Poison
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Oliver.
Chloe awoke the following morning with one word in her mind. Oliver. She awoke to find everyone in Oliver’s guest room with her. She glanced around disoriented; only to be met with the relieved and smiling faces of four men. Hugs were freely given and accepted, making Chloe feel cared for and loved by each and every one of them. Bart could barely contain his excitement. Words like ‘holy shit’, and ‘way cool’ and ‘amazing’ were about all she understood.
And then she had to ask the question she’d been wanting to since she’d opened her eyes. Her heart raced. “Oliver?”
“He’s fine,” Clark answered, handing her a cup of coffee and a bagel. “You healed him. Of everything. I spoke to Dr. McClellan earlier this morning. No cuts or bruises. Even Oliver’s EKG and blood work is normal.”
“So how freaked out was the good doctor?” she asked taking a bite of her bagel.
“Very. But I told him we’d try to explain it all later.”
“And the drug?”
“Dr. McClellan thinks it’s out of his system, but we might not know until he wakes up. When he does, he may still be out of it a bit from the sedative.”
She swallowed the sip of coffee she’d just taken. “I want to see him.”
* * * * *
Oliver dried himself off, gave his hair a once over with the towel, then smoothed the spiky strands with his hands. He slipped his boxers on, thankful once again for whoever thought to bring clothes for him, and remove his Green Arrow gear from the clinic's patient room. Somehow he knew it must have been Chloe, and just the thought of her, and the other amazing thing he knew she had done for him, caused his entire being to ache grievously once again.
The shower helped. But somehow he still felt unclean, and a bit dazed; the fog in his brain had not yet lifted completely. It didn’t matter. He needed to get out of here, get home, and figure out what had happened. He was terrified that he’d lost his friends, the woman he loved, everything. He didn’t think he could face any of them now, his guilt weighed a hundred stone, and he didn’t know how he’d react if he saw them, especially Chloe. The last time he was with her, he’d threatened to kill her, kidnapped her, almost forced himself on her, and then locked her in a closet. He didn’t think he could face her just yet. He needed to fix this somehow, but it would take more than a shower to rid himself of the ugly guilt that stained him, and he had no idea how he could even begin to fix it all. Part of him simply wanted to run away from it.
Oliver padded barefoot to the bed, pulled on a pair of blue jeans, closing them up, and was reaching for his shirt when they entered the room. “Oh God.” He backed up, startled, knocking over the small table. He didn’t notice it. He just saw Chloe and Clark and everyone else.
“No, wait.” Chloe stepped forward and tried to reach for him but he batted her away. He walked straight back into the wall. When he realized there was nowhere to go he simply slid down to the floor, sitting there, his knees close to his chest. The sheer anxiety in his expression told her everything.
Chloe wasn’t afraid of him now, and she wasn’t going to let him push her away. She understood all too well, the emotions that must be whirling in him at this moment. Guilt. Uncertainty. Fear. She remembered what it was like to be infected, and how it could completely change a person’s character while under the influence of some kryptonite-induced state. She’d seen it happen many times in others over the years as well.
Slowly she walked closer and knelt before him. “It’s okay.” She reached for his hand but he pulled it away, feeling undeserving of her comfort. She turned to the others and indicated with a movement of her head toward the door. Quietly they all filed out until it was only the two of them. “Please, look at me, Oliver,” she asked, sotto voce.
When he did, she saw his dark eyes, pained and glistening.
“I would have killed you,” he said breathlessly, without preamble.
“But you didn’t. You wouldn’t have.”
“To keep you from Clark, and anyone else. If you tried to go back, I would have killed you.” Was there something in him that he didn’t know was there? Something capable of killing people he cared about? His eyes flitted briefly over the faint mark on her neck where he’d held the knife. He lowered his head once more. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, passing a hand over his eyes, in an effort to prevent tears. He didn’t want her to see him this way.
“It was the drug. If it had been anyone else infected the result would have been the same.”
He swallowed tightly. “Last night… I don’t remember crashing my bike… “ He shook his head, lightly. “Dr. McClellan says there’s no longer any evidence of heart damage. He’s puzzled. It’s as though there was never any damage at all.” He looked up at her. “You healed me, didn’t you,” it wasn’t a question. “Of everything.”
She simply nodded. Her ability couldn't take the drug from his system, but she was able to heal the resulting physical damage it caused.
“Chloe. I don’t know how you can look at me, or even be in the same room alone with me, after what I tried to do to you,” he whispered. His eyes fell, noting the fading bruises on her arms, and knowing he’d put them there was killing him.
“Do you remember what I said at the warehouse? What I told you?” she asked gently.
He didn’t answer, only buried his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. She had said that she loved him. But how could she love him now?
“What I said was true, and somewhere in your heart you knew it was true, and that’s why you didn’t hurt me,” she continued. “Believe me, Oliver. I’ve lived in Smallville long enough to know that when people are under the influence of anything related to meteor rock, or anything cooked up in one of Lex’s labs, they aren’t always responsible for their actions. It’s happened to me as well as many others I know. You happen to be one of the unlucky ones, because you remember much of what happened, all that you did. Many people don’t remember. They have it easier.”
“But… ”
“Why did you lock me in the closet, and then ride off on your motorcycle?” she asked, her voice soothing.
He swallowed convulsively. “So that I wouldn’t… wouldn’t… hurt you.” He couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t begin to form the horrible word. Rape. A shuddering breath left him before he spoke again. He closed his eyes. “But I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t. Did you frighten me? Yes, you did. But my hope was that somehow there was still a part of the real you inside, and I know you ‘d never hurt me. You’ve always protected me, and even under the influence of the drug, your instinct was to protect me, even from yourself.”
He was silent as though considering the truth of her words.
“Would you blame me, if I were the one infected? What would you do if it had been me instead?”
“No. I wouldn’t blame you, and I would do everything I could to get you back.”
“I don’t blame you for what happened.” Tears began to form in her eyes, threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “And now I have you back,” she whispered.
Rising up on her knees, she moved closer to him, reaching out to touch his hair, and slip her fingers through the cool, still-dampened strands. He raised his head, finally accepting her touch. Slowly relaxing, his eyelids closed over briefly, almost sleepily, as her fingers moved over his scalp and the tension began leaving his body. He’d always loved the way her touch could soothe him, calm him, as she often did after the adrenaline rush of a mission, and this time was no different. He’d often wondered if it was part of her meteor ability to make him feel this way, or if was simply because it was his Chloe touching him. He still couldn’t help but feel guilt over what had happened, but she was right, the drug would affect anyone in a similar way. And if she’d been the one infected, he’d never abandon her.
He placed his hand over hers, removed it from his hair, and bringing it to his lips, he closed his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. His fingers then gently grazed over her bruises, caressing her arm barely touching her. Because of her ability, the bruises and the mark on her neck were already healing and would be gone soon.
Lowering his knees, he stretched out his legs to the floor; Oliver, almost afraid, then reached for her, tentatively at first, as though fearing she would break if he touched her. His hands spanned her waist, and he pulled her into his arms so that she sat on his lap, straddling him. Holding her close, he rested his forehead in the curve of her shoulder. Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck, her small hands moving over him, gently massaging, caressing the muscles of his bare shoulders, his back, the nape of his neck, his hair. They sat this way quietly for long moments, holding each other. He hadn’t realized it before, and now, discovering the depth and steadfastness of her love, humbled him greatly. It might take time to get past all of this. For them to get back to the way they were. For him to be able to touch her without hesitation. But he had to tell her, and finally, without lifting his head from her, he broke the silence, speaking softly into the small, hollowed space between their bodies. “What you said… in the warehouse… I love you too, Chloe.”
Chloe pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He lifted his head then to gaze at her, dark eyes full of love, echoing the words he’d just spoken. Chloe brought her hands up to cradle his cheeks, and Oliver inched his head forward, brushing his lips against hers, softly, almost hesitantly.
“Let’s go home, Ollie.”
Just then the door opened. It was Clark. He looked embarrassed for a moment seeing them sitting together on the floor, Chloe straddling Oliver’s lap. He cleared his throat, and they both turned toward the sound. “I thought you should know. Dr. McClellan is missing.”
End Chapter 8
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