Welcome to My Chlollie World...

Welcome to my blog. I've created it mainly as a place to archive my writings. Currently, my focus is on the pairing of Chloe Sullivan/Oliver Queen of Smallville, also affectionately known in fandom, as Chlollie. I began writing for this couple as Smallville entered it's seventh season, not ever really expecting them to become Smallville canon. So imagine my pleasant surprise (okay, I squealed like a fangirl in the throes of a fangasm) when the showrunners decided to put them together. I don't know what the show will do with them, but I don't care. I'll always adore them, and Chlollie will ALWAYS be my One True Pairing. I write about them for fun, as creative outlet, and because I think they're perfect together, and have the potential to be a supercouple, comic-book "mythos" be damned. The Green Arrow of Smallville belongs with his Watchtower. Most of my stories contain adult content, so please don't read if you are under the age of 18. All story graphic arts and manips are created by me unless otherwise stated. Feedback is always welcome. Thank you for reading!

And now for the boring stuff so no one sues me. Feel free to read it in that fast talking lawyer kind of voice, like at the end of a radio commercial.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Final note: I never believed in the years that I've loved this couple, that the show would do the right thing by them. But as a fangirl I just have to say, OMGOMGOMG! THEY ARE MARRIED!!! Thank you, Smallville for giving my couple the happy ending they deserve!

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Déjà Vu Chapter 15

Déjà Vu
Chapter 15

It was a quiet morning, the world waking up, the coastline gilded by the sun riding low in the east, as Oliver, freshly showered and dressed casually in faded Levis and black t-shirt, rummaged through a dresser drawer in his Star City bedroom packing a bag to return to Metropolis. Chloe was probably up already, maybe even out the door and starting her day at ISIS. A faint smile curved the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t wait to see her, five days away was too long, and he wondered how she was handling the lack of caffeine. His mind wandered, trying to imagine her petite frame at full term. She’d be tiny and all belly. He still couldn’t believe it. The life growing inside her was his son or daughter. It amazed and frightened him all at once, but in a good way.

He silently marveled over how everything had changed. How he’d changed. Looking back now, it was hard to believe that when it had all started, he’d tried to fool himself into thinking his time with Chloe would be nothing more than an enjoyable, completely physical, unemotional affair. A pregnancy could have resulted about nine months ago. The first time they’d ravished each other in wild, raging, mindless need on the floor of his penthouse living room, they thoughtlessly hadn’t used protection. But nine months ago, his reaction to impending fatherhood might have been different. He didn’t know he loved her then, not the way he knew now with every fiber of his being. In fact, his love for her had become one of the few things he was sure of in his life, and it was everything, she was everything, and it blew him away. He was happier than he’d been in a long time, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It amazed him just how much it all had changed. How he’d changed.

Oliver stopped his rummaging for a moment, glancing up at the small photograph of his parents, encased in its simple frame on top of the dresser. Their faces beaming, gazing back at him, frozen in time, seemed to smile in approval now. They’d love Chloe too. Something about their expressions spoke to him, telling him they knew he’d finally made the right choice. This is what they’d want for him. To find the right woman, settle down, have children, be happy with his life. He picked up the frame, fingertips grazing the in-laid wood and glass lovingly, silently promising them as well as himself, that he’d convince her to marry him, that he’d be a great husband and father, just as his own father had been. He’d convince her, of that he had no doubt. She loved him, and he’d prove to her that his desire to spend the rest of his life with her was not just something brought about by the new life she carried.

Setting the picture frame back in its place, he turned back, tossed a pair of socks into the bag, and watched the furniture shift as he felt the forceful gust of wind fill the room causing the entire bag to fly off the moving bed, lampshades to tilt, curtains to lift, and picture frames to fly crashing off the walls. Oliver clung to the edge of the drawer to keep from losing his balance. “Jesus, Bart!”

Bart didn’t wait for greetings, grasping Oliver by the shoulders and spinning him around, his face a mask of anxiety and terror. “Ollie! You’vegottacomebacktoMetropolisnow!”

Oliver recalled the last time Bart had been overly excited about something. He had spoken so rapidly, that no one could understand the noise, and to everyone’s astonishment, he’d created a sonic boom with his voice. Oliver’s brows knit with concern, wondering what Bart could be so agitated over. “Whoa, no speed talking. Hang on there, Impulse, I’m getting ready to board the jet in about twenty minutes.”

Bart took a few lung-filling breaths, trying to slow down. “No time for that. Jet’s too slow. You’ve gotta come now.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“They’ve got Chloe.”

Oliver’s expression turned panicked. “Who are ‘they’? What are you talking about?”

“I was keeping an eye on her just like you wanted. Thought I’d check in with her this morning. ISIS was open, but she was gone. I found this.”

Oliver took the proffered handwritten note, reading it aloud. “‘Green Arrows In Exchange For Tulips. Ms. Sullivan Awaits Your Special Delivery. Wait at ISIS. Further Instructions to Follow. Exchange Must Be Made, Or Tulips Wilt and Die.’ Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. Thoughts of Chloe and his unborn child filled his head, his rage mounting, panic closing like a fist around his heart, his whole body tightening as though a statue of fear and anger. “I’ll kill him.” His eyes, dark with fury, turned to Bart. “Lex.”

Bart shook his head. “I don’t think so. Lex wouldn’t leave stupid notes like that would he? So not his style. Anyway, there’s no time. Look, I’m not as strong as Clark or anything but I bet I can get us both back to Metropolis in minutes. You game?”

Oliver looked hesitant for a moment, “Uh… I won’t combust or anything will I?”

Bart smiled. “Nah. I have this aura, like a shield that can like, prevent air friction while I’m running. No worries, boss.”

Oliver nodded, heading toward the penthouse door. He didn’t want to waste any more time. “Let’s go.”

Once they were outside, Bart simply turned to Oliver, hoisting the bigger man over his shoulder. “Damn you’re heavy, dude.”

“Shut up and go.”

“Close your eyes, cover your head, we’ll be there before you know it.”

Bart was true to his word, and in minutes they were at the Queen residence in Metropolis. It took a few moments for Oliver to regain his equilibrium, and get his bearings, but once inside the penthouse, he began to gear up, and Bart gathered the others, before refueling by raiding Oliver’s refrigerator. In under half an hour, Victor had set up the comm. system, and satellite feeds to include the ISIS building. Any attempt at communication would be captured and traced.

“What happens when you get to ISIS?” A.C. asked.

“I wait until they contact me.” Oliver answered, securing a green armband over his bicep. “I’m sure they’re watching the place. They’ll know when I arrive.”

“I’ll wait with you,” Clark broke into the conversation.

“Can’t let you do that Clark. No telling what they’ll do to Chloe if they think I’m not alone. For now, you’re on standby. It’s me they want,” he said, stepping into his Green Arrow room, searching for, and selecting specific arrows.

Clark followed determinedly behind him. “I’m going, Oliver. You can’t stop me.”

“Yes, I can. Come on Clark, you can be on the scene in seconds if need be. If it’s the Green Arrow they want, then it’s the Green Arrow they’ll get.”

“What if they capture you? You can’t risk exposing your identity.”

Oliver spun around, the agitation rising in his voice. “And I can’t risk their lives,” he blurted angrily.

“Their lives?”

“Chloe’s life.” Oliver corrected softly, turning aside for a moment, resting his hands on a shoulder-height shelf in his Arrow room, leaning on it for support. He gazed down at the floor, releasing a pent up breath. He then lifted his head to glance back at the expectant group gathered behind Clark, hesitant, continuing to fumble about for words. “And… and our…our…” Oliver sighed heavily, and then simply allowed the words to pass his lips. “Chloe’s pregnant.”

The four men in front of him stood in stunned silence, mouths agape. Any other time, Oliver might have laughed at the sight of them.

Instead, he faced them, straightened to his full height, his gaze upon them now confident and resolute. “So, even if it means the Green Arrow is exposed, I’ll trade myself for them,” he said calmly, yet his words left no argument. “It’s a small thing, really,” he continued, slipping his hand into a long black leather glove, then reaching for its mate, sliding his other hand into it. “I don’t care. Doesn’t matter what happens to me. As long as they’re safe.” He interlaced his fingers, working the leather to secure a good fit, then took his dark glasses from the shelf, placing them over his eyes. He raised his hood, and stepped around Clark, moving toward the elevator.


“Wow, bro. Congratulations?”

Oliver offered them a small, bittersweet smile. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted to tell them, and the circumstances made any celebration out of place right now. “Yeah. Wasn’t expected, but… it’s good. We’re good… happy about it.”

“Whoa, wait,” Bart interjected. “Congratulations, pops, but I don’t think Chloe would agree with anything that exchanged your life for hers and baby Queen’s.”


“Just remember the plan, we go in like always,” he said stepping into the elevator. “If all goes well, no one will have to be exchanged, and no one will be hurt.” He turned his voice distorter on. “Let’s do this thing.”

Oliver arrived at ISIS, and within five minutes, the phone rang. He’d been right, someone was watching the building.

“Talk,” was all the Green Arrow said upon picking up the receiver.

“Right to the point. You don’t waste time. I like that.”

“So get to it.”

“Ms. Sullivan claims not to know you or your whereabouts. Apparently she’s been lying to us.”

“If I were kidnapped, I’d claim the same. Now, let’s deal.”

“True,” the masculine voice on the other end responded. “Do you know of an area we like to call Suicide Slums?”

“I do.”

“There’s an abandoned building on the corner of 4th and Lincoln streets. Come alone, you’re being watched, and if we think any of your buddies are nearby, Ms. Sullivan buys it.”

“How do I know she’s in your possession? I want proof.”

“Check her computer.”

Oliver moved the mouse to rouse the sleeping machine, and there on the screen was a live video feed. It was a bird’s eye view of Chloe, tied to a metal chair and gagged. His heart wrenched painfully at the sight of her. She appeared unharmed otherwise, as she sat as calmly as one could in her predicament. “You bastards…”

“As you can see, she’s fine, for now. But I warn you, Green Arrow, any tricks, and she’s dead. ”

Victor’s voice sounded in Oliver’s earpiece. “Got it. He’s not calling from that location, Bart was just there at the address he gave. It’s an abandoned building, but that’s not the one. Chloe’s not there. They might be setting you up.”

The man’s voice continued. “You’ve given us quite a bit of trouble. Cost us a lot of money. We want to see the face behind the hood, and then we’ll probably have a little fun with you before we put you out of your misery. It’s simple. The Green Arrow in exchange for Ms. Sullivan, or she dies.”

Oliver spoke to the voice on the other end of the phone, deciding to call their bluff. The deep, metallic distortion didn’t disguise the hard edge in his voice, and lent a fearless, cruel menace to his threat. “Listen you piece of shit. Here’s my deal. I have to witness her release, see that she’s okay; otherwise there is no deal. You harm her, and you’d better make sure that I’m dead, because if not, I’ll hunt down every last one of you, and my face will be the last thing you see.”

Victor warned in his ear. “Take it easy, man. Don’t rile them up too much.”

The voice on the phone seemed to waver, the man sounding less sure of himself. “We only want you, but believe me, we’ll take care of Ms. Sullivan if we have to.”

“We’ve got them,” Victor crowed excitedly in his ear. “He’s calling from a location about two blocks north of the one he gave you.” Victor pulled up satellite feeds of the area, and gave Oliver the address. “Heat signatures indicate lots of bodies for an abandoned site.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Oliver said to the man. “Have her waiting where I can see her, or no deal.” He then hung up the phone, and exited ISIS heading toward his motorcycle. He spoke into his comlink. “Get over to the other location on 7th, make sure no one sees you.”

Oliver rode to the first location, circling the block. Checking his side view mirrors, a vehicle carrying two men appeared in the reflection, keeping their distance, and stayed with him. Sure enough, he was being followed. Pulling up into the alley behind the abandoned building, he parked his bike, strode toward the rear entrance, but instead of opening the door, he shot an arrow above him, and was lifted until he’d landed safely onto the roof. He watched as the men below pulled up to where he’d left his motorcycle. Oliver selected an arrow, took careful aim and let it fly. The arrow whizzed through the open driver’s side window, pierced the leather upholstery between the two men, and emitted a green glowing gas upon impact. In seconds the men were rendered unconscious.

“Better get over here fast, something’s going on, I can’t tell exactly what from this distance,” Bart’s voice sounded in Oliver’s ear, somewhat frustrated at having to wait instead of zooming in on the action. “Just lemme zip in there, Arrow! They won’t see me.”

“Not yet. I don’t want to take the chance they’ll know I’m not alone. I’m on my way.”

Victor’s voice confirmed. “Lots of movement. Heat signatures indicating some kind of chase, get your green ass over there now.”

His heart racing, Arrow secured a line, and soon was swinging across the sky, closer to the building on 7th street. Closer to Chloe.

* * * * *

For the first time in her life, she wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger. Maternal instinct? Survival instinct? It didn’t matter. Chloe didn’t care. She meant it when she said she’d shoot Lex on the spot if he made any move toward her. Chloe continued to fight the nausea that climbed up her throat as she backed into the doorway leading to the stairs. She’d have to find a building exit and run for it, before others were notified of her attempt at escape. Her gaze never left Lex. Just a few more steps and she’d reach the door.

He wasn’t certain she had it in her, but she wasn’t bluffing, that much he knew. Lex noticed her unsteady hand on the gun, she looked as though all the blood had suddenly drained from her face, her breathing quick and uneven. She blinked, swallowing convulsively. Something was wrong, she didn’t look well, and he knew he’d have to act quickly.

Suddenly she turned and bolted from the room, running up the steps, tripping more than once in her haste, as dizziness assaulted in waves.

Lex took off after her, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, pressing a button. “She’s getting away!” he shouted into the phone. “Find her now!”

The echoing sounds of shouting and running feet followed her through the stairwell. Chloe grunted, shoving a battered, wooden door open with her shoulder, believing this to be the main floor. There had to be a street entrance here. What she found was a large, darkened room that appeared to once have been a storefront. A dirty picture window graced the front, letting in what dim light there was. Empty, dusty shelving, an abandoned counter with an old-time cash register still in place greeted her. She ran toward the front door near the large smudged window, hoping it was not bolted shut.

“Hold it right there!” a voice from behind her warned.

Chloe spun around, gun in hand aiming it at the shadowed form that found her. A few more men in pursuit entered the room behind the first man. Chloe stood her ground against them, panting. If she didn’t vomit now, maybe it would pass.

In that instant, the crystalline crashing noises of a window smashing diverted her attention. He exploded into the room, feet first, a green blur before her eyes, swinging from a zip line, flying shards of shattered glass in his wake. He rolled to the floor springing up suddenly, coming up shooting, firing arrow after arrow. Men dropped before her eyes. He called for Impulse, Boy Scout and Aquaman to help round up the others.

Chloe kept her gun raised and her eyes on the some of the men who had now scattered, crouched low, finding hiding spots among the dusty shelves. “You always did love a grand entrance,” she called to him, amused, firing off a shot at one of the bad guys. She didn’t think she wounded anything but the shelf, however, if the pinging ricochet sound was anything to go by.

“Just trying to impress you,” he retorted with a smirk as he fired off another arrow, then easily flipped a charging assailant onto his back, and delivering a knockout blow to the downed man’s face. Oliver was silently proud of the way Chloe was handling herself at the moment. He was worried though. She looked pale and drained. “Is it working? Because I’m looking for a lifetime Sidekick.” Oliver spun, offering up a powerful roundhouse kick, dropping another attacker, and causing metal shelving to crash under the impact of the flying man’s weight.

“No way,” she teased, ducking behind the counter, as a returning shot was fired at her. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The nausea seemed to have passed, and for that, she was eternally grateful. “I’m nobody’s Sidekick.” Chloe stuck her head out long enough to fire again in the direction where shots had been coming from, aimed at her, then ducked back into hiding.

“What if I were yours?” He queried over the noise, as he dove behind the nearest shelf, avoiding gunfire.

She smiled broadly in spite of the mayhem, taking place around her. “I’ll think about it,” she called out, not certain where he was in the room.

And then instantly, dust was swirling around the room, gusts of wind lifting her hair, cooling her heated skin, and all became silent.

“Chloe! Arrow!” It was Clark.

“We’ve rounded them all up.” Bart’s voice. “Pussy bald-headed Lex is gone, ran like a little girl.”

She was drained, relieved. Between the earlier nausea, and the adrenaline rush of her attempted escape, the ensuing gunfight, she’d begun to come down from all the excitement, deflating, sliding to the floor from her crouched position, and leaning against the side of the counter. Chloe felt gloved hands reaching for her, lifting her by the armpits from her hiding spot, until she stood on her feet. Strong arms enfolded her, holding her close against the length of his body, holding her upright. “You’ll think about it, huh?” A teasing, distorted voice sounded softly in her ear, his soft, warm lips, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Chloe leaned into him, breathed a welcoming lung-filling breath of leather, combined with the familiar scent that was uniquely Oliver Queen. Of course she’d marry him, right now in fact, but it was fun to make him sweat it out, just a little first. She’d tell him later.

End Chapter 15

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