Fanfic. Burden (Smallville)
Burden (Smallville, Chloe/Oliver, PG-13) Every relationship is complicated. All recognisable elements of Smallville belong to their respective creators. Warnings: Allusions to "Conspiracy."
BURDEN
Every time she walks into the Watchtower she feels a pang of anger that stabs her in the heart.
She loves the tower, the windows and the view.
But there’s a sadness that’s bled into the building that she’s not sure can be scrubbed away. Memories take a long time to fade, and even though the blood is gone, she can still see it whenever she looks around.
And after her trip down Clark-obsessed lane, the Watchtower is still in a dismantled state that makes her blood boil and breaks her heart at the same time. Her entire life after Jimmy’s death revolved around the technical aspect of her role as Watchtower, and she’d torn it all down in less than an hour.
She didn’t know how long it would take her to rebuild.
She spent her time rewiring and cursing and trying not to remember.
That was how Oliver found her, muttering a string of curses after nearly electrocuting herself for the seventh time in two hours.
“Uh, Chloe?”
She didn’t bother crawling out from underneath the desk. “What?”
The footsteps stopped and there was a long pause. “O-kay,” Oliver drawled out, voice unsteady.
For all their sentimental moments since that strange evening a few feet from where she was currently on the floor, they’d spent an equal amount of time at each other’s throats, between her insurance policy against the Kandorians and the lies they kept weaving amongst themselves. Whatever was happening between them, it was equal parts business and pleasure - something she wasn’t sure she knew how to balance.
She heard Oliver settle into one of the couches, and the clink of glass on glass, liquid being poured between the two.
“You know, you never really told me what happened here.”
She sighed. “Let’s just say, a moment of unwanted weakness and unchecked, unquestioned loyalty, and leave it at that, shall we?”
He chuckled, and the sound soothed some of her irritation. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“You forgot to add ‘on the wrong side of town’ to that,” she replied, crawling out from the desk and sitting back on her heels.
He smirked. “Trust me, I didn’t forget that part.”
If her face wasn’t already flushed, Chloe knew she would have turned as red as a tomato. She looked away and frowned at the pile of disconnected wires and the loss of years worth of work.
“Chloe, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she told him, still looking away. “I guess I’ve just been distracted…”
The warm hand on the small of her back startled her, so much so that she spun around and came face to face with Oliver. “I’ve seen you distracted,” he replied, “and this isn’t it. You’re acting like you’re on a different planet.”
“Really?” Her eyes drifted down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. “Do they have an excess of futuristic technology readily available there?”
He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, letting his hand rest on her cheek; a warm, welcome weight. “Always business with you.”
Guilt settled around her shoulders and she looked down. “Yeah, well…” She tried to smile. “This is me.”
Oliver leant forward, kissing her forehead. “I know.”
BURDEN
Every time she walks into the Watchtower she feels a pang of anger that stabs her in the heart.
She loves the tower, the windows and the view.
But there’s a sadness that’s bled into the building that she’s not sure can be scrubbed away. Memories take a long time to fade, and even though the blood is gone, she can still see it whenever she looks around.
And after her trip down Clark-obsessed lane, the Watchtower is still in a dismantled state that makes her blood boil and breaks her heart at the same time. Her entire life after Jimmy’s death revolved around the technical aspect of her role as Watchtower, and she’d torn it all down in less than an hour.
She didn’t know how long it would take her to rebuild.
She spent her time rewiring and cursing and trying not to remember.
That was how Oliver found her, muttering a string of curses after nearly electrocuting herself for the seventh time in two hours.
“Uh, Chloe?”
She didn’t bother crawling out from underneath the desk. “What?”
The footsteps stopped and there was a long pause. “O-kay,” Oliver drawled out, voice unsteady.
For all their sentimental moments since that strange evening a few feet from where she was currently on the floor, they’d spent an equal amount of time at each other’s throats, between her insurance policy against the Kandorians and the lies they kept weaving amongst themselves. Whatever was happening between them, it was equal parts business and pleasure - something she wasn’t sure she knew how to balance.
She heard Oliver settle into one of the couches, and the clink of glass on glass, liquid being poured between the two.
“You know, you never really told me what happened here.”
She sighed. “Let’s just say, a moment of unwanted weakness and unchecked, unquestioned loyalty, and leave it at that, shall we?”
He chuckled, and the sound soothed some of her irritation. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“You forgot to add ‘on the wrong side of town’ to that,” she replied, crawling out from the desk and sitting back on her heels.
He smirked. “Trust me, I didn’t forget that part.”
If her face wasn’t already flushed, Chloe knew she would have turned as red as a tomato. She looked away and frowned at the pile of disconnected wires and the loss of years worth of work.
“Chloe, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she told him, still looking away. “I guess I’ve just been distracted…”
The warm hand on the small of her back startled her, so much so that she spun around and came face to face with Oliver. “I’ve seen you distracted,” he replied, “and this isn’t it. You’re acting like you’re on a different planet.”
“Really?” Her eyes drifted down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. “Do they have an excess of futuristic technology readily available there?”
He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, letting his hand rest on her cheek; a warm, welcome weight. “Always business with you.”
Guilt settled around her shoulders and she looked down. “Yeah, well…” She tried to smile. “This is me.”
Oliver leant forward, kissing her forehead. “I know.”