Taking Her Home--Part 1/2
Title: Taking Her Home
Category: Smallville
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Warnings: none
Summary: Where Chloe has been and how Oliver finds her.
This started as a sort of Halloween story, or at least, I wanted to use the idea of them finding each other while she was wearing a mask. It's not really Halloween-esque anymore, but I'm going to pretend it's for Chlollieween anyway. The first chapter is PG. The second one is mostly smut, so NC17.
banner by miss_morrygan
Part One
It had been over a year. Over a year since she had faked her own death and vanished without a trace.
By all accounts, she no longer existed.
But that hadn't stopped Chloe Sullivan from fighting her fight. She would never give up on her cause, the very thing she had sacrificed herself for.
It had required...a lot. She never slowed down, never stopped or gave herself the chance to think about her past, about anything that hurt. Which was everything.
She'd had to create a new persona, one that also technically didn't exist. Нелли Стрельниковa. In English it was Nelly Strel'nikova, translating to Torch Archer. It was a sign of how unwilling to completely let go she was that she had chosen the names. It had brought a wry grin to her lips to realize the Russian translation of her former idol's name meant Torch. It was too fitting for words.
As for her surname, she didn't have to consciously acknowledge why she'd chosen that one. It had been her final nod to the love of her life.
She didn't pretend or even try to convince herself this was what she wanted for her life. She didn't try to tell herself that she was happy. But she knew ultimately it had been worth it. Oliver was worth it a thousand times over, and she would make the same choice no matter how many chances she got to do it over.
And now she was free to seek justice without being bogged down by personal ties, careers, or laws. If she didn't exist there was no one to arrest. She'd ended up in Russia, somewhere far away from her former home, a place where she learned a new language and culture and had devoted herself to saving lives. In the past months she had achieved an entirely new level of computer skills. Even Victor would be no match for her these days. She left a string of anonymous tips for the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and multiple other government operations, effectively stopping terrorist attacks across the globe, robberies of grand proportions, mass murders...anything and everything she was capable of. She gambled to earn money, having pegged down a system at winning card games. She could call a bluff a mile away and calculate probabilities faster than a computer. From the money she was able to eat when she was hungry and sleep when she was tired, never staying in one place for longer than two days.
The secret to running away was to never stop. The minute you stopped you lost all hope.
Tonight was important. Chloe rehearsed what she had learned in her mind as she dressed herself in a clinging black evening gown with a thigh high slit. It was very important. There was a masquerade gala where someone was going to attempt to assassinate the Russian prime minister. Chloe knew where the bomb was going to be planted, and she knew when it was set to detonate. She would have approximately half an hour to rewire it and eliminate the threat. The only way to get in was to pose as a guest.
She donned a black mask, thinking with distant fondness that back in America children were dressing in costumes for Halloween. The holiday was gaining popularity in Russia, but it wasn't like back in the states by any means.
She tugged her wrap around her after slipping on a pair of glittering stilettos and soon she was calmly entering the high fashion world of the gala.
It had been easy to get her name on the list. It had taken barely five seconds to hack the invitations and even less to add herself to it. No one questioned her as she entered the room, and only a few eyes followed her as she crossed into a corner where she could watch but not be watched.
Soon she found a way to slip out undetected, and after taking down only one security guard she was infiltrating the old castle in search of the bomb.
It wasn't until she found it and realized that someone else had already deactivated it that her heart suddenly started racing and she began to panic.
He's here.
She knew it instantly. She couldn't explain it. It could have been anyone, logically. It could have been a mistake by the assassin.
But it's not, she thought wildly. It's him. I've got to get out of here.
Her heart flaring wildly, Chloe found herself back in the grand ballroom, preparing to make a swift exit. She batted off a suitor or two, asking her to dance, offering her a drink. It was difficult since she was trying not to draw attention to herself.
She made the split decision to find an alternative to the main entrance and was just about to disappear into the nearest corridor when a strong arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her out. Instinct took over and Chloe broke free of his hold before sending a round-house kick aimed straight for his head, ready to take her assailant down in one move.
He caught her foot easily holding it aloft in the air and immobilizing her, and shock was etched across his all-too-familiar face.
"What the hell are you trying to do?" he demanded, and had Chloe been standing on her own two feet, her knees would have buckled at the mere sound of his voice.
Desperate, she started to say in Russian that she didn't understand, but Oliver was having none of it. He released her foot only to grab her arms in his hands less than a second later. Chloe stifled a gasp at the electric shock that coursed through her body from only the touch of his hand. He tore the mask from her face and Chloe immediately looked away, instinct demanding she hide her face.
Oliver stared at her, his heart hammering in his chest. "Did you think a mask and a foreign language would be enough to hide you from me? That I wouldn't recognize you the instant you walked onto the floor?" he asked quietly. Even at a whisper, though, he held all the power. Where had her cool, dominating persona gone?
All he has to do is enter the damn room and I'm back to being Chloe Sullivan, she thought with disgust. She couldn't look at him. It was too much for her. If she looked at him she'd lose everything and collapse in his arms and beg him to never let go of her.
"Chloe," he said, trying to be gentle, sensing her fight or flight response kicking in, "is this where you've been all this time? Russia?"
She didn't answer.
"Why didn't you come back?" He swallowed the end of the question: To me. Instead he released one of her arms and his hand tenderly brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before cupping her cheek in his palm. He didn't miss her sharp intake of breath or the way her eyes closed at his touch. "Chloe," he breathed, his calloused thumb gently rubbing a soothing motion against her cheek.
He was still convinced he was going to wake up and this was going to be another maddening dream where he'd almost gotten her back.
"Let me go," she whispered and Oliver's heart stopped cold. "Please," she started to back away, still not meeting his eyes. "You've got to--"
Suddenly his hands were gripping her more harshly, dragging her up against him. "Like hell I'm going to let you go," he said hoarsely. "If you think for one second that now that I've found you I'm so much as letting you out of my sight then you've forgotten a lot about me." He paused. "Look at me."
She didn't move.
"Damn it, Chloe," he pleaded, "look at me. What are you so afraid of?"
Her eyes whipped up to his defiantly, and everything she was afraid of was right there. How much he loved her. How much she had hurt him. How broken he was. Instantly her whole body was quaking and suddenly she was crying. She felt her legs give out from under her and Oliver's grip tightened around her, holding her up. He caught her chin and tilted it up to him, his lips immediately crashing down on hers, taking hers covetously, ravenously, like a starving man presented with sweet manna from Heaven.
And all Chloe could do was tremble beneath his kiss, a slight whimper escaping her lips as she stood and took it. She wanted him. Needed him so badly. Her mind fought to maintain control, reminding her that she had run for a reason and she had to get out of there, but she no longer had the will to do it, not with him standing before her, not with his arms wrapped around her and his fingers tangled in her hair and his lips welded to hers.
She didn't have the strength to walk away a second time.
Oliver's lips finally tore away from hers so that he could cradle her head to his chest, resting his chin on her hair, breathing in her scent as he gently rocked her. "Why didn't you come back?"
"I was protecting you," she managed to get out, her voice muffled against his chest. He could feel her tears seeping into his shirt.
He scoffed at her statement and asked humorlessly, "By killing me?"
To which she just sobbed and clutched him tighter. They stood like that for an immeasurable length of time, a strange stillness surrounding them in the dark hall. The only sound aside from Chloe's sobbing echoing along the corridor was that of distant music and chattering Russian from the party.
Finally he spoke, trying to come to terms with how he had finally found her. "What are you doing here?"
"The bomb--"
"You were trying to stop the terrorist attack, too."
She nodded against his chest. "Are--"
"No, none of the others are here. Just me. We found out about the bomb and I came because I speak Russian. The only way to get in was--"
"To be on the guest list."
"Which brings me to--"
"False name."
"Right. Who were you?"
"Нелли Стрельников."
A trace of a smile crept into his lips. How had that name not stood out to him when he studied the guest list? It should have. He should have known instantly.
They were silent again for a while before he finally said what he needed to. "You know I'm bringing you back with me, don't you? You're not leaving here without me."
He braced himself, terrified she would argue, would try to fight him on it with some convoluted logic about what was best for him.
But she didn't. She nodded into his chest again, unbeknownst to him breathing in the scent of his cologne--something she had dreamt of every night since leaving him. She'd almost bought a bottle to spray her pillows with but had stopped herself, knowing it would only make waking up more painful. "I know," she whispered.
His arms tightened around her still further, so much so that she was starting to have trouble breathing. "I want to hate you right now. You can't imagine how much. I want to hate you for leaving me. But I don't. I--" he swallowed. "I love you so much, Chloe."
Her tears turned to an almost hysterical laughter as she responded, "I love you, too."
Before she could register what was happening he was kissing her again, had her pressed up against the wall as he ravaged her. She wanted to return the kiss in kind, ferocity for ferocity, but she couldn't. For the second time all she could do was take it, take him, and try not to faint. She'd never imagined how difficult it would be to see him again. She'd always thought she wouldn't. She counted on being good at hiding.
And running.
Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.
She wasn't really aware that Oliver had dragged her in one direction or another until she realized he was leading her down the hall. He sensed her awareness, and before she could do anything about it, he swept her into his arms and began carrying her toward the exit.
"Where are we going?"
"Tonight or tomorrow?"
"Both."
"Tonight we're going back to my hotel. Tomorrow morning a plane back to Metropolis."
Category: Smallville
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Warnings: none
Summary: Where Chloe has been and how Oliver finds her.
This started as a sort of Halloween story, or at least, I wanted to use the idea of them finding each other while she was wearing a mask. It's not really Halloween-esque anymore, but I'm going to pretend it's for Chlollieween anyway. The first chapter is PG. The second one is mostly smut, so NC17.
banner by miss_morrygan
Part One
It had been over a year. Over a year since she had faked her own death and vanished without a trace.
By all accounts, she no longer existed.
But that hadn't stopped Chloe Sullivan from fighting her fight. She would never give up on her cause, the very thing she had sacrificed herself for.
It had required...a lot. She never slowed down, never stopped or gave herself the chance to think about her past, about anything that hurt. Which was everything.
She'd had to create a new persona, one that also technically didn't exist. Нелли Стрельниковa. In English it was Nelly Strel'nikova, translating to Torch Archer. It was a sign of how unwilling to completely let go she was that she had chosen the names. It had brought a wry grin to her lips to realize the Russian translation of her former idol's name meant Torch. It was too fitting for words.
As for her surname, she didn't have to consciously acknowledge why she'd chosen that one. It had been her final nod to the love of her life.
She didn't pretend or even try to convince herself this was what she wanted for her life. She didn't try to tell herself that she was happy. But she knew ultimately it had been worth it. Oliver was worth it a thousand times over, and she would make the same choice no matter how many chances she got to do it over.
And now she was free to seek justice without being bogged down by personal ties, careers, or laws. If she didn't exist there was no one to arrest. She'd ended up in Russia, somewhere far away from her former home, a place where she learned a new language and culture and had devoted herself to saving lives. In the past months she had achieved an entirely new level of computer skills. Even Victor would be no match for her these days. She left a string of anonymous tips for the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and multiple other government operations, effectively stopping terrorist attacks across the globe, robberies of grand proportions, mass murders...anything and everything she was capable of. She gambled to earn money, having pegged down a system at winning card games. She could call a bluff a mile away and calculate probabilities faster than a computer. From the money she was able to eat when she was hungry and sleep when she was tired, never staying in one place for longer than two days.
The secret to running away was to never stop. The minute you stopped you lost all hope.
Tonight was important. Chloe rehearsed what she had learned in her mind as she dressed herself in a clinging black evening gown with a thigh high slit. It was very important. There was a masquerade gala where someone was going to attempt to assassinate the Russian prime minister. Chloe knew where the bomb was going to be planted, and she knew when it was set to detonate. She would have approximately half an hour to rewire it and eliminate the threat. The only way to get in was to pose as a guest.
She donned a black mask, thinking with distant fondness that back in America children were dressing in costumes for Halloween. The holiday was gaining popularity in Russia, but it wasn't like back in the states by any means.
She tugged her wrap around her after slipping on a pair of glittering stilettos and soon she was calmly entering the high fashion world of the gala.
It had been easy to get her name on the list. It had taken barely five seconds to hack the invitations and even less to add herself to it. No one questioned her as she entered the room, and only a few eyes followed her as she crossed into a corner where she could watch but not be watched.
Soon she found a way to slip out undetected, and after taking down only one security guard she was infiltrating the old castle in search of the bomb.
It wasn't until she found it and realized that someone else had already deactivated it that her heart suddenly started racing and she began to panic.
He's here.
She knew it instantly. She couldn't explain it. It could have been anyone, logically. It could have been a mistake by the assassin.
But it's not, she thought wildly. It's him. I've got to get out of here.
Her heart flaring wildly, Chloe found herself back in the grand ballroom, preparing to make a swift exit. She batted off a suitor or two, asking her to dance, offering her a drink. It was difficult since she was trying not to draw attention to herself.
She made the split decision to find an alternative to the main entrance and was just about to disappear into the nearest corridor when a strong arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her out. Instinct took over and Chloe broke free of his hold before sending a round-house kick aimed straight for his head, ready to take her assailant down in one move.
He caught her foot easily holding it aloft in the air and immobilizing her, and shock was etched across his all-too-familiar face.
"What the hell are you trying to do?" he demanded, and had Chloe been standing on her own two feet, her knees would have buckled at the mere sound of his voice.
Desperate, she started to say in Russian that she didn't understand, but Oliver was having none of it. He released her foot only to grab her arms in his hands less than a second later. Chloe stifled a gasp at the electric shock that coursed through her body from only the touch of his hand. He tore the mask from her face and Chloe immediately looked away, instinct demanding she hide her face.
Oliver stared at her, his heart hammering in his chest. "Did you think a mask and a foreign language would be enough to hide you from me? That I wouldn't recognize you the instant you walked onto the floor?" he asked quietly. Even at a whisper, though, he held all the power. Where had her cool, dominating persona gone?
All he has to do is enter the damn room and I'm back to being Chloe Sullivan, she thought with disgust. She couldn't look at him. It was too much for her. If she looked at him she'd lose everything and collapse in his arms and beg him to never let go of her.
"Chloe," he said, trying to be gentle, sensing her fight or flight response kicking in, "is this where you've been all this time? Russia?"
She didn't answer.
"Why didn't you come back?" He swallowed the end of the question: To me. Instead he released one of her arms and his hand tenderly brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before cupping her cheek in his palm. He didn't miss her sharp intake of breath or the way her eyes closed at his touch. "Chloe," he breathed, his calloused thumb gently rubbing a soothing motion against her cheek.
He was still convinced he was going to wake up and this was going to be another maddening dream where he'd almost gotten her back.
"Let me go," she whispered and Oliver's heart stopped cold. "Please," she started to back away, still not meeting his eyes. "You've got to--"
Suddenly his hands were gripping her more harshly, dragging her up against him. "Like hell I'm going to let you go," he said hoarsely. "If you think for one second that now that I've found you I'm so much as letting you out of my sight then you've forgotten a lot about me." He paused. "Look at me."
She didn't move.
"Damn it, Chloe," he pleaded, "look at me. What are you so afraid of?"
Her eyes whipped up to his defiantly, and everything she was afraid of was right there. How much he loved her. How much she had hurt him. How broken he was. Instantly her whole body was quaking and suddenly she was crying. She felt her legs give out from under her and Oliver's grip tightened around her, holding her up. He caught her chin and tilted it up to him, his lips immediately crashing down on hers, taking hers covetously, ravenously, like a starving man presented with sweet manna from Heaven.
And all Chloe could do was tremble beneath his kiss, a slight whimper escaping her lips as she stood and took it. She wanted him. Needed him so badly. Her mind fought to maintain control, reminding her that she had run for a reason and she had to get out of there, but she no longer had the will to do it, not with him standing before her, not with his arms wrapped around her and his fingers tangled in her hair and his lips welded to hers.
She didn't have the strength to walk away a second time.
Oliver's lips finally tore away from hers so that he could cradle her head to his chest, resting his chin on her hair, breathing in her scent as he gently rocked her. "Why didn't you come back?"
"I was protecting you," she managed to get out, her voice muffled against his chest. He could feel her tears seeping into his shirt.
He scoffed at her statement and asked humorlessly, "By killing me?"
To which she just sobbed and clutched him tighter. They stood like that for an immeasurable length of time, a strange stillness surrounding them in the dark hall. The only sound aside from Chloe's sobbing echoing along the corridor was that of distant music and chattering Russian from the party.
Finally he spoke, trying to come to terms with how he had finally found her. "What are you doing here?"
"The bomb--"
"You were trying to stop the terrorist attack, too."
She nodded against his chest. "Are--"
"No, none of the others are here. Just me. We found out about the bomb and I came because I speak Russian. The only way to get in was--"
"To be on the guest list."
"Which brings me to--"
"False name."
"Right. Who were you?"
"Нелли Стрельников."
A trace of a smile crept into his lips. How had that name not stood out to him when he studied the guest list? It should have. He should have known instantly.
They were silent again for a while before he finally said what he needed to. "You know I'm bringing you back with me, don't you? You're not leaving here without me."
He braced himself, terrified she would argue, would try to fight him on it with some convoluted logic about what was best for him.
But she didn't. She nodded into his chest again, unbeknownst to him breathing in the scent of his cologne--something she had dreamt of every night since leaving him. She'd almost bought a bottle to spray her pillows with but had stopped herself, knowing it would only make waking up more painful. "I know," she whispered.
His arms tightened around her still further, so much so that she was starting to have trouble breathing. "I want to hate you right now. You can't imagine how much. I want to hate you for leaving me. But I don't. I--" he swallowed. "I love you so much, Chloe."
Her tears turned to an almost hysterical laughter as she responded, "I love you, too."
Before she could register what was happening he was kissing her again, had her pressed up against the wall as he ravaged her. She wanted to return the kiss in kind, ferocity for ferocity, but she couldn't. For the second time all she could do was take it, take him, and try not to faint. She'd never imagined how difficult it would be to see him again. She'd always thought she wouldn't. She counted on being good at hiding.
And running.
Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.
She wasn't really aware that Oliver had dragged her in one direction or another until she realized he was leading her down the hall. He sensed her awareness, and before she could do anything about it, he swept her into his arms and began carrying her toward the exit.
"Where are we going?"
"Tonight or tomorrow?"
"Both."
"Tonight we're going back to my hotel. Tomorrow morning a plane back to Metropolis."