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, January 3, 2009

Signal Fire Chapter 5

Signal Fire
Chapter 5

Her headache had subsided considerably. But something felt wrong. About all of it. It seemed the closer she got to the airport, the more wrong it felt. The tougher, more practical side of her nature, nudged her consciousness, urging her to turn around, go back to the manor house. Chloe Sullivan had always wanted to know the who, what, when, where, why and how of everything, and now… she was running away from solving a problem, unraveling a mystery. She was leaving the man she loved. Her partner. Her best friend. It’s just for the weekend, she reassured herself as she drove, turning a corner entering the busiest section of downtown Star City. She’d be back, renewed after having been a few days away from the chaos; fresh and ready to start unraveling whatever scheme someone had been plotting.

Was the whole thing a set up as Oliver had suggested? The more she thought about it, the more it seemed likely. But who would want to cause discord between them? What would be gained by separating them? More questions swarmed in her mind. What if it were her? Would Oliver run off for the weekend, leaving her alone to deal with all of this? Guilt at her actions and her treatment of him settled in her breast. No. He wouldn’t. And yet he’d let her go. Because he loves you, and he would do anything for you, even let you go away at a time when he needs you most. He’d remained stoically quiet, and she’d tried to ignore the look of utter despair in his eyes as he leaned a shoulder against the bedroom doorframe and watched her pack her suitcase.

‘Don’t leave me,’ he’d said. His beautiful face, pinched with anxiety at the fear of losing her swam before her eyes, causing a sickening feeling of free fall just under her stomach. The only other time she’d ever seen him so emotionally vulnerable, was when he’d learned about the murders of his parents. She felt off center with the world. This was wrong. She should be seeking the truth, not running from it. Oliver Queen loved her. That was the truth, and maybe it was about time she allowed herself to believe it.

Her decision made, Chloe’s eyes darted to her rearview mirror; she then glanced over her right shoulder, making a lane change. She’d go home. It was where she belonged; Oliver Queen was where she belonged. He was her home. A sense of relief replaced her doubt; her body relaxing, telling her immediately that she’d made the right choice.

Her cell phone rang as she pulled up at a stoplight. She kept her eyes on the road, fishing around blindly in her purse on the passenger seat, retrieving it.


“Philip, what’s up?”

“I’m glad I caught you. Listen, I know this may not be the best time to talk, but I found some information about those guys from the alley last night. And, I think they may be behind all the media attention you’ve been getting. I’m telling you, they’re trying to keep us from our investigations, and I’m betting the corruption goes much deeper than we think. They’re panicking.”

“What makes you think they’re behind the story about Oliver?” Her curiosity was certainly piqued now.

“Call me crazy, but I did a little checking on the woman. Adriana? And turns out, her ex-husband was a former commissioner for the Star City Sanitation Department. One of the very groups we were investigating. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe they’re trying awfully hard to distract an up and coming Star City Gazette reporter by the name of Chloe Sullivan.”

“What are the odds of Oliver having a fling years ago with a former city department commissioner’s wife? It does sound a little shady. Too coincidental if you ask me…”

“Well, I was hoping you could meet me somewhere so that I could show you what I’ve found.”

“I’m on my way home, Phil…” she said, turning a corner back onto the main strip leading back toward the outskirts of town, and the manor house. She didn’t want to go back to the Gazette right now. It was nearing 4:00 pm, and she wanted to beat the Friday rush hour traffic.

“Just thought you’d like to get to the bottom of this. I personally think the pictures looked pretty damaging to your guy. He looks guilty to me, but I’m…. I’m just trying to be a friend, Chlo and help out, on the off-chance that he’s innocent.”

Chloe hesitated. She wanted to get home, make things right with Oliver, run to his arms, hug him, cover his face with kisses, tell him how sorry she was for wanting to run away even for a few days, instead of standing by his side. But she also wanted some lead on finding out who was responsible for this horrible scheme. Phil’s discovery almost made too much sense, if not too much coincidence. It seemed a lot of trouble to go through to take a reporter out of the investigation. Then again, if they were responsible for the attack last night, it could mean the story went much deeper than either she or Phil had originally thought, possibly involving individuals higher up in the political hierarchy. “Okay. I’m about five minutes away from that little place we get lunch from sometimes, Rosie’s Deli, can you meet me outside?”

“You got it, partner.”

“Great. I appreciate this, Phil.”

Moments later, Chloe pulled up in front of the deli. The white brick building was situated on a corner lot, the red canvas awning emblazoned with the owner’s name flapped in the gentle breeze. As she exited her car, she saw Phil in his dark overcoat peer out from along the sidewall. She smiled in greeting. “What have you got? I’d really like to make this quick, okay…?” her smile faded as she approached him.

Philip had an odd look on his face. “Hey Chloe,” he murmured, grasping her arm and pulling her just behind the wall.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” He glanced around nervously, noting the passing of several people, including a Rosie’s delivery boy on a bicycle. He watched as the young man hopped off the bike locking it up in the bike stand in front of the deli. “I’m just a bit jumpy after last night. Let’s talk out of the way,” he said, leading her around the back of the building, into the alley.

The black sedan was there. “What’s going on?” Her eyes widened in panic, and she turned away, attempting a full out run.

Philip chased her, grasped her about the waist, one arm holding her up against him. “I’m sorry Chloe,” he whispered in her ear. She screamed, the sound muffled, struggling briefly as a cloth covered her nose and mouth, the oddly sweet smell invading her nostrils. Chloe felt dizzy, the world turned black, and she became boneless, melting in his arms.

Philip caught her up, handing the chloroform-tainted cloth to one of his approaching accomplices who placed it in a plastic bag. Philip gazed down at the woman in his arms, blue eyes drifting wistfully over her sweet face, peaceful in sleep, pink lips slightly parted. “Tell the boss we’ve got her.”

* * * * *

After talking to the pilot, Oliver called Chloe’s cell and got her voicemail. A sense of urgency caused every breath he breathed, and every throb of his pulse, to rock his entire being with fear. Where the hell was she? Thoughts of the attack the night before swirled in his mind. He shouldn’t have let her go alone. Victor had only found that the sedan was corporate owned, and was looking into it further when he’d spoken to him last.

An icy block of dread settled in Oliver’s chest. Immediately, he ran through the manor halls to the bookcase-covered wall in his study, pulling out a large volume and punching in a code on the keypad behind it. The wall slid away revealing one of the elevators that led to the Green Arrow room. Calling it a room however, was an understatement. At the manor house it was the Arrow sub-basement. He and Chloe had designed it together, converting the empty cavernous space. It was a huge command center spanning the entire lowest level of their home. It took months to complete, along with Bruce Wayne’s suggestions (which he’d interspersed with the occasional good-natured jab at Oliver’s inability to have an original idea of his own).

It was complete with Queen Industries satellite feeds, state-of-the-art computer databases and terminals, bathrooms with showers and changing rooms for the league and their gear, a conference room area populated with comfy couches and chairs, a big screen TV, game console, a cozy kitchen stocked with non-perishable food items, a refrigerator, microwave, a water cooler, and of course a gourmet coffee machine. She’d thought of everyone on the team. Oliver may have used some of Bruce’s ideas, but the Arrow room had something the Bat Cave didn’t: a woman’s touch. She had quipped that perhaps her codename should be changed to WatchCellar. He’d smiled, wrapped her in his arms and said that somehow, Mistress WatchCellar just didn’t have the same ring to it.

Being here without her felt wrong to Oliver, and it struck him that in the six months or so that he and Chloe had lived in the manor house, they had built much more than the Green Arrow room. They’d begun to build a life together. Her absence filled him with a sense of uneasiness that bordered on the edge of emotional chaos. He gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening, and clamped his emotions down, reaching for discipline. He booted up the systems, and after a few moments of low hums and electronic beeps, the entire room flickered to life. He pulled up the GPS, punching in some keys on the console. Seconds later, the electronic grid map of Star City loomed large on an overhead screen in front of him, a green dot blinked, indicating the location of her Yaris. She’d never made it to the airport. Oliver tapped another key, zooming in on the exact location. His brows knit, frowning. Either she’d had a sudden craving for pastrami on rye, or someone had stolen her car. He couldn’t think of why she’d be parked outside of Rosie’s Deli and nowhere near the airport. He typed in a few more codes, calling up the most recent satellite images, overlaying them on the grid. From what he could see, her car didn’t appear to be there, yet the green dot continued to blink. There was only one way to find out.

It wasn’t dark enough yet for the Green Arrow, and so Oliver, forgoing the green leather at the moment, remained dressed casually in Levis and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He threw on his brown leather jacket, and drove to Rosie’s intending to ask if anyone had seen Chloe. When he arrived, her car was nowhere to be found, but the indicator on the portable GPS tracking device still said it was here. His blood ran cold. Someone had found and removed the device; it had to be nearby. He entered the deli, causing a hush among several patrons who’d recognized him. He ignored the stares and murmured commentary, making his way toward the counter. After waiting his turn he asked to speak to anyone who may have seen Ms. Sullivan recently. They all knew her, as she and Phil were regulars, and Chloe was a fan of the homemade soup they served. She was always friendly, talked to everyone, chatting pleasantly with anyone who happened to be working the counter. No one had seen her since Wednesday, when she’d come in last during the lunch hour. Oliver thanked them, exiting the deli. He stopped momentarily, hands resting loosely on his hips; his eyes scanned the sidewalk and the curb, then lifted searching up and down the street. He made his way to the corner, rounding it, entering the alley.

“Mr. Queen,” a young man’s voice sounded behind him.

Oliver looked over his shoulder, turning to face a shy, sandy-haired teenager. He was dressed in blue jeans and a red t-shirt, emblazoned with the white Rosie’s logo. His shaggy hair, parted to one side nearly covered his eye.

The boy swallowed nervously before speaking. “I saw her. Just for a minute. I was coming back inside after making a delivery. She was here talking to the other guy.”

Oliver’s brows furrowed in question, his eyes thinning. “What guy?”

“I dunno, that guy she comes in here with, I think they work together. Tall, dark haired dude.”

“What time was that? Did you see anything else? Or anyone else? Do you know if she left with him?”

“Um… I think it was around 4:00 o’clock? I didn’t see anyone else. Like I said I was coming back in, and just sorta saw them talking, it was just a glance really,” the boy shrugged. “But I know it was her,” the young man added, a slight blush creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. His eyes flitted away briefly. “She’s… kinda hard to miss.”

Oliver’s expression relaxed over the boy’s apparent crush on Chloe. “Thanks.”

The teen nodded. “I gotta get back to work,” he mumbled hastily, gesturing toward the building, and then trotting back around the corner, entering the deli once more.

Oliver walked over to his car, and drove to the Gazette building. It was just after 6:00 o’clock, and he wasn’t certain Philip would still be there on a Friday evening, but he needed to talk to him.

Once again, he’d had to ignore the stares and not so quiet words of the few people remaining in the office. He could only imagine how Chloe must have felt. He was used to most of the public attention, both good and bad, having lived with it for as long as he could remember, especially right after his parents had died. But Chloe wasn’t. She must have felt like a lamb in a den of wolves, just trying to enter the limo earlier today.

The office was relatively quiet; most were gone or readying to leave for the night. Oliver spotted Philip at his desk, packing up.

Philip, sensing someone approach, looked up, his posture stiffening upon seeing Oliver Queen. “Chloe’s not here,” he said too quickly.

“I know. I was hoping you could tell me where she was.”

“Why would I know? Shouldn’t she be with you?”

Oliver noted the defensive tone in Philip’s voice and posture. “When did you see her last?”

“Look, Queen… if you and Chloe are having problems, it’s really none of my business,” Philip said, reaching for his suit jacket on the back of his chair.

Oliver took a step forward. “When did you see her last?”

Philip slipped his arms into the jacket. He hesitated. “Last time I saw Chloe was just before she left work today.”

Oliver nodded, knowing Philip was lying. But why would he lie? “Did she say anything to you, about where she was going?”

“Just said she had a headache and needed to go home. She was pretty upset.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Maybe she just needed to be alone for awhile, you know how women are.”

“You’d think I would, wouldn’t you? I mean, I’ve apparently had enough experience with them,” Oliver said, gesturing toward the copy of the Sentinel on the edge of Philip’s desk.

“You said it, not me.”

“I think you know where she is.”

“I think you’ve got some balls coming in here and tossing around accusations.”

“You were last person to see her.”

“You’ve got proof of that?”

“You’re hiding something. Trust me, I’ll find out what it is.”

“Is that a threat?”

Oliver’s stare was as cold as his voice. “I don’t make threats. I don’t need to.”

“Don’t think for one second that your money scares me. I know your kind. Spoiled, rich, womanizing bastard. You don’t deserve a woman like Chloe, and if she’s left you, she’s better off.”

The two men stared at one another, sizing each other up. They were about the same height and build, and Oliver reigned in the urge knock Philip on his ass. He was hiding something. Oliver wasn’t sure what exactly, but he would find out. Maybe he knew where Chloe was, maybe he didn’t, but he’d seen her as little as two hours ago at Rosie’s Deli. Though Philip’s words stung him more than he’d like to admit, he kept his outward cool demeanor and spoke with deadly calm. “Chloe didn’t leave me. And it’s not my money that you should be afraid of.” With that, Oliver left. There was one more person he had to see before he’d call the rest of the team, or involved authorities. But he’d wait until it was dark, and let the Green Arrow handle it.

* * * * *

After some digging, he’d found the apartment complex he was looking for. Now, he slid the glass balcony doors open silently, not wanting the sleeping inhabitant to awaken just yet. Moving stealthily, he entered the small bedroom, his eyes, beneath the dark glasses swept the room, noting the meager furnishings. This was certainly a change from her usual accommodations. He stepped closer to the bed. A flow of dark, silky hair contrasted starkly with the white of the pillowcase beneath her head. He took a moment to gaze at her though the night vision glasses. At one time he’d thought her beautiful, desirable. Since then, he’d discovered the truth and power of a woman’s inner beauty, and had he been a wiser man a few years ago, he’d have seen just how unattractive Adriana really was. Looking at her now, peaceful in sleep there was nothing but revulsion coiling in his gut.

He slipped a steel broadhead point arrow from the quiver on his back, aimed it at the sleeping woman, then pivoted his upper body swiftly, firing at the mirror of her dressing table. The sound of shattering glass awoke her, and she sat up in bed startled, gasping and disoriented, dark strands of hair covering her face.

The Green Arrow remained in a darkened corner of the room, watching as she slipped out from beneath the covers, wearing an oversized t-shirt. She padded barefoot toward the light switch on the wall, but before she could reach it, he was there behind her, covering her mouth. She struggled against him, her blue eyes wide in terror, whimpering behind his hand. Arrow dragged her over, and shoved her down into the chair in front of the dressing table where the array of cracked and missing pieces of glass around the embedded arrow cast her darkened reflection at odd angles, making her appear hideous.

“Make a sound, and the next one pierces your heart. Understood?” The menace in the deep, distorted voice in her ear made her shiver in fright. She breathed heavily behind his hand, struggling for air. “Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“I have a few questions for you. Answer me truthfully, and you’ll live.” Arrow slowly removed his gloved hand from her mouth.

She panted, catching her breath. “You… you’re… the Green Arrow… I thought… you were… one of the good guys.”

“I am.” He gripped the back of her hair none to gently, forcing her head back. “A person’s life is at stake, and I think you have some vital information.”

She gasped as he pulled her hair. “I don’t know anything about anyone…”

“Who put you up to the game you played with Oliver Queen?”

“I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” she breathed heavily.

“Ms. Sullivan is missing, she may be dead, and if so, you’d be an accessory to murder….”

“He wanted them separated!” she interrupted. “He didn’t say anything about murder...” A soft sob escaped her, tears began streaming down her face, and though Oliver knew he was being cruel, somehow he felt no remorse over it.

“Who?” He demanded, giving her hair a hard yank.

She began crying uncontrollably now, and Oliver released her. Her head fell forward, dark hair covering her face.


“He said… he said it was a way to get back at Queen for… for what he’d done to me. I don’t even know the woman he’s with now… it wasn’t supposed to be about her. I wanted to hurt Oliver…” her voice broke, trailing off on another sob.

“Your need for revenge has put an innocent person’s life in danger. She may be dead because of what you’ve done. Tell me now who put you up to this.”

Adriana covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly. It took several moments before she could speak again. “He arranged everything… set it up. The photographs… he even wrote the article for the Sentinel… it was Philip. Philip Cook. Oliver’s girlfriend works with him.”

Silence hung heavily in the room for long moments, and when Adriana finally lifted her head, turning in search of the Green Arrow, he was gone.

End Chapter 5

Click Here for Chapter 6

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