comfort in the small connection.
“What does it mean when you can’t remember the happiest day of your life?” She asked, turning her head to look at him. She felt like she should be crying, that she should be saying this all through tears; she didn’t know why she wasn’t.
“I think it means…that someday you’ll get another one.” Oliver told her gently. “One day so amazing that nothing will ever let you forget it.”
He said it with conviction in his voice, as though it wasn’t what he thought she wanted to hear, but what he actually thought was true. He said it like he thought she deserved a day like that, that it wasn’t a matter of if it would happen, only when.
She hoped he was right. She wanted to remember being as happy as the girl in the video appeared to be.
------
Chloe jerked awake, images and feelings slipping away until all she could remember was terror and blood. She supposed she should be grateful that was all that remained behind, but it left enough of an effect that it was hard to be appreciative. She rolled over to look to see what time it was and if she had slept enough to get up and do some work, but instead of seeing the alarm clock on the nightstand she came face to face with Oliver, his body blocking her view of the table behind him.
She hadn’t expected him to stay the night, for him to be there, lying next to her as though it was where he was supposed to be. A part of her couldn’t help but resent him for it, for being there, for sleeping through the night on the same side of the bed that Jimmy used to sleep on. She resented him for looking peaceful and relaxed as he dreams, for looking content with himself when she felt anything but.
But there was another part of her, the little girl who believed her mother walked away from her without a second thought, that was just happy not to wake up alone again. Happy to have someone be there beside her. That was the part of her that she let override her good judgment, that buried her head in her pillow and drifted back to sleep. He wasn’t supposed to be there, she knew that, her mind was screaming it at her. But she wanted him to be.
------
Chloe had just stepped away from the monitors, headed towards the coffee pot, when Clark appeared in the tower. He pushed both doors open and Chloe’s head swirled around at the arrival, from the side of her eye she could see Oliver do the same from where he was working. Clark nodded at him in greeting and moved to stand in front of her.
“I need your help.” He said extending the folder in his hand.
There was no small talk, no polite conversation, just straight down to business as he explained what he needed. And she wished that it still surprised her, but it didn’t. That was her relationship with Clark now, it was all they had.
“Sure Clark, I’ll get right on it.” She said taking the file from him. He nodded his head and blurred out. No ‘thank yous’ or acknowledgments. And again it didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t help but think they lost that part of their relationship in the very place she was standing. It had disappeared further in the Kent barn with tears and unwanted revelations.
She felt Oliver’s hand on the small of her back as he moved to stand beside her and look over what Clark had given her. The gentle touch surprised her, but she found herself leaning into him. Clark’s visit had left her feeling cold and his hand was radiating warmth.
------
“Are we ever going to talk about what this is?” Oliver asked. He was lying in bed beside her again, but she had long ago given up expecting him to leave. He had already spent the night there more times then he should have.
“What do you mean?” She asked turning to look at him. He was staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at her. It was a habit he had.
“You and me and whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Ollie…” She didn’t think she liked where he was going.
“I mean I’ve gotten the impression that you’re not exactly interested in champagne and roses or Friday date nights, and that’s fine. I mean with both of our lives I’m not even sure if we could swing that, but this is definitely out of the friends’ realm.” He said his turning his gaze to meet hers briefly, “I mean I certainly don’t do this with Victor whenever I see him.”
“Good to know, that could make the next league meeting really awkward.” She said, smiling a little.
“Chloe…”
“I-I’m not sure, Oliver.” She said, she turned her head moving to stare at the high ceiling with him. She couldn’t see what he found so fascinating.
“I’m not trying to push you into anything, Chloe. I know that this has to be confusing for you. I just…It’s confusing for me too.”
“I know,” She whispered quietly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about it herself, that she hadn’t wondered what the hell they were doing and worried about what the consequences of it would be. But everything else in her life had gone wrong, she just wanted this one thing to go right, for her to get to have it and it not fall apart in front of her. She wanted to hold on to it as long as possible.
“Do we have to define it?” Chloe asked, “Can’t we just have this for ourselves? I mean at the end of the day, after everything, don’t we deserve something that can make us…”
“Happy.” He finished.
“Yeah.” She turned her head back to look at him and saw him staring at her again. She hoped he understood. She wasn’t able to give him more than that, wasn’t able to consider the possibility of something more than what they were. She wasn’t ready to take that chance again. Wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
“Okay,” He said nodding his head. He pulled her closer to her side, wrapping his hand around her waist in a familiar way. “Okay.”
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An accumulations of moments in the Watchtower as Chloe begins to heal and Oliver helps her get there. Begins directly after Warrior, and will eventually spoil everything up to Conspiracy.
A/N: The story will be completely from Chloe’s perspective as she deals with everything, so no shifts of POV for this one. This is a Chlollie fic and most of the scenes will revolve around the two of them, but it will be dealing with other relationships too, including Chloe and Clark’s friendship (because I couldn’t not delve into that at least a little) and mentions of her relationship with Jimmy. I’m trying to weave my story around S9 canon, or at least my interpretation of it.
Sorry this took so long guys, I’ve re-edited and changed this chapter a lot, extended one of scenes, and I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I hope you guys like it. Like I said before, thisone has me way out of my comfort zone.
Comments are loved and appriciated!
Part Two
Cold
Jimmy stood before her and for a moment everything felt right. He was smiling that goofy smile; his eyes were twinkling like they did when he had an assignment he loved, and it was all directed towards her. And she couldn’t understand why because she was sure that he should hate her, positive of it, though she couldn’t remember why. But he was happy and he was looking at her liked he still cared about her and she just couldn’t bring herself to question it. It had been so long since she had seen him happy, since he had smiled at her that way. She missed having someone smile at her like that.
And then everything shifted. Any trace of happiness disappeared from his face and he was left pale and terrified, a gasp of pain escaping his lips. He collapsed slowly, his eyes never leaving her own and all she could see was blood as it pooled around him, as it soaked through his shirt. She wanted to reach out, wanted to stop it, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him through wide eyes.
“You did this.” He whispered, his eyes trailing from her face to her hands. She followed his gaze, her breath catching. There was blood. So much blood. It had soaked through her own clothing, and it covered her hands as they gripped the familiar steel pipe. The one she knew had killed him.
She gave a small cry and the pipe dropped from her hands, clattering to the ground echoing loudly in the empty space. She followed it with her eyes as it rolled across the floor, until it stopped when it collided with something. With someone. Her gaze turned upwards and she saw Davis standing there, his expression soft and loving as he smiled at her, his own clothes drenched in blood.
“We did this.” He told her.
Chloe jerked awake, pushing back panic and tears as she tried to adjust to being awake and reminded herself that she was safe, to remind herself of where she was now. It didn’t help. She was in the same place she had been in her dreams, the same place she had watched him die. Watched them both take their last breath. It was hard to separate yourself from your dreams when parts of them were staring at you.
Some days it didn’t bother her. Watchtower was a gift, it was what kept her connected to Jimmy and she loved it for that. Other days she hated it for the same reasons, for everything it reminded her of. She had finally finished the remodel, had finished in her attempts to make it into a home, but sometimes all she could see was a bloodstain on the floor that had long ago disappeared.
Pushing the covers aside, Chloe forced herself up and out of bed. She couldn’t dwell on dreams of the past. She couldn’t change want happened, she couldn’t stop Jimmy from dying, couldn’t stop Davis from killing him. Nothing she could ever do would change what had happened. But she could stop more people from meeting the same fate. Clark thought he had a handle on the Kandorian situation, that he could prevent the future Lois saw by giving the Kandorians a choice, a different path to follow. And maybe he could. But Chloe couldn’t help but think it wasn’t going to be enough. You can’t save someone who doesn’t even realize they’re lost. She had learned that lesson the hard way. She had thought Clark had too, apparently she was wrong.
She had her own ideas of what to do, a backup plan in case she was right. One that would ensure that no one else ended up like Jimmy. One to ensure that no one else had to end up like her.
------
She had fought with Clark again, about their methods of dealing with Zod, about how wrong he thought she was, about how his inactions were going to affect everyone, the consequences they could both have. She hadn’t wanted to fight with him, it always left her feeling tired and cold, but she just wanted him to see her side. Needed him to understand what she was saying. Needed him to be prepared, needed him to understand that this could end badly, could end bloody. But no matter what she did or said, it didn’t make a difference. He wasn’t listening to her.
He just stared at her, kept looking at her as though he was trying to find his best friend when she was stranding right in front of him. Kept looking at her as though he didn’t know her at all. And she realized he didn’t. He had really known her in a long time. And she was sure that it should have left her feeling heart-broken when he turned and walked away again. She should have been upset or angry, possibly even crying. But she wasn’t, she was left feeling nothing but frustration that once again he had waved away her concerns like they didn’t mean anything at all. And it scared her. Because the realization that her best friend wasn’t even her friend anymore should have affected her more, it should have caused more of a reaction. Once Clark’s opinion had meant everything to her, her entire life was wrapped up in his own, they were partners and confidants, and she could feel that all slipping away. She could feel everything they had crumbling in her hands and she couldn’t do anything about it. Wasn’t even sure she wanted too. Her last connection to the girl she had once been and she didn’t care if it was severed. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
He had left hours before and she had tried to get back to work, tried incredibly hard to bury herself in everyone else’s problems, to focus on anything but herself and the empty feeling inside her. But it hadn’t worked. Not in the slightest. She couldn’t go five minutes without thinking about Clark, about what had happened, trying to figure out who she was now and what she wanted. Her mind kept turning despite her protests, coming up with questions she was sure she never wanted the answers too.
She found her hand constantly hovering over her phone, ready to give in and call Oliver. That night together, for a little while she had felt fixable; she had felt less alone than she had in a long time. For a little while, she had felt connected to something, to him. She wanted that again. But her hand always remained hovering over her phone, she never let her call him in fear that he might say no, that he might not show up. She couldn’t handle that on top everything else. They hadn’t talked about what happened, not since that night. She could see it his eyes sometimes though, he wanted to bring it up, wanted to talk about it. But he never did and she was grateful for that. She was scared about what he would say. Didn’t want him to tell her it had all just been a mistake. She could handle a one-night stand, she could handle a heat of the moment situation, but she didn’t want that night to have been a mistake. Because right now she was clinging to it like a lifeline, clinging to feelings she thought had disappeared, and she was tired of holding on to things that were never really hers.
Oliver showed up on his own, work Victor had sent him under his arm, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he had somehow read her mind. Clark used to do that sometimes, showing up when she needed him, and she always wondered if he had some sort of power that told him when people needed him, even if it wasn’t for saving. Oliver didn’t have any superpowers to tell him when she needed him. He was just there. He had been there a lot lately.
He was talking about figures not matching up and discrepancies in shipping manifests, but she could barely hear it. All she could see was him, all she could feel was his presence beside her, and how far away from him she felt. She felt horribly disconnected from everything he was saying and she just wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop feeling like an observer of life and start feeling like a participant.
He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he turned to look at her confusion on his face and she suddenly found herself standing right in front of him. “Chloe…”
Her lips connected with his, forceful as she tried to tell him what she wanted, tried to get him to understand. He pulled away, looking down at her with confused and worried eyes, but he must have seen something in her, something that even she didn’t understand, because suddenly he was leaning back down, capturing her lips with his own and drawing her closer.
She kissed him harder, her hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt as his hands tangled in her hair. She could feel it, that same spark she had felt last time, the beginning of that connection she was longing to feel again, but it wasn’t coming fast enough. It wasn’t there yet.
His hands slipped from her hair, sliding down her neck and then to her sides, caressing and stroking as they worked their way under her shirt and up her back. He groaned into her mouth when he reached high enough to realize she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and the sound drove her to push further. She broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as she pushed his hands down to remove him from his shirt.
When it was gone, thrown away to the corners of the room, he moved closer to her again his hands trying to find their way back to where they had been but she pushed him away again. He was moving too slow. Her own hands found the hem of shirt pulling it over her head. She wanted skin on skin contact. She wanted to feel more of him.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes dark as he took her in. This was new for both of them. Before when everything happened it had been rushed and they hadn’t bothered removing anything other than her underwear. But now, he was seeing her for the first time.
His lips descended on her own again, possessive and hungry as he pulled her closer, his chest warm and hard against her own. He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, memories of what happened their night together flashing through her head as he backed them up. This was different though, he didn’t stop, didn’t get carried enough away to search out the nearest place. Instead his feet found her bedroom door and kicked it open, his hands going to her lower back holding her closer.
He landed on top of her when they reached the bed, heavy and hard against her, and under normal circumstances she would have told him to be more careful. But this wasn’t normal circumstances. His lips tore away from her own, moving to her neck, kissing and sucking as his hands moved back to her sides, tickling her ribs as he explored.
He was going to slow, like he wanted to take his time to get it right. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She bucked beneath him. They weren’t close enough. He was right there with her, but he still felt far away, as though she wasn’t really even touching him. She wanted to feel him inside her. Wanted to feel connected again. She didn’t know why and didn’t know how; she just knew that he made her feel alive, made everything seem more real. She bucked again.
“Damn it Chloe.” He gasped into her neck. And then his lips were back on her own, faster and more forceful as his tongue battled with her own in the most pleasant way. He was done with slow. She could tell. Her hands went to the zipper of his pants, and he groaned again before reaching down to help her. They were halfway off before he froze on top of her. Why did he always stop just before it was about to get good?
“What?” She breathed.
“I don’t have anything.” It took a minute to realize what he was talking about and if she wasn’t very frustrated at that moment, she probably would have laughed. If there was anybody she would have thought carried protection at all times, it would have been Oliver. His reputation certainly implied it.
“It’s okay,” She said lifting up to kiss him again. “I’m on the shot.”
He pulled away again, his eyes connecting with her in a way that made her uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”
She knew his reputation, knew why he thought she might be concerned, but she had access to the team’s medical records just like he did and she knew she didn’t have to worry. She honestly wasn’t even sure why he was asking. She had already proven she wanted this. Hell, she was the one that initiated it. Why couldn’t he just go along with it? She didn’t want to stop and think about it. Thinking just lead to bad things, made her more confused and upset. She just wanted to stop thinking.
She gripped his shoulders, pushing him back down to her as she crushed her lips against his own, her hips rolling against his own. She wanted this, wanted him, and right then that was all that mattered.
------
“Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver’s voice startled her. They hadn’t said anything for a while now; it had been nothing but harsh breathing as they lay beside each other. She kind of preferred the breathing.
“Talk about what?” Chloe asked, turning her head to look at him. It was strange to see him in her bedroom, in her bed. The last time it had happened there hadn’t been much of an after period. Having him beside her now, it made it feel more intimate. It had always felt real, she was always acutely aware of what happened between them even when she was pretending not to be, but having him in bed, next to her, it felt different somehow.
“About the reason we ended up in here.” He said gesturing to the bed.
His question surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to realize that there was something behind what had happened, hadn’t expected him to question it if he did. But then Oliver had always been more perceptive than other men in her life. He had his clueless moments, but he could read her better than Clark ever had been able too.
“It’s nothing.” She said, trying to brush it off.
“I’m pretty sure the scratches down my back prove otherwise.”
Chloe blushed and she could feel him smirking down at her.
“Seriously Chloe, I know…I know that this is a different dynamic for us,” He said, clearly choosing his words carefully. “But I’m still your friend. If you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“I know,” She said quietly. And she did. Oliver would listen without judgment. He would hear her out. He might even be on her side. But she wasn’t ready to say it, didn’t want to admit any of it out loud. She wasn’t even sure what she would say if she did. But it was nice knowing just the same. “Thank you for that.”
She expected him to say something, try to convince her to say what’s on her mind, to push her for answers, but he didn’t. He just smiled slightly at her, a look of determination flashed over his face before it disappeared and he turned back to stare at the ceiling. He didn’t bring it up again and she went back to trying to ignore it.
-------
Chloe pulled on the duct tape, tugging it up and watching as the cardboard box folded in on itself, before tossing it on top of the pile. There weren’t a lot of boxes left to go through. Just six or seven, most of which she was sure that would get repacked and put into the closet with Jimmy’s things.
She had finally brought the last of her things from the Talon; it had taken her longer than she wanted to get completely moved in. She had been living half at the Talon and half at the Watchtower for months now, but she had been determined to do it on her own. Lois had kept pestering her about letting her ask Clark to help, but she hadn’t wanted too. He would have helped her, she was sure of it, but she wouldn’t have known if it had been because of her or because it had been Lois asking. Instead she had opted to do it by herself, one trip at a time, denying even Lois’s offers of assistance.
She preferred doing it alone anyways. She didn’t want anyone else going through her things, going through Jimmy’s. She didn’t want them offering advice about where to put things or what to change. Watchtower was hers and while it was open to everybody, there were parts of it she wanted to keep just for herself.
She reached for another box, pulling it closer as she sat cross legged on the floor. It was a slightly odd mixture of items, making her think it was one of the few boxes Lois had packed before she could stop her. She had never really gotten the idea of organizing boxes to make unpacking easier. It was why there was a box in the kitchen filled with coffee mugs, bathroom towels, and part of her shoe collection. Lois was a firm believer in putting together whatever fit, even if it didn’t make sense. Chloe preferred things more orderly. Or at least she had recently.
Most of the stuff in that particular box had been in the living room; a few knickknacks and souvenirs from her father’s business trips, some old cassettes, a few reference books, and the scrapbook from her wedding buried at the bottem. She lifted the lace covered binder out of the box, barely stopping herself from jumping when a DVD slid out, falling directly onto her lap. It was the footage Jimmy’s cousin shot at the wedding. The copy that cut off before everything went to hell.
She found herself standing and walking towards the television in the corner before she even realized she had decided to watch it. She hadn’t watched the video a lot. Once before she had left for Star City to see Jimmy. Once after he had returned to Metropolis in hopes to remind herself of how happy they had been. She had watched the other copy, the unedited one, after she had learned about Davis. She had tried to find something to see if she should have been able to put the pieces together about who he really was. That had been the last time.
She settled in on the floor, her back against the glass coffee table as she looked up at the screen. It was staticy for a moment, before Lois, Jimmy coming up next to her, smiling and looking happy, completely unaware of events to come.
Oliver found her there hours later, sitting in the same place, boxes still littered across the floor, as she watched the video again. She didn’t notice him at first, didn’t hear him enter or him call out to her, but she felt him sit down beside her. Knew it was him without looking. He didn’t say anything, just sat and watched alongside her.
They watched it two more times before she said anything.
“You know, I don’t remember that day. Not really.” She told him quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something a lot of people knew either. She didn’t remember walking down the aisle, Clark at her side. She didn’t remember saying ‘I do’. She didn’t remember their first kiss as husband and wife or their first dance. She just remembered feeling cold and terrified and alone.
“I remember Lois calling me goldilocks. I remember getting my hair done, someone calling my cell phone, and…And then I was waking up in the barn with Clark beside me. But I don’t remember anything in between.”
He reached out of her then, bridging the gap he had carefully kept between them as they sat, taking her hand in his own. She didn’t pull away, didn’t feel the initial desire too that she normally had when anyone touched her nowadays. Instead she let him weave his fingers through her own, taking comfort in the small connection.
“What does it mean when you can’t remember the happiest day of your life?” She asked, turning her head to look at him. She felt like she should be crying, that she should be saying this all through tears; she didn’t know why she wasn’t.
“I think it means…that someday you’ll get another one.” Oliver told her gently. “One day so amazing that nothing will ever let you forget it.”
He said it with conviction in his voice, as though it wasn’t what he thought she wanted to hear, but what he actually thought was true. He said it like he thought she deserved a day like that, that it wasn’t a matter of if it would happen, only when.
She hoped he was right. She wanted to remember being as happy as the girl in the video appeared to be.
------
Chloe jerked awake, images and feelings slipping away until all she could remember was terror and blood. She supposed she should be grateful that was all that remained behind, but it left enough of an effect that it was hard to be appreciative. She rolled over to look to see what time it was and if she had slept enough to get up and do some work, but instead of seeing the alarm clock on the nightstand she came face to face with Oliver, his body blocking her view of the table behind him.
She hadn’t expected him to stay the night, for him to be there, lying next to her as though it was where he was supposed to be. A part of her couldn’t help but resent him for it, for being there, for sleeping through the night on the same side of the bed that Jimmy used to sleep on. She resented him for looking peaceful and relaxed as he dreams, for looking content with himself when she felt anything but.
But there was another part of her, the little girl who believed her mother walked away from her without a second thought, that was just happy not to wake up alone again. Happy to have someone be there beside her. That was the part of her that she let override her good judgment, that buried her head in her pillow and drifted back to sleep. He wasn’t supposed to be there, she knew that, her mind was screaming it at her. But she wanted him to be.
------
Chloe had just stepped away from the monitors, headed towards the coffee pot, when Clark appeared in the tower. He pushed both doors open and Chloe’s head swirled around at the arrival, from the side of her eye she could see Oliver do the same from where he was working. Clark nodded at him in greeting and moved to stand in front of her.
“I need your help.” He said extending the folder in his hand.
There was no small talk, no polite conversation, just straight down to business as he explained what he needed. And she wished that it still surprised her, but it didn’t. That was her relationship with Clark now, it was all they had.
“Sure Clark, I’ll get right on it.” She said taking the file from him. He nodded his head and blurred out. No ‘thank yous’ or acknowledgments. And again it didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t help but think they lost that part of their relationship in the very place she was standing. It had disappeared further in the Kent barn with tears and unwanted revelations.
She felt Oliver’s hand on the small of her back as he moved to stand beside her and look over what Clark had given her. The gentle touch surprised her, but she found herself leaning into him. Clark’s visit had left her feeling cold and his hand was radiating warmth.
------
“Are we ever going to talk about what this is?” Oliver asked. He was lying in bed beside her again, but she had long ago given up expecting him to leave. He had already spent the night there more times then he should have.
“What do you mean?” She asked turning to look at him. He was staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at her. It was a habit he had.
“You and me and whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Ollie…” She didn’t think she liked where he was going.
“I mean I’ve gotten the impression that you’re not exactly interested in champagne and roses or Friday date nights, and that’s fine. I mean with both of our lives I’m not even sure if we could swing that, but this is definitely out of the friends’ realm.” He said his turning his gaze to meet hers briefly, “I mean I certainly don’t do this with Victor whenever I see him.”
“Good to know, that could make the next league meeting really awkward.” She said, smiling a little.
“Chloe…”
“I-I’m not sure, Oliver.” She said, she turned her head moving to stare at the high ceiling with him. She couldn’t see what he found so fascinating.
“I’m not trying to push you into anything, Chloe. I know that this has to be confusing for you. I just…It’s confusing for me too.”
“I know,” She whispered quietly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about it herself, that she hadn’t wondered what the hell they were doing and worried about what the consequences of it would be. But everything else in her life had gone wrong, she just wanted this one thing to go right, for her to get to have it and it not fall apart in front of her. She wanted to hold on to it as long as possible.
“Do we have to define it?” Chloe asked, “Can’t we just have this for ourselves? I mean at the end of the day, after everything, don’t we deserve something that can make us…”
“Happy.” He finished.
“Yeah.” She turned her head back to look at him and saw him staring at her again. She hoped he understood. She wasn’t able to give him more than that, wasn’t able to consider the possibility of something more than what they were. She wasn’t ready to take that chance again. Wasn’t sure if she ever would be.
“Okay,” He said nodding his head. He pulled her closer to her side, wrapping his hand around her waist in a familiar way. “Okay.”