The Fall; Smallville
Title: The Fall
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: T
Genre: General
Summary: The hero doesn’t always get the girl. [Chloe/Oliver, mentions of Chloe/Jimmy and Oliver/Dinah] Somewhat AU, somewhat future-fic. Spoilers for ‘Doomsday.’
…0…
You wish that somewhere along the way you had learned to deny yourself the things you want; because it's the right thing to do, because people get hurt when they get too close, a little sooner in life-perhaps when it could have done you some good.
Instead, you go about your life indulging in anything and everyone that satisfies your curiosity until one moment turns your surprisingly stilted view of life on its pretty little head and you change. You grow up.
But you still don’t learn.
There are always going to be bad guys lurking around the corner, ready to rip anything good away from you. It's best not to have anything to begin with. Easier that way. Better to go it alone, no baggage, than to risk the fallout of someone getting hurt because of you.
Really, it’s just better.
…0…
Oliver Queen wasn’t the kind of man that took kindly to being told no. By anyone. From the moment his father had first told him that he could do anything in the world he set his mind to, the concept of something being out of reach, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted him.
In this particular instance, it was a someone that was out of his reach.
Chloe Sullivan being engaged didn’t sit right with Oliver. It wasn’t that he begrudged her any happiness. Quite the opposite in fact. In the time he’d known her, Oliver had realized that if there was one person on Earth who deserved all the happiness life had to offer, it was Chloe Sullivan. Everything she did for him, the League, for Clark, for her family-surely she had racked up enough karma points to secure herself a happily ever after.
That was what he kept repeating to himself even after he hung up the phone.
Chloe is happy. She’s going to get married and be safe. Far, far away from this life.
Oliver’s stomach twisted. The blonde in question had all but stated that once the I Do’s were a done deal he and the boys were on their own. Time to say goodbye to Watchtower. Their favorite sidekick was hanging up her hero hat.
A hero. That’s what Chloe was, but she would be the last one to ever think that. In her complex mind, what she did was peanuts compared to the rest of them. It never occurred to her that they couldn’t have done half of what they had without her help.
Sulking, and it took more than a few good zingers from Bart before he’d admit he was in fact sulking, Oliver decided to man up and wish her well.
And then he met Jimmy Olsen.
…0…
If life were like the movies, this would be the moment when the lighting would change, the music would rise in volume, and the plot would begin to really unfold.
This, seeing them together for the first time, is the perfectly scripted moment for you to realize your feelings.
Your life isn’t a movie, though, and even if some call you a hero, there’s no one writing you a fairytale ending. Sure, you’ve got all your usual players; the antagonist who has what you want for now, the trusty comrades to see you through it all, and of course the pretty girl at the end as the reward for your diligence-if it all works out. The difference is there’s no guarantee here; tragedy is just as likely a genre for this situation as romantic epic.
All you can hope for right now is a surprise plot twist at the end in your favor.
…0…
It wasn’t that Oliver disliked Jimmy. Not really. He just…didn’t see it. This guy Olsen, the one that Chloe had picked to spend the rest of her life with, had Second Banana written all over him.
This would never do. Chloe helped save the world on a regular basis. She had adventure in her blood. She would eat this guy alive.
Frankly, Oliver was amazed she hadn’t already.
But there was one thing about all of it that really stuck in his craw; it was out of his control.
Though he wouldn’t call himself a control freak by any means, Oliver liked being able to look at a situation and decide how best to proceed. He liked fixing things. He liked, for lack of a better word, having the power. The authority. Bart didn’t call him Boss-Man in that slightly amused tone for nothing.
And if he were ever asked point blank, he would admit that he had always just assumed that the people in his life were okay with it.
Two days after breaking the news to the boys (and Dinah) that their tech support was on a timer, he was asked another question. One he hadn’t intended on.
“Did you think she was going to ask your permission or something?”
The way Victor said it, it was impossible to get upset. His voice wasn’t angry or accusatory, it wasn’t even curious. Merely…sympathetic. Understanding.
“No,” Oliver admitted. “I just…I wasn’t expecting it.” The must have been something telling in his expression, something that caused Victor to walk over to his chair and place a consoling hand on his shoulder before he left the room.
“Victor?” He turned back.
“I’m not sure what bothers me more; losing my Watchtower…or losing Chloe.”
“I think,” Victor replied, “that thought even running through your head, well, that’s your answer.”
Victor’s footsteps had faded away completely along the floor of Oliver’s apartment before the millionaire finally uttered, “I was afraid of that.”
…0…
Sometimes in life, things happen. Not good things, not bad things, not even big things necessarily-just things. And you have no control over it, over the fallout, and once it happens, it turns into a whole domino effect, taking down everything in its path until you’re left with nothing but the hindsight it gives you.
There are things that don’t even make a blip on the radar of the big picture. Others, they overshadow it all. Like an eclipse. Like jealousy.
Like love.
All arguments aside, love simply happens sometimes and you can’t do anything to stop it.
…0…
The poison has a nasty effect on Oliver’s thought process. The Island and Mercy dance through his head, Lois is there and he could swear that Clark’s looking at her just a smidge differently than he used to, but the thing that really sticks out in his mind, through all the haze and fatigue, was that Chloe was the one that found the way to save him.
She held his hand, told him it would be okay, tried desperately to bring his spiking fever down with a cold washcloth. But most of all, she was there. Lois, she did those same things, because she was Lois and she had a bigger heart than she liked to let on, but her dedication was about what had been. What could have been.
Chloe-she was his friend. And she went above and beyond the call of duty for her friends. Some said Oliver Queen was on top of the world on any given day, but that was the moment that Oliver realized just how much luckier Clark Kent was than him for he had this from Chloe every day.
Then Tess was safe and the past was sinking back down to where green leather and malt liquor liked to keep it and Oliver was left alone with his thoughts and some not so flattering press in the Planet’s society pages.
He wonders; before his admission, did Chloe think he was nothing but a hard partying playboy like everyone else?
Chloe Sullivan’s opinion means a lot to him and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. Since his parents died, he’s put a good deal of examination into his behavior and what they’d have thought if they were around to see it. Never anyone else though, because he was Oliver Queen and that came with a certain level of leeway most people could never even imagine. He didn’t give a second of his time to what the press or the gossip mongers made of his actions.
Green Arrow allowed him to heed to his conscience without having to endure a similar situation with his quote-unquote night job.
And she was different. She knew the Green Arrow, knew what happened in prep school, knew about Lionel and his parents. Chloe knew Oliver and it made him nervous. Not just in the regular commitment phobic way he was prone to with most women, but the full out twitching and stuttering at the mere thought of how high a pedestal Chloe Sullivan had risen to in his esteem like a love struck school boy kind of nervous.
Oliver Queen did not twitch.
“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Or at least a few pounds of custom leather.”
Chloe’s smile is big and bright and so utterly Chloe that it made his hear hurt. Literally hurt.
God, was he screwed.
“I didn’t realize your Florence Nightingale stint came with a follow up.” He lets his hands flow over the keys over his computer. If he looks at her, if he sees that smile and the affection in her eyes, he’ll be a goner and he knows it.
“Well, it’s not everyday some revenge crazed islander hunts and injects a friend with a lethal poison.” By this point she’s behind his desk, hand on his chair, and looking at him with a hint of bemusement and a hefty dose of concern. “At least, not both in the same day.”
It’s not in Oliver’s power to not return her grin with one of his own. Sure, he’s still weak and nauseous-more than a touch shaky, but when someone who’s seen you delirious and half dead smiles at you like your simply being there makes the sun shine brighter, your power ceases to matter. Suddenly, it’s all about the power she has over you.
Yes. He was decidedly and royally screwed.
…0…
In Latin, ‘veritas vos liberabit’ means “the truth will set you free.” But really, who seriously believes that? Clichés are all well and good when you’re spouting them to someone else, but taking the advice of people long since dead doesn’t exactly feel right when it’s your turn.
Another cliché; the truth hurts. So basically you have two options. You can either tell the truth no matter how scary it is or you can bottle it all up and slowly drive yourself mad.
It would be simpler if there were a right and wrong here. But there’s not. There’s only you and what you want on the one hand, and everyone else on the other. IE, the fallout.
Can you handle that? Is it worth it? What price is too high to pay for your peace of mind?
Are you willing to risk another’s happiness for your own?
…0…
Like Oliver said, he’s jealous of Clark when it comes to a certain blonde super hacker. Somewhere along the line he secured himself eternal devotion and not even the Martian-excuse him, Kryptonian-angle could sway her.
There are no limits when it comes to Clark. Not for Chloe.
“There is no door number 2. This is my only option.” She says it with such determination, such faith in her conviction, that he crumbles. Not that he ever had a choice. Try as he might to convince her that alien technology is dangerous, that she’s not invincible, that Clark wouldn’t like it, she’s not budging.
Chloe Sullivan doesn’t back down. And even though he knows she’s hiding something from him, Oliver feels his control slipping. Never mind that he’s been avoiding her since his night with Tess, or that there’s guilt churning in his stomach whenever ’Watchtower’ flashes on one of his cells. She’s set her mind on him helping her, and it’s not something to be underestimated.
Her jaw squares and her eyes fill with that trademark Chloe determination that never fails to make him feel like, out of the two of them, he’s the sidekick. “I’m not messing with anything. I know what I’m doing.”
“What are you not telling me, huh?” Possibilities too numerous to mention run through his head, each one scarier than the last. He wants to cave, wants to help her. After all she had done for him (hell, for everyone) he owed it to her. She’d earned it.
So he let her think it was for Clark. That it was about jabbing at Tess. That, maybe, he was just returning the favor. It was easier that way.
Much, much easier…at least until the plan went into action and saw the full extent of ‘I know what I’m doing.’ Then he knew why she had told him to stay back.
Oliver Queen was a man who risked his life on a daily basis. Acceptable risks in his mind, but that was the fact of his life. He had a responsibility to the world and despite the fact that it was self-imposed, it wasn’t one he could ignore.
Yet it was the sight of Chloe Sullivan, bleeding and white-eyed, holding her hand over a spinning alien super computer that was the first thing to truly terrify him since he’d gotten off that island.
Not that he had much time to think about that after she shoved him (one-handed to boot) into another room.
He’s on the couch when he comes to. He takes that to mean they succeeded and Clark’s home. There’s no way Chloe could have moved him; he’s got at least forty pounds and six inches on her and the white-eyed version wouldn’t have bothered-not when that was what knocked him out to begin with.
Clark’s no where to be seen though. Only Chloe’s there, pale and weak looking, with a tell-tale pink line running from her nostril to her upper lip. “Hey, are you okay?” He sat up quickly, maybe too quickly if the head rush was any indicator.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” she asks, her tone soft and apologetic, walking over with a cold compress in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I wasn’t exactly in total control of my faculties.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he assures her. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been knocked flat-”
“You’d have another fortune?”
He chuckles and she grins, joining him on the small sofa. The offices of Isis seem incredibly small all of a sudden, and much too quiet. With no mission between them and very little space, the fact that they’re alone is hard to ignore.
So he’s honest. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” His thumb reaches the faded strip of color on her face, wiping gently. Unless that rather impressive display did more to his head than just render him unconscious, Oliver could swear he hears her breath hitch. The pink rushing into her cheeks is no allusion though and he knows.
She feels it too. Maybe not to the same degree, but it’s there.
All hope is not lost.
…0…
A woman knows when a man’s in love with her before the man even has a clue, that’s what Marilyn Monroe said. It’s probably true. Intuition may not be a scientific method, but that doesn’t stop the feeling in your gut when you know you’re right.
When you get an inkling that your secret isn’t as secret as you believed, you run. You make yourself scarce. Self preservation tactic, you understand. After all, embarrassment isn’t exactly your color.
Marilyn may have been right. You know that when a play on emotions is all it takes to sway you into something you know is a bad idea. You cave. And what’s worse is that you don’t even question it.
…0…
Letting himself into the Kent farmhouse is a pretty easy feat. For someone as trusting as the Kents, it really shouldn’t have surprised him that the back door was unlocked. Or that Clark didn’t seem surprised to see him there. How often did people just pop into his house anyway?
Why she gave him all the credit for saving Clark, that’s a typical Chloe move and now he understands better why she does it.
“Her eyes turned white and then she, with one hand mind you, pushed me into the other room. So uh, what happened to her?”
Brainiac, Clark replies. He did something to her-probably that same something that had Lex sentence her to four months in Black Creek to begin with. Infected. He infected her. Oliver’s hands clench themselves into fists inside his jacket pockets. When is all this going to end?
And Clark’s big solution to Chloe’s alien brain infection? He talked to her. Talked to her, like this was just a bad habit she needed to break. It seems to Oliver like their entire friendship has a serious give and take problem-with Chloe more often than not on the giving end of the whole deal. She may love Clark, but she deserves a better life than this.
Her life? It’s not her life anymore, though, as he rants at Clark. For much too long she’s been living his and it’s not fair.
Halfway back to Metropolis he realizes that’s he’s as much part of the problem as Clark is. His world of cloak and dagger is just as dangerous as the farm boy in question and he didn’t hesitate to let Chloe into it. True, she doesn’t fight alongside him like Dinah and the boys, but her involvement with him makes her just as much of a target as them. “Smart doesn’t help when someone’s chasing you onto a rooftop.” The words had stung, but Clark had been right, which was why he’d gone on the defensive and shot back his own accusations.
He has to wonder, she’d be safer without these missions in her life, but would her life be better?
Oliver’s wouldn’t. That’s something he knows. But is his happiness Chloe’s safety?
No. Never.
…0…
A choice is a split in the future. Once you make your choice, all the other futures that could have come into existence had you made a different choice will fade away into nothing. They don’t exist anymore.
Doing what’s right isn’t always the easy decision. Often times, its not even the best one. But it’s right and you keep telling yourself that so you can face yourself in the mirror.
What would life have been like if you’d taken the other road? What rippled effect would have come to be with only one slight alteration? Everything we do, every choice, touches the people we know and systematically all the people they know when they react accordingly.
It’s easy to look back, to wonder. Seeing isn’t always believing. That’s the hard part.
…0…
Chloe’s safe. She’s finally safe.
She’s also gone from his life.
Three a.m. in Amsterdam; that’s where Olive was when Clark called him and told him about Chloe’s memory loss, about Jor-El’s (he thinks that’s the way you say it) help, about Clark’s decision to have all her memories of his Kryptonian heritage stay buried. She’s fine now, Clark assures him of that quite a few times. To save him the trouble of asking he assumes.
Dawn breaks over the canals before that little un-named niggling thought keeping him awake finally reveals itself.
Has Chloe forgotten him?
A healthy chunk of what his relationship with Chloe as it stands has been built on Clark’s helping him and vice versa. And the knowledge that Chloe no longer knows what Clark can do, or the things he has done for that matter, only serves to make Oliver worry that she can’t remember all the times she’s helped him.
Their first meeting, when she’d encountered him in Clark’s barn, she was there with info on the Phantom Zone escapees. The first mission to rescue Bart (when she’d become Watchtower), and inevitably Clark, was rife with alien talk and led to his enlisting her impressive hacking skills. There, they’re friendship began.
And now, it was gone.
Oliver stares out over the water, a dull ache in his chest, and wonders how he’s going to go on with life knowing that, as far as his place in her life is concerned, she’s gone.
…0…
In our society, there are things called labels. We categorize people and things to make it easier on us, on the status quo. What do we call that person who has lost his parents? An orphan. He who has lost his wife? A widower that man who has lost his wife. But we have no name for the man who has felt the pain of losing a friend. By what name should we call him?
Loss is an essential part of human development. Death and life; opposite end of the spectrum and yet one does not exist without the other.
We hold close those that matter most. We safeguard our hearts in their safety.
Then there’s that old adage; if you love something, let it go. When you hold on too tight, you can suffocate the very ones you’re striving so hard to protect.
Hold. Let go. An endless, repetitive cycle. Life. Death.
Two sides of the same coin.
…0…
Everyone has that person who, consciously or not, they measure themselves against, someone they strive to best at every turn, someone to beat.
For Oliver, that person was Lex Luthor.
Prep school days are a fond memory for Oliver, marred only by one solitary event that he, his friends, and Lex all tried to forget. Before that day though, there was a lot more of the lighthearted in his school days. To this day it shames Oliver to admit that he prided himself on being better at everything than Lex Luthor. A part of him may have been jealous. At least Lex still had his father, distant as he was, while Oliver’s parents were both gone.
There was some semblance of control in his otherwise chaotic life that came from besting someone who’s life has been so similar to your own. Some cathartic satisfaction.
The paths that life took Lex and Oliver down were shockingly similar, he had to admit it. From the deaths of parents, to time on deserted islands, to the notorious lack of luck with women-they could attract them, but not keep them. It seemed the two of them were destined to play parallels of the same coin.
The day Lex disappeared-coincidentally the same day as Chloe-Oliver had vowed to find him before he could hurt Clark or even Chloe, who he suspected even then was behind her vanishing act from the Talon. Perhaps he really was too wrapped up in his own hero complex. Or maybe, he didn’t detest his former classmate as much as he thought. Either way, it made sense that Lex was in the world if for no other reason than to remind Oliver what he so easily could have become.
Chloe’s wedding day coinciding with his first substantial lead on Lex’s whereabouts…well, that was just luck. Good, bad, it didn’t matter. Luck was a fickle thing for Oliver Queen.
And yeah, maybe Oliver was looking for a good excuse to skip the festivities. It wasn’t as if Chloe was going to be brokenhearted at his absence; she hardly remembered him. He took the time to imagine the look of confusion on her face when she came across his name on her guest list after Clark stepped off his jet. Neither one surprised him. Chloe wasn’t one prone to just going with the flow and Clark could never pass up the chance to be the boy scout, and his showing up pre-ceremony just to let him know that Chloe still wanted him there despite the gaps in her memory was exactly what it took to reinforce the decision to head to Cuba instead of the Smallville.
“Sure you don’t have any ulterior motives?” Dinah smirked at him, her finger tugging the zipper of her leather boots up her leg.
Feigned exasperation wasn’t necessary when it came to female cohort, so he didn’t even need to look up to know what look she had on her face. “Like you want Lex out there off the radar doing God knows what to God knows who.”
A folder landed on his lap, covering the map of Cuba he had been studying. “Whatever you say, Pretty Boy.” With a glare at her retreating figure, Oliver glanced down a the folder-open to a nearly four year old photograph of a teenage Chloe being ushered into a Metropolis courtroom by a protective looking Lex.
A bad taste rose in his mouth and Oliver sighed. He hated when Dinah was right.
…0…
One unit of light travels a speed of 299,792,458 meters per second exactly. Being not as exact, less than the amount of time it takes to blink. Half a second.
Time is a funny thing. One minute you’re taking off on your first two-wheeler, and the next you’re staring down the barrel of forty with no clue how it all happened so fast.
Like the flip of a light switch, everything in your life can upend and nothing is the same. And nine times out of ten, we’re hopelessly unprepared to deal with the aftermath of what can happen to us in the split second it take to blink and change your world.
…0…
Five years and ten thousand miles. That’s how long its been (or at least how it feels) when the door to the Isis Foundation opens up and Chloe Sullivan’s eyes meet his in surprise.
Taking the chance to go see Chloe was a decision Oliver had wrestled with all the way from Star City. It had been a long time, too long maybe, and more had happened than he cared to think about. So he made the decision not to go.
Then an impulse hit him outside his loft; he had to know if Chloe would even remember him anymore.
Summer is in full bloom in the city, hot and humid and thick with the feel of ease in the air. Things feel heavy and heady. No doubt that’s contributed to his pacing back and forth outside the door of her office, memories of missions gone by floating in his head. “Do I tell you how to shoot your arrows? I don’t think so.” Smiling to himself, the workings of his mind chose for him and he reaches for the doorknob at the same time it swings open, the blonde in question stepping onto the sidewalk before him.
“Well, if it isn’t the invisible man.”
Too stunned for a second to respond, Oliver smacks himself mentally to shake himself out of the daze caused by seeing what five years gone has done to Chloe Sullivan (never Olsen in his mind) to answer her.
“Nice to see I was missed, Sidekick.”
They fall into step, perfectly in synch, and make their way downtown with no discussion. Judging by the lack of mention of the familiar nickname, he takes it that she remembers enough about him and their mutual endeavors that his presence may even be welcome.
“So what brings one of the world’s most eligible bachelors back to our fair city?” She nudges his arm playfully with her own. It makes his chest tighten. “Trying to whisk the bride-to-be away before the ceremony starts?”
A chuckle (forced) makes its way out of his throat and Oliver rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “The thought had occurred to me, but I doubt Lois would have me. Its hard to compete with Superman.”
“It is at that,” Chloe says fondly. She could be speaking of any childhood friend. His being the world’s favorite do-gooder is just a coincidence.
And then, silence. Oliver clears his throat, trying the small talk routine. “Took them long enough, don’t you think?”
“There have been many times when I though Lois and Clark were their own worst enemies,” she admitted. “But they got where they needed to be and that’s what matters. I’m just glad they’re happy-no matter how many headaches it caused me.”
“Happy,” he mutters under his breath. When Chloe goes to adjust the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder, he takes note of her hand and the suspiciously absent gold band on her left ring finger. “Are you happy?”
Odd question to be sure, enough to stop her in her tracks. That brain of hers has kicked into high gear and he can practically see the wheels turning as she studies his face. He lets his eyes wander back down to her hand and hers follow. Click.
“Separated. Four months.” An attempt at a smile is made on her part. “Guess Lois was right about rushing into things like marriage.”
“Maybe you should have waited five years,” he says. “Mind if I ask what happened?”
“Things…just stopped being good. We stopped talking, started fighting, and then the time apart got more and more frequent.”
The pain in Chloe’s big green eyes makes Oliver’s heart hurt. If he could, he’d take this on for her and carry the burden of losing love. He’s been there; it hurts like hell and wouldn’t wish that kind of agony on anyone. Life’s not that simple though, so instead he takes a tentative step and wraps his arms around her small frame.
He feels her collapse against him, the shake of tears coming over her. Knowing Chloe, she’s been carrying this around silently for far too long. Clark hadn’t mentioned anything, but then Oliver hadn’t asked. If he knew, it wasn’t likely he’d offer up the information.
“I’m sorry, Oliver.” Chloe wipes at her face, not daring to look up at him once she pulls free of his embrace. “You came for Lois and Clark’s wedding, not to listen to my problems.”
Oliver ducks his head, bringing his face level with hers in hopes that she’ll look at him. “Hey, Chloe, don’t apologize for the way that you feel. Not with me at any rate.”
Chloe laughs, relief bubbling over. “I really thought we were it, you know? Like Lois and Clark. I see the way those two look at each other and it’s…”
“Destiny,” he supplies.
“Yeah.” Something swims into Chloe’s eyes, and it’s not a something he’s seen from her before. It is, however, a something that has haunted his dreams for longer than he cares to admit.
He thinks of Dinah’s face when she wakes up beside him. Dinah, who’s laid her heart on the line countless times and has more faith in him than he deserves. Dinah, who trusts him implicitly and fights shoulder to shoulder with him everyday. There are times that Oliver thinks some grand deity designed her just for him. To be the Lois to his Clark.
Oliver could never deny the fact that he loves Dinah. It was so damn hard to remember her when Chloe was looking at him like that.
How easy it would be to lean in just an inch and let himself fall into Chloe Sullivan. How easy to place his lips on hers and tangle his fingers in her hair. Much easier to do what he longs to do than to do what’s right.
“How about I buy you a big drink and you tell me about the antics Lois has pulled planning this wedding?”
“Oh,” Chloe laughs, “you have no idea.”
‘Neither do you,’ he thinks.
Chloe links his arm through his and they make their way through the city, laughing and joking. Just being the friends they have always been-alien aspect aside.
Sometimes, doing what’s right means giving up what you want the most.
It sucks, big time. But hey-that’s life.
…0…
In fairytales, the hero slays the dragon and saves the village. His motive is usually that which he would claim as his prize; the beautiful maiden declaring her eternal devotion and everlasting love.
The hero gets the girl. That’s what we’re taught, what we have drilled into us from the time we can walk. And it’s a good formula. The hero saves the day, gets the girl, lives happily ever after. The end.
What no one ever tells you when you’re too young and idealistic for the Grimm version of riding off into the sunset is that the hero doesn’t always get the girl. He fights, he wins, and still he’s left without the love that alludes him.
Eventually, there’s another choice. A different kind of happily ever after. For the heroes that don’t want the fairytale ending, it just had to be enough.
…0…
Oliver Queen was never meant to have Chloe Sullivan. She was the one thing fated to be forever out of his reach, no matter how much he longed for the opposite to be true.
That just made falling for her all the more painful. And all the more worthwhile.