Gen's Fanfiction

Signal Fire Chapter 17

2010-07-13T17:51:00.005-05:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 17

The sky was darkening fast. Flashing lights. Sirens. A flurry of uniformed S.W.A.T. officers stealthily surrounded the Star City Gazette building, all stillness, and wound-up tense and poised to take action.

Hostage negotiations had already begun and several hostages had been released, unharmed. Chloe was not among them. The Green Arrow and Batman, each of them perched on rooftops on opposite sides of the Gazette building, monitored the situation from above. Bruce worried. If Oliver didn’t contain his rage, the entire plan would go awry.

They had come to blows over how to best secure the building, and rescue everyone inside. If this had happened in Gotham, Bruce would have the support and cooperation of the local police and of Commissioner Gordon. But here, the Green Arrow had no such support. He was at best a vigilante, and to many in Star City, he was simply a common criminal. Were it not for Chloe’s editorials, lauding the Green Arrow as a hero, Bruce was sure that public opinion would call for an all out FBI manhunt for the Emerald Archer.

Oliver was this close to kicking Bruce’s ass all over the Green Arrow room. He replayed their argument as he stood watching, never taking is eyes from the building where Chloe was being held hostage. For now, he’d play it Bruce’s way. He’d wait for Bruce’s signal.

Oliver had shoved Bruce away, slamming him into a wall, ready to strike when Bruce quickly deflected the blow. “You’re not going to get her back this way,” Bruce had ground out, shoving back. He expected this, after telling Oliver to let the police handle things to start with. “You think I don’t know how you feel?”

Oliver landed a punch to his friend’s jaw in answer, and Bruce countered with one of his own, causing Oliver to lose balance and flip onto and over a chair. Sitting up from the floor, Oliver wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring up at his friend.

“You’re careless right now.” Bruce breathed heavily. “I caught you wide open.”

“I’m not leaving her in the hands of Star City’s finest.” Oliver stood up, righting the overturned chair, slamming it down. “And how the hell would you know how I feel?” Oliver panted as he adjusted his suit jacket.

Bruce leaned against the wall. The brief fight, over. “The Star City police are working on finding and diffusing every explosive. That building is rigged to blow sky high. Hostage negotiators are already on the case. Let them handle it. Once they’re nearly done, we’ll go in.” Bruce paused for a moment, silent. He wanted to tell Oliver that it wasn’t worth it. That it was best not to have any emotional ties. That this kind of life didn’t allow for loved ones. But he couldn’t, knowing he’d give anything to have her back again. But it was done, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He cast his eyes downward, his voice growing softer. “Her name was Rachel. I loved her. I still do.” Bruce pushed off from the wall, turning away then, heading for the changing rooms. He looked back once more. “Suit up, Green Arrow. Chloe needs you.”

That had been three hours ago, and any patience Oliver had remaining, was hanging by a precarious thread. Hostages were being released at a snails pace. None of them were Chloe. Oliver felt himself growing more anxious as time passed. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. Bruce was right. He couldn’t be reckless. Not now. Not when Chloe’s life depended on keeping his wits about him. Once again, he wondered about Rachel, and how Bruce had lost her.

“They want to talk to Oliver Queen,” Bruce’s gravelly Batman voice interrupted his thoughts. “Or they won’t release any more hostages.”

Oliver tapped his comlink. “What? Why?”

“You’re her lover," Bruce responded, as though it should be obvious. "They want ransom money in exchange for her life.”

“Fuck.” This wasn’t good. There was no way he’d be able to enter the building as Green Arrow if Oliver Queen’s presence was required to deal with Black Mask and his demands.

“And there’s something else.”

“What?” Oliver was growing more impatient by the minute.

“Someone impersonating the Green Arrow is in there.”

“Fuck.”

“You said that already.”

* * * * * * *

“How much do you think we’ll get for you, Ms. Sullivan?” Chloe could see his eyes move beneath the mask, scanning the few remaining hostages all seated on the floor, their hands bound behind their backs. “And for your friends?”

Chloe eyes flashed. “Let them go.”

Black Mask chuckled sardonically. “Mr. Queen will surely meet our demands for your safe return.” He paced in front of her, black dress shoes crunching on broken glass and ceiling debris. “Now, if they could only find him. It seems our Mr. Queen is out of town? Pity.” Black Mask stopped abruptly in front of her. “For the last time,” his gravelly voice grew menacingly. “Where is he?”

Chloe’s face remained impassive. She couldn’t look at him. “For the last time. I don’t know,” she gritted between clenched teeth.

Just then a cell phone rang. Black Mask fished his phone out of his pocket and promptly answered, hitting the speakerphone button.

“We have Mr. Queen on the line, he’s on his jet right now heading back to Star City,” the officer’s voice sounded. “He says he’ll agree to whatever your demands are, but you must release Ms. Sullivan and any other hostages first.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. But I wish to speak to him directly. Put him through. My demands are the same. Queen Industries relinquishes control of any Luthorcorp holdings, one billion dollars to be transferred to Luthorcorp accounts, and any mergers with Wayne Enterprises are null and void as of today.”

Chloe fidgeted, and her eyes strayed once more to the figure dressed in Green Arrow’s costume. His face remained stony. He refused to look at her. A woman next to her nudged her, causing Chloe to turn in her direction, as Oliver’s voice came on the line. Chloe closed her eyes in relief at the sound of it. He was the perfectly distraught boyfriend, agreeing to whatever demands Black Mask made. But something in his voice told her he wasn’t entirely acting, causing a shard of pain to tighten in her chest. He was truly afraid. She wondered where he really was right now, and turned her head, straining to see out through the darkened window. He had to be out there somewhere.

“That’s who you’ve been defending?” the woman whispered, nudging Chloe again, indicating the man dressed in green leather standing nearby with her eyes, disdain dripping from her voice. “I hope you’re happy… your green leathered hero is nothing but a common criminal… a terrorist!” she hissed.

“He’s not… that’s not him. You don’t understand.” Chloe pleaded softly to no avail. The woman had already turned her face away in disgust.

“Silence!” A masked armed figure dressed in black shoved his machine gun in their faces suddenly, causing them both to jump. The woman beside Chloe began to weep uncontrollably.

Black Mask turned back to them, closing up his phone. “Release them. All except Ms. Sullivan. Mr. Queen has agreed to our demands.” He turned his attention to the man in green leather. “Take her to the floor editor’s office. Lock the door and keep an eye on her. Once the funds transfer is made, we’ll see if Ms. Sullivan is returned to her lover in some… recognizable form. Perhaps we’ll give her a new look. A makeover of sorts.”

“No!” Chloe’s words trailed off as she was pulled up from the floor by her armpits and dragged by the Green Arrow impostor. The last place she wanted to be was alone with Philip. “No!” He dragged her through a corridor, her struggles fruitless. When they reached the office, he shoved her roughly inside the darkened office, slamming and locking the door from the inside. He turned to her.

With her hands tied behind her back there was little she could do. She kicked out at him, but he grabbed her leg, flipping her onto the desk. “Agh!” Her harsh landing caused her to cry out in pain. She felt his body cover hers, oppressive, suffocating her. Gloved hands forced her knees apart, his weight pressing down as he ground his hips against her core, and then his mouth crashed down over hers, stifling any further sound. Chloe bucked underneath him, struggling desperately to free her bound hands. She tried to bite his lip, but he evaded her, raising his head, only to swoop down once more kissing her almost violently.

“I’ve waited a long time for that,” he breathed, nudging his hips forward, pressing himself hard between her legs.

“You bastard,” she spat. He smiled at that. And before she could scream, his mouth closed over hers once more, bruising her lips with his, muffling her cries.

Philip rose up from her abruptly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Chloe.” Nor would he let Black Mask disfigure her in any way, before returning her to Oliver Queen.

“Oh no? What’s your plan then?” she scoffed, catching her breath.

He walked away from her, slowly removing the hood and dark glasses. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

She was silent for a long moment, attempting to collect herself, and sit upright on the desk. “Why?” She didn’t trust him. Chloe slid from the desk, taking a few tentative steps away from him.

Philip turned, regarding her openly. “You really don’t know.”

“Enlighten me,” she challenged.

“I’m damned either way, Chloe. It’s too late for me.” Philip shook his head and moved closer to her. Chloe backed away from him, stumbling into the wall behind her. He couldn’t help himself. Pinning her against the wall with his body, he lifted a gloved hand to cup her cheek. Watching as she cringed and shied away from his touch as though he were vermin. He didn’t care. “I know you hate me. But it doesn’t matter. Maybe getting you out of here, and back to your billionaire hero is the only thing I have left.”

Chloe couldn’t breathe. Her eyes wide. Her mind casting about frantically for a way out. “Oliver is crazy enough to pay the ransom…” her voice trailed off. “You’ll get what you want.”

“He’s not crazy. And I’ll never have what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything he has,” he intoned, his eyes sweeping down to her lips.

She looked up at him, swallowing tightly as his fingertips traced her jaw line. “You’re right. You’ll never have what you want.”

He smirked. “I could easily take what I want.”

“I won’t make it easy.”

“And that’s why I won’t. I won’t take by force, what he has by love.” Philip dropped his hand from her face, stepping away. “I’m not a complete monster. Not yet.”

“That’s why you’ll help me?”

He didn’t speak for several moments, turning away from her. “Lex wants me to kill you.” He looked back over his shoulder. She was small. He could have her easily. Take his pleasure in her once before it all came to a damnable end. “But I can’t. This is my last chance. You’re my last chance, Chloe.” He shrugged. “I’m a dead man either way.” Philip turned away from her once more, pulling out a cell phone. He dialed a number and waited as Chloe looked on suspiciously. “I’ve got her alone. South exit. Be there in five.”

* * * * *

Bruce opened his cell phone, receiving the message from his inside contact, as Oliver closed his cell phone from his location on the nearby rooftop, pocketed it, then turned on his voice distorter. He tapped his earpiece. “Think they bought it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

The silence stretched agonizingly slow as they waited. Oliver finally caught movement as several hostages made their way past the building entrance to where police met them, escorting them to safety. Oliver counted twelve. Still no sign of Chloe. “Son of a bitch… he’s keeping her inside.”

“They’re ready to move,” Bruce responded as he noticed movement from the S.W.A.T. team around the perimeter.

“No. They can’t. Chloe’s still inside. She’s the only one left in there!”

“Wait.” Bruce cautioned.

“They’ll get her killed!”

“We can use them to our advantage,” he countered. “They can keep Black Mask and his False Facers occupied while we get Chloe out. She’s the last bargaining chip they have. They’re not going to kill her. Not yet.”

“How comforting, Bats.”

“Shut up. Let’s move. Head for the South exit. Chloe’s there.”

“How do you know?”

“Just get there. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Where will you be?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my own score to settle. Get Chloe and get out as fast as you can.”

* * * * * * *

As the S.W.A.T team began to move, the Green Arrow leapt onto the roof of the Star City Gazette Building. Fastening the line quickly, he rappelled down the side near the south exit.

Philip replaced his dark glasses and hood, grasped Chloe’s upper arm, dragging her out of the office. He was met instantly by two well-armed masked soldiers. Of course, Black Mask wouldn’t trust him alone with her. Chloe could only stare on helplessly as Philip, taking aim with the crossbow, took down first one man, then the other. “Come on,” he grunted, pulling her along with him. The sounds of gunfire rang out behind them. Philip stopped, pulling her up short, his head whipping behind them, gauging their distance away. Suddenly he turned her around, untying her hands. “Make a run for it. The exit is just ahead, left at the next corner,” he whispered.

Chloe hesitated, gazing up at him quizzically as she rubbed the soreness from her wrists. What was he up to now?

“Go!” He shoved her away.

She ran. And ran. Voices, shouting. Orders being given, the report of machine-gun fire. Looking behind her, she turned the corner, the exit sign looming ahead. It sounded as though a war was being waged behind her. An explosion rocked a distant corner of the building. She ran flinging the exit door open, only to find three unconscious False Facers dressed in black, their masks still over their heads. She nearly tripped over their bodies.

A strong arm grabbed her around the waist from behind, causing a sound of shock and dismay to escape her lips. Caught again. “Chloe.”

She twisted under his arm. “You lied to me! You said you’d let me go!” Tears of anger and frustration threatened to spill down her cheeks. She never should have trusted Philip! Chloe began to beat against his green-leather covered chest, and tried to push away from him.

“Chloe. It’s me.”

She wriggled and beat against him some more, but he wouldn’t let her go. “You son of a bitch!”

“Chloe. Listen to me.”

Wait… what? …… “Ollie?”

He removed his hood and glasses with one hand, and watched as her tears turned from anger to joy. And then he kissed her, in the way only Oliver Queen could.

He reattached the line, and pressed her close. So tight against him, Chloe thought she’d suffocate. “Hold on,” he whispered, "I've got you." And she clung to him, smushing her face against the leather of his vest in sweet relief, unable to stop her tears as they were lifted up toward the rooftop of the Gazette Building.

End Chapter 17

A/N. OMG. It's been forever since I've updated this story. My profuse and profound apologies to anyone still interested in this thing. LOL I'm so sorry. If you're still reading, thanks so much. And if I've lost anyone along the way, I only have myself to blame. Let's hope this doesn't suck too badly. This puppy is almost done. Probably one more chapter. Thanks to anyone still out there who's hanging in with me on this. *hugs*

Signal Fire Chapter 16

2009-09-06T20:38:00.004-05:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 16

Lex had explained the entire plan before pressing the speakerphone button, so that Philip, who stood hovering around anxiously, could now be privy to the entire conversation. “And what makes you think I’d help you?” came the deep, raspy voice on the other end.

“Make no mistake, ultimately we’re doing each other a favor. Let’s call it mutually beneficial,” Lex swiveled confidently in his chair.

Philip paced the small office, listening intently, glancing nervously from Lex to the disembodied voice floating up from the desk phone. That Lex wanted to involve an outside party, unsettled him.

Lex, continued. “It would be in our best interests to work together.”

“We do have a common enemy,” the sandpaper voice allowed.

“I’m sure you can empathize with my situation.”

“All too well.”

“Then I can count on you and the False Facers, Roman?”

The gravelly voice on the other end laughed sardonically, causing Lex to smile, and gooseflesh to rise, traveling across Philip’s skin. He shivered. “Taking revenge against Wayne. Kidnapping Wayne Enterprise board members. It’s right up my alley. But the Star City Gazette? What’s in it for me?”

Lex sat upright in his chair. “You help me take down Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, and I help you regain control of Janus Cosmetics. Think of it; legitimate businessman by day, king of Gotham’s underworld by night. It’s perfect.”

Lex knew he’d find an ally in Roman Sionis. Roman had known Bruce since childhood, and learned the fine art of hypocrisy from his parents when it came to the Wayne family. The masks his parents wore in public caused his resentment to grow, festering over time. When Roman inherited his father’s cosmetics company after murdering his parents, setting their home ablaze, he’d run the family business into the ground. In a last ditch effort to revive the company; Roman had scientists develop a new make-up. Unfortunately, it went to market before it could be tested thoroughly, and the chemicals proved to be toxic, disfiguring several hundred women. Bruce Wayne offered to bail out Janus Cosmetics on the condition that Sionis give up control, and allow Wayne to appoint a new board of directors. Sionis agreed, but couldn’t escape the sense of fury and humiliation he felt over the entire incident. Since that time, Roman Sionis had taken to wearing a black mask fashioned from his mother’s casket. He’d become a force to be reckoned with in Gotham’s underworld, a criminal mastermind, with a league of followers known as the False Facers. Each member wore a mask while on the job, and in his presence.

Lex knew Roman Sionis, A.K.A, Black Mask, had reason to target Wayne. If Lex could convince him that working together would benefit them both, there was no way they could lose. Unlike Philip, Sionis would have no qualms about harming Chloe Sullivan. He was sadistic and ruthless, known for killing his own men on the spot when they disobeyed his orders, and for disfiguring his own estranged girlfriend. Lex knew the man was at best mentally unstable; but weren’t they all?

Lex smirked. “I know you want revenge against Wayne, just as I do. He and Oliver Queen all but stole my company right from under me, just as Wayne took from you. Together, we can beat them, Roman.”

There was a long pause, and then Black Mask finally spoke. “I’ll agree on two conditions,” he rasped. “All of your men must wear masks on the job, and they must follow my orders.”

“Of course,” Lex replied indulgently. “As long as there’s no hitch in the plans, and it all goes down as we’ve agreed.”

The phone line clicked dead. Lex sat back in his chair, a smug, pleased expression crossing his features. Philip closed his eyes, turning away.

* * * * *

After the night of the gala, Chloe and Oliver took a secluded weekend getaway in Malibu, where he’d hinted more than once at his offer of a lifetime ‘merger’. For someone who had wanted to wait for the perfect moment to ask her to marry him, his timing was awful, he knew. He didn’t even have a ring, but that was the least of his worries. There was so much uncertainty now, with the Green Arrow’s reputation teetering on the verge of ruin, Lex out there somewhere plotting against them daily, and Bruce’s warning to keep Chloe safe echoing in the recesses of Oliver’s mind. His timing couldn’t be worse. But maybe it was for those very reasons that he’d wanted her so desperately to be his, permanently; the eminent danger and uncertainty around them, creating the emotional need to keep her forever close to him.

“This will all be over soon,” she’d whispered in his ear, finally speaking after he’d made love to her on the darkened, secluded beach. The pulse of rolling waves lapping the shore echoed the rhythm of their lovemaking, and now the sea breeze cooled their heated skin. Her small hands made dents as she moved them, pressing down against the muscles of his lower back as he lay spent and languid above her, his forearms bearing most of his weight, his face buried against the curve of her neck. She held him there as they calmed, not wanting him to go, wanting to keep him inside her. “And when it is,” she sighed contentedly, “I promise I’ll let Lois know we’ve decided to make it legal.”

He could hear the smile in her soft voice. Lois had been after them for months since Chloe had come to live with him in Star City. Oliver moved his hips forward slightly, still sensitive there, yet pressing himself into her in spite of it. He loved it when she held him, telling him with her body and her hands that she wanted him to stay and remain a part of her. Sometimes after they’d made love, he’d stay inside her for long moments, surrendering to her soft touches and kisses until he grew hard again. Other times, they’d remain connected until it was no longer possible, and they both succumbed to sleep.

“I’m sure Lois will be glad to know,” he murmured against her throat.

“I do want to marry you, Ollie,” she reassured him, clasping him tighter against her. “After this is over.”

“What if it never ends, Chloe?”

Her hand drifted to his hair, fingers threading into the softness, cradling his head. There would always be challenges, danger would always exist around them, but there would be moments of respite, like this one. “It will end. It has to. And when it does, the tabloids will be wondering how much groveling and begging you had to do, to convince me to marry you.”

“Mmmm,” he rumbled against her skin. “The only begging I recall hearing recently was yours.”

A short laugh burst from her lips. “You love hearing me beg for you,” she whispered saucily, nipping his earlobe gently.

“I do. And I just might give you everything you want, every time,” he answered playfully, palming her breast, passing a thumb over her nipple and enjoying the small sound of pleasure she made. “I have to keep my sidekick happy.” He lifted his head from her then, eyes searching hers in the dark earnestly. “Marry me, Mistress Watchtower.”

Chloe thought back to another time, a lifetime ago it seemed, when another man had asked her to marry him. Blue eyes just as earnest as the dark ones she gazed into now, as he offered her a plastic kiddie ring. She thought she had known then what love was. She couldn’t have been more wrong. This man, the man who hovered over her now, filling her body, engulfed in her arms; this man was love. “Yes, Arrow.” It was the only answer she could ever give him.

Oliver’s face broke into a smile for her, and it was all she could do not to melt into a puddle of goo beneath him. His grin turned playful as he slipped from her body, and rolled them on the blankets, eliciting a squeaky giggle from her lips. Chloe, straddled above him now, began kissing him everywhere, her hands and mouth awakening his beautiful body once more, teasing him mercilessly until he was the one begging. Turnabout was fair play after all.

The weekend was over all to quickly, and Monday morning meant back to work, back to reality and the real world.

“Looks like Bruce has his hands full,” Chloe uttered, sipping the last gulp of coffee down at the breakfast table. She handed her portion of the newspaper to Oliver. “This is awful. Why didn’t he tell us about this?”

“Two Wayne Enterprises’ board members kidnapped in two days, and its only Monday,” Oliver answered, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the article. The board members had been taken from their homes during the night, dragged out of their beds by men dressed in black, wearing dark masks.

They lifted blonde heads simultaneously to look at one another, unspoken communication passing between them. It was Lex. It had to be.

Oliver folded up the paper, rising from his seat. “I’ll call Bruce, then head into the office later.”

Chloe glanced at the wall clock, picking up their dishes and heading for the sink, depositing them. “I’ve got to get going,” she said, grabbing up her purse and keys from the counter, eager to get to the Gazette, the investigative reporter in her, just itching to find out more information about the Wayne kidnappings.

Oliver grasped her wrist, pulling her up against his side and slipping a hand at the curve of her spine to hold her there. She gazed up at him quizzically as he pulled out his cell phone with his free hand, instead of giving her the good-bye kiss she expected. He pressed one of the buttons, holding the phone to his ear. “Ms. Sullivan is leaving now. Remember my instructions?” He paused momentarily before responding. “Good.”

Her brows furrowed as she watched him slip the phone back into the pocket of his dress slacks. “What was that all about?”

Oliver enfolded her with both arms now, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Nothing. Only that you’ll have company at work today. Bodyguards.”

“What?”

“We can’t be too careful, Chloe.”

“Ollie…”

“Humor me.”

“You’re expecting trouble?”

“Trouble’s your middle name,” he quirked a brow, a playful grin on his lips, trying to dispel her worry.

“Oliver, what’s going on?”

“Just trying to keep Star City’s up and coming reporter, and the defender of the Green Arrow safe,” was all he would say, refusing to reveal his very real fear over Bruce’s warning. If it were up to Oliver, he’d have her stay home at the manor house under armed guard until Lex was behind bars or dead, but he knew she’d never agree to that. Having bodyguards escort her everywhere, when he couldn’t be with her, was the next best thing.

She knew he wasn’t telling her everything, or that perhaps he was simply being overly protective. She willed him to tell her more with her eyes.

“Just a precaution,” he answered softly. “After all that’s happened, it’s not unreasonable, right?”

She sighed. “All right. But they had better stay out of my way.”

“As long as you don’t try to give them the slip,” he touched the tip of her nose with his fingertip.

She rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth turning up in a sheepish grin. He knew her too well. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he murmured in relief, lowering his head once more to possess her lips with his before she headed toward the door.

Like two dutiful Dobermans, her bodyguards stayed with her the entire day. Chloe had the urge to ask if they were housebroken, but thought better of it. They were only doing a job after all, no sense in making their lives miserable when her mood had turned sour over unwarranted comments from co-workers, and her boss, Mr. Byrne, as well. Having to explain the need for two very large men in suits to check the women’s restroom before she entered, and stand outside of it until she’d finished was bad enough.

Chloe submitted another Green Arrow editorial at the request of Byrne. People were eating them up, he’d said. The newspaper’s circulation had increased, and her editorials were the talk of the town. If she kept up the good work, she’d soon be sitting pretty under the Tiffany lamps.

In-between real work, Chloe tried to dig up information on the Gotham kidnappings, but could find no other new information. She’d called Oliver and he’d only said that Bruce was working on it, and that he believed Lex was behind it as well.

Finally, most of the day staff was gone or readying to leave. Chloe glanced at the time on her computer. It was nearing 6:00 pm. She fished her cell phone out of her purse, dialing Oliver to let him know she was on her way home.

“Hey,” she spoke, glancing over her shoulder at Doberman number 1. “Everything’s fine, normal day. I’m about to leave the Gazette building in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’m stuck here at the office for awhile longer, but I shouldn’t be too late.”

“Okay…”

Suddenly there was a commotion coming from the outer lobby area, shouting, screaming voices, the sound of shattering glass as windows were smashed, the echoing report of machine gun fire. People began running toward the inner office where Chloe rose from her seat in shock. She blinked, not hearing Oliver’s panicked voice on the other end.

“Chloe? Chloe! What’s happening?”

Her bodyguards stood at attention, weapons drawn, but the crowd of Gazette workers streaming into the room, made it difficult to discern friend from foe.

“Oh my God,” was all he heard her say.

Dozens upon dozens of men dressed in black military fatigues, dark masks covering their faces, wielding machine guns poured into the room, blazing their way inside, herding the terrified group, aiming at the ceiling, taking out overhead lights. “Everybody get down!” someone yelled. “Get down!”

Chloe couldn't move. She watched, horrified, as people shrieked and cowered beneath the ceiling dust and shattering glass fixtures. Some of the men in black shoving desks and knocking furniture over, out of the way, clearing a space in the center of the room. A large body knocked her down behind her desk. Her bodyguard no doubt. Only when she strained to look over at him, she saw that his eyes were sightless, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Chloe couldn’t stifle the scream that escaped her throat. Another grunt, and thud nearby toppled her chair, and she knew the other guard was dead as well.

“Chloe!!” Oliver could hear it all, muffled through the cell phone, her scream ripping through his heart. What the hell was going on? “Chloe!!” He wasn’t going to wait, and left his office, pressing the elevator button impatiently, heading for the lower level-parking garage.

Suddenly she remembered the cell phone in her hand. “Ollie! We’re under attack!” A shriek of shock and pain escaped her again as someone grasped a hunk of her hair at the back of her head, lifting her up from the floor by her hair. A blur of green leather filled her vision. She gazed up, wide-eyed into the hooded face, shock coursing through her. Dark glasses covered his eyes, but she knew. “Philip?” she panted as his grip on her hair tightened. “Why?” But he didn’t answer; merely shoved her closer to the crowd of others huddled in terror on the floor.

Sick fear coiled in Oliver’s gut at the sound of her cry, his entire body trembling with adrenaline as he willed the godforsaken elevator to move faster. “Chloe!” She didn’t answer, but the cell phone connection was still open, the sounds of screaming and shouting and gunfire still coming from the other end. Oliver fished out his business cell phone from his suit coat pocket, dialing 911. Finally the elevator doors opened and Oliver ran toward his car.

“911 Emergency.”

“Yes, there’s an attack taking place at the Star City Gazette building!”

“We’re already aware of that sir, we have crews on the way.”

Oliver jumped into his car, fumbling with the keys in his panic and haste, cell phone still pressed to his ear. “Talk to me Chloe!” he shouted, pleading now, desperate to hear her voice, willing her with every fiber in his being to answer him. The phone line went dead, and he made several frantic attempts to call her again, getting her voicemail every time. He’d nearly tossed the phone out from the car window in anger as he sped through the garage on his way toward the Gazette Building. It rang.

“Chloe?”

“It’s Bruce. I know you’re on your way to the Gazette. Don’t go. Meet me first.”

“Are you insane? Chloe’s in that building!”

“And if you don’t go off half-cocked, we’ll get her out. Keep your head, or you’ll lose her.”

“No way. I’m going in there and getting her out. Now.”

“Listen to me,” Bruce continued to speak calmly. “You don’t know whom your dealing with. This is not just Lex we’re up against. It’s Black Mask and his False Facers. He practically runs the entire underground in Gotham. He’s the one responsible for the kidnappings. He’s already disfigured and maimed two of my board members. Don’t think he won’t do the same to Chloe. One false move and she’s dead.”

Oliver gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he drove; he could barely breath, his heart pounding with anxiety, the heat rising to his eyes, he pressed his lips together, teeth clenching as tears of anger and frustration threatened. Traffic was becoming congested as he neared the Gazette building, police redirecting cars as the roads surrounding it were shut down. He wanted to tell Bruce to fuck off, to leave him alone and let him handle this. He wanted to ask him what the hell he knew about possibly losing the woman you loved, a woman who meant everything.

Oliver swallowed tightly. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the manor house. I flew in as soon as I could. A source with a last minute change of heart dropped a few hints earlier, and then filled me in on their entire plan moments ago. It was too late to stop it. But we can still save everyone, including Chloe. Meet me first.”

“Son of a bitch…” Oliver growled, fist pounding the steering wheel, his voice trailing off, not wanting to delay further, every part of his soul screaming for him to get to Chloe, now. But he turned the car around, tires squealing, heading back toward Queen manor. “You’d better be right about this,” Oliver answered, his voice hard, threatening.

“Just get here.”

End Chapter 16

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 17

Yin and Yang: Chloe and Oliver Oneshot

2009-08-27T20:03:00.007-05:00

Title: Yin and Yang
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Author: Genevieve
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Oliver decides to train Chloe
A/N: This little ficlet was inspired by manips made by kc_2009 of LiveJournal, aka Kryptochloe at Ksite , and used with her permission, cuz we make a great team like that. This is written a little differently, a bit quirky, but I hope you enjoy.

Yin and Yang

Day 1

She waits for him impatiently, not really wanting to do this. She doesn’t see a reason. When he enters the makeshift gym, wearing nothing but black sweat pants, she swallows. She wants to tell him to put a shirt on, then thinks better of it. She folds her arms over her chest and scowls instead to show her displeasure.

“Ready?” he asks with his charming grin, somehow knowing she’s not entirely displeased.

“I still don’t see why I have to do this.”

“I think the shiner you’re wearing is proof enough.”

She juts her chin out defiantly, well, as defiantly as she can with a black eye. “I handled it.”

“Right,’ he says, lifting her chin with his fingertips, inspecting her slightly fading injury, his brows knitting with concern she doesn’t want to see.

He tapes up her knuckles, his touch almost too gentle, and she notices for the first time how large his hands are in comparison to hers. He fits her with red boxing gloves. She feels ridiculous.

Until he stands behind her, and grasps her elbows. He’s only showing her the correct fighting stance after all. But his body is too close, and she’s eyeing the heavy bag warily. Good thing he can’t see her face, because she’s not sure if the uneasy expression is for the bag in front of her or the man behind her. Does it matter?

Day 5

They’ve been at this for five mornings now. In a row. Five mornings of torture. Stretches, yoga, meditation, Tai chi, mock duels. It’s not so bad really, and sometimes she enjoys it, more than she thought she would. Especially the first time she actually takes him down. She can’t help but gloat and smile. He laughs good-naturedly. Secretly, he’s proud of her. She’s sassy. He likes it.

Day 10

Maybe he can do handstands, but she can’t, and no matter how many times he’s grasped her ankles and held her up, her body eventually starts leaning in one direction or another as soon as he lets go. There’s a moment though, when she can hold herself up, and then she comes tumbling down like Humpty Dumpty, his hands grasp her upturned thighs in an effort to catch her, and he comes tumbling after, and somehow they’re laughing on the floor, and suddenly his face becomes serious and his eyes darken, and he’s looking at her with that look. Her heart flutters.

He clears his throat, blinks, looks away. “Maybe that’s enough for today, Sidekick.” He mutters, and leaves the room, heading for the shower.

Day 15

She’s sure she’s got this whole tai chi, fighting thing down by now, only now she’s fighting herself. He stands beside her in all his shirtless glory as they ease into the next position like a dance, and she wonders how she’s supposed to concentrate.

She doesn’t notice that he’s fighting too.

Focusing the mind on movements of the body is supposed to bring about mental peace and clarity.

Neither of them is feeling peaceful.

But maybe there’s clarity. Just a little.

She beats the crap out of the heavy bag later. He’s thoroughly impressed. But not enough to end their training sessions. Not yet.

She smiles at his praise. He melts a just little.

Day 20

“It’s called pushing hands,” he explains close to her ear behind her. His voice makes her entire body tingle. She closes her eyes, relishing the sound of it, the feel of his body at her back. Concentrate.

Pushing hands works to undo a person’s natural instinct to resist force with force, teaching the body to yield to force and redirect it. She’s wearing this skintight black workout outfit. It’s torture. And he wonders vaguely why he’s resisting, why he doesn’t yield and redirect the force of energy she has over him. His hands linger a little too long at her waist as he positions her. He pulls her just a little too closely against his body. If his hands had a mind of their own, they’d be going places he didn’t want to think about right now. His breathing is heavier, and he almost groans out loud. And worse, she notices.

She has to notice. But she’s not protesting, and he realizes that she hasn’t protested anything in at least a week.

Day 25

Training with a partner allows a student to develop ting jing (listening power), the sensitivity to feel the direction and strength of a partner's intention.

His intentions are not good. Well, they are, but.. not. He’s sure she knows. She doesn’t seem to mind though. She flirts with him over the comm later during a mission. He eats it up. And right there in the middle of a mission he thinks he just might have fallen.

Day 30

They are getting good at this. Yin and Yang. Male and female. She anticipates his movement, and redirects him. He knows her too, senses her now before she even begins to move. He knows her in a way he’s never known anyone else.

She saves his life. He saves hers. She guides him. He listens. She heals him. He protects her. Watchtower and Green Arrow. Oliver and Chloe. Man and Woman. Yin and Yang.

He stands behind her, arms coming around her, it’s almost an embrace, his hands gently push against hers. Eyes closed, mental peace, and then clarity. And it’s all so clear now, so loud in the silence, it makes them both wonder why they hadn’t seen it before. Why they resisted.

Yin and Yang. Female and Male. Watchtower and Green Arrow. Chloe and Oliver. She’s become the other part of him somehow.

Chloe knows him. So well it doesn’t even scare her anymore. When he moves again, she's right there, he redirects her, she moves with him then redirects him. Male and female. Green Arrow and Watchtower. Oliver and Chloe. He’s become the other part of her somehow.

He moves, she follows. She moves, he follows.

They’re standing face to face, bodies brushing from breast to hip. They become still, as still as the silence between them. He’s giving her that look. And this time she’s returning it.

Yielding to the force, he moves. She follows. And when their lips touch, meeting breathlessly for the first time, there’s clarity. There’s peace. Yin and Yang. The perfect balance. Oliver and Chloe. Chloe and Oliver. Friends. Lovers.

End Oneshot

Signal Fire chapter 15

2009-08-16T13:14:00.008-05:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 15

In a span of two weeks, there were three more murders with all indications pointing to the Green Arrow. Someone claiming to be the Green Arrow called in a bomb threat to the mayor’s office that had all of Star City at a standstill for an entire day, a bank robbery. Terrified bank tellers and patrons said a man wielding a crossbow, dressed in a hooded, green leather costume along with several accomplices dressed in black fatigues, their faces covered with ski-masks had demanded the money.

Lex noted that Queen had been silent and nearly invisible through these incidents. Chloe Sullivan continued her defense of the Green Arrow, through continued editorials and articles. She’d been making a name for herself in Star City over the past weeks with well-written rebuttals to criticism of the Emerald Archer, proving the crimes to be the work of an impostor and creating doubt among the citizens of Star City, rallying many of them behind the true Emerald Archer. But the public wanted to know where the real Green Arrow was hiding, and why he’d remain silent over an impostor hell bent on ruining him. A call rose up for him to defend himself publicly. Little did they know, he already was, through Chloe’s written words.

Philip entered Lex’s hidden Star City office, removing the dark glasses, and pulling the green hood down as he tossed the fresh copy of the Star City Gazette on top of Lex’s mahogany desk, over some building blueprints he’d been studying and marking up with red ink.

“Is it over now?”

Lex’s eyes swept over the headlines and fuzzy video camera photos from the bank heist. When his gaze lifted to Philip, still dressed in the Green Arrow’s costume, his blue eyes turned hard and cold. Philip had been out making mischief tonight. “Hardly. Queen is trying to ruin me. They’re finalizing the takeover of LexCorp.” Lex pushed himself up from his chair and stood, rounding his desk. “And preparing to celebrate my demise with a big party in Gotham,” he said, stepping over to the mini-bar in his office.

“Tess ruined you. Not Queen.”

Lex grasped the nearest bottle, smirking lightly. “Yes. And she’s dead.”

“When will this stop?”

“When I’ve achieved the complete and utter downfall of Oliver Queen,” Lex retorted, as if that were obvious.

“Mr. Luthor.”

“No one is indestructible, Philip.”

“Including yourself.”

Lex poured amber liquid into a glass. “I like that about you. You’re not afraid to speak your mind.”

“When,” Philip demanded.

“There’s one more thing I have in mind,” he gestured toward his desk, where he’d been working on the newest plan.

Philip’s eyes flicked briefly toward the building schematics on the desk; half covered by the newspaper he’d just tossed there. He waited. “Attack them at the party?”

A short haughty laugh escaped the back of Lex’s throat. “Come now, Philip. Wouldn’t that be too obvious?” Lex took a seat behind his desk once more; drink in hand. He swirled it around, gazing into the liquid as though it held all the answers. “How do you feel about visiting your old place of employment?” Lex lifted his eyes then, gauging Philip’s response.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, all those editorials in praise of the Green Arrow. Every time the he commits a crime, she seems to find all the inconsistencies in the evidence, all the mistakes, and she turns them around, thwarting our efforts, turning them into one big conspiracy theory against the Green Arrow. People believe what she writes. It’s a bit annoying, don’t you think?” Lex leaned back in his chair, lifting the glass to his lips, sipping quietly as he eyed Philip over the rim.

For all he’d turned completely to the side of darkness, Philip’s heart wrenched at Lex’s implication. Chloe was the only secret light that remained inside of him. Something precious he kept hidden away from the world, most times even from himself. Gone were dreams of a home and family and a quiet life as a reporter in Metropolis. He’d become someone else now. Someone he didn’t care to know, or consider too closely. “You want Queen, fine. Go after him. You don’t need Chloe Sullivan.”

“I do want Queen, I am going after him, and Chloe Sullivan is the best way to achieve my goal. You know that as well as I do, maybe better,” he intoned meaningfully. “Let’s give her one last thing to write about, shall we?”

“What are you planning?”

“Next week. Monday morning, the Green Arrow will call in a bomb threat from the Star City Gazette building.”

“Another bomb threat?”

“This one’s real.”

“Mr. Luthor…”

“You’ll need all the men we can round up. Rig the entire building with explosives, then swarm it, holding hostages, releasing them gradually over a period of time of course, with the exception of one; Ms. Sullivan. And then we barter for her life. Queen would pay whatever price the ‘Green Arrow’ demanded, I’m sure,” Lex nearly smiled at the twisted irony of it all, his eyes glazing over briefly, as he imagined the scene and how it would all unfold. “What do you think, ten million? That would be nothing to Queen, especially to save the woman he loved.” Lex took another sip of his drink, relishing the burn as the liquid warmed his throat.

“Mr. Luthor…”

“Once the drop is made,” Lex put his now empty glass down on the desk with finality. “You’ll have to kill her,” he went on unaffected, rising once more from his chair, and moving closer, stepping around Philip. “The ‘Green Arrow’ kills the one person who’s been his staunchest public supporter. I think that would put an end to the debate, don’t you?”

Philip’s lips pressed together, thinning in an anguished grimace; every part of his body and soul screaming to be released from this dark, inescapable prison. He’d gone too far, was in too deep, and now there seemed to be no way out. He shook his head, one simple word leaving him in a fervent rush, his voice deepening like gravel. “No.”

“Your concern for Ms. Sullivan is noted, and oddly, quite touching. But if you don’t kill her, one of my other men will,” Lex threatened smoothly, circling Philip, coming to stand behind him as Philip turned his gaze to the floor between his feet, his breath becoming erratic, the heat of the form-fitting, green leather costume suffocating him.

He continued to shake his head. “No,” he ground out with rough anxiety.

“Kill her. Kill her and get her out of your blood once and for all.” Lex lowered his voice meaningfully, taunting quietly close behind. “She’ll never be yours Philip. Not now. Not ever. You’ll never have her. How does it feel knowing that? Having to live with that knowledge?” Lex lowered his head, stopping momentarily, his voice hard and resentful. “I know what it’s like to love a woman you can never have. It’s not fair that a man like Oliver Queen has a woman like Chloe by his side. He doesn’t deserve her love. Not the way you do. But there is something you can do about the injustice.”

At this Philip turned around, anguished eyes staring at the man in front of him in disbelief. Killing Chloe would be killing the last decent part of himself that remained. “I can’t.”

Lex returned Philip’s gaze. “Take from Oliver Queen what you’ve been denied,” he urged, his voice was velvet, yet edged with steel. “Destroy that which you can never have; finally be rid of her. It’s the only way to keep her from haunting you forever, and wondering ‘what if’. You owe me Philip. You owe me your life, twice over. I own you. Chloe Sullivan dies on Monday. Would you rather she die by someone else’s hand, or yours?”

* * * * *

Every day he read the papers, news feeds, the Internet articles about the latest crimes the Green Arrow had committed. And every time, Chloe was right behind the scenes, getting information from police sources, the coroner’s office, investigators; completing her own research. She’d written some of the most amazing work he’d ever read, and though he anguished over the horrible things done by someone using one of his costumes and his gear, he couldn’t come out publicly and simply proclaim himself as the Green Arrow; he couldn’t defend himself. Chloe was his best chance of fighting back right now.

She’d watch him silently as he read the latest. Watched his face. The sadness, the anger, the frustration that crossed his features, feeling helpless to do much more than use the power of the pen to fight back. She’d go to him silently, and gently lay her hands on his shoulders, and he’d reach for her, accepting her comfort, and offering his own.

Until Lex made a grave mistake, until he made a move, it seemed there was nothing more they could do. They didn’t know where he was, or how he’d been orchestrating events, or where he’d strike next. They didn’t know who had been posing as the Green Arrow. Was it Philip? Chloe had her suspicions. Philip and Oliver were of similar build and height. The suit would probably fit him. She tried to remember any other guards who might be able to don the green leather, but they were a blur in her mind. She hadn’t paid close enough attention in the sea of nameless, faceless guards in black fatigues in their time at Black Creek.

It weighed heavily on both of them, but Chloe wasn’t going to give up. So when the final merger was completed, and Bruce had invited them to celebrate the takeover of LexCorp with a gala, meant mainly to create public spectacle as an insult to Lex, Chloe insisted that they go. Since they’d returned from Black Creek, they’d remained somewhat secluded in the manor. They had to put on a show, for the public, and most of all to show Lex that no matter what he did, he wouldn’t stop them. Besides, she’d said, as she’d wrapped her arms around his neck; it would be the first time they’d been out at such a swanky event in awhile, and it was a good excuse to enjoy themselves for the first time in weeks. Oliver’s answering smile, and the soft kiss pressed to her forehead lightened her heart.

Despite the recent turmoil, Chloe couldn’t help but be a bit excited. She’d never been to Gotham City before. The city was a mix of old and new, brick and glass, gothic and modern structures that said eclectic, if not confused. Somehow it worked, and Chloe found herself quite intrigued and fascinated by it all.

As soon as Oliver exited the limo in front of the Gotham Arts Centre, the camera flashes erupted, interspersed with those calling his name, and asking who accompanied him. Was there someone new? Had Ms. Sullivan left him after the rumors of his infidelity were published weeks ago? They quieted somewhat as he reached for her, waiting. Oliver winked at her as they shared a smile, then took her hand in his, giving her an affectionate squeeze. At once, a deluge of lights flashed rapidly, and the sounds of voices, whistles, catcalls, and a few cheers rose up at the sight of Ms. Sullivan dressed in a white halter gown. She was beautiful. Oliver’s eyes danced with amusement as he looked at her, and then he turned, presenting her proudly. Oliver stopped on the red carpet, pulling her close to his side, and they wrapped their arms around one another, Oliver leaning in, smiling for yet another photographer. A few paparazzi shouted out questions, which Oliver politely ignored, merely waving at the crowd, his smile genuine. He then whisked her away toward the entrance of the Gotham Arts Centre.

“Should they be so surprised?” she asked, as Oliver took her hand, tucking it beneath his arm, holding her close.

“We’ve laid low recently. I’m sure they were wondering.”

“I’m glad that’s over with,” she sighed, as they entered the building.

Oliver chuckled lightly. “Me too.” He looked down at her, mischief lighting his eyes. “They’re obviously happy that I haven’t traded you in yet.”

“Or that I haven’t dumped your rich, worthless behind.”

This time a genuine laugh erupted, causing Chloe to realize that it was a sound she’d missed lately. He stopped just inside the closed entrance doorway, reaching for her other hand and pulling her up against him, not caring who might be watching them. “How’d I get so lucky, Mistress Watchtower?” he whispered.

“Queen charm.”

Oliver kissed the smile from her lips. He’d have continued kissing her if a host hadn’t cleared his throat, welcoming them, and ushering them into the large reception room.

Chloe met Bruce Wayne once, when he’d come to Queen Manor to offer suggestions on the building of the Green Arrow room. That was months ago, and since that time, her curiosity had been piqued. She wondered aloud, “Are you going to ask him?”

“Maybe,” Oliver answered, covering her hand with his, absently stroking her fingers.

“I think he’d be a great asset,” she said, taking in the sight of the huge banquet hall, and the various occupants, all dressed for the lavish occasion. An orchestra played soft dinner music at the far end of the room. Waiters meandered about in white jackets serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

“I think he prefers flying solo.”

A passing waiter offered them champagne in gold-tipped fluted glasses. Oliver passed one to Chloe. “What should we toast to?” she asked feeling giddy just being out somewhere with him. She held her drink aloft.

He smiled at her, his brown eyes like warm chocolate as he regarded her. He raised his own glass. “To mergers. And I don’t mean the business kind.”

“The pleasurable kind?”

“The spend the rest of your life with me, kind.”

Chloe’s smile softened as his eyes searched hers, waiting, expectant, hopeful. Suddenly speechless, her heart fluttering wildly, she could barely breathe. She hadn’t expected him to… to….

He hadn’t expected it either. For a while now, he’d been waiting for the right time to ask her in the proper way. But there never seemed to be a right time. And now, the words simply left his lips without conscious thought, surprising even himself. He’d always been able to read her eyes. They betrayed her every emotion. He’d always known, since the first time he’d ever kissed her that cool, crisp night on the balcony of his Metropolis penthouse almost a year ago. He knew he would kiss her then, even as she sputtered her protests over why they’d never work; her eyes told him her true feelings. Her stunned silence now didn’t worry him. It was there in beautiful green eyes that gazed up at him. He knew what her answer would be.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Oliver.”

It took a few long seconds for the couple to tear their eyes from one another.

Oliver recovered first, turning to the man who’d approached. “Bruce. Good to see you again.” He shifted the champagne from one hand to the other and the two men shook in greeting. Oliver gestured toward the woman beside him. “You remember Chloe.”

Chloe blinked, regaining her senses, and lifted her own hand toward the dark haired man before her. “Mr. Wayne,” she smiled at him, and Oliver could see that even the brooding Batman was enchanted. Chloe’s smile did that to everyone.

Bruce took her hand, holding it in his. “Please, call me Bruce,” he answered, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “No need for formalities here.” Bruce squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. “I’ve been reading your editorials and articles in the Star City Gazette, Chloe.” He turned to Oliver. “You’ve got an amazing woman here, Queen.”

“I know,” Oliver grinned, slipping a hand at her waist.

Chloe felt the heat rushing to her cheeks at the compliments. Bruce was no doubt a charmer in his way as well. She wondered if it was a trait of all handsome billionaire crime fighters with secret identities.

Oliver lowered his voice. “We don’t know where he his, or who’s impersonating the Green Arrow.”

Bruce stepped closer to the couple, closing the gap in order to speak more privately. He cast a furtive glance around before speaking. “This takeover is hurting him more than we thought it would. He’s desperate. He’ll make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll be there.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but cast a quick glance at Chloe, recovering a look of concern with a quick smile. He’d speak to Oliver later in private. “Enjoy the evening,” was all he said, before silently walking away.

After dinner, Oliver led her to the dance floor, where other couples whirled around them, as they seemed to stand still in comparison, bodies gently swaying in unison. Neither of them mentioned the earlier toast and talk of mergers, but each of them thinking of it. After their dance, one of the hosts came to ask Oliver to meet with Mr. Wayne. Oliver followed the gentleman out onto a veranda where Bruce waited.

After the host left, and Bruce was certain they were alone, he spoke, staring out onto the darkened gardens below. “She’s important to you,” he said without preamble.

“Very.”

Bruce nodded, then lifted his eyes to Oliver. “She’s a target.”

“She and I both know this. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“But it could be the last. Are you prepared for that?”

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat at the words, and he wondered what Bruce knew, but wasn’t revealing.

“He’s ruined. He’ll do anything now,” Bruce continued. “I’ve dealt with his brand of evil before.”

“So has Chloe.”

“She knows who you are, she knows who I am…”

“She’d never reveal that to anyone. She’s part of what I do, what my team does.”

“That makes her more valuable to him.”

“No different than any other member of the team.”

“You love her.”

“Yes.”

“That’s the difference.” Bruce turned as if to walk away, then stopped, speaking over his shoulder. “Keep her safe. If you need me, let me know.”

End Chapter 15

Click Here For Chapter 16

Signal Fire Chapter 14

2009-08-06T22:24:00.004-05:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 14

“Ollie! Holy shit! Come look at this! Quick!” Bart’s agitated voice sounded loudly from the conference room in the Arrow command center. He rose from the overstuffed chair, remote control in hand raising the volume as Chloe, Oliver, Victor and A.C. trotted into the open space, eyes wide at the images appearing on the screen. The words, Breaking News: GREEN ARROW MURDERS? Emblazoned beneath the newscaster in large white letters.

“Oh my God,” Chloe gasped softly, reaching up to grip Oliver’s arm in shock.

The blonde anchorwoman spoke as they watched taped footage of emergency personnel wheeling a covered body from an abandoned warehouse. “It appears that Star City’s most famous vigilante may have inexplicably traded sides, as evidence implicates that either the Green Arrow, or a copycat may have committed more than one murder. The body of Adriana Spencer, ex-wife of former Star City Sanitation Commissioner, James Spencer was found last night in the warehouse district near the Oceanside Docks….”

“What?” Oliver’s astonished voice cut through the newscast, as gooseflesh raised the hairs on his arms.

“…. Preliminary evidence suggests an arrow, similar to those used by the Emerald Archer, was shot through the woman’s heart, killing her instantly. Police are conducting forensics, as well as trying to determine if there is any connection to another murder; the body discovered only this morning, identified an hour ago as Tess Mercer.

The image cut to that of a police official addressing the media. He spoke amid intermittent camera flashes, and reporters shouting questions. “The bodies of two women were found within a mile of each other in the Oceanside Docks area, each with similar injuries. Custom-made arrows, like those we’ve seen before, used by the Green Arrow were found at both crime scenes. We don’t know at this time, if this is the work of the Green Arrow, or someone attempting to implicate him….”

“Someone attempting to implicate him, you dumb-asses!” Bart shouted at the television.

“And we know who that someone is…” Victor murmured.

“Tess is dead?” Chloe could barely speak, unable to take her widened eyes from the screen as an image of Tess appeared behind the newscaster, before cutting to the next top story. “Adriana too?” Chloe gazed up at him worriedly. “Oh, Oliver!”

Oliver had left an arrow embedded in Adriana’s dressing table mirror. And later, when he’d gone to Black Creek to trade himself for Chloe, they’d divested him of his weapons. They had his arrows, his compound bow, his costume, voice distorter, everything he’d brought with him; they’d taken. It would be easy to use them to fabricate a crime scene. His fingerprints would no doubt be on everything, his bow gloves allowing thumb and forefinger to be exposed.

Oliver ran a frustrated hand through his hair, still shocked at what he’d just seen and heard. “Lex can’t expose me. Not publicly. He has no proof, but he can try to ruin the Green Arrow… and me, in the process.”

“But why would they kill Adriana?” Chloe wondered, still in shock, unable to help but feel a bit sorry for the poor woman who’d simply gotten in over her head in her attempt at getting back at Oliver over a failed affair. She’d paid the ultimate price for it; unaware of the true evil she was dealing with.

“Maybe they were afraid of leaving loose ends; afraid she’d talk. I don’t know…” Oliver’s voice trailed off as he moved to sink into the place Bart had vacated. He was weary of a sudden, and rubbed his eyes, resting an elbow on the cushioned arm of the chair, his forehead in his hand.

“We can’t let him get away with this!” Bart’s voice again, shrill and defiant.

“Have you heard from Bruce?” Victor asked calmly, seemingly out of the blue, causing Chloe to glance from him to Oliver in confusion. Why he’d bring up Bruce Wayne at a time like this was a mystery.

Oliver sighed wearily, lifting his head toward Victor, nodding. “It’s going down.”

“What’s going down?” Chloe’s curiosity demanded that she have answers now, especially with the events they’d just seen on the television. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Oliver took a deep breath. He had intended to tell her, but with everything that had happened, and nothing finalized he wanted to wait. “Lex gave Tess control of Luthorcorp in his absence.”

“Yes, I know that, go on.”

Oliver’s palms fell to his knees. “Lex was gone, presumed dead, Tess missing...”

“I know that too. What are you talking about, Oliver?”

“Remember the meeting I had in Gotham?”

Chloe nodded, recalling the hand-written note Adriana left in his pocket about the phony tryst she and Oliver had. “Yeah.”

“It was all about luring board members into a deal with Wayne Enterprises. LexCorp and the subsidiary Wayne Tech have long been rivals. Bruce and I have been buying major shares on the open market. An easy thing to do when both heads of the company are unaccounted for. Bruce got a few of his own people on the board. Luscius Fox helped convince the rest of the members that a merger would be beneficial. When Tess suddenly reappeared, she thought she’d be able to maintain control, and make major decisions, even with Lex around; when in reality, she’d have none. What neither of them suspected was a complete takeover by Wayne Tech. It’s in motion. We’re taking over a subsidiary of Luthorcorp.”

“And now she’s dead.” Chloe pointed out. “Lex saw her as competition.”

“No doubt,” Oliver agreed.

“Yeah, but now Baldy is framing you for her murder,” Bart interjected. “And that other chick too. Who was she?”

“She unknowingly had a small part in Chloe’s abduction,” was all Oliver said, not wanting to go into all the details.

Bart was insistent. “How can we clear the Green Arrow’s name?”

Everyone was silent at that.

Chloe thought for a moment. “Maybe we shouldn’t try,” She spoke softly, taking a seat across from Oliver.

He looked up at her, surprised.

“What do you mean?’ A.C. asked.

“I mean, no matter what we try, it will only bring more unwanted attention to the Green Arrow. Even if Oliver goes off on some saving the citizens of Star City spree, it won’t change the fact that two women are dead, and he’s a possible suspect. Anything he does now will only call more attention to him.”

“What about fingerprints and DNA evidence they might find? If they have my gear, and they’re planting evidence…” Oliver wondered aloud, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Still untraceable to you,” Chloe interrupted. “But if you go out patrolling, there’s a chance they’ll be looking for you, and not only the police, but the average Joe on the street might try having his fifteen minutes of fame by catching the Green Arrow. Besides, you do have a few other enemies aside from Lex, you know.”

Oliver rose from his chair, stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to pace. “We can’t wait until Lex ups the body count. How many will be killed with evidence conveniently implicating the Green Arrow before he stops? Who will be next?”

“You can’t go out, Oliver. You can’t possibly be everywhere at once. And they could catch you.”

“I can’t let more people die either Chloe.”

Chloe stood up and moved toward him, placing a hand on his bicep, soft fingers absently stroking his arm, her expression pleading. “Don’t do anything yet. Let me do some digging. Contact a few of my connections in law enforcement for more information.”

Oliver gazed down at her for long moments, uncertainty and worry in his eyes. This was a new kind of torture Lex had orchestrated. Oliver nodded finally in agreement.

Chloe immediately took up her place at the computer console of the command center. Oliver knew well enough to stay out of her way unless she needed him, and trusted her to do her job. She was good at this. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, and find information that would exonerate the Green Arrow, Chloe could.

A few days later, Chloe entered the Star City Gazette offices for the first time since her abduction, slowing in her steps as she reached Philip’s desk. It was empty. It appeared as though someone had cleared it out. Chloe couldn’t help the prickle that crept up her spine as she stood in front of the desk, staring at it. A copyboy passed by her, and Chloe turned abruptly, stopping him up short. “Tommy, what happened to Philip?”

The young man simply shrugged. “Don’t know, I think he just quit. Came in yesterday and got all his stuff.”

Anxiety crossed her features. Philip had been here only yesterday. Some nerve he had showing up here in the first place. She was silently grateful that she’d taken a few extra days off. She couldn’t face him again. Did he kill Adriana? Tess? Chloe couldn’t be sure, but it was a possibility she couldn’t deny and another shiver coursed through her. Yes, he’d let them go, but Philip was no better than Lex’s dog. One that could seem tame in one moment, and attack you without warning in the next.

Whatever stares and gossip she’d endured the week before over the article about Oliver’s love life had died down, replaced by the latest new shiny story. The public’s attention span could be short, she’d discovered. The newsroom was abuzz with the latest Green Arrow stories. People claimed to have seen him as recently as last night, something Chloe knew was not true; it wasn’t Oliver dressed in green leather. But if someone had his costume they could use it. And a debate began rising among the citizens of Star City over his guilt or innocence. Some were staunch supporters, others condemning him.

Chloe had discovered through her connections at the coroner’s office that Tess Mercer’s body had apparently been moved after death, and that the fatal wound she received was inflicted by a sharp knife, not an arrow. Yet an arrow had been shoved into her body, post mortem. When this information was released it fueled the debate, some claming the arrow placed after death proved that the Green Arrow was indeed being framed. Others claimed he must have stabbed her, then moved her body and shot her as a way of leaving his calling card.

Adriana Spencer however was a different story. She had apparently been bound and gagged, taken to the Oceanside Docks and was killed at the scene; a custom-made arrow piercing her heart.

Chloe’s lips thinned in a grim line as she sat at her desk, brow furrowed, eyes scanning the coroner’s report on her screen. Various fingerprints had been found as well as other DNA evidence, but thus far all untraceable. Still the Green Arrow was considered a person of interest in both deaths. Chloe blew hair out of her eyes and cleared her screen. Maybe she was wrong about not trying to do anything to exonerate the Green Arrow.

She squared her shoulders. “Time to fight fire with fire,” she murmured to herself, opening a new document; the blank page staring back at her. She’d play Lex’s game, and fight back the only way she could. It seemed fitting. She began to type:

“WHY THE WORLD NEEDS HEROES”

Her editorial began by cataloging the major good deeds of the Green Arrow that had been reported and documented in the past year alone. She compared him to every day heroes; police, firefighters, EMTs, teachers, caregivers, any person who worked for the greater good or helped to better their community in any way. She compared him to Batman, and the Red Blue Blur. She rounded out the editorial by stating that we all needed heroes, and people to look up to, people who give us hope, and that the Green Arrow was just one of many. It was unfair to label him a murderer, and the evidence showed obviously, that the crimes committed were the work of some deranged mind seeking to destroy a true hero of Star City.

An hour passed, maybe two. Chloe lost track of time. Satisfied with her work, she printed up the rough draft, and headed toward the floor editor’s office. They gray-haired Mr. Byrne pushed his glasses back up as he talked on the phone, and gestured for her to hand him the paper she held, then waving her away. Leaving his office, knowing it was better not to press him, since he was more agreeable that way; she sat at her desk once more.

She busied herself with other things, stories she’d been working on. She waited.

And waited.

Two hours later the floor editor approached her desk. “What’s the meaning of this Sullivan?”

“I wrote the truth. Facts checked and all,” she defended simply.

“Do you know Adriana Spencer’s funeral is tomorrow?” When she didn’t answer, he crossed his arms over his chest as though considering this fact. A slow smile spread on his face. This would be perfect timing. “I like it. Best work you’ve done yet, Sullivan!” He walked away from her, paper in hand, waving it around, and tossing words over his shoulder, a grin so wide she thought his face would split. “It goes in tomorrow’s editorial column! As is!”

Chloe sank back into her chair, relief flooding her. She picked up her cell phone, excited to share her news with Oliver.

The following day, as promised, her editorial appeared. The paper received hundreds of calls regarding it; most of them positive, and Chloe was quite pleased with herself. Oliver was proud of her too, and appreciated her efforts to gain public support for the Green Arrow. Maybe they could fight this after all. In the mean time, they’d have to try to be one step ahead of Lex, yet he was a master at disappearing at will, and his whereabouts were unknown to the team, making surveillance impossible. Just one false move. He needed to make one move, one mistake and maybe then they’d be able to stop him.

Her desk phone rang the following morning.

“Sullivan speaking, how can I help you?” she answered, her voice cheerful.

“A deranged mind. Interesting choice of words, Chloe.”

Chloe’s blood ran cold.

“Do you really think your insignificant editorial is of any consequence to me? People will have forgotten it by tomorrow.”

She swallowed harshly. “Lex.”

“I’m not finished yet. But by the time I am, the Green Arrow’s name will be synonymous with terror. The murder of two women?” He made a sound of derision in the back of his throat. “This is only the beginning.”

End Chapter 14

Click Here For Chapter 15

Signal Fire Chapter 13

2009-08-04T12:41:00.004-05:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 13

Somehow, though he knew she was long gone, she was still there. He felt her deep in his bones. It was inexplicable, but there she was, seeped within him. And he wondered if she would always haunt him, or if this was merely an after effect of the serum they’d given him. He couldn’t believe it. The serum had worked, just as it had on Tess, and several times during his shower, he’d had to examine himself searching for signs of a bullet hole. Each time he checked the spot on his chest, there was nothing. It was as though he’d never been shot. And the swollen features from Oliver’s fists. Gone, as though he’d never been beaten.

Philip, freshly showered and dressed in black fatigues once more sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over, tying up a bootlace as Lex stepped into the infirmary room. He sat up straightening, lifting his head in acknowledgement at the man who probably now owned his soul. The knowledge was not comforting, not like the comfort of Chloe’s presence that still seemed to flow in his veins, but was fading gradually with every new beat of his heart. It was useless to hold onto it and he vaguely wondered how many times Chloe had healed Oliver Queen of injuries, and if that had anything to do with their connection. No, that wasn’t entirely it. She was in Queen’s blood, in his soul, and probably always would be, never to fade.

Philip felt no dread as Lex stepped into the room, eyeing him. It was more like resignation. Facing your lot, and living with it, even if it wasn’t what you wanted. Acceptance of something you had no control over.

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” was all Lex said as he scrutinized Philip with an expression that dared him to defy. Lex knew he had Philip exactly where he wanted him.

“Better than ever.”

“This isn’t over, you know.”

Whether Lex meant for Philip, or for Chloe and Oliver, he wasn’t certain. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“What about Tess?”

Lex’s eyes turned steely blue, narrowing, his shoulders lifting in a near shrug as though she were of no consequence. “You did me a favor. I returned it.”

“You could have saved her instead of me.”

“Let’s just say, you’re more valuable.”

“How so? This entire scheme was orchestrated for her.” Philip rose from the edge of the bed now, his frustration evident. Chloe’s kidnapping was designed in part, to restore Tess to health, and yet, Lex had ultimately allowed her to die. It made no sense, and seemed a waste of resources and time.

Lex turned away from him, to stare through the opened doorway of the infirmary, his gaze not particularly focused on anything. “Tess forgot her place among the ranks,” he spoke with a quiet coldness. “She didn’t know the meaning of discipline. Tess was power hungry. Thought she could control me.” He turned his head in Philip’s direction, speaking over his shoulder. “She’d been making decisions about Luthorcorp in my absence that were contrary to my wishes, behind my back. She wanted it all for herself.” Lex turned fully to face Philip once more. “And now I have to clean up her mess.”

“By getting rid of her.” Philip never liked Tess, but taking her life was not what he’d planned, and that he’d unwittingly done Lex’s bidding by disposing of her, did not sit well with him. Had he once again been Lex’s puppet, controlled by invisible strings?

“It’s a start. Unfortunate, but necessary.”

Somehow Philip didn’t believe Lex thought it unfortunate at all. He swallowed visibly, wondering if Lex knew he was the one to let Chloe and Oliver go. “So now what?”

“We carry on,” Lex stated matter-of-factly. “We know the true identity of the Green Arrow. That’s a victory in and of itself.”

“'He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,'” Philip retorted. “'If your enemy is in superior strength, evade him,'” he continued, quoting the passage from memory.

The corners of Lex’s mouth curled up slightly at the reference as he took a step closer. “Sun Tzu also said, ‘The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, and then waited for an opportunity of defeating the enemy.’”

“I’ve seen them together; I’ve had a chance to observe them more closely than you have. Their bond is stronger than you think.”

“There will be another opportunity, Philip. I’m not worried.” And he wasn’t. He knew despite whatever misgivings Philip might have over the entire situation, that Philip would follow him. He owned Philip body and soul as surely as he owned Luthorcorp down to the last brick.

Philip knew it too. And as this realization dawned, the reluctant acquiescence that appeared on his face spoke volumes, as he watched Lex turn away, leaving the room, victorious even in this.

* * * * *

They slept the entire night through, too exhausted to do much else once they reached the manor house. Light filtering into their bedroom caused them both to awaken moments apart from one another, and though each knew the other was awake, neither of them spoke, simply holding one another, eyes closed, unwilling to leave their bed. They shifted, Chloe lay her head, cheek pressed against his chest, as strong arms moved to cradle her.

They lay there naked together, each of them lost in their own thoughts as the dreamy, comforting fog of sleep lifted, and they had to face the harsh reality of the events of the past few days. Chloe didn’t think the visions of Oliver’s mutilated body strung up before her, would ever leave her for as long as she lived, and her hand rose once more to caress the smooth skin of his chest, over the hard contours to trail down his sculpted torso, as though to reassure herself for the umpteenth time, that there were no marks or injuries.

Oliver divined her thoughts, taking her hand and pressing it against his ribs, holding it there, his hand large and warm covering hers. She had checked him over a least a dozen times, running her hands over him, making him turn around for her inspection. She’d even healed his bruised knuckles against his wishes. He wouldn’t fight her over it, knowing how tortured she’d been after she bore witness to what was done to him. But he had endured it too, and thoughts of Tess tormenting him with words, the slice of the blade, against his flesh, the plunging of her knife into his gut and then his chest, made him grimace at the thought of it. And Lex. His face swam before Oliver’s closed eyelids, taunting him with threats against Chloe, lashing him with the whip so that his entire body was flooded, engulfed in a shock of pain. Oliver pressed his lips to Chloe’s hair, nuzzling her in an effort to rid himself of the visions.

Tess. He should have killed her while he had the chance. After all she’d done to him and to Chloe, he’d have felt no remorse over it. Chloe moved against him in answer to his kisses, snuggling closer, her leg rubbing up and down over his. She made a sleepy sound of contentment. He could have killed Tess, but would Chloe have forgiven him for it? Maybe she would have, but Oliver couldn’t take that chance. She was always the voice of reason, whenever he’d acted impulsively, yet he knew that she had attacked Tess as well, and maybe she would have understood. She’d reminded him once that it wasn’t up to them, that it was what separated them from people like Lex. If he had killed Tess, he’d have become what she was.

Lex was alive. Where he’d been, and what he’d been doing for the past year was a complete mystery. They’d tried to find him, and even when Chloe had once possessed Brainiac’s intelligence, she could not locate him. Lex knew. He knew the identity of the Green Arrow. What would he do with this knowledge? Now more than ever, he and Chloe would be targets. Oliver didn’t think Lex would go public with the information. It would be too difficult to prove, and unless Lex was prepared for a lawsuit of libel or slander, he’d have to keep his knowledge of the Green Arrow’s true identity to himself. But that made him more dangerous.

Maybe there was a way out of this, a way to buy them some time, and lots of it.

“If your thoughts were any louder…” she murmured playfully against his skin.

“You woke me up with yours,” he teased softly.

There was a long pause before she spoke. “Ollie…I can’t… I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t stop picturing you…”

“Shhh…” he soothed, stroking her hair, pressing more soft kisses to the top of her head.

“Lex and Tess. They aren’t finished with us. You know that,” she whispered. “And the Green Arrow…. They know, and…” her voice began to rise in panic. “What should we do? We have to do something, Ollie…”

Oliver rolled them, effectively quieting her, moving her onto her back. Large hands encircled her wrists, holding them captive against the mattress near her head, he pinned her with his body. His head descended, pressing soft kisses to her cheek, lips trailing softly down over her jaw line and throat, where he stopped to nuzzle at the curve of her neck. He breathed more kisses there. Oliver didn’t want to think. Not right now. He wanted to forget Lex, Tess, Philip, his torture; Chloe’s tear streaked face as she wept over his broken body. She’d suffered, probably more than he had. She not only had to witness his torture, she’d endured his physical pain as well, upon healing him. And then there was Philip, with his hands all over her, creating a jealousy Oliver could no longer pretend he didn’t feel… and now all Oliver wanted was to make her feel good, make her forget for awhile, give her some pleasure in the only way he could at this moment.

They both needed to forget, right now. God, he needed her. It was an admission he could no longer cast away. She did things to him – made him feel things that he’d never felt for another woman, ever. Made him dream of a future he never thought he could have. A family. A home. Some semblance of a normal life. He needed her like he needed the air to breathe, and now his need to show her how much he loved her grew more desperate with every kiss he pressed to her warm skin.

“Ollie…” she whispered, vaguely wondering what had come over him.

“I love you, Chloe,” he breathed against her flesh. “Love you,” he whispered, over and over again, the words leaving him repeatedly between kisses as his mouth traveled, lips grazing her skin with heart-rending tenderness. He’d bare himself completely, without fear because right now, she was the only thing worth clinging to, worth having, ever his anchor, his signal fire.

Chloe was nearly surprised at his gentle assault. The air suddenly grew thick with emotion, and she found herself helplessly swept up in him. He’d told her he loved her before this, but Oliver could be quite stoic, and his actions spoke louder than his words. Something about him in this moment was different. He was humbled, exposed, raw, and open after all they’d endured. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t meant it those other times, but now the power and purity of his words, spoken softly and fervently, not once, not twice, but over and over again, whispered like a litany, tingling against her flesh seemed to hit home with new clarity and realization. The ache in his voice telling her all she needed to know.

“I love you…”

A knot rose in her throat, her heart swelling in her chest at the depth of feeling this man had for her, and she wondered how she could ever have doubted him. She shuddered beneath him; his voice and his lips sending a whirl of sensations as one lone tear escaped the outer corner of her eye. “I love you, Oliver,” she returned his words on a near sob, meaning them every bit as much as he did.

His body grew hard with wanting, pressed against her. “Mine… only mine,” he breathed the words harshly as his ardor increased, a low growl in his throat, and Chloe wondered if he’d been thinking of Philip, and what he’d done, how he had touched her. Oliver released her wrists; fingertips sliding down her arms, sending shivers through her. He moved over her, mouth grazing, breathing a path between her breasts, and over her belly, his hands following, caressing her body, until he reached the juncture of her thighs. Fingers spread folds of soft pink flesh as the first swipe of his tongue sent her senses reeling, her breath catching in her throat in a soft gasp. His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub before suckling it gently. She writhed against his mouth, tongue laving her with increasing intensity. Sweet-musky, feminine, he loved the way she tasted.

He shook her to the core. Her hands balled into fists gripping the sheets beneath her as her body arched. “Yes…,” she managed to hiss breathlessly. There were a thousand questions and concerns to worry over, but in this moment, Chloe didn’t care about any of them. She was with the man she loved, safe for now and his mouth was making incredible magic, making her forget the pain of the past few days. “Yours… only yours.”

A moan escaped her. Oliver felt her convulse with pleasure, listened as she cried out softly from the stroke of his fingers at the place he’d been kissing her.

She reached for him, desperate with need of him, an urgent groan of want passing her lips as he moved across her body. Oliver cupped his hands beneath her bottom, tilted her hips, and let her take hold of him, her small hand guiding him to her. The force of need pulsating through his blood urged him to take her, possess her, sink himself so deep inside her, and find the comfort and ease of his soul that only she had ever given him. A rush of air escaped him as he slipped past the folds of her slick entrance, impaling her. Her hands gripped him the way the tight heat of her body gripped him. His hips began to move in delicious rhythm. Familiar, comfortable, and nothing on earth could be more right than this. The past didn’t matter, there was only now, and whatever the future would bring. Each of them knowing that no matter what tomorrow held for them, they would face it together.

Sensations rolled over her like a tidal wave as he pushed her into rapture, immersing himself deeper and harder with every thrust. Shudders wracked her body, until he knew she was so far gone, the last vestiges of his control shattered, and sweet release flooded them both in prolonged ecstasy.

Oliver dropped soft kisses on her face and throat as each of them struggled for air. But he wouldn’t leave her body. Not yet. He sank down upon her gently, his heart hammering in his chest. It was her turn to cradle him, stroke his heated skin, caress him. After a time, he slipped out of her warmth, and she pulled him to her breast, closer. Oliver’s eyes closed over; languid as her comfort surrounded him like a warm blanket, and for a time at least, they let the world fall away.

There was hope. Maybe. The slightest bit of hope that they could stop Lex or in the very least, cripple Luthorcorp. It was something that had been in the works for weeks. He’d been waiting for the phone call that would confirm it. “I love you, Chloe,” he murmured sleepily against her breast one more time.

“I won’t ever doubt you again, Oliver,” she whispered softly into his hair, knowing now, that after all that had happened, they’d never be the same again, and that no matter what Tess or Lex or Philip or anyone could do to them, no one would ever tear them apart.

End Chapter 13

Click Here For Chapter 14

Signal Fire Chapter 12

2009-07-18T10:35:00.006-05:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 12

Oliver didn’t waste time. The initial shock of darkness would wear off in moments once all eyes were adjusted, and he had to move quickly. The last remnants of daylight still faintly diffusing their way through clouded windows, would offer just enough light to make out various shapes.

He spun, heading back toward Philip, figuring his odds would be better attempting to slip past one person, rather than two. Chloe, to her credit, remained as silent as possible, for all the jostling endured as he whipped around, and moved through the corridor, squinting and focusing so as not to knock into anyone or anything.

Lex lost sight of them, and Philip heard the footfalls, sensed and felt the soft rush of air pass him, saw the hint of Chloe’s blond hair. “Freeze!” he called after them aiming his weapon in their general direction, but the shape kept moving.

“Shoot him!” Tess called, and when Philip hesitated, as the vague, fuzzy shadow of Oliver’s form carrying Chloe rounded the corner, she became livid, removing her own sidearm, in pursuit. “You idiot!” she screeched. “You could have had them!”

Even in the dark, Philip had the decency to look roundly chastised. “I couldn’t get a clear shot,” he defended.

Lex’s voice sounded from behind her, stopping her up short. “Tess, wait. They won’t escape, and if they do, we’ll find them, and if we don’t, they won’t survive the Montana wilderness for long. Either way, we win.” Lex took out the handset from his pocket, speaking into it as he stepped away, trying to survey the darkened area with minimal success. “Get this power back on, immediately!”

Tess shoved at Philip. “After them. Now! I’m holding you personally responsible for this mess!”

Philip did as she ordered. He could move faster, thanks to the gift of Luthorcorp legs and Project Ares. He tried to remind himself that he owed his life to Lex, but after all he’d witnessed here, he wasn’t certain gratitude was what he was feeling at the moment. This is my last mission, he vowed, thinking that whatever debt he may owe Luthor, should now be paid in full. And once again, his dream of moving back to Metropolis to settle down to a quiet, normal life resurfaced.

Chloe. She had fooled him, and he’d allowed himself to believe her, his judgment clouded by his feelings for her. Oddly enough, he felt no anger or resentment toward her over it. Oliver Queen was the man she loved. How could he blame her for using his own lust against him, employing the weapons in her feminine arsenal if she thought it would save the man she loved? Philip felt a twinge of envy as he ran, rounding a corner and entering a new corridor, searching for where they might have gone through the darkened facility. He’d give anything to have a woman love him as much as Chloe loved Oliver Queen. A woman willing to put herself in danger for him, devote herself to him. He’d seen them together. He’d seen the deep love between them; before, during and after the tortures they’d endured. He should have known. He could never come between them.

Lex thought he’d won. He thought he was the ultimate puppet master. Thought he knew all about the deception of war, and maybe that was true. But Lex knew nothing about the power of love, and that would be his eventual downfall. Even if he succeeded in killing both of them, he’d still never be victorious. For all Lex had orchestrated to separate Queen from the woman he loved, all he’d achieved was to further cement their bond.

Philip rounded another corner, and just as he’d once surprised the Green Arrow in an abandoned home, he’d found that he’d run right smack into a shocking, sudden fisted bomb to the face. Philip staggered backward, starbursts appearing before him, his eyes watering, nose stinging horribly; he felt the warmth of blood filling his nostrils and flowing down over his mouth.

“That’s for touching her,” he heard Oliver’s low growl as he attempted to recover from the blow, shaking it off. As he righted himself, Oliver spun, and Philip was met with a booted foot to the midsection, causing the air to whoosh out of him with a grunt of pain, his body lurching backward from the impact, slamming against a wall. “That’s for your little scheme with Adriana,” Oliver slugged him again, grunting. “And your damned article.” Oliver’s voice was hushed and raspy, yet filled with rage.

Philip, for all his training, gun still in hand; didn’t have the heart to fight back this time. And when Oliver began methodically pumping brutal fists, pummeling into his face and torso, like a prizefighter who had his opponent against the ropes, Philip’s legs gave way, causing him to slide down the wall, landing on his bottom in a heap. Pain thundered through him as he sensed another strike aimed at his head, fogging his brain as dizziness overcame him and he thought he’d lose consciousness at any moment.

“Ollie! You’ll kill him!” came Chloe’s panicked voice pleading from some nearby corner.

Moments before, Oliver had placed her gently along the corridor wall, when they’d heard someone’s footfalls close behind them. He’d handed her the gun, and readied himself for the surprise attack, not knowing whom to expect. That it was Philip somehow made his rage sweeter. Once again her voice had stopped him, and now she stood on shaky legs approaching them. Oliver stood panting, a faint sheen of sweat glimmered over his chest in the dimness like violence radiating from his skin, his knuckles bruised, fists clenched out at his sides, still in a fighting stance over the fallen body of Philip seated limply against the wall. He gazed down, eyes burning with fury at the man who’d played a major role in Lex’s orchestrated drama, daring him to make a move.

Chloe moved to Oliver’s side, and raised the Desert Eagle, her hand trembling with the effort, and pointed it at Philip, his breathing labored. “You did that?” she asked in disbelief, and he could hear the hurt and dismay in her voice. “Why?” She’d known he had been behind her abduction, but hadn’t known the extent of it.

Philip didn’t answer, only lifted swollen eyes to her, trying to discern her features in the darkness.

“You wrote that article? You put it on my desk, didn’t you? You had Adriana go to Del Monaco’s. That’s why you wanted me to meet Oliver there. There was no political source named Mr. Ambrose, was there?” Philip heard the click of the pistol as she cocked it. “Why?” she demanded. Her tear-laced voice cut through his heart. “How much did Lex pay you?” she asked, sniffling back the tears, her voice now hardened. “Was it enough? Enough to be bought and sold, and used?”

Philip struggled to catch his breath. He couldn’t explain to her why he’d done it. At one time he felt he owed Lex his life, but he couldn’t explain. Not now, when his reasons for helping Luthor no longer seemed to exist. She was right; he had merely been another puppet for Lex to use. Philip shifted his head against the wall to find Oliver’s shadowed form still in the same position, ready to strike him again at any moment. “Take her,” he breathed through parted lips, licking away the blood. “Take her and go,” he paused to swallow down the blood and saliva that had begun to fill his mouth and throat. “I’ll do what I can to hold them off. Just… get out of here.” And to prove his sincerity he added, “Take my gun. You’ll need it.” He turned the pistol in his hand, raising it so that Oliver could grasp the handle. “It’s fully loaded.”

Oliver’s body relaxed somewhat, and he took the proffered weapon cautiously. Chloe never took her eyes from Philip, her gun still aimed at him, shaky and unsteady in her grasp. She had regained some strength, but was not completely restored.

“Take care of her,” he indicated Chloe with a movement of his head. “Now go,” he urged softly, and watched as Oliver gently touched her arm, sliding his hand toward her wrist, easing it down.
Even in the dimness, he could see her expression soften, and for that Philip was grateful. Somehow he knew it would be the last time he’d ever see her, and he couldn’t bear to have her last gaze upon him, be one of disdain.

Oliver took the gun from her hand, un-cocked it, slipping it into the waistband of his black B.D.U. pants, and put an arm around her, turning her. As they made their way down the darkened hallway, she looked back over her shoulder, trying to discern the shape of Philip against the concrete wall. His black uniform made it difficult, but she knew he was still there.

He was letting them go. She didn’t know why, and maybe she shouldn’t ponder it. The sound of approaching voices and the echo of running feet had Oliver grabbing her up once more, pulling her along at a faster pace. He knew another exit had to be nearby, and he’d hoped they’d not find much resistance once they got there.

While Lex barked orders into his handset, Tess grew impatient with waiting. She wanted to find Chloe and Oliver; refused to allow them to escape. The games were over. There’d be no more torture, now all she wanted was death for them, and nothing else would do. Finally, she’d put her loathing and her rage against Oliver to an end. His end. She’d be rid of a man she could never control, and never have. She and Lex would finally be rid of the terrorist who’d attempted to destroy them. They could continue their work unmolested, studying and recruiting meta-humans to fight against the coming invasion. Chloe’s ability would be a loss, but it was a loss Tess could live with.

She glanced back at Lex, still attempting to communicate to his men, but most of them seemed to have disappeared during the power outage. It was no matter. She’d handle this, and settle the score once and for all.

While Lex’s attention was diverted, she trotted in the direction Philip had headed. Moving carefully, pistol drawn, her eyes searched the dimness, growing ever darker now with the onset of nightfall. Lex called after her, but she was too far now. She’d take care of everything for him. He had entrusted her with Luthorcorp after all; surely she could handle this.

Tess followed the path toward the opposite exit. That’s probably where they were headed. As she moved through the corridor nearing an intersection, something or someone appeared to be slumped against the wall. Raising her pistol, she stepped toward him. Lex called for her again, his voice sounding much closer now. She ignored him.

The dark object on the floor turned out to be Philip. From what she could see of him, he’d been badly beaten. She raised her weapon, directing at him. “Where are they? What happened?” she demanded.

Philip shifted on the floor. “He caught me by surprise. I lost them.”

“You fool. Get up.”

“I can’t."

“Don’t tell me Queen did this. I though you were… special. Did your added strength suddenly disappear?”

“I told you. He caught me by surprise. I didn’t know he was there.”

Tess didn’t believe him. She knew that Philip was one of the first Project Ares prototypes. She knew more about him than he thought. “I think you let them go,” she accused. “Too soft on Ms. Sullivan, perhaps?” She nudged him with her foot. “You’ve gone soft. You’re no soldier,” she taunted, her voice laced with bitterness. “Get up,” she ordered. “Help me find them.”

“No.”

Tess was becoming more livid with each passing moment. This was her chance to get them back, to finally kill Oliver, to make Lex proud. She moved the pistol menacingly, cocking it. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t matter. Not anymore,” she whispered between clenched teeth, and fired.

Philip, already hurting, felt the impact of the bullet enter his chest. She’d kill him, he knew, but before she fired another shot, before he died here, he’d show her how much of a soldier he truly was. She’d said he wasn’t a soldier, she knew nothing of what she spoke. He’d endured much worse than this, seen things she’d never imagine, and with the last bit of strength he had, he reached for the blade hidden in his boot, grasped the handle, and flung it in her direction. And though split seconds passed between her first shot, and his throwing of the blade, it seemed to travel in slow motion, end-over-end as he watched it embed itself perfectly, exactly where he wanted it. He was a soldier. Philip felt his shirt becoming soaked with the warmth of his blood as he watched her, felt the life ebbing from his body. He still had it, and despite his pain, a small grin curved his lips.

Tess’s eyes widened, her mouth agape as she gasped for breath at the sudden, searing pain emanating from her chest. She lowered her head to find a knife plunged to the hilt into her breast, a numbness engulfing her; she could do no more than stare at it in disbelief, as though some oddity had suddenly grown from her. She couldn’t breath. Sinking to her knees, the gun falling from her hand, she thought she heard Lex calling her name once more.
Lex caught her up, before she fell sideways.

“Philip,” she gasped, and then said no more. She wilted, her eyes suddenly turning cold and lifeless.

Lex lowered her to the floor gently, and approached Philip. He crouched next to him. “I’ll get you out of here, Philip. We’ll fix you up. You’ll be better soon. Better than you’ve ever been before. We still have serum from Ms. Sullivan’s blood.”

Philip attempted to shake his head. If Lex fixed him, he’d only be further indebted to him, and Philip thought he’d rather die, than owe his life to Luthor. He’d never be free. “Tess,” Philip gasped, coughing up blood, unable to breath, barely able to speak. “I killed her.”

Lex lifted his head, his eyes narrowed, searching the darkness for her body, lying in a fetal position on the floor. A brief smile flitted to his lips. “Yes. Collateral damage. An unfortunate accident,” was all he said, then reached once more for his handset, calling for men to help carry Philip to the infirmary.

* * * * *

Oliver shoved the exit door open as a shot rang out from somewhere behind them. The sound had them both stopping in their tracks briefly. They looked at one another, unspoken panic communicated between them. Oliver pulled her through the door, gun drawn, expecting guards to be surrounding them. There was no one. It had grown darker, shadowing the compound and the surrounding landscape in a deep blue haze. He didn’t know where they were going, as long as it was away from here. If they could make it to where vehicles were parked, perhaps they’d find a car, hell he’d be happy to find his motorcycle, but he didn’t want to stay near the compound for too long, fearing discovery.

Philip had given them this chance. Oliver didn’t know why. Maybe the man had a conscience after all. He wondered who’d fired the shot they’d heard, and then decided that it was probably for the best that he didn’t know.

Chloe seemed to read his mind as they picked their way over rocks and through shrubs, coming around to the front of the compound, where most of the cars and other vehicles were parked. “Who do you think that was? Why isn’t anyone around? Something’s not right, Ollie,” she whispered as she clung to his arm.

Oliver stopped for a moment, feeling light-headed, suddenly realizing he was unable to recall the last time he’d eaten. Before he could answer, there was a whirl of dust blowing around them, and when it stopped, Bart stood in front of them.

“About time you guys got here,” was all Oliver said, causing the wide smile on Bart’s face to fall. Oliver noted his friend’s expression, and immediately regretted his tone.

“Glad to see you too, amigo.”

“I’m sorry, Bart. I’m glad to see you too. It’s… it’s just a long story,” he placed an apologetic hand on Bart’s shoulder, and clasped his hand, shaking it in gratitude as they continued to walk in the direction the younger man indicated.

The smile returned to Bart’s face. “Yeah well, next time you decide to go off by yourself, don’t leave stupid binary code messages that no one but Victor can figure out. Took him forever to decipher your text message. He got the flight records though.”

“Wait. How long have you been here? Is that why there are no guards posted?” Chloe asked. “And the power?”

“Yup. We took care of all of it. In fact we were just about to bust into the place when we heard the gunshot, and then saw you two coming out. Looks like you handled it pretty well without us.”

“No. If it weren’t for you guys cutting the power, and taking care of the guards, we might not have made it out. It was a stupid idea, and I never should have left without the team,” Oliver said as they approached the League van used for missions, hidden behind an overgrowth of rock. “They threatened to hurt Chloe if I didn’t come alone.”

“You should know better than that,” Victor admonished, jumping out from the hold, as Bart hopped in. Vic clasped Oliver’s hand in greeting. “Team leader still needs a team.”

Oliver winced at Victor’s grip, his knuckles sore from having used Philip as a punching bag. He nodded his agreement sheepishly, glad that the ordeal was over for now. What would happen next, he didn’t know. Tess, Lex, and Philip were still inside the compound, still capable of their own brand of evil, and Oliver knew this wasn’t over yet. The team would come back and take care of this place, but neither he nor Chloe would be safe as long as Tess was hell bent on revenge. And Philip. He had let them go, but Oliver still didn’t trust the man. The return of Lex was another story entirely.

“How’s our Tower?” Victor asked, putting his arm around Chloe. She smiled up at him, grateful and relieved to be among her friends again. “I’m fine, thanks, and happy you’re all here. I just want to go home.”

“Your chariot awaits, milady,” he grinned, giving her shoulder a squeeze before turning back to the van and climbing in.

Oliver turned to her. “Home. Metropolis?” He wanted, needed her to be sure.

Chloe smiled up at him, placing her hands on the smooth skin of his chest. “No. Home is wherever you are.”

Oliver grinned, swept her up in his arms, and capturing her lips with his, he kissed her so thoroughly and possessively, that Chloe knew she’d lost herself in him.

A.C. popped his head out from the driver’s side of the van. “Hey, I’m kicking your ass later Queen, but right now we need to get the hell out of here.”

End Chapter 12

Click Here For Chapter 13

Signal Fire Chapter 11

2009-07-16T17:47:00.006-05:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 11

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“I’ve got it,” Victor announced triumphantly, lifting his eyes to his friends. “That was too easy.”

Bart danced around with his usual impatience. “Got what? They’re at Black Creek?”

“Yup. Black Creek.”

“You’re sure?” A.C. asked, leaning a hip against a nearby desk in the dimmed Green Arrow sub-basement.

“Checked flight records, and then there’s this. Binary Code. Oliver sent it. See that?” He gestured toward the computer monitor. The boys merely stared at what seemed a haphazard pattern of zeros and ones. “When I finally deciphered his last mysterious text message, it led me to a file he’d sent. Opened the file and there it was, written in beautiful Binary Code. Black Creek. That’s where they are. This message and the flight records I found of the Queen Industry’s jet he took, prove it. We don’t have much time to waste. Let’s move out. We should make it there by dusk.” Victor nodded to Bart in unspoken communication, sending the young man on ahead. He’d know what to do.

* * * * *

Oliver checked Philip’s pulse, assuring himself that the man was merely unconscious. He retrieved the key ring on Philip’s belt, pocketed it, then stepped over to the sink, setting the gun down on the ledge, grabbing up soap, and quickly washing away the blood from his face and torso, then drying himself with a nearby towel. There were no signs of injury. She’d healed him again. His gut twisted as he lifted his head, turning to look back at her lying on her side, her arm extended, her small hand hung limply over the edge of the bed. No more, he thought. No more. And suddenly he remembered from some clouded, distant corner of his mind, that she’d uttered those same words to him as she wept over his dying body the first time she’d healed him from the wrath of Tess’s blade. A wave of anguish swept over him, and he’d have wept right then and there recalling Chloe’s pain, but he couldn’t. He had to get them out of here. Oliver swallowed down his emotions, past the gnawing ache in his throat, and breathed deeply, steeling himself, hardening himself for their escape. Judging from the thin stream of light that filtered through the dark curtains, he guessed there was probably an hour or so of daylight left. It was up to him now, to get them out.

He slipped on the boots they’d given him, and moved to Chloe’s side, his movement causing her eyes to flutter open. She smiled weakly. “Hey,” she whispered, her eyes sliding closed briefly. “Nice work, Arrow.”

“Hey.” Oliver stroked her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, his eyes drifting over her face lovingly. Oliver didn’t think it was possible to love anyone more than he loved her. “Ready, Mistress Watchtower?”

Before she could answer, he reached for her, sitting her up, and slinging her arm around his neck holding it there as he gripped her waist with his other hand, and stood, lifting her, allowing her to lean against him, steadying her on her feet.

“You go,” she breathed faintly. Her legs felt like jelly, and she nearly sunk to the ground. Were it not for his arm around her, she’d have crumbled. “Get out while you can.”

“No chance in hell I’m leaving you here, Sidekick.”

“I can’t walk, Ollie.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“No. Just go, Ollie. I’ll only slow you down.” Her head fell forward against his bare chest, too heavy in her weakened state to hold up any longer.

The cruel menace of Lex’s words floated, unbidden, seeping into Oliver’s brain. “I’m keeping her around for her abilities, and Philip Cook gets to fuck her anytime he wants…She’ll scream for him in a way she’s never screamed for you.”

Suddenly he gripped her chin, cupping her cheek to lift her face to his. This was no time to argue, Oliver’s fear, and sense of urgency growing by the moment. “You listen to me.” His demand was a soft growl. He shook her gently in his arms, and she lifted droopy eyelids to find his gaze filled with determination, desperation, and fear, willing her to understand. “I’m not leaving you here, do you understand?” he ground out harshly, unable to keep the hint of rising panic and anger at Lex’s threat from his voice. His jaw clenched, clamping down his fear for her, and the thought of what they’d do to her if he simply left her, or they were separated in any way. Neither was an option. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know the next part of Lex’s game. Oliver wouldn’t tell her, but he had to make her understand somehow. And now that he’d witnessed Philip Cook’s reaction to her, seen Philip put his hands on her, he knew Lex wasn’t lying. Cook was like a dog in heat around her, and would do exactly as Lex predicted. “You’re coming with me. Now. You’re not leaving my side, do you hear? I don’t care what happens.” It was an order.

She knew him well, and something in his expression, the firm set of his jaw, the finality and urgency of commanding tone in his voice, and the tension in his body pressed against her, told her more than his words ever could. She had to go with him, or face something worse to come. He meant it, and there was no arguing with him this time. She’d slow him down; they could get caught. Hell, there were probably hidden cameras in the room, that revealed their every movement, and either Tess or Lex and their men were on their way now. She was wasting time. Chloe glanced down at Philip Cook’s unconscious body sprawled on the floor not two feet away from her.

Oliver’s dark eyes pleaded for her understanding. “Do you trust me?”

Chloe lifted drowsy, green eyes to his. “With my life,” she whispered.

Oliver kissed her in answer then, planting his lips firmly, hard against hers. It was quick and frantic and a seal of her trust in him. He then grabbed her up more securely and headed toward the door. Chloe could do no more than gaze down at Philip as Oliver half-carried, half-dragged her away, past his prone form.

The door opened easily with the key he’d taken, much to Oliver’s surprise. Philip must not have secured it from the inside. Leery that at any moment they’d be caught, Oliver crept stealthily, flattened against the dimly lit corridor walls, keeping Chloe upright and on her feet with one arm, as he wielded Philip’s Desert Eagle in the other.

Chloe silently cursed the effects of her ability, willing herself to regain full strength to no avail. She wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him to leave her there, but she meant what she’d said. She trusted him with her life, and if anyone could get them out, Oliver could.

They neared a corner, and Oliver moved her behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she wilted gratefully against him, her cheek pressed against the smooth skin of his back. He peered around the edge. “Two guards,” he whispered, vaguely wondering why no one seemed to notice their escape thus far. He watched one guard stretch his legs out in front of him as he sat in a folding chair, while another paced restlessly nearby.

They waited. Oliver felt her begin to slide down the wall, and turning sideways, he promptly lifted her, holding her against him.

Just then, the corridor lights flickered, and then went out, leaving all in darkness for a moment, before secondary emergency lights came to life, offering minimal illumination.

“Shit,” Oliver mumbled.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Not sure, but one of them is on the walkie-talkie. And they’re leaving now. I don’t like it.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when they’re supposed to be guarding an exit. Something’s not right. The power’s down. They’re running on a generator.”

“A changing of the guard,” she offered. “Power failure?”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed as the guards in their black fatigues trotted away. “I don’t think so.”

And then his heart sank. They knew. It was a trap. Leaving an exit unguarded, so that he and Chloe would be caught in an attempt to make their escape. What to do? This was the closest way out, and Oliver wasn’t certain Chloe could make it to the opposite side of the building, and chances of getting caught while traipsing through the compound would only increase. Having made a decision, he turned to her abruptly. “Come here,” he murmured, lifting her arms above her head, and crouching down low enough, he hoisted her effortlessly over his shoulder.

Chloe stifled the squeak that threatened to escape her throat as he lifted her. “Caveman,” she playfully accused in a hushed voice over her shoulder. She felt like a sack of potatoes, and just about as useful at the moment.

“You love it, babe,” he countered, palming her bottom affectionately. “Ready?”

“Go, before all the blood rushes to my head.”

Oliver smirked lightly, and moved toward the door; Chloe slung over his shoulder, Desert Eagle at the ready. If this were a trap, he’d find out soon enough. It was crazy, and dangerous. Oliver didn’t know what would await them outside. No doubt there would be guards there too, but the desire for freedom was too great, the need to get Chloe to safety too overwhelming to stop now.

* * * * *

Bart had gotten there first, and done recon with a quick, whirling sweep of the exterior of the Black Creek compound, giving Victor necessary basic information. The sun was setting by the time the rest of the team arrived, and once there, Victor had disabled the electrical, and the security systems. The place was crawling with guards and the team had no idea where Chloe and Oliver might be hidden.

The power outage had guards scurrying about, communicating with one another over walkie-talkie handsets; some giving, some receiving orders.

Victor and A.C. took care of the guards outside, one by one, two by two, stealthily dispatching them, and hiding unconscious bodies.

Bart watched from a discreet location at the approach of a black sedan. He tapped his comlink. “Boris and Natasha, right on time.”

“Aren’t you too young for Rocky and Bullwinkle?” Victor asked, watching from his hidden post as Lex and Tess exited the vehicle, and made their way toward the main entrance of the facility.

“He spends too much time watching old cartoons.” A.C. chimed in, taking a long swig from a water bottle.

“They’re awesome, what can I say?” Bart defended.

“Go find that generator and disable it, Impulse,” Victor ordered.

Bart shook his head, grinning. “On it, Mr. Wizard,” he said, before zooming off once more.

Tess glanced around, noting the lack of guards, and dimmed backup lights around the exterior. “Something’s wrong,” she said, and rushed to the entrance, Lex following behind. The door was unlocked, a dead giveaway that the security systems had been tampered with.

When she entered, what she saw stopped her in her tracks. A shirtless Oliver Queen stood mere feet away from her, a pistol aimed at her head, Chloe Sullivan slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry Tess, this reunion is over.” Oliver cocked the weapon, his expression stony and determined; deadly. “Get out of my way.”

Lex entered then, his own pistol drawn, aimed at Oliver. “I don’t think so.”

And then the voice of another from behind him somewhere, and Chloe’s soft gasp of recognition. “Put her down, Queen.”

It was Philip’s voice, and now Oliver, surrounded on both sides, defeated, yet refusing to relinquish neither gun nor the woman he carried, stood motionless; his aim at Tess’s head never wavering. He could do it. Shoot her right now. He watched her eyes, still widened at the sight of him. He should kill her now, for everything she’d done to him and to Chloe. He wondered how he could ever have been taken in by her, those many years ago on the island. Kill her, and end this. It would be so easy.

The tension grew thicker, as Lex watched Oliver’s murderous expression, almost delighting in it. He cocked his own pistol, his lips turning up slightly at the corners. “You shoot her, and then I shoot you. Remember what happens to Chloe when you’re dead?” he reminded.

“You son of a bitch,” Oliver spat venomously, still keeping his aim, his dark eyes never leaving his target.

The sudden sound of a click from behind him, let him know that Philip was also armed.

“Ollie,” Chloe whispered, pleading. She seemed to see no way out. Philip held the gun steady at Oliver’s back, Lex at his front. They were trapped, and the only end to the standoff seemed to be their surrender. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she knew it must be killing Oliver to be in this position at this moment. She had no idea what Lex’s taunting words meant. What would happen to her if Oliver were dead? Wouldn’t that be horrendous enough? Wouldn’t that be painful enough? What else could he possibly do to her that would hurt any more than the death of the man she loved? Chloe could think of nothing. Nothing in life would matter to her if he were dead.

It was her voice that broke the vengeful spell in Oliver’s soul, and his hand lowered a fraction. If Philip took a shot, he could possibly hit Chloe instead.

“That’s it,” Lex crooned, taking a measured step closer. “Drop the gun, and put Chloe down.”

It was then that the secondary lights went out, leaving them all in a sudden shroud of black darkness.

End Chapter 11

Click Here For Chapter 12

A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for the huge delay in this story. I confess that work, and life in general has been keeping me busy with no time for writing. I’ll also add here, that the show itself has been a downer for me, and taken away some of my joy in writing about it. I’m already working on the next chapter, and things will be wrapping up shortly. I’m hoping to work on more Chlollie stories as well. Thanks to everyone for your patience! Love to all. :)

Signal Fire Chapter 10

2009-02-02T22:33:00.004-06:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 10

Tess slipped the bullwhip from the table and Chloe watched it uncoil like an endless snake onto the floor. She waved it around slowly, experimentally near her feet, as she strode about the room. She turned to smirk at Chloe in acknowledgement, then faced Oliver, lifting her arm, unfurling the whip completely.

“I won’t do it,” Chloe called out suddenly, her voice breaking the silence, causing Tess to stop in her tracks. “I won’t heal him again.” It took everything she had not to look at Oliver, strung up and broken some twenty feet away. Chloe did her best to keep the tears from falling, steeling her emotions, and keeping them in check.

Tess turned, lowering the whip. “Of course you will.”

If her statement delayed Oliver’s torture, Chloe would run with it. Tess just might be easier to manipulate than Chloe thought.

Chloe shook her head, feeling a bit more confident now. “I won’t.”

Tess moved closer, turning her back on Oliver, her attention now on Chloe. “You’ll heal him, willingly or not.”

Chloe’s eyes thinned. “You don’t get it, do you? I control my powers. You can’t force me use them.”

“We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” Tess spun around suddenly, unleashing the whip, the crack deafening as it struck Oliver’s midsection, and an instantaneous gash appeared across his torso. He cried out, white starbursts of pain shot through his entire body; stiffening at the painful shock, then convulsing briefly, before becoming slack once more, his head falling forward as he gasped for breath.

Chloe cried out with him, turning away, covering her face with her hands at the sight of his flesh ripped open; her own body trembling. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do what he asked. She couldn’t be strong for him, and watch them torture and maim his body for their enjoyment. There had to be another way out of here, but nothing came to her, utter despair settling around her sinking heart. Chloe refused to watch, and thankfully no one forced her this time. She waited for the sound of the whip once more, but instead, Oliver spoke.

“Three or maybe…. Four is good,” his voice, hoarse and weak sounded from where he hung. His cruelly marred body still swayed lightly from the blow. “Even… an even number. Robert… and Laura would have… would have spoiled them all,” Oliver panted, a near chuckle escaping his throat at the thought, his battered face attempting a lopsided grin. He lifted his head with great effort, searching for Chloe once more. Slowly her hands fell away from her face and she turned around to gaze up at him through tear-blurred vision. “Gabe… Moira… will be proud…. We’ll take them… to visit… we’ll all visit her.”

A strangled sob escaped her throat, yet through her tears a smile formed. Chloe understood him, if no one else in the room did.

Tess looked from one to the other in disbelief as they held each other’s gazes, not comprehending at all. They’d both gone completely mad.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” Lex spoke as he strode into the room, dressed in a dark suit and a deep purple dress shirt, opened at the collar. All heads turned in his direction.

Tess straightened upon seeing him. “She refuses to heal him, and Queen’s gone off the deep end, talking nonsense.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Lex wondered, first glancing at Chloe who stared with rapt attention at the broken man suspended from the ceiling before her, seemingly oblivious to Lex’s presence. He then turned his attention to Oliver, equally entranced in Chloe’s gaze. He moved closer to his captive, trussed up before him and spoke softly. “She heals you, or you both die.”

Oliver didn’t answer, nor acknowledge Lex’s presence. His good eye focused only on Chloe.

“Whatever scheme you’ve worked up will fail. She heals you, because if she doesn’t…” Lex moved intimately closer, reaching up and grasping Oliver’s chin, forcing him to look Lex in the eye. “You’ll die, and I let your friend Cook over there enjoy himself with her before he kills her.” Oliver’s jaw clenched beneath Lex’s fingers, prompting him to continue with more confidence. “That’s right.” Lex spoke menacingly low, so that only Oliver could hear. “Why do you think I allowed him to guard her? He’s wanted to fuck her every way imaginable for quite some time. There’s a lot of sexual frustration built up by now.” Lex smirked as a new thought occurred to him. “Perhaps I’ll let you watch him use her,” Lex nodded in approval of his own suggestion. “And then we’ll kill you. But know this; when you’re gone, I’m keeping her around for her abilities, and Philip Cook gets to fuck her anytime he wants. Don’t think he hasn’t had his hands on her already.”

Oliver’s blood-filled nostrils flared in anger as he attempted to breath with his mouth clamped shut, rage evident in his expression despite his current disfigurement. What to do? He couldn’t protect her if he were dead, and yet he saw no way out, unless Philip would take her away, so that she could contact the team. But the thought of Philip raping her was too much to bear. Lex wouldn’t allow that, would he? He may have begrudgingly respected Chloe at one time, but apparently any esteem he may have held for her was long gone. Lex had him where he wanted him. Chloe would have to heal him now, or risk being assaulted. Oliver couldn’t stop the raw fury that knotted his gut at the thought.

“Oh he hasn’t taken her yet,” Lex purred. “But I can arrange a secret viewing just for you, Oliver.” Lex gripped his chin more forcefully. “She’ll scream for him in a way she’s never screamed for you.” Lex released his chin thrusting Oliver’s head back. He reached into his suit coat pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, a smug look crossing his features as he wiped Oliver’s sticky, drying blood from his hand. She’d heal Oliver now, Lex was sure of it. Oliver wouldn’t allow Chloe to be sexually assaulted.

“Son of a bitch,” Oliver snarled, and with a feral growl, swung forward with as much strength as he could muster, using his body to shove Lex backward, causing him to stumble and nearly lose his footing. Lex only smiled indulgently. He then removed his suit coat, handing it to a nearby guard. “Stand back,” he said to the entire room, and no one in particular, motioning for the guards who had moved forward, to back away. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, then extended his hand to Tess, gesturing for the whip, his gaze never leaving Oliver, who despite his condition and circumstance, looked as though he’d kill Lex at this moment if he could.

No one knew what Lex had said to make Oliver lash out, but evidently Lex was about to have the last word.

“How does it feel to be powerless, Oliver? How does it feel to be taunted? I can’t wait to see your reaction to what’s coming up next for you and Ms. Sullivan.” Lex moved the whip around menacingly, watching it slither around on the floor. “You and Clark took away a chance for me to further my goals when you got rid of Davis Bloom. Protect humanity from alien worlds. Eventually, people will look to me. I’ll be the hero, won’t I?” He looked up at Oliver. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Ultimately? The fight between good and evil?” He raised the whip. “This time… I win.” The whip unfurled.

Chloe lowered her head, turning away and squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the sound, and even when the loud crack came followed by Oliver’s cry of agony, Chloe’s entire body jolted from the shock of it, and trembled along with his, as though she felt the cruel bite of the whip, ripping her own flesh. She heard the whip a second time and then a third, the pain of each strike coursing through her, until she could no longer stand on her own, sinking to the floor to her knees. She could barely breathe. And then silence.

Lex handed the whip back to Tess. “Take him down. Put them together. She’ll heal him now.”

Chloe lifted her head at the sound of Lex’s voice to find Oliver’s body deeply gashed and bloodied from the whip. He appeared to be unconscious, his body unable to take any more punishment. She couldn’t cry. It seemed she had no more tears left, and instead her expression became vacant, distant. She could make no connection to the man she loved; handsome, confident, and golden, with the near slab of meat that hung suspended, still swaying from his wrists. Aside from the blonde shock of hair and overall physique, he was nearly unrecognizable. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t her Oliver. It couldn’t be. She refused to believe that Lex had won. Hatred and rage roiling inside her for everything Lex had ever done; to herself, to her mother, to Clark and nearly everyone else she knew, and now to Oliver. She refused to cry.

Philip looked at her worriedly. She remained motionless from her position on the floor. Her face had gone slack, expressionless as the hum of the pulley sounded, lowering Oliver. Her eyes followed the movement, but she said nothing, nor did she seem to hear Philip when he said her name.

She watched numbly as they lowered Oliver’s body to the floor, unhinging the manacles from his bloodied wrists, vaguely aware of Philip’s hand grasping her arm once more, lifting her to her feet, and guiding her back to the room. People spoke, but she didn’t hear them. Someone, Philip maybe, urged her down into the large reclining chair in the room as two guards hoisted Oliver’s broken body onto the bed, tossing him there carelessly.

Someone stood before her, a dark figure blocking her view of the man on the bed. “He’s still alive, but he won’t be for long.”

When she didn’t respond, masculine fingers lifted her chin. She gazed into blue eyes that mocked her, taunted her, but still she said nothing.

“You’ll heal him, and then perhaps we’ll find some other entertainment,” Lex’s silken voice drifted to her ears, but what he said seemed meaningless to her. “Something Oliver and I’ve just discussed. Something I’m sure he’d enjoy.” When she made no response, and his voice didn’t seem to register, he crouched before her, gripping her chin with just a bit more force. “Do you understand me, Chloe?”

Three or four he’d said. Chloe had been an only child, as was Oliver, and maybe that was the reason why he’d wanted more than one. Secretly, she did too. She’d always wondered what it would be like to have a sister or a brother growing up. The closest she’d ever had to a brother was Clark. Robert and Laura Queen would have spoiled their grandchildren. Oliver was telling her not to give up hope. Not to give up on the future she envisioned. Gabe and Moira Sullivan would be proud. And once again Chloe’s heart swelled with remembrance of what Oliver had done for her mother long ago; hiding her away and keeping her safe from the monster who now crouched before her, asking her if she understood. Even then, Oliver had been there for her, before she’d ever thought she’d fall in love with him, or that he’d be the father of her unborn children.

“Do you understand me, Chloe?” Lex repeated, this time his ire rising.

She didn’t. She’d never understand Lex Luthor, nor did she want to.

Lex jerked her face up harshly. “Answer me, damn it!”

“Mr. Luthor. It’ll be all right. I’ll talk to her.” Philip’s voice from somewhere in the room. “I’ll get her to heal him, sir.”

Lex relented, releasing her and rising up. “Let me know when they’re both capable again,” he said as he stared down at her. He turned his attention toward Philip. “After she heals him, we’ll separate them. You’re the only one I trust with her, Philip,” Lex placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll look after her while she recuperates.”

Philip nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Lex gave the still unconscious Oliver a final glance before exiting the room, followed by the other two guards. The heavy door closed and the lock clicked.

Philip knelt before her, once again blocking her view of Oliver. She felt him take her hands in his. “Chloe,” he began, his voice deeply male and laced with concern. “You have to heal him.” Philip reached up, threading his fingers through the golden strands of hair at the side of her face. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “After you’re better, I’ll get you out of here, but you have to heal him first.”

Philip had been in combat, and he’d seen hardened men crack under the constant threat of death and devastation around them. She was going inside of herself, turning inward. It was a survival tactic, a human coping mechanism he’d seen before. He needed to reach her before she shut down completely.

“Chloe,” he whispered, fingertips stroking her lips.

She blinked, her green eyes focusing in what he thought was recognition. “Philip,” she murmured.

“It’s all right. I’m going to get you out of here soon.”

Chloe smiled softly, lifting her hand to touch his cheek. Her fingers moved, spearing his short hair, grasping the dark strands, pulling him closer. She captured his lips with hers, leaning back into the large chair, satisfied at hearing his groan of approval as he followed her down.

“Not yet, Chloe,” he panted against her mouth, attempting to pull away, but she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him on top of her. He allowed it, surrendering to her against his better judgment; her kisses becoming ever more frantic and frenzied.

God she was hot, so incredibly hot, rubbing her body against him, grinding her pelvic bone against his growing erection, moaning softly in his ear. Philip thought he’d lose his mind as heat and raging desire washed over him. It was another reaction to impending death and danger, this sudden urge of hers. He didn’t care. God he wanted her, it didn’t matter that Oliver Queen lay unconscious a mere ten feet away. He’d take her right now, and not regret it. His hands shoved her shirt up, baring her breasts for him to feast upon. He relished the sensation of her warm, small hands that were suddenly everywhere; under his shirt, around his back, grasping his butt through his pants, moving around the front to undo the button, she unzipped them and began shoving them out of her way. It didn’t take long before Philip was rock hard and mindless with need of her, his head spinning.

Suddenly and most unexpectedly, Philip felt an object, hard and cold poking him brutally in the stomach, shoving him away. “Get the fuck off of me,” she growled, the deadly calm menace in her voice, along with the realization of what she’d done, startling him. Philip, panting, his brain still fogged and lust-filled, looked down to find the barrel of his own Desert Eagle shoved against his gut.

Still stunned, Philip didn’t move. Chloe held the heavy gun with both hands, and cocked it, the click letting him know she wasn’t kidding.

“Get off,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Or I blow a hole through you right now, you son of a bitch.”

Philip raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. He moved off of her and stood upright, his pants opened, erection still throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of his boxers. “Chloe… you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” she barked, rising up from the recliner, her shirt falling down, covering her. “Move back toward the wall,” she motioned with the gun. “On your knees, hands behind your head.”

Philip did as she asked, watching her move backward toward Oliver.

“I can still help you, Chloe…”

“On your stomach, now,” she ordered. “Place your hands, spread eagle above your head.” Chloe waited until he complied, lying on his stomach and spreading his arms out above him. She inched her way closer to Oliver. Holding the gun in her right hand, she glanced down at Oliver, reaching for him with her left hand. He must have just awoken. A crooked smile on his badly abused face appeared as the rising heat of embarrassment flooded her cheeks. He winced at the pain, and then saw the glimmer of light, felt her healing warmth entering him. “God, I hope you didn’t see that,” she whispered almost to herself. She continued to touch him gently, just enough to heal him at least partially for now. Chloe, weakened slightly, was unable to stand, the arm holding the gun falling to her side; she sank onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily.

Oliver took the gun from her hand, keeping it trained on Philip. “I saw enough, Sidekick.” He sat up weakly next to her, dried blood covered his face and torso, but his eyes were clear, and they never left Philip sprawled out helplessly on the floor. Oliver pressed a kiss to her temple, letting her relax against him, holding her close with one arm. More glimmers of healing light passed between them at the contact. “You do know how to work it. I can’t say I blame him. But I’m still going to kick his ass.”

She hated this part. Hated being incapacitated and useless. Chloe smiled up at him weakly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his throat.

“Don’t be sorry, angel,” he answered softly. “Thanks to you, we’ve got a weapon.”

“So much for your plan. I think it’s time you admit who’s the real brains behind this operation,” she quipped faintly.

Oliver smiled. “You know what they say. Behind every great man….”

“Is a woman rolling her eyes?”

Oliver chuckled. “Something like that.” He set her down gently on the bed.

“My brains, your brawn,” she sighed wearily, feeling more debilitated as he seemed to gain more strength.

“Exactly. It’s my turn now,” he whispered, brushing her cheek with gentle fingertips, telling her with his eyes and his touch of his love for her. He’d tell her with the rest of his body and with his words later, when they were away from this horrible place. But for now, he knew she heard his heart loud and clear. Oliver lifted his head, leaving her side and moving toward Philip. He raised the pistol. “Get up.”

“Look, Queen. She came onto me. I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Shut up. On your knees, face the door, away from me.”

Chloe lay on her side watching as Oliver brought the pistol down forcefully against the back of Philip’s head, effectively knocking him out.

End Chapter 10

Click here for Chapter 11

Signal Fire Chapter 9

2009-01-24T20:46:00.005-06:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 9

Sunlight had begun to filter through the spaces between the dark curtains covering the window, when the descent began. Plummeting, down, down, back into her body, her sharp, lung-filling breath startling him awake. He held her close, soothing her until she regained her senses, his eyelids closed over with relief, grateful for her every breath. Suddenly she seemed to remember everything that happened, because all at once he was being affectionately assaulted, her hands moving over his chest and torso as though to be certain she’d healed every part of him, his name whispered fervently from her lips, the kisses she’d wanted to give him days ago when she’d decided to return home, raining down on his face with such joy, that he didn’t want to set her apart, but he had to. He needed to talk to her, push her away, and it was killing him.

Chloe felt him tense beneath her touch. Oliver cupped her shoulders, nudging her away gently. “Chloe...” he whispered. “We’re not alone.” He motioned with his head toward the sleeping figure slouched in a chair across the room. Chloe followed his gaze to find Philip Cook nodding off in a sitting position, arms folded over his chest, her green eyes thinning at the sight of him.

She turned her gaze back to Oliver, eyes earnest now, her voice low. “We can take his gun, get out of here…”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

Oliver placed a finger over her lips, then traced them gently, as his eyes drifted over her face with an expression akin to longing. “Listen to me,” he murmured, reversing their positions so that she lay tucked beneath his side, his leg thrown over her hips.

Something wasn’t right, Chloe sensed it in his eyes, in the way he touched her. Before she could ask what was wrong, he spoke.

“I’m going to send him out for some food, you need to eat. We’ll talk more when he’s gone.” Oliver rose up from the bed, walking toward the sink, leaving Chloe both bewildered by his emotional distance and bereft of his warmth. He filled a plastic cup with water and brought it to her.

The movement in the room roused Philip, and he watched them for a moment as Chloe sat up on the bed and drank greedily from the cup Oliver had given her. He stood up, running a hand over his face, anxious, uncertain of what to do or say. She’d been dead, and now was alive again. He was witnessing the impossible.

“Relax, soldier,” Oliver looked at Philip over his shoulder as he stood in front of Chloe. “She needs food. Does this place have anything like a five star restaurant next to the lobby?”

Philip was struck mute, watching her in disbelief. She downed the last of the water, whispered her thanks to Oliver and handed him the cup. He placed it on the nightstand.

“Tell Tess there won’t be anymore entertainment for her unless Chloe eats. She’s hungry.”

He blinked. “Uh… hungry?”

“Bringing people back from the dead takes a lot out of her.”

Philip cast about for something to say. “Right. I’ll get her something.”

After he left, Chloe reached for Oliver’s hand pulling him down next to her on the bed. “Oliver, what is it, what’s happening?”

He scooted, leaning back against the wall. “They’ll come back for us,” he said quietly.

“Not if we get out of her first…”

He shook his head, gazing down at his hands resting on his thighs. “And when they do, you have to promise me that you won’t heal me again, and try to convince Philip to get you out.”

Chloe couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and moved to straddle him, taking his face in her hands, her eyes probing his. “Philip is the one that got me in here, and I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“Promise me.”

His expression was resolute, the import of his words sinking in. He meant what he was saying, the realization striking her like a blow to the gut. He wanted her to let him die, to leave without him. Her lips began to tremble, the heat of tears threatening. “I will not.”

“He cares for you. He’ll help you.”

She threw her arms around him, burying her face against his neck. “No!” The sound of her voice coming from a sob. “I’m not leaving you here.”

He was quiet for a moment, letting her cry, her warm wet tears falling upon his skin. He’d made her cry enough, and couldn’t bear to be the cause of her tears anymore. “Shhh…” he soothed. “It’ll be all right. Just promise me that you won’t heal me again. Philip will get you out.” He tried not to touch her, but he couldn’t keep his hands from her and they moved over her back and over the curve of her waist to clutch her hips, of their own accord, pulling her closer. “Don’t you see? It’s what they want, Chloe. They want you to heal me… so they can kill me again. But we can stop this. It can end. You have to refuse… let me go.”

“No!” She cried harder, pressing her body against him.

“You deserve better than this, Chloe….” He whispered. “Better than what I’ve given you.” And though his heart ached to reveal his truth, he continued. “Better than me.”

She became silent; slowly lifting her head from his shoulder, finding his dark eyes glistening with mute wretchedness, knowing that his attempt to push her away was killing him. “You can’t mean that. Better than you?” she whispered, a hint of disbelief in her tone. “This is me you’re talking to. Chloe Sullivan, remember? The sidekick? The one always under the radar.” Her eyes flitted away. “I’m supposed to be the one who thinks she’s not deserving…of you… and…”

“Hey,” he admonished softly, lifting her chin, bringing her eyes back to his, not allowing her to finish her thought. He’d just realized what the issue had been all along, what her going on about debutantes and supermodels was all about just days before. The odd thing was; it had never occurred to him that she’d feel this way, because to him, there was no woman who came close enough to compare to her. But he should have known, somehow. It was her way not to give herself enough credit, and a small part of him wished he’d seen her, really seen her for all of her beauty long before. But he hadn’t, and both of them had been carrying around these crazy notions of true self-worth for different reasons. He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Do you know, that every day I look at you, and I wonder how the hell I was ever lucky enough to convince you to come to Star City and share your life with me? And then that article… and everything that made me feel unworthy of you was staring at me in black and white on the front pages of the gossip column. And here we are both feeling the same self-doubt, when the truth is, there will never be anyone more right for me than you. You’re everything to me. But the past… it’s never really far behind, it haunts us, and I’m afraid I’ll lose you because of it.”

“And do you know… that I was on my way back home when Philip called and asked me to meet him with some information, and that’s when I was abducted? I was on my way to the airport, and I turned around, because I couldn’t be away from you. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was wrong, because being with you has never felt more right. Ollie… I don’t care about the past anymore. Not yours, not mine. I think it’s time we both left it behind us, and didn’t look back. I want a future, and I can’t have the one I want if you’re gone. I’m not leaving you here, and we’re not letting them hurt us again.”

He touched his forehead to hers. “I’ve put your life in danger… more times than I care to count.”

“It’s what we chose to do, Oliver. Both of us. Together. I knew that when I signed up.”

He lifted his head, gazing into her eyes for a long silent moment, wondering whatever possessed him to think he could ever give her up, or live without her even for a moment. He couldn’t. Oliver released a long breath, as he pulled her head down against his chest. “What does this future you envision with me look like?” He wondered, tucking her head beneath his chin, and closing his eyes, relief flooding him now that he’d come to his senses, made the right decision, the only decision he could ever make where Chloe was concerned. She was his, and he wasn’t letting her go.

“It’s the same as yours.”

He needed to know, needed some sense of hope now, when at any moment Tess or Lex would come bursting into the room to take them. “Tell me, Chloe,” he whispered.

“Why did you ask me to move into the manor house, when we could live anywhere in Star City?” Chloe asked, pressing her cheek against his bare chest. “That huge warm place, with all those rooms. Did you think they’d stay empty forever?”

“You figure out all my secrets, don’t you?”

“Of course. I knew when you told me stories of growing up there, what your vision of the future was. We don’t have to fill all those empty rooms, maybe just a few of them…” her voice trailed off dreamily. “Oh, and we need a dog. Our children should have a dog.”

Children. He tried to imagine what they’d look like; images of a brood of little blondes running through the halls of the manor house, flitting through his mind. “Anything for you, Mistress Watchtower,” he murmured, the huskiness lingering in his tone.

“So we have to get out of here together, because you mentioned something about fifty years…”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

They held each other for an interminable time in the silence of the room, each of them lost in their own reveries. Finally, Oliver spoke softly. “Philip.”

“What about him? He was behind this.”

“He cares for you.”

“Anyone who cared for me wouldn’t do this.”

“Trust me, Chloe. He may have been hired to do a job, but he’s fallen for you.”

Chloe lifted her head to look at him. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, determined now.

“Something you won’t like doing.”

“Go on…” she urged warily.

“Seduce him.”

“What?”

“Tell him we’re through. Seduce him… not too much,” he added, unable to keep the bit of jealousy from rising in him. Oliver had no doubt of Chloe’s devotion and love for him. It was Philip who might take it too far, and he knew what he was asking would not be easy for her to do. “But enough to get him to take you out of here.”

“You mean both of us.”

“You can’t heal me again.”

“What makes you think they won’t just use the serum they’ve created from my blood to bring you back, and kill you over again anyway?”

“Because they want us to watch each other die. Using the serum would take the enjoyment of their game away.”

“Then we escape before that happens.”

“They know you’re awake now. There’s no time.”

“No.”

“You need to get Philip to believe you, Chloe. Right now, he’s our only way out of here.” She opened her mouth to protest, when he silenced her, taking her mouth with his, kissing her thoroughly.

“Kissing… me… won’t… shut me… up,” she breathed against his lips between kisses.

The corners of his luscious mouth turned up slightly. “It does work sometimes. Can’t blame me for trying.” Oliver smoothed the hair back from her face, his expression growing serious once more. “You have to do it, Chloe.”

“Too many things can go wrong. I don’t like it, Ollie.”

“Once you’re out, contact the team, call Clark.”

Anxiety crossed her features. “I don’t think I can do it. I can’t deny you, they’ll see it in my face.”

“I have faith in you. And if it means life or death, you can do it.”

“I can’t watch them torture you again…” she whispered, her stomach churning at the thought.

“And I can’t have you die for me again, simply for their entertainment. It has to stop, and only you can stop them now.”

Chloe swallowed harshly. “What if the team is too late? There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t. Promise me, Chloe.”

Chloe nodded in reluctant agreement, still unsure of the entire plan. She rose from her position on his lap, and moved to occupy the chair on the opposite wall that Philip had vacated. They stared at one another in silent communication, until Oliver steeled his emotions, his expression becoming unreadable. Chloe looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

Moment’s later; Philip entered the room carrying a white paper bag and two Styrofoam cups of coffee. He stopped, his eyes moving from Chloe to Oliver, wondering why they weren’t sitting together.

“Tess is on her way,” he said, handing one of the cups to Chloe, and moving to place the bag on the night table. She looked up at him sadly, accepting the coffee. Chloe’s stomach growled at the faint scent of warm, freshly baked goods, but she didn’t speak.

“Give it to her,” Oliver spoke coldly, indicating Chloe with a movement of his head. Philip stopped, still uncertain, as the atmosphere in the room seemed almost hostile, yet it wasn’t directed at him. He turned, handing the bag to Chloe. She was hungry, as Oliver had said she would be, and she tore into the bag, finding muffins and bagels inside. Philip watched her devour two large muffins, washing them down with coffee.

He recalled the earlier conversation he’d had with Queen, and wondered if he’d already spoken to her, told her it was over between them. That had to be it, otherwise they’d be sitting together, probably feeding each other in a nauseating display of affection. His eyes never left Chloe who remained quiet, seemingly resigned over what was to come.

The door opened, and Tess swept inside with her entourage of guards, her reaction to finding Chloe and Oliver on opposite sides of the room, similar to Philip’s, as her eyes moved from one to the other. “Welcome back, Ms. Sullivan,” she said with more confidence than she felt. Seeing someone who’d just come back from the dead was a bit disconcerting, after all. Tess pushed her fear of the unknown aside. “I trust you’re ready?”

Chloe rose from the chair numbly, careful not to look back at Oliver as Philip grasped her arm, and escorted her out, knowing that if she looked at him, she’d break down. She didn’t think she could do this.

Tess remained behind. “What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with mock sympathy. “Lover’s quarrel?”

Oliver scooted from the bed, standing to his full height, causing Tess to take a step back. “You’re wasting time,” he answered.

“Not at all,” she responded, “It’s part of the process, Oliver.”

“Where’s Lex? Or do you always do his dirty work, like the obedient female dog you are to him?”

She turned her head, motioning to the three guards behind her. “You know what to do. Bring him to me after you’ve prepped him,” she ordered before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

It was then that Oliver noticed two of the guards carrying standard issue police batons, and another with a set of nunchucks, and he understood what prepping meant. He should simply let them take him, but every cell in his body urged him to fight back with everything he had as they closed in, attacking him from all sides.

Chloe wondered why they were keeping her in a different holding room. This one was smaller and dimly lit. It reminded her of a large, empty storage closet. They were waiting, alone. For what, she didn’t know. Why not just get it over with? She stood as a statue in the small, darkened room keeping her eyes downcast, remaining silent, afraid she’d give too much of herself away, or break down at any moment. Philip was at her side. This was her chance to get to him, and her insides quaked at the thought of what she’d have to do.

“Chloe…” he began, not really knowing what to say, but uncomfortable with the silence. “Look… it’s nothing personal, you know?”

Chloe lifted her large green eyes to his, her expression so desolate that his heart wrenched, and he lifted his hand to move the hair that had fallen over her face.

Chloe managed not to flinch away at his touch. “It’s just a job to you, isn’t it?” she whispered, her voice filling the empty space.

Philip lowered his hand, dropping it at his side.

“It’s over… Lex gets what he wants after all,” she whispered, staring off into the dimness. “And Tess gets to enjoy it.” She turned to him once more. “You’re quite the actor. I thought… I guess I thought you and I were friends. But you’re pretty good at your job, aren’t you?” Her voice was soft, not accusatory, as though she were simply making a non-committal observation. “And now… now I’m just a resource. I’m not even human to them; I’m just something they can use.”

Chloe turned away from him then, and he moved closer. She felt the warmth of his body behind her, and tried to keep her composure.

“What happened with Oliver?”

“It’s funny. Sometimes wrapped inside a lie, there’s some hidden truth.”

“What do you mean?”

Chloe wrapped her arms around herself before she spoke, in an effort to keep herself from shaking. Lowering her head once more, she kept her face hidden beneath her hair. “Adriana… it wasn’t her, but I’ve suspected that Oliver has been unfaithful for awhile now. It took all of this… happening to bring the truth out. Things haven’t been so good between us… and… it’s just… it’s over…” She didn’t finish; simply left her statement hanging in the stillness, hoping against hope that Philip would believe her lies. She sensed his movement as he came to stand in front of her, felt his tentative fingers slide up her arms and cup her shoulders.

Seduce him. She hoped Oliver was right about this.

Uncertain at first, he pulled her toward him in a gesture meant to comfort, and Chloe allowed it, burying her face against his chest. She wept silently, but not for the reasons Philip thought.

His arms tightened around her, surprised when he felt her grip him about the waist. “I’ve never felt so alone…” she sobbed, sensing his body’s response to her; the quickening of his heart, the heat of him through his black shirt. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away from him, taking a step back, and wiping her eyes hastily. He watched her as she regained her composure. “What are they doing? Why are they taking so long?” she sniffled.

“I don’t know,” he answered; the urge to take her in his arms once more overwhelming him.

“I don’t want this to be the rest of my life, Philip. I don’t want to be used by Luthorcorp as a miracle cure.”

Philip stepped closer. “I’m sure that’s not what they plan. They’ll let you go soon.”

Chloe lifted her eyes to his. “And what if they don’t? Do you know what it’s like to be ‘special’? To have people want to use you for their own gain?”

He was silent for a moment. “Actually, I do,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. “We’re not so different, Chloe.”

Chloe watched his head descend, his mouth a whisper away from hers. Oh shit. He brushed his lips against hers, causing her to back away, but Philip was insistent, slipping a hand at her waist, and cupping the back of her head with the other, keeping her immobile. Seduce him. As he kissed her, more fervently now, thoughts ran rampant, panic rising within her. She couldn’t do this, it didn’t feel right.

She wasn’t wearing a bra and when his hand slid upward over her side, thumb passing over the outer curve of her breast through the fabric of her shirt, she pulled away, backing into a wall. Apparently she was a horrible seductress. Oliver’s words came back to her as she stared up at Philip wide-eyed. He cares for you. He’ll help you. He’ll get you out. I have faith in you. And if it means life or death, you can do it. Chloe bit back her disgust at the entire situation. At herself for what she had to do, at Philip for what he’d done, at Tess, Lex, at this place, and then she lunged toward him, pulling his head down, kissing him with everything she had.

“Chloe,” he whispered, his body nudging her against the wall. “He’s a fool. He’s nothing. Forget Queen.”

She gripped his shoulders as his hands roved her body, biting back the sob constricting her throat. She felt nothing, her mind taking her to another place as his lips traveled down the curve of her neck and he ground himself against her. She imagined the manor house filled with the laughter of children; their hair the color of the sun. She saw them running, chasing the dog through the corridors, and then scampering outside among the trees and green rolling hills. They were the perfect combination of herself and Oliver. She wondered how many would have green eyes, and how many would have eyes the color of warm, rich chocolate.

Not the sounds of running children, but rather the sound of steps echoing through the hall outside the room caused Philip to stop; quickly lowering a shirt she hadn’t realized he’d lifted when he exposed her breasts to knead them with eager hands. He was breathing erratically, attempting to calm himself before anyone entered. “Everything will be all right,” he whispered. “I’ll get you out of here.” He walked away from her to regain his composure, waiting for whoever was coming to open the door.

Chloe smoothed her hair down, then began shoving her shirt back inside the loose, black B.D.U. pants she wore, her hands trembling. She hoped that was the end of it, hoped she didn’t have to endure that again. But he was going to get her out, and that meant she could get Oliver out. And that’s all that mattered now. She wouldn’t let Philip touch her ever again.

The door opened, light from the hallway falling into the dim room. It was Tess. “We’re ready for you now, Ms. Sullivan,” she said, a light smirk on her lips, motioning for Chloe to exit the room. Tess didn’t seem to be aware of what had transpired, and Philip, ever the actor that he was, kept his cool, grasping Chloe by the arm once more, leading her through the hallway.

As they walked, she glanced at Philip stealthily out of the corner of her eye to find him staring straight ahead, his face an emotionless mask. Chloe straightened her spine. She’d do what Oliver asked. She’d be strong for him. She’d get him out of here no matter his condition. She told herself that this nightmare would be over soon.

The door opened upon Lex’s “dungeon”, and when she entered, her eyes widened in horror, a scream nearly escaping her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the sound. There, suspended by his wrists from a pulley connected to the ceiling, a foot or so from the floor, hung a half-naked Oliver Queen. His body bore the marks of a brutal beating. His head hung forward, and he attempted to lift it at the sound of people entering the room. His head bobbed with the effort, but he was able to see out of one eye, and he searched for her.

Chloe kept her hands clamped over her mouth, simply trying to keep herself steady on her feet. His face was a bloodied mass of hamburger; one eye was swollen completely shut. Disoriented, he sought her out among the group and when he found her, he held her horrified gaze, hoping she could hear his silent plea. Finally, Oliver moved his head ever so slightly, in a gesture to remind her of her promise.

* * * * *

Oliver’s text message was odd; the answer received had nothing to do with the question asked, prompting Victor to do some digging. He checked flight records, and located the whereabouts of one of the Queen Industries jets. It seemed they were about to visit the Black Creek facility and get their friends out of trouble. He hoped they weren’t too late.

End Chapter 9

Click Here For Chapter 10

Signal Fire Chapter 8

2009-01-17T23:22:00.005-06:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 8

Chloe stopped struggling within Philip’s grasp long enough to mutter in his ear. “This is the animal you work for. You’ve sold your soul,” she ground out. “How can you live with yourself?” The accusation in her voice stung him, but he held fast to her as she wept at the sight of Oliver, chained up against the wall. “I’ll do anything you want, Lex…” she called to him. “Just please, don’t hurt him anymore,” she shouted.

Lex was unfazed. “Torture was frequently employed in the Middle Ages to punish criminals and extract confessions.” He moved about the room, as though he were an instructor carrying on a university lecture. Tess was mesmerized. The way he carried himself, so self-assured, so calm and relaxed. She admired him. “Many castles had torture chambers,” he went on. “Torture methods are still used today of course. Granted, we’ve come a long way since the Spanish Inquisition, drawing and quartering, the rack and the Iron Maiden, but,” he paused gazing pointedly first at Oliver, and then at Chloe. “I’d like to welcome you to my dungeon,” he said, sweeping a hand around the room.

Oliver lifted his head, tipping it back to rest against the hard concrete. “Anyone ever tell you, what a sick bastard you are, Lex?” his voice sounded from the wall.

Chloe’s eyes followed the sweep of Lex’s hand, and for the first time she noticed the table in the room laden with weapons; swords, guns, knives, a whip, and some odd pieces she didn’t recognize. Panic rose in her breast, and without thinking, she sprinted toward it, thinking to knock it over, create some type of diversion, anything to delay what was to come. Philip was there once again, scooping her up, restraining her. “No!” she screamed, flailing about and bucking against him.

“Get your hands off of her!” Oliver shouted weakly, as Philip picked her up off her feet and gathered her closely, dragging her back to their original position.

Lex moved to stand in front of Oliver. “Oliver Queen, also known as the Green Arrow; you’ve committed acts of terrorism against me, my company and my employees,” he spoke as though uttering a decree; thoroughly enjoying the position he was in. “And for those crimes, you are to be punished.”

“Ollie!” His name was a strangled sob on her lips, as Chloe continued to struggle against Philip.

The sound of her cry and the tears streaming down her face tore at his heart. Philip wouldn’t let her go. “Get her out of here,” Oliver growled harshly. It hurt to breathe in this position, the pain in his side stabbing him with every breath he took. “Have your sick fun, but get her out.”

Lex ignored him. “Tess? Which would you care to start with? The cat’s paw?” Lex picked up an object from the table. It was a long wooden stick with a steel claw-like object on the end of it. “This device flays the skin from a victim’s body,” he said matter-of-factly, holding it up for all to view.

“Stop it, Lex!” Chloe shouted. “Not even you are that twisted.” She’d only discovered that he was among the living a day ago, and had yet to have any real interaction with him. She wondered what had happened to him in the year he’d been missing. She knew he was capable of horrendous atrocities, but the entire scene was too surreal, even for Lex Luthor.

“Or there’s good old-fashioned flogging.” Lex picked up the whip, testing the weight of it in his hand.

Tess stepped toward the table, eyeing the various pieces laid out, finally picking up a knife. She ran a finger appreciatively down the blade, so sharp that it nicked her. She placed the finger in her mouth to suck away the blood. “I’ll start with this.”

Lex stepped aside. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”

She stood before Oliver, the glint of the blade reflecting briefly from the light. Her eyes traveled down his sculpted torso, admiring him as she lifted a palm to stroke his skin. He was warm, smooth, hard. He was masculine perfection.

Her touch left him cold. Oliver’s breath stuttered, waiting for the instant she’d plunge the knife into him. His eyes bored into hers, a glint of defiance darkening them. “What are you waiting for? Do it.”

“Seems a shame to mar such perfection,” she whispered, as her hand moved over him. “But I know you’re far from perfect. I may have been gone awhile, but I still remember the island and everything that happened there.” She lifted the knife, the sharp point tracing his pectoral muscle lightly. “Do you know what the islanders did to Hackett after you left?”

Hackett was Oliver’s bodyguard, and Tess’s friend. Oliver was unaware of Hackett’s plan to abandon him on an island and steal his boat for use by drug runners at Tess’s urging. After Oliver incited a rebellion of the natives who had been used as slaves there, Hackett and the drug runners had been killed. Oliver felt the edge of the blade pierce his skin as she raked it slowly across his chest. He bit back a small grunting sound. The warmth of his own blood began dripping down past his sternum and stomach.

“Stop! Please stop!” Chloe’s voice. Even Philip couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and attempted to turn Chloe around in his arms so that she’d not have to witness the sight. Lex grasped her arm, dragging her forward. He wanted her to watch.

“They mutilated his body after he died,” she whispered. Tess ran the knife over him again in the opposite direction, this time slashing deeper into the muscle, splitting his flesh open wider. “He was like a brother to me. Did you know that?”

Oliver breathed erratically, sweat beading his brow as he pressed his lips together, in an effort to keep any sound from escaping. He wouldn’t give her or Lex the satisfaction.

“At least I didn’t have to hear his screams.” She brought the knife down harshly, slashing him again on a diagonal, a red line forming from breastbone to opposite hip. “I’d like to hear yours, Oliver.” She hissed, bringing the knife up to his face, carving thin lines down either cheek. “Can you scream for me?”

“Enough!” Chloe shrieked, as Tess slashed him once more across the stomach.

Oliver gritted his teeth, a groan escaping his throat. “Go to hell,” he panted, his head dropping forward.

Tess turned abruptly, allowing a disheveled, horrified Chloe, full view her handiwork. Oliver’s chest and torso were sliced open in various directions and covered in dripping blood. “He’s not so perfect now, is he Ms. Sullivan.” Tess lowered the knife, slipping the flat of the blade into the rim of his leather pants. “Shall I geld him for you?”

Oliver was dizzy, yet he shivered at the cold steel sliding against his groin. His ankles were chained where he stood, and he felt as though his knees were about to give way.

“I can turn him into a eunuch for you, Ms. Sullivan. He’d never look at another woman. What was her name? Ah yes, Adriana. I don’t think Adriana will be interested in him now, do you? Just say the word, and I’ll take care of him for you.”

Her vision blurred from tears, she could barely speak. “Please, no more… no more,” she cried, the constricting of her throat made her voice cracked and faint. “Let him go… I’ll do whatever you ask… just let him go… stop… please…” she wept, nearly crumbling to the floor. Philip lifted her, grasping her other arm.

“Very well,” Tess said, turning once more to Oliver. She grasped his chin, lifting his face. “Ms. Sullivan wants me to end this. It will be my pleasure.” She wanted him to cry out, to beg, but saw only anger and defiance in his eyes. “This is for Hackett,” she whispered close to his lips, then in an instant Oliver felt the knife removed from his pants and plunged into his stomach. This time he did make a sound, emitting a strangled moan.

Chloe shrieked in protest. It was all he heard. He felt the knife again, this time entering his chest, before his legs would no longer hold him. His body came away from the wall, hanging from his wrists by chains that kept him upright. And then he felt nothing. There was nothing but the sound of Chloe’s cries, her voice calling his name, like a keening wail, that became a whisper in his ear. She was whispering his name in his ear, and there was nothing but Chloe. Nothing but Chloe… Chloe….

Tess gazed coldly at Oliver’s body suspended from the chains. His head slumped forward. “Take him down,” she ordered, tossing the bloodied knife onto the table.

Men moved to do her bidding, releasing Oliver’s wrists and ankles, his body slumping to the floor in a bloody heap as they did so. They rolled him onto his back.

“Leave him there,” Tess instructed, and the men moved away. Chloe continued to wail and carry on, something Tess found quite annoying. She turned to Philip and Lex. “Let her go.”

Tess expected Chloe to run immediately to Oliver’s side, but instead she found herself on the receiving end of an unexpectedly powerful right hook to the face, followed immediately by an upper cut to the chin and a kick to the midsection. “You sick bitch!” Chloe screamed, and proceeded to kick and punch and claw at Tess, until they were like two alley cats, growling and snarling at one another, and had to be separated. Lex and Philip restrained Tess, her nose and lips bloodied from the force of Chloe’s fists. Chloe was panting, red-faced, her entire body trembling with rage, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shoved off the men holding her. Lex allowed it, motioning for her to see to Oliver.

“This is your entrance, Chloe. Act two.”

She glared at Lex momentarily before turning numbly to gaze down at her Oliver lying in a growing pool of his own blood; the light fading from his deep brown eyes, as they grew sightless. She continued to sob, unable to wipe the tears from her cheeks fast enough before new ones replaced them. Breathing heavily, she knelt beside him, then lifted a knee, moving over him, straddling his hips. Now she understood the game. This is what they wanted. This was how Tess and Lex would hurt and terrorize them both. Over, and over again.

The room grew still and silent as she wept over his body, everyone waiting, watching. Well, she’d give them a show, but this would be a one night only performance, because she and Oliver would escape, run, get as far away as they could before anyone would torture and kill Oliver again, and again only to have her heal him each time.

She lowered her head next to his. “No more, I promise… no more,” she whispered, her voice squeaking in his ear on a shaky breath. “I love you.” Chloe pressed her lips to his, as her trembling hands covered his chest. Chloe felt his pain enter her, eyes squeezing shut.

No one knew what to expect, and when bright, colorful light seeped faintly from every part of her body that touched him, a few of the men murmured to one another. But moments later, when the entire room was suddenly engulfed by light so blinding, they’d had to cover their eyes, a collective gasp and resounding confusion filled the room. Just as suddenly, the light was gone, and when their eyes adjusted, they found Chloe lying sprawled, limp over Oliver’s body.

They waited. His bloodstained hand rose slowly, covering her back, palm moving over her gently. His arms enfolded her, clutching her to his chest. Oliver heard some of the guards speaking softly to one another.

“Holy shit, how did she do that?”

“Amazing.”

“Unbelievable.”

“My God,” Philip uttered, as he stared dumbstruck.

Oliver rose to a sitting position, holding her limp body against him just as she was, her thighs on either side of him. He cupped the back of her head with one hand to keep it from lolling backward, nestling her cheek against his throat. He sat this way, his head bowed for long moments holding her through the silence in the room, half expecting someone to speak, or take her from him. No one did. After a time, he adjusted her body in his lap, shifting her legs so that he cradled her. They watched as Oliver gazed down at her, smoothing the hair back from her face tenderly, fingertips stroking her cheek, brushing away her tears. No one spoke. Finally, he lifted his head. There were no marks on his face where Tess had cut him; they simply weren’t there. Only faint smudges of blood remained. His dark eyes shining, blazed with a burning hatred of everyone in the room, so potent that for a few moments, no one dared to venture too closely to him.

Lex was the first to speak. “Clean them up and examine them both.”

No one moved.

“Do it!” Lex ordered, and two men and a woman dressed in medical scrubs Oliver hadn’t seen before stepped forward hesitantly, either Oliver’s glare, or the shock and fear at what they’d just witnessed making them skittish. They knew he wouldn’t give her up that easily.

The woman turned away, speaking quietly to Lex, and he nodded, she then knelt next to Oliver. “I’ve been with her for the past two days,” the woman said gently. “I’ll take care of her, and see to it that she’s returned to you.”

Oliver said nothing.

“You can trust me,” the woman whispered. “No harm will come to her.”

Finally Oliver moved, shifting Chloe’s body in his arms and rising to his feet with her. “I’ll take her.”

Lex allowed him to carry her to an examination room under armed guard. He knew Oliver wouldn’t try anything with Chloe in her current condition. Everyone watched him leave with Chloe in his arms, amazed that he simply stood up and walked at all. After Oliver placed her on the table, he was instructed to shower quickly and change into a pair of black uniform pants the guards wore, along with a pair of boots. No shirt was provided, and Oliver thought it was so that they could examine him as well, or perhaps it was easier for Tess to inflict more injuries that way.

The doctors didn’t tell him anything he didn’t know. Chloe was dead, and he was perfectly healthy; not one mark from the knife existed, even the bruises he’d had prior, and the pain he’d felt at his ribs was completely gone. She’d healed him of everything.

They interrogated him, asking him questions about Chloe’s ability, how she came to have it, asking him to describe his experience as she healed him. He wasn’t really listening to them and every question they asked, his answer was the same. He told them he didn’t know. He’d never tell them anything.

Oliver felt completely numb. He was escorted back to a room in the facility with a bed fitted against the wall, a sink, a chair and a separate bathroom and shower. Better accommodations than the last place we were in, he thought wryly, recalling the last time he and Chloe had been captives of Tess. They wouldn’t be here long, or he’d be dead; either way it wouldn’t matter. He asked for Chloe, and they brought her body to him, laying her on the bed. They’d washed his blood from her and changed her jumpsuit, trading it for a black outfit. He wondered vaguely at the wardrobe choice. They must have an overstock of black fatigues here. Oliver knew they’d be watching, waiting for her to come alive once more, but he didn’t care about that, he wanted to be with her if and when she awoke.

He removed his boots, turning off the main light, leaving only the small lamplight from the bedside table. He sat on the bed, his back against the wall, lifting Chloe in his arms, laying her head and shoulders on his lap. It was then that Tess and Philip entered the room. He didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to deal with Tess right now. He wanted to be left alone with Chloe until she awoke, if she awoke.

Tess stood momentarily watching him, as though she were waiting for him to speak first. But he didn’t speak, only glared at her, as his hand continued to caress the golden head of the woman he cradled. “You once offered your life to me in exchange for hers,” Tess said, stepping closer, but not too close, as though she too had been frightened by what she had seen, not fully understanding Chloe’s power. She stood here; talking to a man she had killed. She watched him die, and something about witnessing his resurrection at Chloe’s hands sent a shiver through her.

Oliver said nothing.

Tess watched the play of muscles beneath his smooth skin, cast golden by the dim lamplight as he moved every time he touched Chloe, watched as his fingers splayed, threading her hair. The hint of jealousy she felt at the sight of him with Chloe, transformed as she watched him, making her angry, not only with them, but with herself as well. She didn’t like the feeling. It made her feel weak. “Now you can die over, and over and over again. Every time she restores you, I’ll take such delight in torturing and killing you again in front of her in as many different ways as my imagination allows. And believe me, where your death is concerned, I have quite an active imagination.”

Oliver finally spoke. “How’d you get that busted lip?”

Philip lowered his head, stifling a grin at the unexpected answer, but kept his composure, his expression stony.

Tess scowled at Oliver.

“I hope she used the moves I taught her,” Oliver said.

Tess wouldn’t be thwarted; his disregard for her threats fueling her anger. “How does it feel? Dying?”

Oliver clutched Chloe’s limp body to his chest, lowering his head in an effort to hide his emotions. He lifted her in the crook of his arm, burying his face against her neck. He inhaled a shaky breath, breathing deeply of her as he had done so many times before, the familiar, faint scent of her filling him. It was odd how that simple act could somehow send a rippling wave of comfort through him, as though now that she’d healed his body, she was still healing his soul with her essence, her nearness. “Let her go.”

His displays of affection for Chloe unnerved Tess. “So many methods of torture, ways to kill a person. The possibilities are endless. Until I grow tired of you, of course. But first, some fun is in order, wouldn’t you say? I’ve been away a long time.”

Oliver kept his face buried in Chloe’s hair. “That’s your game? That’s what you want? Your hatred for me has become this twisted?”

“I wish to watch you die. And kill your spirit. Many times over,” Tess felt emboldened now that she had his attention. She moved closer to the bed. “Every time she dies for you, you die a little inside, don’t you? Every time she heals you, it hurts doesn’t it? You’ll both get to watch each other die. It’s perfect. Thanks to the incredible ability of your lover, my wish is granted, many times over.”

Oliver lifted his head, brown eyes glistening, yet hard as they bore into Tess. “Torture me, kill me. She won’t heal me again, I won’t allow it. Game over.”

“You think she’ll listen to you? I warned her once that you were her weakness, and she your downfall. She won’t allow you to suffer if she can help it, and you know this as well as I do.” Tess, confident that she’d scored the last point, cast a glance over her shoulder at Philip, who stood silently, still slightly dumbfounded over the entire scene he had witnessed earlier. “Guard them until she wakes up. Advise me immediately when she does. I’ll be ready for the next round. Next time it won’t be as quick.” She then swept from the room, the metal door sounded heavily as it closed, an iron cage slamming with finality, imprisoning them.

Oliver didn’t notice, didn’t care that Philip stayed behind, watching. Philip had to know that he wouldn’t try to escape, not without Chloe. He didn’t care what Tess said. He’d not allow Chloe to heal him again; had to make her promise not to do it.

Time seemed to pass slowly, the long, awkward silence in the room was deafening. Oliver remained with his back against the wall, dark eyes thinned, watching from his perch on the bed. Chloe’s head and shoulders still cradled in his lap. Every so often the fingers of his free hand threaded through her hair, or drifted over her pale cheek, trailing down the side of her throat to test for her pulse, as Philip paced not ten feet in front of him. Over the past hour, Philip had alternated between sitting in the chair on the opposite wall, to pacing up and down the length of the small hospital-like room. Another hour passed. Oliver, ever watchful of him.

“So…” Philip stopped pacing momentarily, growing uncomfortable with the silence, and the hard stare of Oliver Queen. “How long does this…” he gestured toward Chloe. “Last. When does she wake up?”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Oliver responded pointedly, his voice rough, ignoring Philip’s question. “Military?”

Philip didn’t answer, merely crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“That was you in the house, wasn’t it?”

“Where’d you learn to fight? And shoot an arrow like that?” Philip countered.

Oliver’s expression remained unreadable; his stare frigid. “My nanny taught me,” he quipped, but there was no trace of humor in his tone, only sarcasm. “Right after she fed me with a silver spoon.”

Philip knew he wouldn’t tell the truth and wondered why he bothered asking.

Silence hung heavily in the room for another half hour.

“You were right,” Oliver said quietly, breaking the long silence.

Philip lifted his head at the sound of Oliver’s voice.

“I have to let her go.”

Philip nearly snorted. “I’m not stupid, Queen. You’re not giving her up.”

“I am. Entanglements, relationships,” he shook his head sadly. “I can’t do it. Because of who I’ve been, what I am. It was so much easier to go through women… when it meant nothing. When it didn’t hurt this much.” Oliver was quiet for a moment, and Philip wondered where he was going with this. “You were right,” he admitted sadly. “I’m just a spoiled, rich, womanizing bastard, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Philip wasn’t swayed.

“Look where this got me,” Oliver began once more, then gazed down ruefully at Chloe’s ashen, sleeping face. Philip watched Oliver’s fingertip trace her bottom lip as he studied her with great sadness, then outlining her features as though attempting to commit her every feature to memory. “Look what it brought her. Nothing but heartache, pain. For both of us. I can’t live with it.” Oliver lifted his head to stare ahead unseeing at the opposite wall. “I’d rather be alone, or with a different woman every night, anything than suffer though this. We’re better off without each other. And when she wakes up, I’ll tell her it’s over. If I get out of here alive, I can’t be with her. And if I don’t… it won’t matter.”

Philip’s eyes thinned suspiciously. “You can’t mean that.”

Oliver turned his head in Philip’s direction as he slipped his fingers into Chloe’s hair, caressing her scalp, then clasping a handful of the soft golden stuff in his fist. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of touching her as long as he lived, and he didn’t know how much time he had left. He’d spend every last moment he could near her. “I do. What would you do if she were yours? Would you want this kind of life for yourself? For her? I’ve put her life in danger too many times.”

Philip’s gaze softened as his eyes traveled over Chloe’s petite form lying on the cot across Oliver’s lap, considering his words. “But….”

“I have to let her go,” Oliver interrupted. “She has to forget me. You said it yourself; she’s better off without me. And if Tess gets her wish, I’ll be dead anyway.”

As he spoke, Queen handled her tenderly and gently, yet with an ease of familiarity that only lovers shared; absently stroking her hair, her face, running fingertips down her arm. It struck Philip as something utterly possessive and intimate, and he looked away, feeling as though he were an interloper invading their privacy. Queen said he’d been right about him, he claimed it was easier not to care, easier to have meaningless flings, but Philip didn’t think Queen believed his own words. He loved Chloe, was devoted to her; Philip could see that now, and Tess was using it against him. ‘Find your enemy’s weakness’. Well, they’d certainly found Oliver Queen’s.

After another silence pervaded the room for an interminable time, Oliver finally spoke again quietly. “It depends.”

“What depends?”

“It’s different every time,” he went on. “But she feels the pain. Sometimes it’s hours. A day. Sometimes she’s slightly weakened. It depends on the severity of the injuries she’s healed. Her body needs time to recover. You could be in here all night.” Oliver stopped for a moment, swallowing harshly before he continued. “But we don’t really know everything about her ability. Any time she heals someone from near death, it could be the last.”

“She could die?”

“She could die.”

Philip lowered his head, turning away. He suddenly felt tired, and dropped down onto the chair. Unfolding himself, he stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Oliver shifted his position, stretching out against the wall to lie beside Chloe on the bed meant for one, leaning on an elbow, his head resting in his hand.

“She’s… healed you before?” Philip asked.

“Even when I don’t want her to.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“That she is,” Oliver murmured, eyes caressing her face, his lips curving in a small smile as he fought the urge to press his lips to her forehead. He wouldn’t do it though, not in front of Philip. It was none of Philip’s business, and he’d shared enough of himself.

“How… how does it feel, when she does it?”

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.” Oliver looked down at her once more. She gave him a part of herself; part of her essence filled him every time she healed. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever experienced, and he hated it. Hated what it did to her. Tess was right. Every time she healed him, it tore him up inside. His only hope, was that Chloe would awaken soon. He’d planted the seed, and hoped that his plan for Philip would work.

End Chapter 8

Click Here For Chapter 9

Signal Fire Chapter 7

2009-01-15T20:12:00.004-06:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 7

“Halt!” Lex called, his voice echoing in the immense mansion office. He and his partner, both dressed in white lowered their foils, handing them to two male servants standing nearby. Their weapons were replaced with water bottles and hand towels.

“You,” she smiled at him saucily as she removed her mask, auburn ponytail flipping from behind. “Are a genius.” Lex’s plan was brilliant, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it herself.

“Of course,” Lex removed his mask as well, and smirked just before taking a sip of water from the blue bottle. They’d been fencing, something he hadn’t done in a long time, and Tess nearly got the best of him. “And you my dear, are amazing.” Lex wiped his brow. “You’ve been studying the Flèche move. I’m amazed.”

The color in Tess’s cheeks had nothing to do with the footwork required of fencing exercises or mock duels. This man had saved her life. He’d never given up on her, and had done everything in his power to assure her complete recovery. She was forever indebted to him. “Oh yes.” Her eyes told him she understood his meaning. He wasn’t speaking of her footwork. “Flèche has become my specialty,” she purred.

“Well then,” Lex bowed gallantly before her, then took her hand brushing his lips against her knuckles. “I can’t wait to see what else you have in store.” He dismissed the servants, and when he was certain they were alone, he pulled her closer. His voice lowered to a smooth whisper. “But I want to be there when he’s revealed. I want to look into the eyes of Oliver Queen as he’s begging for mercy. Especially the first time.”

Tess’s smile grew wicked. “It will be my pleasure.”

“Take as much pleasure as you’d like, as many times as you’d like.”

“Oh, I will.”

* * * * *

Bart swiveled in the chair in front of the console in the command center beneath Queen mansion. He’d been dying to ask Ollie how he’d gotten beat up since they’d all arrived this morning, but he knew better. He wanted to know what the other guy looked like and hoped it was worse. Oliver would refuse to go to the hospital if he mentioned it, but Bart knew he was hurting. He’d come out of the changing rooms as the rest of the team arrived, wearing blue jeans, and stuffing his head and arms into a white t-shirt, wincing at the movement as he did so. They’d all seen the bandages wrapped tightly around his midsection. Oliver also sported a fresh bruise along his cheek and jaw. When they’d asked, he only said he’d tell them later. “I hate to say this Ollie, but… do you think she… you know, just left?” Bart didn’t really want to be the one to say it, but someone had to. “I mean… dude, you’ve got an entire timeline here of Oliver Queen’s bevy of babes.” Bart lifted the copy of the Star City Sentinel he’d been holding.

Oliver had been standing over Victor who worked diligently at the computer. He shot Bart a look.

Bart bowed his head sheepishly. “Sorry. I just mean…”

“I know what you mean Bart,” Oliver sighed, running a hand through his hair, he couldn’t get upset with the younger man, Bart did have a point. “I’d understand why any woman would want to leave me after seeing that, but…” Oliver’s expression turned doubtful for a moment, considering the possibility. “But… Chloe didn’t leave me.” Oliver stepped over toward the fax machine when it came to life with a hum, as an incoming fax was arriving. He lifted the piece of paper, his eyes scanning it. “Shit.”

AC lifted his head and Bart was at Oliver’s side in a split second.

“What is it?”

“Lois did some digging. Philip Cook did write the article, but that’s not all. Take a look at this.” Oliver handed the paper to Vic who read it instantly, then passed it on to AC sitting next to him.

Bart was fidgeting with curiosity. “What is it?” he repeated, zipping over to peer at the paper in AC’s hands. “Holy shit.”

All four men looked at one another.

“You think this guy’s the missing prototype from Project Ares?” Victor asked.

“He was strong, but not that strong. Not like the others,” Oliver said, lost in thought, rubbing his side gingerly. “Most of his strength was in his legs, I think…. And there’s nothing robotic about him that I can tell.”

“That’s the dude you fought? Chloe’s coworker?” AC queried, handing the fax sheet back to Victor.

“I'm not sure, but he might be. I didn't see his face,” Oliver brushed it off, reaching for another sheet as the fax came through. This one had Philip’s photograph and former military rank information included. “I knew it. Highly trained.”

Victor read the paper again. “Says here that according to military records…” he looked up. “How did Lois get a hold of this information anyway?”

It was the first time since they’d all been there, that a hint of a smile reached Oliver’s lips. “She’s got connections, remember?”

“That’s right.” Vic nodded, returning to the paper. “This Cook guy was officially listed as MIA while on a covert mission.”

“Dude is hard core,” Bart piped in. “Why would he want to take Chloe?” he wondered aloud.

“Not Philip.” Oliver answered. “Lex.”

“Cueball’s been missing for over a year,” Bart retorted. “Probably dead.”

“Missing, not dead.”

“I’ve got something…” Victor typed in a few more keys on the computer. “That company car… the license plate… it belongs to a small technologies company called Apollo Alliance. But I couldn’t find much more than that. Then I did a little more digging, and found that it was buried under a pile of corporate acquisitions, and has indirect connection to none other than Project Ares.”

“It’s Lex, there’s no doubt,” Oliver mused.

“What’s with him and Greek mythology?” AC asked.

“He should have been a classics professor,” Bart quipped, then returned his gaze to Oliver. “So now what? We still don’t know where to find Chloelicious.”

Oliver folded an arm over his chest, rubbing his chin in thought. “We keep on digging. Check out this Apollo Alliance, maybe shake those guys up a little bit, see what they can tell us.”

“We’ll do it. You stay here bro,” AC offered.

“No. I need to do this,” Oliver was firm.

It was Victor’s turn. “No offense, but you’re not exactly in the best shape right now.”

It was one of those times Oliver hated being the only member of the team without a special superhuman ability. His side hurt, he was certain he’d had bruised ribs, possibly worse, and did his best to tape himself up and ignore the pain. He looked at each of them; this team he’d assembled, and not for the first time did the irony of the situation go unnoticed by him. Physically he was the weakest of the group, the most vulnerable, and yet they followed him. Chloe told him it was because of the man he was. He had a strength about him that went beyond physical, she’d said, leadership qualities they looked up to. They respected him, were loyal to him and to each other. Oliver still couldn’t fathom it at times. “She’s my girlfriend. I’m not sitting around here doing nothing.”

“She’s our Watchtower, and you won’t be doing nothing,” AC countered. “You’ll be here, manning the fort.”

Bart spoke before Oliver could say anything. “Big Tuna’s right, boss. Let us handle this one.”

AC cast a sidelong glance at Bart. “You’ve been watching The Office reruns again, haven’t you?”

Bart waggled his brows.

Of all of them, Victor seemed to understand best, Oliver’s need to go, and feel as though he were actively doing something, anything to find Chloe. He also knew Oliver’s pride was at stake, but like the others, he knew Oliver was feeling the pain of his fight the night before, and looked as though he hadn’t slept at all. “Oliver, it’s just this once. You can sit out for just one. We’ll come back with any information we have and take it from there. You can lead the charge once we know more and have a plan.” Victor stood, placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, his tone then became solemn and quiet, his dark eyes meeting Oliver’s. “Chloe needs you in one piece, man. She needs you strong. If Lex is behind this, you know there’s going to be a fight. Conserve some of that energy for when we really need it, and we’re all there together.”

Oliver looked at each of them, waiting expectantly for his reply; part of him knew they were right. They knew the drill; he knew he could trust them. It was a simple recon mission, but part of him needed to be out there. He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. “All right,” he sighed. “But you let me know what you find immediately. You move out tonight after dark.”

Even Bart had grown serious at hearing Victor’s plea. “You got it, amigo.”

They’d finished their preliminary research on Apollo Alliance, found employee records, the building blueprints, and made preparations, waiting for dark to gear up, and already gone. Oliver sat bleary-eyed at the console listening in on the comm. His cell phone rang, and he reached for it absently checking the caller ID, his eyes widening, his heart stopping at the sight of her name.

He removed the comlink earpiece, tossing it on the desk in front of him, pressing the phone to his ear in its place. “Chloe!”

“I must say, I didn’t think you two would last this long. Who’d have thought Oliver Queen would turn out to be a one woman man?” the feminine voice responded.

Oliver was suddenly wide-awake and sat upright in the chair. “Who is this?” he demanded, his heartbeat thundering, breath quickening.

“An old friend,” came the response.

There was something familiar about the voice, something that made his insides lurch, something that told him he didn’t want to know the answer to his question. “Who is this? Where’s Chloe?”

“Come now, Arrow. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Oliver swallowed, rising from the chair, a fist clenching at his side. He didn’t want to utter her name. “Tess.”

“You do remember. I’m flattered.”

“Where’s Chloe?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. And thanks to her blood, I’m alive and well, and better than ever.”

“Her blood? What have you done to her?” Oliver shouted into the phone.

Tess’s voice remained calm, taunting him. “Don’t worry, Archer. Nothing’s happened to your precious Ms. Sullivan. I imagine she’s sleeping right about now. Sedated and well guarded.”

Chloe attempted to heal Tess after the alien creature masquerading as Davis Bloom attacked her, resulting in her near death. But Chloe’s strength had been depleted, and the healing was only partial, leaving Tess alive but comatose for the past eight months. Oliver let loose with a string of curses, wishing he’d prevented Chloe from healing Tess at all.

“Now, now, Oliver. All is not lost. No need for such language. You do want to see her again, don’t you?”

“Damn you, Tess. I’m not playing your games. Where is she?” he ground out.

A short laugh escaped her. If he only knew the game Lex had in mind for him. A game she’d enjoy repeatedly; over and over, until she tired of it. Her voice became hard, businesslike as she spoke the words rapidly. “The Green Arrow’s presence is requested in Black Creek. I know you’re familiar with the facility. Tomorrow. Midnight. Come alone. If we suspect your cohorts are aware of your plans or anywhere nearby, we will exterminate her without thought, and leave her body in the Montana wilderness for you to pick up. Come to the main entrance of the facility. We’ll be waiting for you.”

And then the line went dead, and Oliver sank into the chair. “Tess. Hello? Tess!” Oliver closed his phone. “Bitch!” he spat, slamming his fist down onto the desk in front of him. He glanced around the room, rising once more from his seat, suddenly antsy, thoughts whirling, pacing as though not knowing what to do with himself. Tess had Chloe’s cell phone, it was proof enough for him that she was there. Forgetting all about the mission at Apollo Alliance and the rest of the team, Oliver went into the changing area of the command center to gather up his gear, and choose his weaponry.

Though it was too early, he left, knowing he couldn’t tell the team where he’d gone, calling for the private jet. He knew they’d be angry that he hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t consulted with them, but he couldn’t risk Chloe’s life. Tess was ruthless enough to kill Chloe in cold blood, and Oliver couldn’t take that chance. He slept fitfully on the flight to Montana, the pain in his side now a dull ache, waking him. He ignored it. Once landed, he had plenty of time before midnight to retrieve the building plans. He received calls from Victor, but he didn’t answer them, letting them go to voicemail. They wanted to know where he was, what had happened, what he was doing. He sent Victor a text message, then turned off his phone. When the hour grew near, he suited up in his green leathers, retrieved his motorcycle from the jet, and rode the darkened highway to the Black Creek facility. Oliver knew he was walking right into a trap, but he could think of no other way to barter with Tess for Chloe’s release. He’d offered to exchange his life for hers once before, and he’d do it again.

They were waiting for him.

Several well-armed guards were at the gate. They divested him of his bow and searched him for other weapons. Once satisfied that he posed no threat, they led him at gunpoint to the main entrance.

The double doors opened wide on the main corridor of the Black Creek facility. Oliver remembered it well; dim hallways that led to cell-like rooms for its various occupants. It was nearly empty now, but for the guards escorting him, their footsteps echoing in his ears. As they walked further, he saw her, standing with her arms folded over her chest, dressed in black, similar to that of the black fatigues the guards surrounding him wore. They stopped mere feet in front of her.

“Welcome back.”

“You’ve got what you want,” his synthesized voice responded, his face an emotionless mask behind the glasses and hood. “Let me see her, make sure she’s all right. And then you’ll let her go.”

Tess’s lips curved in a smirk. “You’ve only just arrived. This party hasn’t started yet.” She stepped closer, peering up into his face. “We should get reacquainted, don’t you think? Lots to catch up on.” She turned away from him, rounding a corner, continuing to saunter down another hallway. The guards shoved Arrow forward, following her. Tess looked over her shoulder at him, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Don’t worry, Archer. You’ll see her. I promise.”

They entered a large room, and Oliver balked upon seeing the interior; heavy chains on the cement wall opposite, various torture devices, knives and odd looking equipment nearby. Throwing himself at the nearest guard, Oliver landed several punches and well-placed kicks at anyone dressed in black. He’d started a melee in the room, pieces of equipment crashing to the floor, shouts reverberating throughout. Oliver took several severe hits as well, and already hurting from his prior injury, he was no match for them. They’d finally subdued him, the ache in his side from two nights ago became stabbing as they continued to beat and kick him, even as they tied his hands behind his back. Tess said something, taunting him once more, but it didn’t register, and he didn’t respond. One of the guards forced him up onto his knees, the cold, hard metal of a pistol pressed to his temple in warning.

And then he heard a voice he'd been longing to hear echoing from the hall, or he thought he did, he couldn’t be sure, his head mired in a fog. “Get your paws off of me! I can walk. Let me go!”

Catching his breath, Oliver lifted his head with great effort. He needed to see her. And when his eyes came into focus he saw Chloe struggling against the grasp of two men, one on either side of her. Recognition slammed him like a gale force wind at the sight of the men leading her. Philip Cook, and Lex Luthor.

They shoved her into the room. She cried out upon seeing him, and throwing her body forward in an attempt to run to him, she was caught up short as they held her back. Someone removed his hood and dark glasses, leaving him exposed.

Guards hoisted Oliver to his feet as Lex approached. The two men eyed each other. Oliver was unwilling to show any hint of the pain he was feeling, desperately trying to regain his senses, his stare remained cold. In the background, Chloe continued to struggle and shout, until Philip grasped her from behind.

“Hello Oliver. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Not long enough,” Oliver’s voice came, sounding like gravel, his breath hitching at the pain in his side and everywhere else, he wondered how he was able to stand by sheer will alone, refusing to show Lex any weakness. His eyes flitted briefly to Chloe, her petite form dressed in a dark brown jumpsuit. Still struggling weakly, she was pulled back against Philip Cook, his hand over her mouth, an arm around her waist. A renewed rage kindled at the sight. He didn’t want Philip touching her.

Lex’s response was a barely visible, but triumphant smile. He couldn’t help it. Before him stood an enemy, weakened both physically and mentally; his life in Lex’s hands. It was too sweet, made only sweeter by the knowledge that the Green Arrow was none other than Excelsior Academy bully and tormentor, Oliver Queen. Lex had the upper hand now, and he would enjoy every moment of the show he and Tess had in store. He thought it was too good to be true, when Tess had told him the identity of the Green Arrow. But now, seeing Oliver Queen with his own eyes, dressed in green leather he felt a sense of victory. “The Green Arrow. Who’d have thought it? I’ll admit the playboy billionaire act is quite the façade for a double life.”

“You should know.”

“Wealth does have its advantages, doesn’t it? But there are some things money just can’t buy, and this moment is one of them.”

“You’ve got what you want,” Oliver breathed. “Let Chloe go.”

“You don’t think that’s it, do you? She’s just as important to this play as you are. Quite necessary in fact. If it weren’t for her abilities, we wouldn’t have the privilege of repeat performances. ” Lex cast a glance over his shoulder at Chloe. Her eyes were wide with fear and anger. His gaze returned to Oliver. “I pull the strings now. You’ve both been terrorizing me for far too long. It’s my turn now. The Green Arrow is no more.” Lex nodded to someone behind Oliver, and he struggled as they pulled him away. Someone unzipped his green leather vest, hands removing it. Another pulled out a knife, slitting the black sleeveless t-shirt he wore beneath it, up the front; ripping the material from his body. Oliver found some strength from somewhere, lashing out as they shoved him against the cement wall attempting to fit his wrists into the cold steel manacles that hung from short, thick chains. His protests were met with a blow to the head with the butt of a guard’s pistol. Another tore the wrap of bandages from his torso, revealing a bruised area along his side. Oliver felt the warm trickle of blood down his temple, his head bobbing as they chained him against the wall, arms spread out just above shoulder height. Chloe shouted from somewhere far away, and he heard them scrambling for her as she broke Philip’s hold.

“Not yet, Chloe,” he heard Lex's smooth voice. “This isn’t where you make an entrance yet. Don’t worry though; your part in this show is coming up soon. I’m sure neither of you will disappoint us with your performances.”

End Chapter 7

Click Here For Chapter 8

Signal Fire Chapter 6

2009-01-11T02:38:00.003-06:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 6

"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.”

After the words left Adriana’s lips, Oliver bolted; vanishing from her darkened bedroom soundlessly, and rappelling down the side of the apartment building. He leapt upon his motorcycle, rear wheel spinning out sideways as he took off. He tore up the darkened, sparsely inhabited road, fingers gripping the handlebars as black rage roiled, churning in his blood. He knew where Philip lived.

He had known, sensed Philip’s attraction to Chloe. But why would the man orchestrate this entire elaborate and sinister scheme simply to try and take Chloe away from him? No. There was something more going on here. As far as Oliver knew, Philip was the last person to see her. The attack last night, Chloe’s disappearance, Adriana’s admission of her role in his scheme; it all had to be connected somehow. Someone had done their homework, and it was probable that aside from Adriana’s involvement, Philip wasn’t working alone. If all of the recent events were different parts of the puzzle, then each piece had been orchestrated to cause discord between himself and Chloe, get her alone, away from him. ‘He wanted them separated,’ Adriana had said. But why? And who, aside from Philip would want to see them torn apart? Who had a vested interest in seeing Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan separated? So much so, that entire scathing articles, digging up the past could be printed literally overnight? Who could wield that kind of power? Who would want her taken from him? There were only two people that came to mind, and one person had been missing, presumed dead for over a year, while the other had disappeared from a hospital eight months ago.

Oliver spurned his bike onward, roaring toward his destination. He arrived in the sleepy sub-division where small, nondescript, identical tract houses snaked around winding tree-lined streets and cul-de-sacs. He cut the bike engine and rolled silently to the rear of the box-like single story house. There were no lights on, and he assumed that Philip was either asleep, or not at home. Using his night vision glasses, he peered in through darkened windows, giving one of them a shove to test it. It slid upward, and Oliver hoisted himself through, landing catlike on the carpet beneath him. Odd. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of furnishings. The room he’d landed in appeared to be an office, but the lone empty desk that occupied the room was void of any computer or papers. Having seen Chloe in action while working on a story, papers and notes strewn about, he couldn’t imagine a reporter not having at least a laptop and a file cabinet. Arrow stepped closer to the desk, noting the fine coating of dust around a clean area where a computer monitor might have been.

Oliver moved quietly through the narrow hallway, each room was the same; empty or barely furnished. The living room contained exactly one floor lamp and one couch. Barren walls, no television, no audio system, nothing to indicate that anyone lived here. The larger bedroom contained only a mattress on the floor and a dresser with empty drawers. Even the refrigerator was void of any food. No dishes or glasses in the cabinets, no silverware in any kitchen drawer. Nothing. Empty. That was it.

A bit of Oliver’s rage gave way to puzzlement as he stood in the living room once more, turning, eyes scanning for any clue. This was Philip’s house, he was sure of it.

As he turned to head back toward the office he’d first entered, he was met with a sudden teeth-jarring blow to the jaw, his head snapping back. Arrow stumbled backward, disoriented. He shook his head to regain his bearings, blinking behind dark glasses, clearing the stars in front of his eyes. He found himself face to face with a man in black military fatigues; his face covered with a black ski mask.

Oliver ducked under the next punch and threw himself forward returning the favor, smashing his fist square into the man’s covered face, causing him to falter backward. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Who the hell are you?” The Green Arrow’s synthesized voice demanded. Stupid question, Oliver thought. As if he’ll tell you. “You’re too late,” Oliver ducked just under the man’s right hook, dancing back lightly on the balls of his feet. “Looks like someone beat you to it; there’s nothing here to steal. Better luck next time.” The man grunted, as Arrow delivered a fisted bomb to his gut.

The man made no answer, recovered from the blow, and then proceeded to charge. Oliver moved quickly, evading the shoulder meant to drill him into the wall, and delivering a hard chop to the back of the man’s neck, his arm swooping downward, connecting brutally as he passed. The man however, deciding that Oliver was a better opponent than he’d expected, came back for more. Nearly leaping in some acrobatic move right out of a Bruce Lee movie, the man spun in mid-air, offering up an explosive roundhouse kick to the abdomen that had Oliver flying, his back slamming into the opposite wall, crashing into and knocking down the lone floor lamp.

Oliver panted; wincing at the pain as he sat slumped against the wall, thinking that the kick the man had just delivered was inhumanly powerful. He ran his tongue along the inside of his stinging cheek. “I’m looking for Philip Cook.” He held an arm against his side, vaguely wondering if he’d cracked a rib. He imagined what Chloe would do if he came home in this condition. She would ask what happened, her green eyes filled with love and brows knit with worry while she would insist stubbornly, disregarding his protests, on placing her hands over his bruised midsection. Her gentle fingertips would move over his face, soothing him, taking away his injuries and he would in turn admonish her gently for healing him, because what he hated more than anything in the world was to see her in pain; especially his. Thinking of her made him hurt in ways that had nothing to do with a cracked rib and a bruised jaw. “Friend of his, by any chance?”

The man took up a fighting stance once more. The glint of a dagger flashed in front of Arrow’s eyes, and the man made to move toward him, as if to finish him off.

Oliver rose to his feet. “Is that all you’ve got?” The Green Arrow taunted. He realized that the man had originally been feigning an inability to fight well, testing Oliver’s skills like a card shark trying to lure him in before turning the tables. Whoever he was, the man in black was a trained fighter. He also refused to speak. So that’s how it is, Oliver thought. He didn’t start this fight, but he was sure as hell going to finish it, regardless of any pain he might be feeling, because he had just enough rage in him to do it. “Come on,” he urged, offering the man a flash of an arrogant smirk. “Don’t be shy. Show me the good stuff, now.”

His opponent, breathing heavily under the ski mask went in for the kill, attempting to plunge the point of his knife into Oliver’s throat. Arrow countered it, raising his left elbow in a strike that deflected the move, and coming up with a right-handed palm-heel blow to the man’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. The man’s body hunched forward as he fell back several faltering steps. Arrow followed through with a left cross to the man’s jaw, knocking him flat on his back, motionless. The dark figure seemed to be down and out, but as Arrow approached intending to remove the ski mask, a black, heavy booted foot snaked out, sweeping Arrow’s legs from under him with amazing force, giving the man in black fatigues the opportunity to collect himself, scramble up and stumble, staggering out the front door.

Oliver, sprawled on his back, rolled to his side, panting; the pain stabbing with every lung full of air he took. All his of anger, all of his fear and worry for Chloe gave him strength, and he rose to his feet in pursuit of the mysterious attacker. But when Oliver exited the door, the dark, quiet, tree-lined street was empty. He didn’t know why the man was there. Was he also looking for Philip? Did he know him? Was he part of the scheme? It was another piece of the puzzle, and his heart anguished. He was still no closer to finding the woman he loved.

* * * * *

She was lying on her back in their bed, dozing on a wispy cloud. Oliver was stroking her hair, his fingertips brushing over her forehead, trailing down her cheek as he admired her; she could almost feel his dark eyes drifting over her face, lovingly. He did that sometimes when he thought she wasn’t aware, thought she was in deep sleep. He did that sometimes to awaken her in the blue haze of pre-dawn light just before he proceeded to worship the rest of her with his hands, his lips, his body. Chloe awoke gradually. Her head felt heavy, eyelids drooping as her gaze drifted around the dimly lit room. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep, but lifting her head inches from the pillow to peer down at herself, she noticed small bandages at the bend of her inner arms, as though someone had either injected her with something or drawn her blood, or both. She found that part odd.

“You’re safe here,” a man’s soothing voice drifted to her on cattail down. “No one will hurt you. I promise.”

Her eyelids slid closed feeling heavy, and she tried to open her eyes wider, shifting her head against the pillow. It wasn’t Oliver who had been stroking her hair, touching her face.

He smiled at her sadly; fading bruises adorning his handsome face. A healing cut on his lower lip. Chloe thought he’d looked as though he’d been in a boxing match. “Turns out you’re more amazing than I ever thought possible,” he said softly.

The warm memories of Oliver faded, replaced by the sudden flooding harsh reality of her abduction and the man standing at her bedside. Her mind still groggy, she registered the figure beside her. “Philip?” Her throat was dry and her tongue felt about twice its normal size. Chloe struggled to sit up, leaning on her elbows. It had taken her a moment to recognize him, aside from the fog in her brain; she’d never seen him dressed the way he was now. He was wearing a black long-sleeved, form-fitting t-shirt that accentuated his lean, muscular physique, black B.D.U. military pants and boots. A shoulder holster cradled a 50 calibur Magnum Desert Eagle at his side. He handed her a glass of water, and she took it, not knowing whether or not she should trust it. She eyed it momentarily, then drank it anyway, her thirst overcoming her concern. “What have you done? Where am I? Take me home now!” her voice rose weakly in panic, finally realizing that she was not in her own bed, her clothing replaced by light blue cotton pajamas, the room too clinical, too hospital-like.

He took the glass from her hand, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. “You’re safe Chloe,” he soothed, cupping her shoulders, attempting to ease her back down onto the bed.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Okay…” he let out a sigh, removing his hands from her. “Okay.” He backed away a few steps. “Don’t be afraid of me, Chloe. It’s not what you think. Listen...”

“Where am I?” she demanded, glancing around the room frantically, regaining a bit of her senses. “And how the hell would you even begin to know what I think!” She attempted to rise up from the hospital bed, but was overcome by a wave of dizziness, too weak to do much more than sit up, her arms trembling with the effort.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’m to see to your welfare, personally.” In fact, he had requested it of Lex. He figured Lex owed him that much. He wanted to be here when Chloe awoke, he wanted to watch over her, guard her. He didn’t know how long Lex wanted to keep her, but Philip wanted to be the one assigned as her bodyguard for as long as her stay required. After this mission was over, he may not ever see her again. Not only that, but he knew she’d be angry, hate him, and any chance he may have fantasized of having with her would be null once she discovered his involvement. She’d never have him now. He must be some kind of masochist, wanting to be near a woman he could never have. Maybe that torture was justifiable penance for what he’d done to her.

Chloe ran a hand over her eyes, brushing her hair back as she did so. “Tell me what’s going on, Philip. If that’s even your real name,” she accused.

His tone remained calm, quiet. “It’s my real name.”

“Tell me,” she ordered, her voice as commanding as she could manage at the moment.

Philip sat in the chair next to her bed, reaching for her hand, grasping it gently. She pulled it away angrily, hoping her strength would return sooner than later. Wherever she was, she needed to get out of here. “Someone very important needed your talents.” He looked away for a moment, knowing she’d not allow the contact, then back at her, his ice blue eyes fringed by dark lashes were filled with intrigue and awe. “And… I never knew you could do that. Heal people.” Philip stood, taking a few steps toward the foot of the bed. He turned to her. “I mean, I’ve heard of people like you, with abilities, but… man, that’s some secret you’ve been hiding.” Something that sounded like a half-hearted laugh tinged with irony left his lips, as he shook his head. “Could’ve used you in the field…” his voice trailed off as he thought back to that fateful day when he’d lost his team, and nearly his life. “The military would love to have a secret weapon like you,” he said almost to himself. “Does Queen know about you?”

Chloe turned her head away from him. The small window was closed, dark brown curtains covering it, thin streams of light filtering through where the fabric lay slightly parted. She wondered if she could attempt to break out of it later. “Yes. He knows.”

“I figured he would.” Philip wondered why Queen had never thought to capitalize on her ability.

She glared at him; a defiant gleam in her emerald eyes. “Why are you involved?”

“I was hired to deliver you,” he said quietly, as if that explained everything.

“So, you’re not really a reporter?” Her gaze flitted to the gun at his side.

“I am. But I suppose I’m sort of a mercenary as well,” he shrugged.

She let loose a breath that was half frustration, half disbelief. “And if you needed my help, you couldn’t have asked? I had to be kidnapped?”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have helped him unless I brought you here.”

Distrust darkened her gaze. “You’d better stop talking in riddles and tell me what I want to know.”

“I’ve only just discovered the reason for this mission two days ago. That’s how long you’ve been here. But now it explains a lot of questions I’ve had. It’s no wonder he wanted you.”

“Two days? I’ve been here two days?”

He nodded.

She thought to ask what had happened to him, why he looked as though he’d been in a fight recently, then decided she didn’t care. “You know Oliver will be looking for me,” she said. “And believe me, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Philip’s calm demeanor ruffled at the mention of the blonde billionaire and her empty threat. “I’m sure he will, unless he’s otherwise occupied. But, I’m sure we can handle him.”

Her eyes flashed. “What do you mean, otherwise occupied?” Chloe was becoming livid.

Philip smirked. “You think he won't replace you? Adriana is waiting in the wings.”

Her blood boiled, giving her strength to sit up and attempt to swing her legs over the bed. “You bastard.” Her bare feet hit the cold tile floor as she slipped from the bed, but her legs felt like jelly. What the hell had they given her?

Philip was there, his arms around her, holding her up as her legs gave way. “Easy. The sedative hasn’t worn off completely.”

“How am I supposed to use the bathroom?” She complained as he settled her back onto the bed.

“I suppose I could…”

“Like hell you are,” she interrupted, indignantly.

“Call the nurse,” he finished, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

With Chloe’s attempt at indignation failed by her inability to do much more than sit up in bed, she sighed, fixing the covers over herself. Even doing that much was an effort; her muscles refused to cooperate, prompting Philip to tuck her in as though she were a child. She decided to move the subject away from Oliver. She knew he’d be frantic with worry, and doing anything within his power to find her, no matter what garbage Philip tried to feed her. “You mentioned a mission. What mission?”

Philip stood over her, folding his arms over his chest. “Apparently your blood was needed to create a healing serum. My mission was to bring you to him... among other things.” Philip didn’t think it was wise to mention separating her from Oliver Queen.

Chloe gazed down at the small bandages on her arms. That’s what had happened. They’d taken her blood. She lifted her eyes to his once more. “What are you talking about? Who needed my blood? Why?”

“Thanks to you, my employer was able to restore Tess Mercer back to full health. Surprisingly, it’s as though she was never comatose for eight months. Amazing actually.”

“Your employer? Tess Mercer?” The name sent a surge of unease and dread coursing through her, but that sensation would be nothing compared to the one that overcame her at name he spoke next.

He stared at her silently for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Yes. Lex Luthor.”

End Chapter 6

A/N: Philip is my creation, and I wanted to give everyone an idea of what he looks like in my head. Picture a darker haired, blue-eyed Josh Duhamel, and you’re pretty close to the resemblance of the dude in my imagination. :)

Click Here For Chapter 7

Signal Fire Chapter 5

2009-01-03T22:15:00.004-06:00

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.

“Chloe?”

“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.

“Who?”

“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

Signal Fire Chapter 4

2008-12-30T09:19:00.004-06:00

Signal Fire
Chapter 4

Philip sat behind his desk in the dimly lit basement office of the Gazette. Only the night custodial staff and two female interns who manned the phones were around at this hour. He’d finished the article, and was about to send off a copy to the editor, when the cell phone he carried in his suit coat pocket rang. Pulling it out with dread, he flipped it open.

“What happened, Philip?”

He’d recognize that smooth voice anywhere. Philip cast a glance over at the interns some distance away, seemingly engaged in their own conversation, talking and giggling as they munched on vending machine junk food. He swiveled in his chair away from them, lowering his voice. “Look, it wasn’t my fault. The Green Arrow showed up out of nowhere. I just don’t understand why this entire elaborate scheme is needed anyway. If you want the girl, just kidnap her. Game over.”

“I’ll deal with the Green Arrow in time. But I’m surprised at you, Philip. All war is deception. For someone well schooled in the art, you certainly don’t seem familiar with the ‘divide and conquer’ tactic.”

“I know what it is. I just don’t see the need. Kidnap her and be done with it.”

“I want them divided emotionally, as well as physically. ‘If your enemy’s forces are united, separate them. If sovereign and subject are in accord, put division between them. Attack him where he is unprepared, appear where you are not expected.’”

“Sun Tzu, The Art of War,” Philip responded, recognizing the quote. “Still, it seems a waste of time.” Philip had known of the rivalry between Lex Luthor and Oliver Queen. They’d been schoolmates at Excelsior Academy, but beyond that, he didn’t understand Lex’s need to crush Queen, or why he wanted Chloe. No one knew where Lex had gone, or why he’d disappeared nearly a year ago. Lex never talked about it, but since his return, he’d remained hidden these many months, running Luthorcorp, and orchestrating events from locations unknown. For all intents and purposes Lex Luthor was still missing. Queen and most of the rest of the world remained unaware that he was still alive and well. ‘Appear where you are not expected.’

“Hardly. There’s more satisfaction in being the puppet master, than the puppet. I need her. The ruin of Oliver Queen is simply a fortunate and long-awaited consequence. I’ll enjoy watching his downfall. Only this time, there will be no Chloe Sullivan as his angel of deliverance.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Luthor. They seem inseparable.”

Lex admired Philip for his willingness to speak his mind. Philip had been the perfect man for the job. A ready-made soldier with no family to speak of and a past that was nondescript and easily erased. “No relationship is perfect. Find the cracks in the foundation, and chip away at them. It’s quite simple.”

“Mr. Luthor…”

“There’s no problem, is there Philip?” At Philip’s hesitation, Lex continued. “Believe me, I’m well aware that Ms. Sullivan is… intriguing. She’s also a force to be reckoned with. Don’t let her fool you.”

“I’d just like this job to be over with so I can get back to Metropolis, no offense.”

Philip could imagine Lex’s smirk over the phone. “None taken. You know what to do.”

“It’s already in motion.”

“Good. I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, the call was ended. Philip sat back in his chair, clutching the cell phone, lost in thought. He’d been instructed to win the confidence of Chloe Sullivan. Take an interest in her, insinuate himself into her life and try to pull her, ever so subtly, inch by inch, away from Oliver Queen, and do whatever he could to sabotage their relationship. Philip was no slouch when it came to winning over women. He was handsome, tall, well built, with dark hair, ice blue eyes, and a devastating smile that never failed to enchant any woman he’d set his sights on. But Chloe Sullivan was a tough one to crack. She seemed completely oblivious to his attempts, or otherwise slightly amused, but had never taken him seriously. She was a challenge, unreachable, unattainable, and maybe that’s why he found her so desirable… no. It was more than that. She was more than that, and he understood why a man like Oliver Queen would fall completely in love with her.

Part of him wished he’d never accepted this job, but he owed it to Lex. Lex had probably saved his life. If it weren’t for Lex Luthor, he’d have ended up in some shitty government run veteran’s hospital making finger paint drawings, in between physical therapy sessions where he’d learn to walk again. Philip had been part of a Special Forces, Black Ops unit. The United States government had trained him well, turned a wide-eyed skinny kid into a man, a soldier, a killing machine. He learned quickly. He was good at what he did. Philip Cook was well trained in art of war. ‘All war is deception’.

He didn’t know how it had happened. How his team had been discovered. He didn’t recall much of that day, and maybe it was just as well. He wasn’t certain he could live with the guilt and pain of losing his teammates if he’d recalled all the details. Explosions. That’s all he remembered. He awoke in a facility, not knowing how he’d gotten there, or how long he’d been there. Sometime later, after his full recovery, feeling stronger and better than he’d ever felt before, he was introduced to Lex Luthor. They’d made small talk, but eventually the conversation turned to how Philip had come to be there. Lex was running an experimental, government funded facility for the rehabilitation of soldiers wounded in the field, he’d said. Lex claimed not to know the fate of his comrades, but Philip was lucky. They’d been able to save him and his leg using new, experimental technology. He was one of the first patients in a new program. Project Ares it was called. Lex said it was highly classified, and would say no more. That was three years ago. Since that time, Project Ares had been dismantled due to subsequent problems with prototypes, but Philip had worked for Lex in various capacities while he completed a journalism degree at Lex’s insistence, all paid for with Luthorcorp money. There’d be a job for him at the Daily Planet when all was through he’d said. And now, Philip simply wished this mission were over. He’d gladly take the newspaper job and live quietly where he could escape the past.

Thoughts of living a quiet, happy life away from all the intrigue had his mind turning once more to Chloe. Her expressive green eyes, her smile, the way the sunlight touched her hair creating a golden halo about her face, the way she felt in his arms when he’d held her tonight; her petite, curvy body pressed against his while he pretended to protect her from gunmen. A slow coil of sexual hunger sent warmth surging, tightening low in his belly as he thought of her, fleeting visions of soft skin and tangled limbs in rumpled bed sheets. Hell yes. He wanted her.

Philip picked up his cell phone, dialing a number and waiting. “Adriana? Can you get away? I need to see you.” He paused, listening for her response. “I know it’s late. Meet me at the hotel in twenty minutes?” She agreed. He closed his cell phone, pocketing it. He’d slake his desires as he’d done before, with Adriana. She was a beautiful woman, recently divorced from her husband, ready for sex and more than willing to entertain Philip as well as herself.

Philip sent a copy of the completed story to the floor editor, turned off his computer and reached for his suit coat draped over the back of his chair, slipping his arms into it. He bid the interns goodnight with a confident wink as he passed them, causing them to blush and giggle some more as they watched him leave.

* * * * *

The photographs were splashed all over the Star City Sentinel, and the gossip pages of the Daily Planet as well. A copy had been placed on her desk. Chloe couldn’t bear the stares and whisperings behind her back, or the sympathetic, meaningless words directed her way. Someone had captured Oliver with Adriana at Del Monaco’s. It looked worse than what she’d actually seen. Along with those photographs were pictures of about twelve other women, including both Lois and Chloe, listed as though keeping a running count of Oliver Queen’s harem, complete with descriptions, and dates, some as far back as his senior year of high school. A scathing article that pretty much compared Oliver to a spoiled, rich, stray dog incapable of staying on a leash, accompanied the photos. Chloe couldn’t bring herself to read it through. Someone had nothing better to do with his or her time, she mused, and she wondered who had placed the Sentinel copy on her desk.

Lois had called her twice. At first Chloe had to calm her protective cousin, and convince her not to wield any sharp instruments near Oliver’s reproductive organs. She explained what had happened as best as she could while at work. Initially, Lois was furious not so much for herself; she didn’t care about her own picture appearing, ultimately realizing that it was the intent of the gossip columnist to hurt all those involved. After they talked, Lois understood what was happening, and vowed to take her own action. Chloe told her not to worry, it would all blow over soon. After a few hours, her brain in a fog, a headache pulsing behind her eyes, she realized that she wasn’t going to get much work done. She decided to take off early. The weekend was coming up, and she’d be able to seclude herself in the manor house, away from everything. Chloe told the boss she wasn’t feeling well, which really wasn’t far from the truth, and that she needed to go home. She’d already called for the limo.

Philip had noted her distance. She didn’t seem inclined toward conversation with him, and so as he saw her readying to leave he approached her desk.

“Listen, Chloe… if you need anything, let me know.”

“I’m fine Philip. Oliver and I already talked about it. I know nothing happened. I just can’t deal with all of the unwarranted attention right now.” She shrugged. “And I’m not getting any work done anyway.”

“Those photographs… I hate to say it Chloe, but doesn’t look as though nothing happened.”

Chloe rubbed her temples, as if willing away the newly forming headache. “We’re in the newspaper business, Phil. Do you believe everything the Sentinel prints? Our own paper didn’t pick up the story, because there is no story.” Chloe knew she was being unnecessarily short with him, but after Oliver’s observation of Phil, she didn’t want to encourage him, and had kept her distance all day.

His dejected look, told her he knew something wasn’t right between them.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Philip watched her walk away, then moved closer to her desk, picking up the copy of the Sentinel he’d placed there before she came in this morning. He tossed it into the trash bin, returning to his desk. He sat in front of his computer rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, thinking that for all his training and combat experience, this had to be the worst mission he’d ever completed.

As she stepped out of the Gazette building, she found the limo already waiting for her. Moving past the suffocating buzz of paparazzi snapping photos and shouting questions, she ignored them. The driver and one of Oliver’s security guards acted as a buffer, escorting and opening the door for her, and when she entered, Oliver was unexpectedly inside extending a hand to help her slide into the seat. She slipped her hand in his, and felt him tug her toward him, and wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

No words were spoken. They held each other as the limo pulled away from the curb; Chloe buried her face in his shirt. It was all so overwhelming, and no matter how hard she tried to stop them, the tears came anyway.

Oliver squeezed her, and pressed his lips to her forehead, his fingers threading the softness of her hair, stroking, soothing as she wept silently, his shirt becoming damp from her tears. She wasn’t used to this. Public scrutiny. One’s life and past under a microscope, gracing the pages of newspapers and gossip columns for the entire world to see. Even he had cringed inwardly at the sight of all those photographs of women he’d dated or had flings with. And that wasn’t even all of them. He didn’t know what to say to her. Somehow, ‘I’m sorry,’ didn’t begin to cover it.

Seeing the photographs of numerous women in his past was another reminder of his inability to maintain any kind of meaningful relationship. Oliver’s gut twisted. He had looks and money, success; he had everything, but when it came to love, he was basically a loser. Even when he’d found someone special in Lois, ultimately it hadn’t worked. Consciously or not, he’d fucked up every relationship he’d ever been in. And now, the woman he loved more than anything, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was here, crying, seeking comfort in his arms, when he was the one to cause her tears. He couldn’t change the past. Couldn’t change what had happened. All he could do was give her all of himself, and right now, it just didn’t seem enough, and he wondered if he would ever be enough. If he would ever get it right.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he murmured, hating to have to utter those words, knowing how useless they were.

She sniffled. “It’s… just… everything at once. It’s not you. I’ll be all right.”

He couldn’t answer. She was wrong. It was him. She didn’t deserve this. He’d have his publicist release a statement, but even that wouldn’t be enough to ease the hurt he’d caused her. He cradled her cheek in his palm, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “They weren’t very kind to you.” The article had insinuated terrible, hurtful things about him, using names of women and dates as proof of his womanizing ways, questioning whether or not his current ladylove would forgive him, and dooming their relationship.

“I don’t care about that.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “I’m more worried about you, and… what Lois will do.”

“I told her not to take a knife to the Queen family jewels.”

She felt his warm lips curve in a small smile against her skin as they traveled over her cheek. “Thanks.”

Chloe’s breath stuttered, as her palm moved over his shirt, caressing his abdomen. “Purely selfish. I enjoy them too much.”

“And they’re all yours. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she whispered, but new tears formed at her answer, causing Oliver to gather her up more closely.

By the time they’d reached the manor gates, she’d calmed, but her headache had grown worse, throbbing relentlessly behind her eyes. Surprisingly, there were no photographers at the gates, and they were able to enter their home, unmolested.

They entered the manor house quietly. Oliver led her to the dark, overstuffed leather sofa in the main sitting room, leaving her momentarily, returning with a glass of water and two aspirins. She swallowed them gratefully.

He knelt before her, taking her hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. “I’m going to see if I can’t do some damage control. Why don’t you go up and rest a bit. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“I’m okay, Ollie.” She felt foolish, and didn’t want him to treat her as though she were some breakable china doll. “Maybe I’ll go to my office…”

“No work,” he admonished softly, brushing the hair back from her cheek. “In fact, we’re taking the weekend off. It’s early enough. We can be in Capri by sunset. Just let me make a few phone calls.” He’d wanted not only to speak to his publicist, but needed to contact Victor as well. He’d sent digital photographs taken with his Arrow glasses, of the license plate on the sedan. He wanted to know who the men were who’d attempted to attack Chloe and Philip last night.

She nodded. Oliver leaned forward kissing her softly before he moved away.

Chloe went to their large room, soft sunlight filtered in, touching everything in a warm glow. The rich mahogany wood furniture, the king-sized four-poster bed covered in various homey shades of light and dark greens, the wall hangings, all of it was them. She’d made a life here with Oliver Queen, built something with him right down to the bed linens and the bathroom towels. Her head pounded, and though the bed looked inviting, she was too anxious for sleep. She stepped over to the balcony doors overlooking the manor grounds, gazing out through the tempered glass. It was a beautiful, peaceful place, and Chloe felt her shoulders relax imagining, not for the first time, what her Oliver must have looked like as a child running amok over the verdant hills, climbing every tree. A dog. They needed a dog, she thought. A big fluffy one.

After a few moments, she turned moving over toward the chair where they’d often toss jackets and suit coats at the end of the day, intending to hang them up later. She reached for one, causing another to slide to the floor. Shoving the first jacket under her arm, she bent for the second one, grasping the fabric, surprised to find something oddly shaped inside the pocket. It crinkled. Chloe stuffed her hand inside, pulling out a folded, slightly wrinkled piece of paper, along with two unused condoms, still in their wrappers.

Her head began to pound once more in time with her increasing heartbeat. She dropped the jackets, moving over to the bed, climbing atop the edge, unfolding the paper.

Ollie,

I’m thrilled that we were able to spend some time together again. God, how I’ve missed you. When you first contacted me weeks ago, I couldn’t believe it. I’m so glad you were able to get away, and that I could meet you in Gotham during your business trip there. The day we spent in bed together was incredible. You’re still an amazing lover.

My divorce is now final. I’m free! I know that you don’t want to leave her; I know you feel sorry for her, but I’m here for you whenever you need me.

Adriana

Oliver entered the room, stopping up short upon seeing her. All the color drained from her face, her expression one of stunned silence. “Chloe… what happened?”

The events of the past two days, the photographs, the newspaper article, the paparazzi, the pounding headache, the condoms, the love note, men with guns, all of it seemed to burst inside her at once. She scooted off the bed, approaching him, shoving at the hard wall of his chest attempting to push him out of her way. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me!” she growled, trying to slip past him through the bedroom door.

Oliver grasped her arms, not allowing her to run from him.

“Let me go!” She struggled futilely with him, knowing she was no match for his strength.

“Tell me what’s going on. What’s this?” He noticed the wrinkled paper in one of the fists she was using to shove him away, and what looked like crumpled wrapped condoms in the other.

She backed away from him, opening her fists, letting the items fall to the floor. “You tell me, Oliver.”

He released her, bending to pick up what appeared to be a note, leaving the condoms on the floor. He didn’t know why they’d be there, they never used them since Chloe was on the pill, but his pulse began fluttering erratically. Seeing them would make her think he’d been with someone else.

As he picked up the note, she fled through the hall. “Chloe!” Oliver ran after her, catching her up around the waist, picking her up and dragging her back to the room. She wanted to kick and scream and cry, throw a tantrum, and pound his chest with her fists. Instead she attempted to remove his arm from her waist and twist around, arching her back, pushing her body away. That didn’t work.

They were both breathing heavily. “Just… let me go, Ollie.”

“No.” He entered the room and tossed her on the bed, immediately diving in after, covering her body with his, keeping her immobile. “Not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on,” he breathed, his face above hers. She wiggled around beneath him, but he wouldn’t let her move.

She tried to head butt him, but he backed away. “I want to go home.” She said through clenched teeth, knowing full well that she sounded like a five year old, and not caring in the least.

“You are home.” He growled, struggling with her, pinning her arms above her head.

“What were you doing in Gotham two weeks ago?” she panted, twisting under him.

“Meeting with Bruce, you know that.”

“Really? How was the hotel?” She bucked against him, trying to get him off of her. She thought to use a few of the moves he’d taught her, and attempted to slip her knee between his legs. “Was the room service any good?”

“I didn’t stay in a hotel, I stayed at Bruce’s mansion, and you know that too. Damn it, Chloe, what the hell is this about?” he said, his patience wearing thin. He felt her knee come up, but evaded the blow, quickly flipping her onto her stomach and pinning an arm behind her back. “Stop. I thought you liked the Queen family jewels,” he leaned over her, keeping her secure, panting in her ear. She was tiny but damn, she was a handful.

“Apparently, so does everyone else!” She grunted from the bedcovers, struggling for air. “Especially your long lost love, Adriana.”

“Will you stop now?” he asked, releasing her arm, sitting up, his weight pressing down on her as he straddled her bottom. He smoothed the wrinkled note in his hand, and began to read.

“Get off.”

“No.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“Too bad.” He bounced his seat down on her lightly for good measure, she grunted, releasing a rush of air, and he continued to read.

“My head hurts.”

“Be still, woman. Let me read.”

“I can’t do this, Ollie. I can’t. I won’t. Just let me go back to Metropolis with some dignity.”

“I’m not letting you go.” He finished the note, and crumpled it in his fist. “This is all wrong.”

“You’re telling me.” Came her muffled voice. She had stopped struggling, and lay beneath him, catching her breath now that the wrestling match was over.

“No. I mean. Adriana or someone else is playing some horrible game, and I’m going to find out who it is.”

“You do that. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Oliver slid from her, rolled her over and stretched out beside her. Blonde strands of hair covered her reddened face. He brushed them away. “No, I can’t.”

“I’m not staying.”

“You can’t believe that note.”

“What should I believe then?”

“Chloe…”

“Look, if you want to be the billionaire playboy, that’s your business. Just don’t pretend to want to play house with me while you’re at it.” She rose up from the bed, evading his touch. Walking toward the closet, she pulled down her suitcase. “I’m not your charity case. You don’t have to be with me so you can feel good about yourself. Feel sorry for me? Why? Because I’m not a supermodel or a debutante? I don’t think so.”

“That note is nothing but lies, Chloe. I hadn’t seen Adriana in years until yesterday at the restaurant. Supermodels and debutantes? I don’t know what that has to do with any of this. How did those photographs get published so quickly? Who was there with a camera? I’m telling you it’s some kind of set up.”

She ignored him, and moved about the room, opening drawers, slamming them closed and tossing articles of clothing on the bed.

“She could have easily slipped the note into my pocket.”

“She was certainly close enough.”

Oliver ignored her sarcasm, running a hand though his hair, and slipping off the edge of the bed. How could he make her believe him? He followed her to the dresser. “Chloe… none of this is fishy to you? All of this happening at once? The entire article written overnight, with photographs of women? Come on. You work in the newspaper business, nothing like that gets printed so quickly.”

Chloe felt the warmth and brush of his body at her back. She stopped riffling through the drawer momentarily. He was right. No full-page article like that complete with accompanying photos with names, dates and other facts was printed on a whim. Something was indeed wrong. She rubbed her forehead. Damn headache. It fogged her brain. She felt his hands on her shoulders, massaging gently. She relaxed beneath his touch, and he pulled her back against him.

“Please believe me, Chloe. I’ve never lied to you, ever.”

“Who would want to hurt us this way?”

“I don’t know.”

Slowly she turned within his grasp, peering up into dark eyes, full of anguish.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Let’s get to the bottom of this, together.”

Oliver took her hands, pulling her along as he stepped backward, and sat on the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, burying his face between her breasts, her hands cradling his head as she slipped her fingers through his hair. She hugged him to her chest, bending slightly, pressing her lips against his cheek. She swallowed down the ache forming in her throat. “I need to get away, Ollie. Away from this… public spotlight. I want to go back to Metropolis. Just for the weekend. Clear my head. Stay with Lois. See Clark. I miss them.” She hadn’t told him that Lois had already offered her place for a few days. Now, Chloe thought it was a good idea.

He pulled away, gazing up at her, his chin resting against her bosom. “I’ll go with you.” He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t want to be without her, not now when all this was happening. She was always his anchor when the waters were rough, his signal fire whenever he felt lost. He didn’t want her to go.

She stroked his hair, soothingly. “I’ll be back Sunday night. I promise. I’m not leaving you. I don’t know if I can honestly say that I believe you, but I’m willing to find the truth.”

“Maybe that’s all I can ask of you.”

“Maybe it’s enough.”

He watched her pack, feeling wretched inside. She’d said she’d be back and he knew she would, but it still didn’t ease the ache he felt. She’d promised to call as soon as she was at Lois’s apartment. He knew she would, but it didn’t stop the hurt inside at her leaving. Even for a weekend.

She insisted on driving her Yaris to the airport by herself. He let her go. More than an hour after the Queen Industries jet should have taken off for Metropolis, the pilot called from the tarmac wanting to know if there had been a change of plans. Ms. Sullivan had never arrived.

End Chapter 4

Click Here For Chapter 5

Signal Fire Chapter 3

2008-12-26T20:55:00.005-06:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 3

He’d almost lost her. Oliver couldn’t rid himself of the image of the gunman pointing and shoving the barrel of his pistol against the back of Chloe’s head. He’d wanted to kill the bastard for touching her, and had to force himself to aim for the man’s shoulder instead of his heart. The look of fear in her eyes, as the suit tried to shove her toward the sedan flashed in his mind. And Phil. Something was going on there, he wasn’t certain exactly what it was, but the guy was a bit too touchy-feely with Chloe. Oliver didn’t like it one bit, and he continued to kiss her possessively, gloved hands roving over her back, clutching her hips pulling her against him, as though staking claim, and thanking God that he’d been there to thwart what might have happened next. He’d find out who those men were and what they wanted with her. But for now; now she was here, safe in his arms, and the combination of nearly losing her along with the twinge of jealousy he felt over her coworker, mingled together; swirling inside him to create an imperative need for her.

Oliver almost didn’t allow her to come up for air. His mouth took hers, insistent, impatient, hungry; his tongue exploring the roof of her mouth, and delving deeper as though he would use it to count her teeth. Chloe was nearly stunned at his passionate assault, her head spinning. These were definitely not the kisses of a man who’d recently snuck off to be with another woman, but it still didn’t explain what she’d seen at the restaurant, and she needed to talk to him. Unless he’s feeling guilty about it, a tiny voice in her head chimed in.

“Ollie,” she struggled for air, attempting to pull away. His lips followed hers, but she wasn’t going to let him kiss her senseless and make her forget everything. “Wait… hold on…” she panted in between kisses.

He reluctantly lifted his head inches from hers. “Good idea. Hold on,” he breathed, reaching behind him with one arm to grasp his crossbow, and grip her firmly against him with the other. She watched him aim and shoot an arrow into the darkening sky, heard the metallic whine of the zip line, and before she could speak again, they were lurching upward, Chloe clinging to his neck. She was used to this by now, but it still never failed to make her heart stop and her stomach drop. Chloe pressed her cheek against the leather that covered his chest; this man whom she loved and admired; he was her own hero. Her heart began aching all over again at the vision of the dark haired woman rubbing herself seductively against him. The vision seemed to grow worse each time she replayed it, taking on an exaggerated life of its own.

They landed on the rooftop of a nearby building. Oliver gazing down at her, took her face in his gloved hands. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, searching her eyes, still somewhat out of breath from all that kissing.

“No. I’m not all right.”

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” He took a step away now, holding her at arm’s length, cupping her shoulders and giving her a once over, as though he’d examine her further for any sign of injury.

“No. Oliver…” Chloe swallowed, feeling as though her heart was in her throat. “I saw you earlier… at Del Monaco’s.” She left the accusation hanging in the air between them.

He didn’t get it. At first. “You were there? Why didn’t you meet me then?”

Ugh. Men. You had to paint pictures for them. She folded her arms over her chest. “You were busy. You had your hands full. A dark-haired supermodel was rubbing her double-D’s all over you? Or don’t you remember that part?”

Oliver lowered his hood, and removed his dark glasses. He turned off his voice distorter. “Adriana.” Shit.

“Just… tell me the truth, Ollie. Whatever you do… please don’t lie…” she felt herself on the verge of tears, but held them back. She wanted to know, but didn’t at the same time. “Please,” she added softly.

So she’d seen the worst part of it, but must have left right before he did. “You saw me there, and then left? If you’d stuck around, you’d have seen that nothing happened.”

That’s not quite what she wanted to hear. Not exactly. She lowered her arms, clenching her fists at her sides. “Why should I stand around and watch my boyfriend being groped, and looking as though he’s enjoying it!”

“Because maybe then you’d have seen me push her away, and leave!”

“Who is she, Oliver?” While she waited for his response, her heart raced with anxiety.

Oliver released a long breath. “She’s someone I knew a long time ago. Before I ever went to Metropolis, before Lois. I honestly didn’t want to go to Del Monaco’s, because I thought she might be there… it’s where she worked. I only agreed to meet you there, because we haven’t spent much time together… hell, you spend more time with your buddy Phil.”

“Phil has nothing to do with this.”

“No? He certainly seems very attached to you.”

“Don’t turn this around on me. I know what I saw.”

“I saw a few things tonight too. I didn’t appreciate his wandering hands all over my girlfriend.”

“What? He was trying to keep me away from those men!”

“After they’d gone? Come on, Chloe. Do you really not know when men are attracted to you? You didn’t realize it when Davis Bloom was sniffing around, and you don’t see it now with Phil?”

“Ugh! This is not about me! I have no interest in Phil, and I’ve done nothing to encourage him.”

“And I didn’t encourage Adriana. You didn’t see the whole thing. I pushed her away, left, and called you on my way out.”

“But you lied! You didn’t even say you were there!”

“What was I supposed to say over the phone, Chloe? And on your voicemail no less? That I ran into a former booty call, and had to leave? I just needed to get out of there. I couldn’t stay and wait for you any longer with her around. Would you rather I stayed at the bar with her?” He paced the rooftop in agitation. “Men hold you at gunpoint, and you’re more worried about this?” Women. Would he ever understand them?

“Yes! Men with guns I can deal with, women throwing themselves at you, is a little more difficult for me.” It didn’t happen often, but she knew it was one of those times when old insecurities rose to the fore once again. She was good at masking them under a veil of confidence, set apart somewhere in the recesses of her psyche. She thought she’d outgrown them. But now after seeing a beautiful woman hanging all over him, she couldn’t stop them, and the realization that she was still crippled by those old memories of her days in Smallville came as a disappointing shock.

“It was a long time ago, Chloe. We had an affair. It didn’t last long, and didn’t mean anything. She’d lied to me about being married. I ended it. For a while she kept after me, but I was done. A few months afterward I went to Metropolis, and well, you know the rest.”

All the fight left her, and she deflated before his eyes. She glanced away from him, blinking away the tears that threatened. “It just… it hurt. I never realized just how much seeing something like that would hurt, Ollie.” Hurt because she couldn’t help but be reminded of how it felt to see someone she cared for in the arms of another. Because she was always the one that was overlooked, because she was never enough, always just the friend and nothing more, because she wasn’t supposed to be the kind of woman a man like Oliver Queen loved. She wasn’t a starlet or a debutante or a supermodel. He was handsome and intelligent, witty, charming, worldly. And she was always just… overlooked. How could she tell him that there were times she simply felt unworthy of him? She’d even once told Lois, that Oliver was out of her league.

Oliver hated seeing the pain and accusation in her eyes. Herein lay one of their major differences. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, but what it boiled down to in his mind were elements of the typical good girl meets bad boy story. She’d only ever been with one other man; Jimmy. And for years had crushed on Clark. Chloe wasn’t the kind of woman to give herself away freely, but when she did, she gave all her loyalty. In contrast, Oliver had been more experienced, and worldly, hell if he was truly honest with himself, he’d been the male equivalent of a slut. It was one of the few things that at times made him feel unworthy of her. He wasn’t as honorable and noble as Clark, or as sweet and innocent as Jimmy, and knowing this beautiful woman gave herself to him completely, never asking any questions about his past, was utterly humbling to him. Not even when Tess had taunted her, did she ask him to reveal anything, and although she’d known about the playboy reputation, and was hesitant at first, ultimately she’d accepted him, and loved him in spite of what he felt were his shortcomings. He’d never tell her this, he refused to let her glimpse his vulnerability, but at this moment, it made him wonder if he truly deserved a woman like Chloe. “I’m sorry you saw that,” he said, his voice becoming gentle and compassionate. “But nothing happened, Chloe. I swear it.”

At the earnest sincerity in his voice, she lifted her eyes to his. “You didn’t kiss her?” she asked, but there was no accusation in her voice, only hope in his forthcoming answer.

“I didn’t. I left. Went home, then geared up for patrolling. That’s why I’m here now.”

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, you wouldn’t have told me,” she responded quietly.

“No.” He came to stand before her, gloved fingers lifting her chin. “I wouldn’t have,” he admitted softly. “What would be the point of it? To hurt you, the way you’re hurting now? Nothing happened. It means nothing to us. I love you, Chloe. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I’ve never had this with anyone before, and wouldn’t jeopardize what I have with you. Why don’t you give me any credit, that I just might be smart enough to know and appreciate what I already have at home?” He cupped her cheek in his palm, and lowered his head slowly, pressing his lips to her forehead, as though testing whether or not she’d accept his touch. Thankfully, he felt her body relax against his. His lips moved over her temple and down her cheek. “Why fool around with hamburger, when I have steak at home?” he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“Paul Newman,” she sighed, sniffling as a tear slipped down her cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Huh?”

“Paul Newman said that once about Joanne Woodward. And they were married for fifty years.”

“I knew I heard that somewhere before.” Oliver pulled her closer, enfolding her up completely in his arms, relieved that the tension between them was passed. The last thing he wanted to do was argue with her. She snuggled against him, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of leather and Oliver. He buried his face in her hair. “Fifty years, huh? Maybe there’s hope for us yet.”

Chloe lifted her head to peer up at him, resting her chin against his chest. Her lips curved slightly in a teasing smile. She’d forgiven the misunderstanding, and that’s all he wanted. She sniffled once more. “Maybe.”

Oliver’s hand came up to brush away the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. He stared down at her, and Chloe could feel the heat sizzling in his brown eyes, stirring her own desires. Her gaze snared with his and her pulse flickered and leapt. He watched her lashes flutter closed as he tipped her head, cradling it in his palm. His mouth slanted, hovering over hers momentarily before he claimed her, hot and swift, exploiting her mouth for all it was worth. He might not deserve her, but he’d be damned if he was ever going to lose her.

Oliver wrapped an arm around her, his mouth never leaving hers, half carrying, half pulling her to a darkened corner of the roof, where a wall formed another floor of the building. He backed her up against it, towering over her, capturing her with his hard body. His hands were soon straying, skimming downward over the lush curves of her hips, and inching her skirt upward. The brush of gloved fingertips grazing her thighs made her shiver in anticipation as he shoved up her skirt, large hands moving to grasp her softness, clutching and kneading the rounded flesh of her bottom through her panties as he ground his hips against her.

Too many days of pent up need for each other were unleashed. Chloe’s fingertips skittered over the edge of his leather pants tugging on them desperately, seeking the part of him she wanted, slipping her fingers inside, finding the tip of him wet, he was rock hard against his belly and straining to be released. She undid the codpiece, finding and encircling him; his velvety shaft large, heavy and warm in her hand. She stroked him, his groan vibrating into her mouth. Somehow, her panties were gone. He’d frantically ripped them from her body, yanking them off of her, until they fell in a torn heap near their feet. Seconds later, Chloe felt herself being lifted in his powerful arms as though she were weightless.

She clung to his neck, sinking onto his body as he impaled her, sheathing himself inside the soft, hot clasp of her body with one swift thrust of his hips. Chloe cried out softly, and Oliver gasped aloud as she took him in; the sound turning into a growl in the back of his throat. He rocked his lower body against her, pushing her back against the brick wall, plunging hard. Harder. He nuzzled her ear and nipped at her neck, as he drove into her relentlessly, his breath whispering over her skin. He breathed words by turns both profoundly tender and sensuously risqué, telling her how good she felt, how much he loved and wanted her, how much he loved fucking her.

Chloe answered him, whispering his name in anxious abandon, her own breathless words urging him to take her ever deeper, wanting more of him, all of him. Her body milked him as small spasms ran through her, clenching around him. She writhed and rubbed her pubic bone against him, her climax building with every deep, possessive plunge he took, sensing his passion rising to its peak in unison with hers. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, sliding up and diving into his hair, she gripped the short blond strands between her fingers, tugging on them, bringing his head up until his forehead rested against hers. They panted, breathing each other’s breath, until they were both so far gone, bodies shaky with passion and desire, until it surged and swelled between them, groans and cries escaping them both as waves of ecstasy washed over them, carrying them to the brink and beyond. Oliver filled her with his warmth until he had no more to give her, and Chloe joyfully accepted, welcoming his release as her womb fluttered with spasms, contracting, her entire body shuddering.

Aftershocks made their bodies tremble. Oliver couldn’t move. Didn’t dare try. He was holding her up against the wall, her thighs draped over his arms, still buried inside her. He didn’t trust his muscles to obey his commands just yet. As they struggled for air, he closed his eyes, bushing his nose against hers, nuzzling her, and then dropping soft kisses on her face and throat, his blood still simmering. Chloe managed a lazy smile, her eyes glazed over, languid and spent, she rubbed her cheek against his before her head fell forward to rest on his shoulder.

Long moments passed before they shifted, and Oliver slipped from her body, lowering her gently to her feet. Chloe’s legs nearly buckled from under her, but he held her up, both of them chuckling lightly. They stood together wrapped in each other’s arms for a time.

Chloe sighed contentedly. “That was... amazing…” she whispered, her voice trailing off dreamily as soft fingertips stroked him, wandering appreciatively over his hard, well-muscled biceps and shoulders.

Oliver’s chuckle vibrated in his chest against her ear. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s enjoy it while we can, angel. Fifty years from now, I won’t be in any shape to do that.”

End Chapter 3

Click Here For Chapter 4

Signal Fire Chapter 2

2008-12-23T11:17:00.006-06:00

Signal Fire

Chapter 2

Del Monaco’s. Oliver hadn’t been there in… well, a long time. He didn’t really want to go there again, and had managed to avoid the place since that incident with a certain hostess who’d worked there. He cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair behind his desk. “Isn’t there someplace else you’d rather go?”

“It’s close. Phil and I can get whatever information we need from Mr. Ambrose, then I can meet you there.”

Oliver grumbled inwardly. Maybe the hostess didn’t work there anymore. The whole messy affair had happened a couple of years ago after all. “What if the food’s not that great?” He fished about for any excuse not to go there and be reminded of past indiscretions, nor did he want to unnecessarily subject Chloe to something that was better left in the past, and had no bearing on them now. That place, and the woman was part of another lifetime. “Uh… and I might be stuck in a meeting… what if I cooked?”

Chloe chuckled, “Not that I’m unaware of your amazing culinary skills, but Ollie, this place was rated among the top dining establishments in Star City, I’m surprised you’ve never been there before. We can wait for each other at the bar; if you’re stuck at a meeting just call me. It will save time… or, what if we met there before? Have a quick bite, then I can meet my source?” She turned in her chair away from fellow workers, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Besides, after that you’ll still have time to go green leather patrolling if you’d like, since I’ll be putting finishing touches on the story.”

If he told her no, she’d question why. He’d never lied to her before, and if he lied about it, she’d know. He’d have to suck it up; and really what were the chances that Adriana still worked there? What harm could there be? Whatever happened was a long time ago. Besides, he’d been missing Chloe, feeling as though they were like two ships that passed in the night these past weeks. He’d been away on a few business trips this month, and at times, they were both so exhausted at the end of the day, that either one or the other or both of them would be asleep before anything more intimate than cuddling happened. Nights he’d gone patrolling, he’d enter the manor house to find she’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. He’d gather her in his arms, carry her to bed and fall asleep, simply content to lie beside her. Oliver let out an audible breath, signaling his acquiescence. “Okay, meet me around 6:00, that gives us some time together before you go off super-sleuthing.”

“Great. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” He could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, and pictured her sweet face in his mind; her smile never failing to make him feel warm all over, even over the phone.

Chloe snapped her cell phone shut. “I,” she announced proudly, addressing Philip across the room, and smiling as though she’d just won the Pulitzer Prize. “Have the best. Boyfriend. Ever.”

Philip merely smiled back, then looked away, focusing on his computer screen as his smile faded. Some unbidden heaviness centered in his chest. In his time on this particular job, he’d come to know Chloe and admire her. It was unfortunate that she’d be heartbroken soon. Philip pushed those thoughts aside. She was just another casualty in his line of work, and there was no room for sympathies. Still, he couldn’t deny the growing attraction he felt for her. It was never a good thing to get emotionally involved in a case. He’d known this from the start. But soon it would all be over, and he could forget Chloe Sullivan.

* * * * *

Oliver took a sip of his martini, glancing at the clock behind the bar for the umpteenth time. 6:20. Chloe had called, telling him she was running late. He may have to abandon all hope of seeing her tonight if it got any later. He glanced around, expecting to see her walking toward him at any moment. Del Monaco’s hadn’t changed much. There weren’t many patrons at the dimly lit bar; the place usually didn’t get hopping until 8:00 or so when the late dinner and dancing crowd amassed.

“Oliver Queen,” a feminine voice sounded in recognition, soft and sultry.

Oliver turned in his seat, finding a buxom, statuesque raven-haired beauty. “Adriana.” She was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Been a long time. What brings you here?” She stepped closer, her lips curving in a sensuous smile, a hungry look glittering in her blue eyes as they flitted over him.

Oliver stiffened, a small awkward grin reaching the corners of his mouth, as he recognized her look. “I’m meeting someone.” He didn’t feel he needed to share any further information with her. It was none of her business.

Adriana sidled in closer, her manicured hand moving seductively over the lapel of his suit jacket, momentarily taking him aback, distracting him as her other hand deftly slipped something into his suit coat pocket. “Business, or pleasure?” she whispered.

Oliver covered her hand with his in an attempt to remove it from his chest. “Listen, Adriana…” he mumbled.

“I’ve missed you, Ollie,” she interrupted softly, pressing her body against his, her face now mere inches from his, her lashes fluttered closed, and Oliver thought she’d kiss him. He held his breath, his eyes falling to her lips.

Chloe had seen enough. She couldn’t hear what was being said. She didn’t need to know. Their body language spoke volumes. Her stomach, tied up in so many knots, pulling at her chest, she could barely breath. She thought to speak his name, to ask him what was going on, but no words would come. She turned and fled blindly through the restaurant exit, her pulse pounding so hard it made her entire body tremble. Tess’s words came back to haunt her. ‘When he hurts you, and he will, maybe you’ll see things the way I do.’ No. There had to be some explanation. Oliver would never do this. Would he? They’d been too busy for each other lately. Was it that? Or had he been making excuses so that he could see another woman on the side? She knew him. ‘You’re the only one who knows me,’ he’d said once. It was true. He wouldn’t…. couldn’t do this. Chloe was used to the appreciative and sometimes outright blatantly sexual stares he received from women, but he’d proven to her time and again that he had no interest in any of them, that she was the only woman in his life, the only woman he wanted, the only woman he loved. But this. She’d never actually seen a woman throw herself at him like that. The way he grasped the woman’s hand, the way his eyes lowered as though he was about to kiss her. An ache so deep, it hurt to the very core engulfed her entire being. She ran, her legs numb, not really knowing where she was headed. Thoughts zigzagged, racing through her mind. Oliver wasn’t stupid. If he was going to cheat, would he meet the woman there at the same place he was planning to meet her? But what if the woman happened to show up, not knowing he was meeting Chloe? Ugh. None of it made sense! Chloe found herself back outside the Gazette building, flattened against the wall, her palms pressing against the cool brick. There had to be some mistake. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. Her cell phone rang in her pocket, and she pulled it out. It was Oliver. She couldn’t answer the phone, not now.

Oliver pulled away from Adriana in disgust, glancing down at the hand he held away from him, noting the gold band on her finger. “Why don’t you go home, Adriana? I’m sure your husband is waiting for you. If you'll excuse me, I have someone important waiting for me.” He stepped away from her then, too uncomfortable to stay here and wait for Chloe any longer, he pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his suit pants. Her voicemail message sounded in his ear. “Chloe? Hey, I’m not going to be able to meet you at Del Monaco’s. I’ll head home, maybe go patrolling, and see you later tonight when you get back. I love you.”

Adriana stood alone at the bar watching Oliver Queen leave in a hurry as he pulled out his cell phone, a faint, smug smile curving her mouth. She’d turned her head to catch a glimpse of a patron who sat along the wall opposite. He lifted his brows, showing her a digital camera, then pocketing it, he stood and walked out of the restaurant. She faced the bar once more, picking up the half-empty martini glass Oliver had left, her expression suddenly turning wistful as she remembered their short time together. Oliver had been an incredible lover, and she secretly envied Chloe Sullivan. Well, hopefully not for long anyway. It wasn’t hard for Phil to convince Adriana to take part in his little scheme. Some part of her never forgave Oliver for dumping her before their brief sexual affair could be splattered all over the tabloids. He hadn’t known she was married, and maybe it was just as well he’d ended their trysts soon after discovering her deceit. Still, it didn’t quell her hunger for him, and she’d sought him out at every opportunity, turning into some desperate shell of a woman. She practically stalked him, yet hating herself for what she’d become. Months passed. He repeatedly ignored her attempts to get near him, and then he’d left for a time, moving to Metropolis where he’d met Lois Lane. Now apparently, he’d moved on and was happily and completely in love with Chloe Sullivan.

Adriana lifted the glass to her lips, finishing off Oliver’s drink. She plucked the olive from it, taking it from the pick between her teeth. It had been almost three years since she’d seen him last. She’d gotten over him, and now all that remained was the desire to see him hurting and desperate for someone, the way she’d been for him.

Chloe, somewhat calmed now, flipped open her cell phone, checking her voicemail messages. There was only one. ‘Chloe? Hey, I’m not going to be able to meet you at Del Monaco’s. I’ll head home, maybe go patrolling, and see you later tonight when you get back. I love you.’

“Not going to meet me at Del Monaco’s, because you’re already there, right? Ugh!” He was lying to her. Dear God, he was lying. ‘I love you.’ The words made her eyes sting with unshed tears. He was lying. Probably making up some excuse so that he could be with that dark-haired witch for the rest of the night.

“Hey, Chloe. Are you all right?”

Chloe straightened abruptly, blinking up at Phil. She composed herself quickly. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Is it time to go yet? Let’s just get out of here.”

“I thought you were going to meet Oliver at the restaurant,” he asked, confused.

“I did. You were right. Nice place. Can we go now?”

Phil placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, slipping his arm around her. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly, his soothing masculine voice laced with concern.

Chloe merely nodded, fearing that if she spoke, she’d begin sobbing uncontrollably.

Phil hugged her against his side, giving her shoulder a squeeze before he released her. “Come on, Sullivan. We’ve got work to do.”

They took a cab; heading back toward the restaurant Chloe had just left. The meeting place was four blocks away from it. Chloe stood pacing the alley behind some old, closed down department store, still unable to calm herself, yet unwilling to say anything to her partner about the incident. She really just wanted to go home, talk to Oliver when he returned, and find out what was going on. Maybe she’d misunderstood the entire exchange, replaying the scene of Oliver with the woman over and over in her mind. The way she rubbed herself against him, and gah… stop it!

“When’s this guy supposed to show up?” she nearly snapped. It was growing dark, they’d been waiting for more than half an hour, and she just wanted to go home, didn’t even want to finish writing the story. Somehow, it didn’t seem important anymore.

“Anytime now, Chlo,” he chuckled over her impatience. “Relax.” Philip eyed her carefully. He’d noted her distress since he’d seen her outside the Gazette building. “Hey, listen,” he waited until she’d stopped her pacing to gaze up at him with anguished green eyes. His heart clenched at seeing her pain, and the worst part was, he’d known why. Hell, he’d been the one to orchestrate it. She was being strong, putting up a front, but Philip was well aware of what she’d seen. The digital photographs had already been emailed to him. Unfortunately, Queen was no sap, and didn’t fall for Adriana’s play, but the photos were good enough to be considered incriminating. A picture spoke a thousand words, even the wrong ones if you wanted to spin them that way. “Tell you what. Once this is over, why don’t you go home? I’ll finish the story, slap both of our names on it, and call it a night.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you’d do that for me?”

“Of course. Come on, Chloe, you’ve helped me plenty of times.” It was true; she’d covered his butt more than once in the last five months he’d known her, and never once complained about it. “I know you want to get home.”

The way her eyes lit up and her face relaxed in an easy smile had his insides stirring. He forced away the feeling. “Really?”

“Really.” He smiled.

“Thanks, Phil.”

Just then the headlights of a dark sedan appeared, the car moving slowly up into the alley.

“That’ll be Mr. Ambrose now.”

Chloe turned to watch the vehicle’s approach, stepping closer to Phil.

The car stopped, and every door opened at once, causing Chloe’s brow’s to furrow in confusion. There was only supposed to be one man. Four armed men in dark suits stepped out almost in unison, pointing their weapons at both Chloe and Philip.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Philip, startled, raised his hands. Chloe’s first urge was to run, but Philip grasped her arm, pulling her against him protectively. “It’s okay Chloe.”

The men didn’t answer; they simply kept coming, forming a semi-circle around the pair.

“Where’s Mr. Ambrose?” Chloe asked them. Glancing quickly from Philip and back to the men once more, her green eyes panicked.

One of the men pointed his gun at Chloe’s head. “Get in the car.” She merely stood frozen in stunned silence, forgetting every self-defense maneuver Oliver ever taught her.

Chloe didn’t see the look that passed between Phil and the man wielding the gun against her head.

“Wait now, whatever you want, money… anything, I’ll give it to you, just don’t hurt her.” Phil said, trying to insinuate himself between Chloe and the suited man. He shoved Phil away, causing him to back into one of the other suits, who grabbed him in a chokehold, holding a gun to his head.

“Philip!” Chloe screamed, then heard the click of a pistol being cocked, and felt the hard metal of the barrel against her skull. She remained still, her eyes wide, darting to the side in a vain attempt to see him clearly.

“Get in the car,” her captor repeated coldly, gripping her shoulder with his free hand, and nudging the back of her head none too gently with his pistol.

A whir, a whizzing sound passed her ear, and the man at her side grunted in pain, falling backward. She looked around frantically in the growing darkness, nothing but dim lamplight illuminating in the alley. An arrow protruded from his shoulder as he continued to writhe on the cement. Oliver! The men were panicked now; shouting, searching the rooflines, and looking for any sign of the mysterious archer. A few more arrows hit their targets, this time from a different direction. The man holding Philip screamed as an arrow pierced his thigh, and having no choice but to release him, fell backward, grasping onto it, pulling it out, a sound of pain echoing in the alleyway. Phil ran to Chloe, moving her away, wrapping her in his arms protectively as they watched the injured men scramble back toward the sedan. A dark green blur swooped down, his feet knocking the final straggler down onto the ground. He barely crawled into the car as it took off, tires screeching, bumper hitting the curb as it squealed away at breakneck speed.

Arrow did a cursory search of the area before coming to stand in front of the couple. Philip had been gripping her tightly against him, unconsciously stroking her hair in a calming gesture.

She pulled away from him, having to nudge against his chest. “I’m okay, thanks,” she whispered.

“Are you all right?” The Green Arrow asked, his nearly monotone voice synthesized by a distorter.

“Yeah, thank you… wow, so you’re the Green Arrow,” Philip bumbled about wide-eyed as though meeting his favorite rock star. “Thanks. I-I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come along.” He looked at Chloe. “I have no idea who those guys were, or what they wanted.”

“Miss?” Archer turned his attention to Chloe.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She offered gratefully, for no matter how angry she was with him right now, she was glad he was here. She couldn’t imagine why a source for a story would want to take her at gunpoint, but her mind was too stunned at the moment to think further.

“You really shouldn’t be out here,” he admonished. His face, what she could see of it, remained stoic.

“I was… just… heading home.”

His gaze never left her. “Good.”

Arrow tugged on his hood in salute as he bid them goodnight. Shot an arrow into the sky and then was lifted, gone up into the darkness before they knew it.

“Damn.”

“Did you get a license plate number? Maybe we can find out who they were.”

“No.”

“I’m going home, Phil. Let’s just forget this source. We can write the story without this Mr. Ambrose. I’m too shaken right now to even think about this story or why those men were here trying to kidnap us, or whatever they were trying to do. What if they come back? I need to get home, get some sleep. We can figure this out in the morning; see if we can’t track those guys down.”

Damn it all. The Green Arrow had ruined everything! This was supposed to be the end of it. They’d pick her up, take her to Luthor, and it would be over. He could get out of Star City, go back to Metropolis. Damn the Green Arrow for pulling his heroic act!

“Phil, are you okay?”

He lifted his head, schooling his expression. “Yeah. Let me get you a cab at least. I’m sorry this whole thing happened, Chloe. I’m wondering if those guys aren’t part of the political underground. Star City is known for its corruption. I’m guessing they wanted to send us a message; scare us so we wouldn’t finish our story.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m really sorry I got you into this.” He had to feed her some line of bullshit, something she’d believe, and up to now he’d been proud of his acting skills, pulling off the entire scared reporter bit to the hilt, pretending not to know the men who attacked them. Maybe he should be on Broadway.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll call for the limo.”

“Yeah, right. I forgot. Rich guy’s girlfriend.” It was true. Sometimes he did forget she was someone’s girlfriend. The richest man in Star City’s girlfriend to be exact.

“Do you need a ride home?” she offered.

“No, I’m good. I’m actually going to head back to the Gazette and finish up. You go on home. I’m sure your man is waiting.”

“Thanks, Phil.” Chloe watched him walk away.

She waited a few moments before heading up the alley, and crossing into the next one turning a corner. She stood there for a few moments, next to a dumpster. She didn’t have to wait long. The Green Arrow dropped down in front of her. And before she could speak, and rant and rave and carry on like a madwoman over what she’d seen earlier at the restaurant, never mind that she’d just been held at gunpoint, she found herself swept up in his powerful arms, pulled hard against his body. His lips descended, his mouth crushing hers with such fierceness and yearning and anguish, she’d almost forgotten why she was so angry with him. Almost.

End Chapter 2

Click Here For Chapter 3

Signal Fire Chapter 1

2008-12-21T14:31:00.006-06:00

Signal Fire

The perfect words never crossed my mind
'Cause there was nothing in there but you
I felt every ounce of me, screaming out
But the sound was trapped deep in me

All I wanted just sped right past me
But I was rooted fast to the earth
I could be stuck here for a thousand years
Without your arms to drag me out

There you are, standing right in front of me
There you are, standing right in front of me
All this fear falls away, you leave me naked
Hold me close, 'cause I need you to guide me to safety

No, I don't wanna wait forever
No, I don't wanna wait forever

In the confusion and the aftermath
You are my signal fire
The only resolution and the only joy
Is the faint spark of forgiveness in your eyes

There you are, standing right in front of me
There you are, standing right in front of me
All this fear falls away, you leave me naked
Hold me close, cause I need you to guide me to safety

There you are, standing right in front of me
There you are, standing right in front of me
All this fear falls away, you leave me naked
Hold me close, cause I need you to guide me to safety

No, I don't wanna wait forever
No, I don't wanna wait forever
No, I don't wanna wait forever

--Snow Patrol

“Chloooeeeee,” Oliver called from the bedroom, as he rummaged through the large walk-in closet they shared. She’d gone into her office to gather up her notes for a story she’d been working on with a partner at the Star City Gazette. “Where’s my burgundy tie? The one with…”

He stopped his yelling, turning to find her grinning up him, rolling her eyes playfully as said burgundy tie dangled from her fingertips. She held it aloft for him.

He grinned at her sheepishly, taking the tie and lifting the collar of his white dress shirt. “How’d you know that’s the one I wanted?” he asked, slipping the tie around his neck and flipping over the end to form the knot.

“How you ever got dressed without me is a mystery,” she teased, vaguely wondering if it was a quirk of all men to think that women knew where everything was in the house. ‘Chloe where’s my this, Chloe where’s my that, Chloe have you seen my whatchamacallit?’ And why they never seemed to remember where they’d left things. She reached up to adjust the newly tied article of clothing, fixing his collar, her palms moving over the hard muscles of his chest to smooth down his shirt. It was a wonder she didn’t have to show him how to put on his Green Arrow suit. At least he’d started remembering to put the toilet seat down, even when he cheekily insisted that it was she who kept forgetting to put it back up. She sighed. Progress, one step at a time.

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her up against him. “Maybe I just like having an excuse for you to have your hands on me,” he whispered, dipping his head to touch soft lips to the tip of her nose.

She laughed lightly at him, smiling saucily. “As if I’ve ever needed an excuse to touch you.”

His hands slid down the curve of her spine, over the fabric of her dark pencil skirt, fingertips reaching for her bottom. He nudged her forward. “Just… lately we’ve both been so busy, I feel as though I haven’t had a moment to get you alone.”

They’d been living together in the manor house for nearly six months. Oliver couldn’t be happier, and knew asking her to move to Star City with him was the best thing he’d ever done. Her career at the Star City Gazette was taking off. She’d made a few friends, and was beginning to make a name for herself as a cub reporter there. He was proud of her, and every day that passed had him falling ever more deeply in love with her. She was still the Watchtower to his Green Arrow, she was his best friend, his information gatherer, she was his love, and now more than ever, he’d been thinking about Lois’s not-so-subtle suggestions to ‘make it legal.’ He wanted Chloe to marry him, but thus far hadn’t asked the question. There was time, he could wait. Besides, with her work so important and time consuming, as well as the ever-pressing Queen Industries business and the League, both of them saving the world, there just never seemed to be the right time to ask or talk about their future together.

Chloe had adjusted well. The tabloids, not finding any worthy scathing stories about them, tended to leave them alone now. In the beginning, Chloe bristled at the unflattering headlines pondering Star City’s most eligible bachelor’s attempt at domestic bliss with a simple Kansas cub reporter. Oliver was good at ignoring it, and after a time it just didn’t bother her anymore.

Oliver continued to press soft kisses over her cheek, creating a heated path toward the pulse point at her throat. “What about tonight?” he whispered against her skin.

“Mmmm. I’d love to, but I might be late, I have a deadline. Philip and I have to have our copy in before tomorrow morning, and there’s one more source we need to see,” she murmured, her voice husky, arching her body up into his, thinking that if he kept that up, they’d never get out of the house this morning. “Just came up, out of nowhere. Phil thinks it’s important.”

His lips traveled, meeting hers, kissing her soundly. “I’ll wait.” He lifted his head, giving her bottom a squeeze. “Be careful, Sidekick. Star City political corruption schemes run deep, you’ll be ruffling some pretty well established feathers.”

“Don’t worry about me, hero. My article on city jobs in exchange for money and favors is hardly deep enough in the underbelly to warrant any concern over danger.” She stepped up on tiptoe to kiss the dimple in his chin, then nipping it lightly, a soft giggle escaping her, when he scowled at her action. She always did that when he least expected it. He always pretended it bothered him. They both knew it didn’t. Oliver stopped her giggle, taking her mouth once more with a growl.

The limousine driver stopped at the Gazette first, dropping Chloe off, she kissed Oliver quickly, with promises to call him before she came home. The car then headed toward Queen Towers for Oliver to begin his day.

Chloe entered the large basement office, not unlike the one at the Daily Planet, dropping her bag on the floor next to her desk, turning on her computer.

“Hey Sullivan, you’re late,” a voice called, causing Chloe to lift her head.

She checked her watch. Then grinned at her handsome, dark-haired friend. “Late for what?”

He handed her a steaming cup of coffee, which she gratefully accepted. He then leaned casually on the corner of her desk. His blue eyes glinted playfully. “I need to see your notes. Besides, I’ve got a bet over there with Wilson,” he inclined his head toward a stout older man typing away at his keyboard, intent on whatever he was working on.

Chloe swallowed the sip of coffee she’d just taken, glancing over at Wilson. “A bet about what?”

“That you and I will have our copy in tonight, kick off early, and head out over to celebrate our breaking story with free flowing libations,” he winked at her.

“Well, if we do happen to finish early, I’ve got a hot date, sorry, Phil.” She indicated Wilson with a nod of her head. “Why don’t you ask him,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I think he likes you.”

“Awww, come on Sullivan. What’s Queen got that I haven’t? Looks, money? Uh… on second thought… never mind.” He feigned an exaggerated, crestfallen expression. “Right. Damn.”

Phil made her laugh, sometimes trying to make a comical play for her, knowing she was off the market, taken by Star City’s resident billionaire bachelor. “Sorry big boy,” she patted his hand in mock sympathy. “Shouldn’t have taken that bet with Wilson. Now, what have you got so far? If you want to get out of here early, we need to get this done.”

Phillip for all his silly flirtations and antics was a good reporter, and didn’t fail her. He showed her his work, most of the information they’d gathered, he’d already compiled. He was a wonderful writer too, and Chloe was certain he’d be under the Tiffany lamps before she ever would. She liked him well enough; he was funny, friendly, and never forgot to greet her every day with a cup of her favorite brew.

She lifted her eyes from the paper she was reading. “Wow, this is really good.”

Phil puffed out his chest. “I know.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, handing him her notes. “What time are we meeting this source, Mr. Ambrose?”

He checked his watch. “In a couple of hours.”

“I’ll add my section to yours, and then we can check it over,” she said taking another sip of coffee, and settling in.

Philip nodded thoughtfully, leaving her to her work. He walked over to his desk, slipping his hand into the suit jacket that hung over the back of his chair. The cell phone he pulled out wasn’t his, but he’d been instructed when to use it. He dialed a number and waited, casting a backward glance at Chloe to make sure she was still working, before he stepped toward the stairwell exit.

“Has everything been arranged?” A male voice on the other end asked.

“Right on time,” Phil answered leaning against the wall.

“Make sure she’s at the rendezvous, no exceptions.”

“Have I ever let the boss down before? Relax. She’ll be there. You just make sure you keep your end of the bargain, or he’ll be hearing from me personally.”

“What about Queen?”

“It’s all set up. She’ll see him with a pretty little dove, and I’ll be there to pick up the pieces. I’ve got a strong shoulder she can cry on.”

“You sure she trusts you?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll be her knight in shining armor after this,” Phil chuckled humorlessly.

“Don’t mess around Phil. This girl’s too important.”

“I’m not messing around. I've been on this case too long already. I know how important she is to Mr. Luthor.”

“Good.”

Philip closed the phone and headed back toward Chloe’s desk. He stopped and stared at her while she worked. She was smart, sassy, and he had to admit, beautiful. He didn’t know why his boss thought the woman was so important, but he was going to keep his end of the bargain. He’d been on this particular job too long to screw up now. Phil approached her desk, nearly startling her. “Looks like neither one of us will get off early.”

Chloe lifted her eyes to his, her brows furrowing in question. “Why?”

“That was Mr. Ambrose on the phone,” he lied. “Wants us to meet him around 7:00 tonight.”

Chloe bit her lip. She didn’t want to disappoint Oliver. He’d been right. They hadn’t spent much time alone together lately. “Really?” She didn't sound too thrilled.

“Hey, look… I’m sorry, Chlo. Why don’t you call your guy and just tell him to meet you at that little Italian place over on 5th street Del Monaco’s? We won’t be far from there and you can meet him.”

Chloe hesitated, her hand on her cell phone.

“They’ve got this cozy little bar there, he can wait for you,” Phil continued, urging her. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Of course he would. He was her Oliver. He’d understand her need to get a job done, just as she had done for him countless times. She lifted the phone from her desk, dialing. “Hey, Ollie….?”

Philip returned to his desk picking up his own phone this time. He swiveled in his chair, away from Chloe, his voice lowered. “Adriana? It’s on. Yeah, be there on time. Don’t forget to slip him the stuff.”

Phil closed his phone, sitting back in his chair. Soon this would all be over. Now, everything had to go off without a hitch, and he could go back to Metropolis. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do grunt work anymore. Maybe he’d even get a promotion, working alongside Lex Luthor. Now that Tess Mercer was pretty much out of the picture, Phil was certain Mr. Luthor would need someone trustworthy to act as his right hand man.

End Chapter 1

Click Here For Chapter 2

Anything But Ordinary: Chloe/Oliver Chapter 21

2008-12-14T23:08:00.003-06:00

Anything But Ordinary
Chapter 21

“Are you all right?” she asked lifting a tremulous palm to his cheek. In the dimness Chloe could see his fading black eye. “What happened? Where’s everyone? The creature?” She glanced around noting her surroundings for the first time. “Where are we?”

He realized she must not remember the events of days ago, or perhaps she thought she’d healed him completely. “One question at a time, Sidekick.” Oliver murmured, pressing warm, lips to her forehead. “I’m fine. Clark is here,” Oliver’s voice trailed off, as he lifted his head, eyes searching the darkness, noting Clark was not where he’d seen him last. “Clark?”

“Oliver! Over here.” Clark’s voice sounded near the place where Tess’s body had landed near the side of the building.

“I’m okay, Ollie, you can put me down,” Chloe whispered, and he set her on her feet, holding onto her as she took a moment to adjust to bearing her own weight again. Oliver arranged his over-sized leather jacket around her shoulders protectively. He wanted nothing more than to take her home and hold her close against him through the rest of the night. She nodded her readiness, and he clasped her hand as they both walked toward the sound of Clark’s voice. “What happened to your leg?” she asked as he hobbled next to her.

“Just twisted my knee,” he shrugged, brushing off her concern, noting that her steps were shaky as well, having been weakened.

“Ollie… What…?”

He squeezed her hand gently, effectively quieting her. “I promise I’ll tell you everything later, Mistress Watchtower.” His voice was soft, and she sought his eyes, his expression telling her he was simply glad she was back among the living.

The look on his face warmed her, yet she burned even more with questions. She remembered seeing him that day in the lab, remembered kneeling next to him, remembered her attempt to heal him, but that was it. He’d tell her what had happened she had no doubt, and so she schooled her curiosity for now. Chloe reciprocated his gesture, her fingers tightening around his momentarily. “You’d better,” she smiled up at him.

Clark was kneeling beside Tess’s body. At their approach, he lifted his head. “She’s alive. Barely.”

Oliver pulled Chloe into his arms. She immediately wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek coming to rest against the warm hardness of his chest, her eyes never leaving Tess’s body. She’d nearly been gutted, not unlike Oliver had been that night they’d broken into Luthorcorp. Dark crimson seeped through a blouse torn to shreds. The creature had done this, but where was he now?

“We need to get her out of here,” Clark said, noting their shocked, silent expressions. He thought to ask Chloe if she could help Tess in any way, then thought better of it. Chloe had only recovered, and after all that had happened, he wasn’t certain she would willingly attempt to heal the woman who’d been responsible for all she’d suffered recently.

Clark watched her expression. She bit her lip, uncertain.

Oliver’s arms tightened around her, as though divining her thoughts. “You don’t have to do it, Chloe,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to.”

Chloe lifted her head from his chest, searching his eyes. “She’ll die.”

Oliver pressed his lips together, flustered. “I just got you back...”

“And in spite of all she’s done, I don’t know if I could live with myself, Ollie, knowing I could have helped her and didn’t.”

She shifted sideways, gazing down at Tess, attempting to step out of his arms, even as they clenched around her pulling her back. “Damn it, Chloe…” he growled.

Chloe turned in his arms gazing up at him, her eyes shining with resolve. Her first words surprised him. “I hate Tess Mercer,” she admitted coldly. “I despise her not only for what she’s done to me, but to you, to Davis Bloom, to everyone,” Through the anger in her voice, Oliver sensed she was on the verge of tears. “She’s Lex Luthor’s protégé, and yes that makes her just as bad as he is, and yes if I help her, there’s no guarantee it won’t come back to bite us all in the ass, but Oliver… we’re supposed to be the good guys.”

He sighed, feeling helpless. “Chloe…”

“You’ve wondered what all this was for. You’ve tortured yourself these last months wanting to know why, wanting to know if it’s all worth it, why you should care anymore…” She gestured behind her at Tess’s prone form. “Ollie, this, this right here is what sets us apart, it’s what makes Oliver Queen a hero and not another Lex Luthor.”

Oliver’s arms enveloped her like a vise, unwilling and unable to let her go. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezing shut. “No… Chloe…” He knew she was right, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be right. Nothing he could think of made Tess Mercer’s life worth more than Chloe’s. But Lex Luthor would let Tess Mercer die, and he wasn’t Lex and neither was Chloe. He knew it was about doing the right thing, even when it felt wrong.

“The Green Arrow would help someone in need,” Chloe continued. “He wouldn’t let someone die if there was a chance he could help them.” Chloe dipped her head urging him to look at her. “Even his enemies.”

Oliver shook his head. What he wanted right now was vengeance. “I’m not that good, Chloe, I’m not that noble, or forgiving.”

Chloe cupped his cheek in her palm, her voice soft yet determined. “Neither am I, but as much as I’d like to walk away from her right now, let her die and never look back, some small part won’t let me. You and I both know that not saving her would haunt us eventually. It’s not up to us to decide her fate this way, and our consciences would never be clear if we didn’t at least try to do the right thing. I don’t want that hanging over our heads, do you?”

Clark waited; knowing every moment that passed, meant that the life slowly ebbed from Tess’s body. He watched as Oliver’s expression turned to a near grimace of pain at the thought of what she was about to do; the thought of putting herself in danger for Tess was killing him. Oliver finally offered her a slight shake of his head in reluctant agreement with her. Suddenly, his lips met hers swiftly, hard, pouring all his anguish, all of his fear, and all of his love for her into that one kiss. He pulled away then, breathing heavily, his arms slowly falling away from Chloe’s waist.

Gentle fingertips stroked his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

Chloe turned and fell to her knees beside Tess as Clark moved aside to give her some room. She lay her hands over Tess’s wounds, not knowing how much of her power she could call upon. Dim flickers of light radiated from her fingertips, healing the deep gashes. Chloe grimaced in pain, and Oliver knelt beside her, catching her up in his arms before she fell sideways.

“There’s no more left in me,” she gasped out of breath.

“It might be enough to save her life,” Clark answered, gathering Tess up in his arms. “I’ll take her to the hospital. You did what you could. The rest isn’t up to us.”

Chloe nodded, reaching for Oliver’s arm weakly, comforted by the feel of his bicep beneath her palm, his strength surrounding her. “Let’s go home, Ollie.”

She slept on the ride home. Oliver carried her into the penthouse. Both exhausted, they slept peacefully, and when the first rays of light filtered into the bedroom, he felt her shift against him, knowing she was awake.

“Ollie?”

He pulled her close, his fingers brushing over her arm, stroking her, pressing a kiss to her hair in answer.

“We did the right thing,” she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

“I hope so.”

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered, nestling her cheek against his chest.

Oliver told her about how she’d tried to heal him, and the days she spent unconscious, purposely leaving out his visit to Tess to bargain for her life. He told her about the beast bringing her to the facility to help her, and how Tess shot at it, causing the creature to lash out against her. He told her of the crystal Clark had, that magically drew in the beast, sending it to the Phantom Zone.

He felt her nod. She was silent for long moments, then finally spoke. “Brainiac’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I no longer have super-intelligence. Something changed after I used my abilities to keep Davis immobile for the DNA transfer, and now that the creature is gone, I don’t feel Brainiac’s presence.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with a slight chuckle. “You’re still the smartest person I know.”

She smiled, giving him a squeeze. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad it’s over, and that we’re both still in one piece.”

“What happens now?” She mused aloud.

“I’ve been thinking…. I want to go back to Star City,” he began, his words causing Chloe to lift her head from him. She looked down at him, all tousled and sleepy and beautiful. Oliver couldn’t help but lift a hand to touch her cheek, and brush the hair back from her face.

“For how long?” she asked, trying to hide her anxiety.

“It’s where I belong. I want you to come with me,” his fingers threaded through the golden strands of hair. “To live there… with me.”

“But…”

“What’s left for you here, Chloe?”

“I… what about Lois? Clark?”

“What about you?”

Chloe glanced away, uncertain. She’d not thought of the possibility of leaving.

“I grew up in Queen Manor,” he went on, fingers caressing her skin. “But I don’t spend much time there. It’s this huge, warm place. I’ve never really had anyone to share it with.” His head shifted on the pillow as he regarded her; thumb stroking her cheekbone, the action causing her eyes to meet his, dark and warm as they drifted over her face thoughtfully. The manor house was the perfect place to raise a family. He remembered running through its halls as a carefree, happy child when his parents were still alive. It was a perfect place start again, only this time it would be with the woman he loved. He wanted to fill those empty rooms with love and laughter once again. He wouldn’t tell her that part yet. Instead he said simply, “I want to share it with you.”

* * * * *

Chloe had healed Tess of visible wounds left by the creature, and though her condition was stable, she’d not regained consciousness. Tess Mercer spent all of one day in the hospital. She’d disappeared mysteriously after that day, and no one, neither doctors nor hospital staff could explain what had happened. Authorities were baffled. There was no way she could have walked out of the hospital on her own. Both Chloe and Oliver were initially alarmed over her disappearance, and wondered when she’d show up unexpected, but after a week of searches, there had been no sign of her, and after two months had passed with still no sign of Tess, or any clues as to her whereabouts they hoped perhaps it was indeed over.

Oliver had whisked her away to Paris as he’d promised. They spent two glorious weeks there, and Chloe had to admit that the trip had done them both a world of good. He’d continue to extol the virtues and beauty and peace of Queen Manor, and tell her how much she’d love it there. And then one day it all just seemed to hit her at once, and she’d wondered why she’d hesitated. He was right. There really was not much left for her in Smallville. And truth be told, she’d missed writing, and investigative reporting, and thought perhaps she could get her foot into the door of the Star City Gazette. Chloe felt a sense of hope and purpose return full force, making her realize that she’d be crazy to pass up a new life with Oliver Queen. He was offering her everything she’d ever wanted. And over the past few months, Oliver Queen had proven himself to be everything she wanted.

She’d started on packing her second suitcase at the Talon apartment, when Lois dropped down on the bed.

“I can’t believe Queen talked you in to moving to Star City,” Lois mused as she picked up one of Chloe’s pajama tank tops, folding it.

Chloe turned from her dresser, pushing the drawer closed. “I have an interview at the Gazette on Monday,” She smiled, one of those beaming smiles of hers, and Lois couldn’t help but realize that her cousin was the happiest she’d seen her in a long time. Who’d have thought her ex-boyfriend would be the cause of it all?

“You’ll get the job, I’m sure of it,” Lois couldn’t help but return her smile, handing her the folded shirt. Lois paused, picking up another article of clothing. “Remember that day at the dress shop, when I asked if you were happy with Jimmy?”

“Yeah,” Chloe answered, stuffing a few toiletries into a side compartment of the suitcase.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think that you were.” Lois reached up to clasp Chloe’s hand. “But now, somehow I get the feeling, I don’t need to ask that question.”

Chloe squeezed her cousin’s hand gently, smiling. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“You’re glowing, even.” Lois laughed lightly, standing to wrap Chloe in a hug. “I’m glad. And don’t think I’ll miss you at all, because I’ll be calling you every day.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Lois moved to answer it. Her mouth hung open briefly before she found her voice. “Olsen… uh…”

“Is Chloe here?”

“Uh… yeah, but...”

“I just want to talk to her for a few minutes, I won’t keep her.”

Lois opened the door wider, allowing him to enter, remaining discreetly in the background, trying to give them some privacy.

“So, it’s true then.”

Chloe turned at the sound of his voice. “Jimmy.” She sounded too surprised, as though she’d just gotten caught doing something illegal.

“It’s true? You’re leaving?”

Chloe lifted a shoulder, not really knowing what to say. “Yeah. Moving to Star City.”

Jimmy nodded thoughtfully. “Oliver Queen?” He stepped closer. “I thought it was just a rumor, but… then I’d seen a few photographs of the two of you and… well, here you are, packing.” He’d done his best to stay away from her, hadn’t contacted her or seen her since their break up. But when he’d heard she was leaving, he had to see her one last time.

Chloe remained silent, again at a loss for words. The awkward factor here was beginning to rise by the second.

“When are you leaving?”

“In about an hour.” She gestured toward her opened suitcase. “I’m just packing a few things, most of my stuff is already at the manor house.”

“You’re going to work for him, or… live with him?”

Chloe cleared her throat uneasily. “Both. We’re partners.” Of course Chloe couldn’t tell him she was the Watchtower to Oliver’s Green Arrow.

“In more ways than one…”

“Jimmy…”

“No. It’s okay.” He held up a hand to keep her from further explanations. “I guess I just came here to see for myself. See that you were all right, and… and to say good-bye.”

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

Jimmy turned to leave, then stopped suddenly, looking back. “Do you love him?”

“Jimmy… that’s really not… any of your…”

“Do you?”

Chloe looked down at her hands for a long moment, and then lifted her eyes to his, facing him squarely. “Yes.”

Jimmy dipped his head in a nervous nod, glancing away, then back at her. “Take care of yourself, Chloe,” he whispered. Turning on his heel, he strode from the apartment before she could answer. As he reached the door, he came face-to-face with a stoic Oliver Queen. Taken aback momentarily, Jimmy quickly recovered, fumbling for something to say, he extended his hand. Mumbled a quiet “Good luck,” and then was on his way.

Chloe stepped forward, grinning shyly. “How long have you been standing there?”

Oliver slid his hands over her hips, nudging her forward, right up against him. “Long enough to say… I love you too.”

Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up, touching her lips to his chin.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Chloe could see his dark eyes dance, and she knew that he was just as excited as she was, for their new life together to begin. A life that would be anything but ordinary.

“Yes.”

“Took me,” he kissed her eyes. “Long enough,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “To convince you,” he brushed his lips over hers, feather-light.

Chloe smiled as she clung to his neck. “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy, Archer,” she murmured, her voice a husky whisper.

Oliver pulled her closer, their lower bodies swaying in unison. “Good thing all the gear in my arsenal is in perfect working order.”

“Ahem.”

Chloe and Oliver pulled apart slightly, heads turning toward Lois. They’d been lost in their own world for a few moments and had forgotten she was there.

“You two lovebirds want to get a move on? You can work on filling up those Queen mansion rooms up later, you know, like when I’m not around?” She rolled her eyes playfully, and closed up Chloe’s suitcase.

Chloe laughed. “Lois!”

“Are you kidding me? The way you two go at it, I’ll be an aunt, or would that be a second cousin? In no time.” She handed the suitcase to Oliver. “Remember what I said Green Bean. Be good to her, or else.” She elbowed Oliver in the ribs. “And remember who hooked you two up. I expect to be the maid of honor, whenever you decide to make it legal.”

Leave it to Lois to make a superhero blush profusely. “Uh… you’ll be the first to know, Lois.”

“Good. Now, where’s Clark, he’s supposed to be going with us to the airport. I swear he’s never around when you need him!”

* * * * *

The doctor waited nervously for the man to arrive. He stood in the private facility, next to the bed of his young patient, wiping the moisture from his brow, then stuffing his handkerchief in his lab coat pocket. His patient had been comatose for over two months, and her benefactor was becoming increasingly anxious over her well-being. The doctor didn’t have to wait long for his arrival. Minutes later, the man, dressed in a dark suit and long black overcoat, swept purposefully into the room, along with two of his bodyguards.

“How is she?”

“Still not responding, sir.”

“What of the healing serum her scientists developed?”

“We’ve been unable to find any trace of it. Nor do we know how it was developed. Everything was destroyed at the time of her… accident. I’m beginning to think there was no such serum.” The doctor hesitated, noting the man’s darkening expression. “Truthfully sir, we don’t hold out much hope for her.”

“Find that serum, or find some other way to cure her. Tess Mercer is too important.”

“We’re doing our best, sir.”

“Your best isn’t good enough. For what I’m paying you, I expect a full recovery.”

“You’re asking for a miracle.”

“I don’t believe in miracles, doctor. Tess is a fighter. I believe in her.” The man moved toward the bed, stroking Tess’s cheek with a forefinger, gazing down at her for long moments. He lifted blue eyes once more, his stare piercing the doctor. “Keep her stable. Continue your work.”

The doctor nodded as he watched the man head toward the door.

“Let me know if there are any changes. I’ll be back in a week.”

“Yes, Mr. Luthor.”

The End!

Click Here For the Sequel to this story, "Signal Fire"

The Right Left Lane

2008-12-07T12:24:00.004-06:00

The Right Left Lane
Chlollie Oneshot

With an electric hum and a metal clank, the door of the prison cell opened, and Chloe was being led out of her cell by two female armed guards. Mysteriously, she was being released today. After having been charged by the Department of Homeland Security for hacking into government computer satellite systems, and having been under suspicion for terrorist activities, somehow, some way, all charges had been dropped, and her name cleared.

Given a set of nondescript blue jeans, chambray shirt and sensible shoes, Chloe was allowed to change, and then led out of the prison yard where a black limousine waited just outside the gates. Curb service, she thought.

He had helped her before. He had whisked her mother away to a safe place where she would get the best treatment from the best doctors. He had done it for her at his own expense, no questions asked. Chloe had never doubted that Moira Sullivan would be safe from the likes of Lex Luthor as long as she lived. Why would he have done such an amazing thing for her?

She had helped him before. She had been his Watchtower, his information gatherer. He trusted her implicitly. Enough to have all of his Metropolis Green Arrow gear left in her care at the ISIS foundation, enough to allow her use of one of his private jets at a moment's notice.

He knew she’d been set up. He knew it was Lex that had her arrested. He knew the reason she’d done what she did was to help Clark. He knew Jimmy's meddling and dealings with Lex had gotten her in over her head. Oliver didn’t know when or how it had happened, but she had simply become too important to him, she meant more to him than he’d let on, and he knew that there was no way in hell he’d let her rot in prison. His only hope was that she’d come with him, and though he didn’t want too get too far ahead of himself, he had to finally admit, that he wanted her to be more than his Watchtower, more than his Sidekick. Somehow along the way, he’d slowly been falling for Chloe Sullivan.

Chloe saw the back limo door open, the blonde head of her benefactor emerging as she approached. He stood in front of the opened door, his expression unreadable. He looked so out of place, so un-billionare-like in his blue jeans, t-shirt and hooded sweat jacket. He was a welcome sight. Chloe stopped in front of him tipping her head back to look up at him, and they simply stared at one another for a moment. What do you say to someone who’s just saved you from a life of imprisonment? They studied one another, and somehow both of them realized that words were not necessary. Chloe finally lowered her head looking down at her hands clasped in front of her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Oliver put a friendly, comforting arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, Sidekick,” he said as he ushered her into the limo.

“Why are you doing this for me?” She asked finally as the limo was well on it’s way to somewhere. Oddly enough, she hadn’t thought to ask where they were going.

“Purely selfish reasons, I assure you,” he stared out the tinted limousine window. If she only knew how selfish.

Chloe tipped her head. “How so?”

“You’re valuable to my team. Besides, what’s left for you in Smallville?”

“Well, I do have the ISIS foundation I can go back to. There are lots of meteor infected people that need help,” she offered, with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She knew she certainly wouldn't go back to Jimmy.

He gave her a look, raising a brow.

“Okay, well… maybe I can’t go back.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m meant for.”

“You’re not meant for federal prison, Chloe.”

Once it seemed she knew exactly what she’d wanted from life. Now, she simply felt as though she were in some type of limbo. Her own private purgatory. Her lips thinned, pressed together, and she diverted her eyes away from Oliver’s intense gaze, toward the window again, not knowing what else to say. She hated this, the not knowing, the emptiness she felt.

Oliver studied her from across the seat. “Tell you what. You’d have a job here with me, or.. ,” he shrugged, “If you think you want to go back to Smallville, you can do that too.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You have an opportunity to start over, Chloe. Do whatever you want, make a new life or go back to the old one. The choice is yours.”

Chloe looked back at him. Did he really think that he could give her some get out of jail free card, and that she’d simply accept it and have no sense of obligation to him? He came all this way to a Kansas federal prison to see to her release. There must be something he wanted. She started to voice these thoughts when he spoke again.

“I got you out because I wanted to. I know the circumstances of the charges against you.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to let you sit in a jail cell.”

“How did you get me out?”

“I don’t divulge all of my secrets, Sidekick,” he said, leaning back against the seat, stretching out his long legs, wearing a slight cocky smirk of satisfaction.

“Don’t call me that,” she said quietly, looking down, surprised to find that she was blushing.

“Sorry..”

“It’s just that I don’t know what I am anymore. ‘Sidekick’ is.. it’s a label, a name that.. I just don’t know if it defines me anymore.”

The limousine pulled over to the shoulder, stopping, and Chloe glanced out the window again to find that they were on a rural highway.

“Why are we stopping?”

“The right lane up ahead is an exit ramp that leads back to Smallville. The left lane ahead will continue on until we reach the airport where a Queen Industries Jet is waiting for me. And you, if you’ll come with me.”

For the first time since she’d seen him that day, she was able to read his expression clearly. His eyes were full of hope. It startled her, yet for the first time in months she felt hope too.

Chloe opened the door of the limo and stepped out, her sensible shoes crunching against the roadside gravel as she gazed out upon the flat, mostly treeless, and browned area of land. The sun heading westward made the landscape glow, tipped with hues of orange and pink.

She felt him beside her. “I’m scared, Ollie,” she whispered, hating herself for admitting it to him. Chloe Sullivan would never admit that to anyone.

“Change can be scary,” he said.

“It’s not just that. It’s not knowing who I am or what I’m meant to do after I thought I had it all figured out.”

“You’re the same person you’ve always been. One who fights for what she believes in. One who wants to make the world a better place. One who’s loyal, and willing to go to prison, instead of divulging all the secrets she keeps.” He paused a moment, his tone turning light and humorous. “And one with an insatiable curiosity that usually lands her in trouble, one with amazing hacking abilities and information gathering skills, one who can direct a group of ragtag heroes on missions.” he added with a wide grin.

Chloe peered up at him, squinting against the sun. His handsome face, and smile rivaled the beauty of the sunset, and her heart jolted unexpectedly.

“Besides,” he added, “The Green Arrow is in desperate need of a worthy partner.”

“I don’t know how worthy I am at this moment, Ollie,” she lowered her head.

“You are to me.”

At his words, Chloe looked up at him again, and then she saw it. Clearly written on his face. His feelings went deeper than friendship. She had the urge to run away. Instead she faced him, reaching for his hands, taking them in hers. She dropped her head slightly, nodding. A sense of purpose began to return to her, as she looked down at their hands clasped together, making her decision.

“Let’s just get one thing straight,” she said, then looked up into his eyes again with a smile, “I get to call you Sidekick too, Sidekick.”

Her sweet face, and smile rivaled the beauty of the sunset, and caused his heart to jolt not-so-unexpectedly. “It’s a deal,” he chuckled.

Chloe let go of one of his hands and tugged Oliver over to the limo driver’s window.

“Take the left lane to the airport, please,” she said to the driver. She knew somehow, it would be the right choice.

End Oneshot

Rooftop Meetings

2008-12-07T11:49:00.007-06:00

Rooftop Meetings

Title: Rooftop Meetings

Author: Genevieve

Pairing: Chloe/Oliver

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Adult Sexual Content

Spoilers: None

Short summary: The relationship between the Green Arrow and his Watchtower is changing with every clandestine rooftop meeting. Who will win the game of cat and mouse?

A/N: This is pretty much a smutshot.. more or less.

He’d called her again, asking her to meet him on the rooftop of the Daily Planet so that she could give him the information he’d needed her to find. By now she didn’t understand why she simply couldn’t just drop the zip drive off at his penthouse. He’d said it was for her protection. She wondered about that. But, it was becoming a game for them. He’d been doing this more often lately. Requesting clandestine meetings in dark places, always finding another way to surprise her by making a grand entrance, and usually scaring her half to death. He seemed to enjoy that part. But there was another part that was becoming just as enjoyable.

During the day they were simply Oliver Queen and Chloe Sullivan. Billionaire and reporter. Two people, who weren’t supposed to know each other, but did. Very well. So well that they had begun to finish each other’s sentences, and know what the other was thinking before a word was spoken. But lately there was an air, so thick and thrumming between them, both during the day, and especially around these nighttime excursions that had turned into something other than mere covert transactions. The way her whole being seemed to be filled with waiting, for the moment when he’d swoop down. The way he stepped a little too close, the confident smirk a little too knowing, the tone in his voice a little too suggestive, a touch lingering a little too long. And she knew that if she could see the eyes behind the dark glasses, he’d be looking her over a little too seductively.

The last time they’d met under cover of darkness for top-secret information transfer, she could have sworn he was about to kiss her, but he pulled away at the last second and then was gone, lifted into the air by a zip line, leaving her breathless and dazed, and wanting. The only indication that she’d been right about his intention was the mischief in his eyes, and the cocky, knowing grin Oliver Queen had given her when none of the others were looking, a few days later at the penthouse. It had made her blush profusely, and look away. Score one for the Arrow.

Not that she hadn’t begun to play along in the game of cat and mouse. Two could play Green Arrow and Watchtower. Skirts were suddenly becoming a little shorter each time she met him secretly, her blouses a little lower, her smiles a little more flirtatious. Covert meetings were becoming a little more dangerous, but in a different way, now.

And so here she was again, waiting, alone in the dark on a rooftop, her heart pounding in her ears.

The Green Arrow watched her for a few moments from his hiding place as she waited for him, pacing the roof slowly, the sway of her hips inviting his gaze. Chloe Sullivan, intrepid reporter. She’d become his friend, his sidekick, his information gatherer. But in this moment, she was Watchtower. He didn’t know when it had started to change, when he’d begun to notice the quickening of his pulse whenever she was near, the sweet scent of her hair, or the way her smile could light up a room and make his heart do back flips. Oliver Queen had allowed the friendship to grow and deepen, but Oliver Queen wasn’t supposed to know her. That didn’t stop the Green Arrow however, and the way she looked right now, pencil skirt still tastefully just far enough above the knee, showing enough shapely leg to let the imagination do the rest, the skirt hugging her curves, her opened blazer, a camisole beneath revealing just enough cleavage to make his blood stir with desire. Yes, she knew it too, and was playing the game right along with him. It was dangerous, but tonight he was going to find out just how far she was willing to take it.

He landed just behind her, on silent feet.

She turned around, calmly; her green eyes alight with amusement. He hadn’t surprised her this time. Yet her eyes could not help but drink in the sensuality of his physique. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she challenged.

He smirked. “You haven’t seen my best yet,” he answered smoothly, the voice distorter somehow adding to the sensuous allure. The way her gaze traveled over him briefly, yet with a woman’s appreciation did not go unnoticed.

She quirked a brow. “Oh, really?”

He stepped closer, very close, then circled behind her, the brush of his body against her back. Chloe closed her eyes, shivering.

“I have what you want,” she whispered, her voice sultry.

He knew she was referring to the files she’d hacked. Or was she? “I know you do.” His husky voice sounded close to her ear, causing her skin to prickle and the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. He moved around her once again, their bodies touching lightly. God, but she wanted him to touch her. Chloe could barely breathe as she gazed up into his hooded face. The Green Arrow then lifted a gloved hand, and traced her cheek with a forefinger, down over her jaw line, lazily over the quickening pulse point of her throat, and lower still, over the lusciously curved rise of the exposed portion of her breast. “Everything I want, and more.”

Oliver Queen had never taken such liberties. He might hug her in greeting, or tuck the hair behind her ear while she was working intently at his computer, or touch her shoulder in a friendly gesture, but he’d never done this. The Green Arrow did, and he wanted more. He wanted all of her.

“How important is this?” Her breath hitched, as his finger skimmed between her breasts now, and then slowly began an ascent over the top of her other breast. She was talking about the zip drive, of course she was.

“Very,” he murmured, his lips curving in a seductive smile. “It could be the start of something bigger than we’ve ever uncovered before.” The Green Arrow moved his hand away from her then, and Chloe found herself being pulled forward against the warmth of his hard body as that same hand had slipped under her blazer, around her waist, fitting her to him.

“I see.” When had her own hand risen to caress the warm skin over his hard, muscled bicep, her fingers now splayed over his shoulder? She hadn’t noticed. “And what will you do with it?”

Who was he kidding? They weren’t discussing top-secret information on a zip drive at all, and they both knew it. His head descended slowly, watching her face, her lips slightly parted, her passion-filled, half-lidded eyes gazing up at him. God, she was beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her face as she shuddered beneath him in ecstasy. “I plan to give it my full attention and explore every part, uncover every secret.”

“That could take a while.”

He grinned down at her. “Years.”

“That’s a long mission. It could be risky.”

“I think it’s worth it, don’t you?” He whispered, his lips now hovering barely an inch, breathlessly over hers.

“Yes.”

And finally, for the first time, sweet, long awaited contact. He brushed his lips over hers tasting her lightly, taking first her top lip, then her bottom lip between his own, then covering her mouth completely with his. Chloe returned his kiss, as both of his arms wrapped around her now. She stood up on tiptoe, reaching behind his hood, pulling him down to her, wanting more of him, increasing the pressure of their lips, caressing, moving, over one another’s mouths in tandem. Chloe and Oliver would deal with this later, but in this moment, Arrow and Watchtower lost themselves in each other, as the kiss grew more heated, more demanding.

He lifted her, skirt hiking up over her thighs, she wrapped her legs around his waist, as she whimpered, and he groaned. Kisses grew deeper, hotter, harder, breathing heavier. Slowly she slid down, her feet touching the rooftop surface. She pulled away, but not before pressing softer, slower kisses to his lips. They were both panting. “Here’s the disk,” she breathed, releasing her hold from him, reaching into the pocket of her blazer and taking his hand, pressing the small device into it.

She then turned and walked away, leaving the Green Arrow to be the one dazed and aroused and wanting.

The following day he’d called a league meeting. Everyone was there when she arrived. They sat around the living room, each with their own hard copy of the files she’d hacked with information about three new facilities and a research lab being built by Luthorcorp in various parts of the country. Chloe stepped behind him on the way to her seat as he stood talking to the others in front of him, the palm of her hand passing meaningfully over his lower back as she went, wondering if anyone else noticed the sudden pause in his speech when she did so. He swallowed, blinking a few times before continuing. She smiled up at him sweetly as she sat down. When the meeting was over, and everyone was readying to leave, she slung her laptop bag over her shoulder, said her goodnights and headed toward the elevator.

Oliver called after her. “Chloe, wait. I need you to check something for me.” With a quick glance back toward the others who were thankfully preoccupied, discussing where they should go to grab a beer or something to eat, he approached her. He stood intimately close to her, his voice low, the intense longing and hope in his eyes was unmistakable. “Meet me tonight,” he urged quietly.

She smiled up at him knowingly. Score one for the Watchtower.

She stepped toward the elevator, and turned to look over her shoulder, his hopeful expression hadn’t changed. “Daily Planet. In an hour. Don’t be late,” she whispered.

An hour later the Green Arrow had arrived, right on time. He didn’t surprise her with his entrance, but he did with the exit. “Hold onto me,” his deep metallic voice ordered softly as soon as he’d landed, and Chloe wrapped her arms around him without question, as he shot another arrow some unknown distance away. The crossbow converted to a grappling hook, and soon they were flying across the sky. Chloe’s grip tightened, and she pressed her cheek against him, not daring to look down. “Don’t let go,” she heard his voice above her head, and the felt rumble in his chest.

She nodded lightly, words seeming to fail her at the moment. “I won’t.” She’d never done this before, and it was both exhilarating and just a little frightening. She had no idea how high above the city streets they were.

Soon they’d landed on another rooftop, but where exactly she wasn’t certain. He unhooked the zip line, setting the crossbow/hook on the ledge and gazed down at her, his lips curving in a small smile. Chloe wished she could see his eyes, but he simply stood there with her, until she realized that she hadn’t let go. She was still clinging to him.

Her arms fell away, but before she could take a step back, gloved hands captured her cheeks, fingers tangling in the hair at her nape, and without warning, the Green Arrow began kissing her, softly at first, until her response began to match and then exceed his growing fervor.

“It’s still risky,” she breathed between hot kisses. It was risky, not just to their friendship, but possibly to her heart.

“Still worth it.”

Chloe realized he’d turned off his voice distorter. “Who’s winning?” she asked with a grin.

He slowed in a kiss, nipping her bottom lip lightly, grinning at her question, and pressing smiling lips to hers. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” he whispered.

“That depends. How much do you want me?” She kissed him back.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his hood then, and removed his dark glasses. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes growing serious as they drifted over her face. “With everything I am,” he answered sincerely.

With everything he was. He was Oliver Queen, he was the Green Arrow, and both parts of him wanted her. His words shocked and surprised her. It had been a game up until now, or so she thought. Yet here he was standing before her, baring himself, vulnerable. Waiting for her answer. Had she not noticed the depth of feeling on his part? And then suddenly she knew, it all became clear, everything. It was there in all he’d said and done. And she gave him the only answer that came to her. “Yes. I want you as much as you want me.”

“Then we both win,” he answered, lowering his head, his words smothered on her lips. Picking her up once again, he sat down against the rooftop ledge. Her thighs gripping his leather-clad hips, he settled her over him, her skirt riding up around her.

His hands seemed to be everywhere, her blouse was opened and untucked from a skirt that had somehow been pushed up to her waist, his mouth pressing persuasive kisses over her throat, traveling between her breasts. She gasped, his lips and breath over her skin making her insides whirl. He’d removed his gloves, warm fingers, easing the lacy cup of her bra aside, fingertips tracing circles, causing her nipple to harden to a rosy peak. He dipped his head, laving her nipple with his tongue before his hot mouth surrounded and suckled her.

Chloe moaned, driving her fingers into his hair and pressing herself down onto him, hips moving against his, grinding herself over the codpiece of his leather suit. Oliver slipped his fingers under the edge of her panties, sliding his hands over her butt, grasping her, kneading her soft flesh in the rhythm she set, moving with her. She unzipped his vest, slipping her hands inside, caressing, touching, moving, exploring the hard muscle and warm skin under her palm.

He moved one hand around the front of her, stroking her. She was warm and slick and the moans that escaped her at his touch drove him insane with need. “I want you so much, Chloe,” he whispered. “God, I need to be inside you,” he panted against her breast, feeling as though he’d die if he couldn’t.

Chloe stood up long enough to remove her panties, while Oliver undid the leather pants, freeing himself. Chloe’s eyes fell upon him, long and thick and dripping moistened tip, ready for her. Unconsciously, she licked her lips at the sight of him. “I want you just as much, Oliver,” she breathed as she moved to straddle him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

He watched her as she settled herself over him once again, then taking him in her hand, stroking him several times before she guided him to her. He clutched her hips as she lowered herself slowly, and inch-by-inch he watched himself disappear inside her, becoming enveloped tightly inside her slick heat. He watched until his eyes closed over, and his head fell forward against her shoulder, a long deep groan leaving him. He was wrong. He’d died anyway, because being inside her was heaven.

“Chloe…”

Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his, and they held each other for long moments, both of them breathing heavily and bodies trembling slightly, as she stilled herself, growing accustomed to his girth filling her.

She began to move, slowly at first, lifting her head, their lips blindly searching and finding one another’s once more, tongues meeting, rolling, exploring each other’s mouths. She quickened the pace, moving up then down, Oliver’s hips rising to meet her, in uncontrolled passion, matching her rhythm, bodies moving in perfect sync.

“Slow down,” he begged, his breath stuttered as he moaned into her mouth. “Wait...” He didn’t want to come yet, but he was so close, if she didn’t stop, he’d explode, and he wanted her to reach completion before he did. He leaned away from her, reclining, his shoulders against the ledge, his vest falling open, exposing a portion of his muscled chest and torso, inviting Chloe’s touch. Oliver slipped a hand between them, and massaged her clit with a teasing thumb, using circular motions as she moved over him.

Chloe’s head tipped back, as she cried out and increased the pace once again. She was so close, and he was touching her in just the right way, just a little more, a little more, and she’d be there.

“Come for me, Chloe,” he whispered. He’d wanted to see her, wanted to watch her face cloud over in ecstasy, and soon he got his wish.

“Oh God! Oliver... Oliver…” her voice broke, his name trailing off on a shuddering moan. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Waves of pleasure, pure and explosive washed over her, as moans of rapture passed her lips.

The sight of her beautiful face flushed with erotic pleasure, and feeling her silken heat clench around him… and he was gone. Half-grunting, half-groaning sounds escaped him. There was no stopping it. Every long-held, pent up desire he’d ever had for her, rushing, overflowing and now finally finding intense release inside her body. He shuddered, erupting, spilling himself endlessly, until he had no more to give her.

Oliver reached for her, pulling her down against him, enfolding her, holding her close, as she reclined spent atop him, her cheek pressed against the curve of his shoulder. Her body melted against his, as the world was filled with him. The night air, cooling their heated skin. Hearts pounding furiously, soft moans released on lung filling breaths consuming the silence, both of them unable to speak as they rode out the aftershocks, their bodies still connected.

When they had come back to earth, Oliver was the first to speak. “Come home with me,” he whispered into her hair. “Stay with me tonight.”

Chloe raised her head, soft green eyes searching his in the darkness. Oliver raised his hand to caress her cheek with gentle fingertips. She looked uncertain.

His fingers moved, softly tracing the curve of her lips. “Tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that,” he continued, hoping to ease her concerns. “I told you this would be a long mission,” he whispered, a small smile appearing on his handsome face.

She returned his smile, and sure enough his heart turned over. “Years.” She said, remembering his words from the night before.

“The Green Arrow needs, wants his Watchtower by his side.”

“And Oliver Queen? What does he want?” she asked, still a bit unsure of what was happening, her slight hesitancy still evident.

He needed to make her understand. He’d thought about this long and hard, thought about her, about the changes to their friendship, about how it might affect their working relationship. It all came down to one simple answer. “Just let me love you. That’s all I want.”

A slow teasing grin curved her mouth. She tipped her head in mock appraisal of him. “You just might be worth the risk,” she whispered, a flash of humor crossing her features. Her smile slowly faded as her parted lips met his, kissing him deeply. She pulled away suddenly, sitting up again. “Wait. Does this mean no more rooftop meetings?”

He laughed, taking her face in his hands and slipping his fingers into the softness of her hair on either side of her head. “Rooftop meetings anytime you’d like, Watchtower.”

Chloe sighed in relief. “Good,” she turned up her smile a notch. “Take me home with you, Ollie.”

End Oneshot

Green Leather Fetish

2008-12-07T11:12:00.008-06:00

Green Leather Fetish
Chlollie Oneshot

Title: Green Leather Fetish

Author: Genevieve

Pairing: Chloe/Oliver

Rating: R

Warnings: Adult Sexual Content

Spoilers: None

Short summary: When Oliver is away, Chloe plays dress up.

They’d been dating for a few months now, officially. He’d said that they’d probably been dating for over a year, if you considered covert missions, clandestine rooftop meetings, and hours spent poring over files looking for leads on the latest 33.1 facility, as dates.

She knew all there was to know about him, and loved him anyway. More than anyone. He loved her too. Trusted her implicitly. She was the only member of the team allowed to go into his Green Arrow room and touch anything, and that was saying a lot about her status. He never let anyone touch his stuff. In fact, she knew where everything belonged, and sometimes helped him organize and put his gear away.

He was out of town a lot. Just like now, back in Star City for some business. It didn’t make a relationship easy, but it did make for lots of quality alone time and precious stolen moments, and mind-blowing sex in a variety of the most unusual of places. There wasn’t a spot in his penthouse they hadn’t christened, (as well as a few Metropolis rooftops, and a balcony or two or three). Except for maybe the room she was in now, the Sacred Green Arrow Room. They’d never done it in here.

He’d been starting to hint at a more permanent solution to their frequent separations. She smiled to herself. She’d marry him in a heartbeat, but maybe she’d let him sweat a little first, just because.

She missed him. Hadn’t seen him in days. Phone calls were a poor substitute. She stepped over to where one of his green leather costumes was set neatly over a headless, mannequin-like figure, reaching out to touch the soft leather with her fingertips. She loved the way he looked in it, the leather molding to his lean muscular body. She’d never tell him that something about it turned her on; she didn’t have to. He knew. And the Green Arrow used this knowledge of her weakness to his advantage. More than once she’d found herself against a wall, or bent over a rooftop ledge, or thighs straddling green leather, begging him, wanting him, moaning for him.

She missed him. She unzipped and removed the vest from the figure, stroking the leather, and pressing the softness to her lips, breathing in deeply. Under the scent of leather, it smelled faintly of him, and she closed her eyes, inhaling once more. Then suddenly a wicked thought entered her mind, (which was not unusual when she was around green leather). And she dropped the vest to the floor, quickly undoing the buttons of her blouse, removing her bra. And what the heck, why not her pants too. Clothes discarded in a heap, completely naked now, she picked up the vest again, and slipped her arms into it. The leather against her skin, familiar, comforting, yet painfully reminding her that she was alone. She zipped it up. It was way too large for her of course, the edge of the vest partially covering her bottom, the armholes practically revealing her breasts. She didn’t care. It was part of him.

“I think it looks better on you than on me.”

She turned around startled, the heat of embarrassment rushing to her cheeks, clapping a hand over her mouth, to see Oliver Queen, dressed in a white shirt and tie, grinning at her, his eyes devouring her from head to toe. How did he do that? Sneak up on people without a sound. He wasn’t supposed to be back for days yet. She hadn’t even heard the elevator.

“Uh… I.. uh, I’m sorry, Ollie,” was all she could manage to babble.

He entered the room, moving closer to her, reaching for her, the yearning and desire in his dark eyes, evident. He’d missed her too, terribly. Hated having to be away from her. “Don’t be. I like it,” he murmured, grasping her barely leather clad hip, and pulling her closer, his hand skimming under the edge, fingertips grazing her flesh. His lips curved in a teasing smile, just before those same amazing lips swooped down to capture hers in a kiss so full of longing, it made her heart quicken.

Vest unzipped now, his hands found what he’d wanted, thought about, dreamed about since he’d left. Slow yearning kisses turned fevered and frantic, white shirt and tie peeled away, suit pants, cast offs, joined with the others on the floor.

And now they were on the floor too, of the Sacred Green Arrow room, leather vest lay parted, open, revealing all to him, for him. Skin against skin, hands and mouths and bodies hungry from too many days without each other’s sustenance, finally able to enjoy the feast they gladly gave to one another.

Cries and moans, and urgently whispered words masculine and feminine both, filling the room, as bodies moved together rhythmically, gyrating, pumping, pulsing, chasing and reaching completion in each other.

And then, lovers, satiated for now, lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, contentment flowing between them. They’d finally christened the Green Arrow room, she thought absently.

“If you wanted your own costume, Watchtower, you should have told me,” he whispered teasingly against her cheek, his smiling lips pressing a soft kiss there.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, smiling down at him. “No, my green leather fetish is just for you.”

End Oneshot

Anything But Ordinary Chapter 20

2008-12-07T10:51:00.004-06:00

Anything But Ordinary
Chapter 20

No longer concerned about Davis, leaving him to the doctors, Chloe walked numbly toward her fallen heroes “Take him outside! Hurry!” she gestured toward Clark upon seeing him more closely, calling to her bedraggled group of boys as they entered the partially destroyed warehouse. Victor’s robotic arm hung loosely, disconnected against his side, and Chloe winced inwardly at the sight of multi-colored wires like spaghetti strings protruding from his shoulder. Bart was badly bruised, his bottom lip bleeding, his red suit torn in places, but he seemed no worse for wear, thankfully. A.C. was the only one left unscathed. After he’d helped her to stay on her feet, he began tossing debris from both Clark and Oliver as Chloe anxiously looked on until she could reach her Archer and heal him.

She cast worried glances at Bart and Victor. “Are you all right?”

“No worries, chica. Would take more than that fugly bastard to bring Impulse down,” he gestured toward himself, offering her a cocky, puffy-lipped, reassuring grin to prove his point.

“It’s all right, Tower. Doesn’t hurt a bit.” Victor grunted as he reached for Clark with his good hand. “Nothing a good electrician can’t fix.” He and A.C. carried Clark out through the huge hole in the wall and lay him on the soft grass outside, exposing him to healing sunlight.

She felt completely drained, but she dredged up what strength she had left, and sank weakly to her knees beside Oliver, who remained unmoving. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and she noted that his dark glasses must have flown off somewhere. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered, stroking his dirty cheek with trembling fingertips. She closed her eyes, placing her hands over his chest, not certain where his injuries were, thinking they must be internal as there were no other signs of outward injury. The briefest flicker of light emanated from her hands, but nothing more.

Panic and confusion began building and swirling in her belly. She gazed down at Oliver, lifeless as before, and lifted terrified eyes to Bart who knelt opposite. “It’s not working!” Determined, Chloe slipped her hand beneath his shoulders, trying desperately to lift his weight in her arms. Oliver’s head lolled back with the movement, his eyes remained closed. “No! Oliver!” she cried, cradling him, closing her eyes, tears squeezing from beneath her lids slipping down her cheeks. She buried her face against his neck. “Nooo,” her grief-stricken voice emerged muffled against him. “It’s not working!” Brief flashes of static, pulsing light washed over them both and then flickered dead.

Chloe thought she heard Bart’s urgent voice from somewhere far away, but she was beyond hearing, beyond caring about anything else but the man in her arms, and using everything she had left to give him to bring him back to her. She wasn’t aware that Davis Bloom had now begun reacting to the DNA transfer, and once again had started a transformation that no one expected. She didn’t hear the shouts of doctors scrambling for safety around her, the crash of equipment, nor feel the shaking of the ground beneath her, the walls trembling and crumbling around her. Oliver. Her world was full of only him and the desperate need to bring him back to her. Chloe felt a dizziness wash over her, as though she were falling, spinning in a maelstrom of nothingness. Nothing else existed. There was only Oliver.

“Chloe!”

“Let’s get them out of here!” It was Clark’s voice reaching her through the rumbling chaotic din. It was the last thing she heard before blackness overtook her.

The creature appeared unstoppable. Clark called for the other team members to help clear everyone out, and then scooped up both Chloe and Oliver, speeding them a safe distance away. The small group reassembled, and watched as the creature, now equipped with heat vision, burned the warehouse to the ground. He then tipped his monstrous head skyward, and in the blink of an eye he was off the ground and soaring through the air in flight, leaving them awestruck. What had they done? The creature now appeared to have Clark’s abilities, with none of his inhibitions. He was more dangerous now than ever and none of them had any idea where he was headed.

They looked at one another, no one certain what to say. Bart suddenly took off without warning, and was back within a minute. “He’s gone back to the facility. Back to Tess.”

A low moan was heard from the ground. Clark knelt beside Oliver. His eyes flitted open. “Chloe.”

“She’s here, right next to you.” Clark shook his head. “But she’s still out. She tried to heal you…”

“She did,” Oliver groaned holding his head as he moved to a sitting position, hood and glasses forgotten. “But…” he grunted then gasped in pain. “Not completely,” he murmured, briefly searching for her momentarily disoriented, then finding her next to him, he rolled to his side, cupping her cheek. His breathing was labored, fighting against the pain in his leg and throbbing in his head. “Chloe?”

“Keeping Davis immobile took a lot out of her,” Bart offered. “She barely had any juice left to bring your green butt back.”

“She was pretty weak, Ollie,” A.C. interjected. “She might need more time to recover,” he added hopefully.

Oliver didn’t hear them. “Chloe?” His breath caught in a throat that began to constrict with fear. Her skin was cold to the touch. Not the way she was the last time, weak but still conscious, able to talk to him. His gut clenched. Something wasn’t right. “Chloe?”

The others saw his panic rising. “Oliver, let’s get back to the Tower,” Clark soothed. “We’ll figure out what to do then. If Davis went back to Tess, it’s doubtful he’ll do anything right now.”

Oliver lifted his eyes from Chloe to his friends, his face stricken. Words failed him and he simply nodded. Bart and A.C. helped him up, finding he was unable to walk unaided, he leaned on his friends for support as they made their way back to what was left of the parking lot, hoping none of the cars were destroyed. She’d healed him, maybe even brought him back from death. Oliver glanced over his shoulder at Chloe, her limbs hanging limp and lifeless as Clark carried her. She’d come back. She always did, didn’t she? She’d come back to him and he’d take her away, maybe she’d come with him, back to Star City, maybe he’d convince her to be his Watchtower forever. Maybe he’d take her on a vacation somewhere, anywhere but here, someplace they could find some peace for a while. She’d come back. She had to.

* * * * * *

“What do you want?”

“I think you know.”

Tess lifted a manicured brow, knowing she had Oliver Queen right where she wanted him. He hated it. Hated having to come to her for anything. She knew it, and this knowledge gave her an invigorating sense of power.

“What makes you think I’d help you, even if I could?”

Oliver pursed his lips, licking them briefly before glancing away. Three days had passed, and still Chloe remained in some comatose state. Not dead, not alive; hanging somewhere in the balance between life and death in some netherworld that he could neither extricate her from nor enter. He’d stayed by her side, hoping, waiting. He’d flown in the best doctors from around the country to see to her welfare, but nothing and no one could release her from the bonds that held her in that empty place. But Tess; Tess might have some answers. She’d been keeping Davis Bloom hidden, had access to him and to the creature, and Oliver would do anything at this moment. If there was some connection between Davis and Chloe, maybe… just maybe something could be done to help her. Or if not, maybe Tess’s scientists could do something, having worked extensively with the alien beast. Oliver was out of ideas, and Tess was his last resort, his last hope for saving Chloe’s life and bringing her out of her vegetative state, and back among the living. “I have something you want.”

Her eyes thinned, scrutinizing him as she rose from behind her desk, rounding it casually with the sway of her hips. The handsome billionaire looked worn and haggard as though he’d not slept in some time. He sported a fading black eye. Tess knew why he’d come. “And what might that be?”

“Me.” He took a few halting steps toward her desk. His limp was only slightly noticeable now, that and the fading bruise around his eye, evidence of his ordeal against the creature three days ago. “You’ve been wanting my death for some time now, haven’t you?” Oliver shrugged, lifting his arms out beside him in a gesture of surrender. “Now’s your chance.”

“Oh, Oliver.” Tess mocked, her voice laced with faux sympathy. She stepped up closer, her eyes boring into his. “So dramatic. And all for the love of some slip of a girl, who will be nothing but a footnote in the great soap opera of the many loves of Oliver Queen.” She pouted dramatically. “But you take all the joy out of it by making it too easy for me, being so noble and all…”

Oliver stopped her words, shocking her with the strong grip of his fist clutching her collar, and pulling her up by the throat. “Do you want me dead or not?” He ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes were wild, and because he’d not slept in days, his gaze reminded her of one gone mad.

Tess shoved him away, stepping back, surprised and relieved that he’d released her. “Your desperation is showing, Mr. Queen,” she said, trying to sound as noncommittal and unemotional as possible, smoothing her blouse down casually. The truth was, she was shaking inside. She’d never seen him so rattled and undone. “After all you’ve done to me, and to Lex,” she made a haughty sound in the back of her throat. “I’d love nothing more than to see you dead. But you know what I’d enjoy more?” she asked, taking a few steps around him, like a shark circling its prey. “I’d love nothing more than to see you live to suffer over the loss of the woman you love. Yes. That would give me much more pleasure. To watch you grow into some twisted version of yourself as you visit her every day, knowing she can’t hear you, see you or respond to you in any way.” Tess’s eyes began to glaze over with the vision of Oliver peering forlornly at Chloe through some hermetically sealed glass case as though he were an orphan peering through a toy store window at Christmas. She laughed out loud at the thought. “Knowing it’s hopeless, knowing she gave herself for you, and your wretched excuse of a life. Yes. I think I much prefer that a shell of you merely exists in the world, than have you die to save her.”

Oliver swallowed convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing lightly. “Maybe you’re right. But maybe the truth is, you can’t save her, just as you’re unable to control Davis Bloom.”

“My leash is far reaching,” Tess scoffed. “He owes me a great debt. I’m not worried, Mr. Queen. Now, if there’s nothing further to discuss, I believe you know the way out.”

Tess strode back to her desk, taking a seat, leaving Oliver to stand alone, dejected. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, releasing the pent up breath on a soft sigh. It had been a gamble, coming here in the first place, and he silently berated himself for doing it. But, he’d not be thwarted. He’d find a way to get Chloe back. With nothing more to do, he left quietly, returning to his Metropolis penthouse. He’d have to make arrangements to take Chloe back to Star City with him. He’d never give up trying to awaken his sleeping beauty.

Davis Bloom watched from a discreet distance as Queen limped out through the mansion’s double doors and entered his limousine. He waited until the car had pulled away, before entering Tess’s office.

“You didn’t tell me she needed help.”

She didn’t wonder how he’d overheard the conversation as he’d apparently discovered some superhearing ability only yesterday, that along with a few other new tricks he’d picked up somehow. Tess nearly rolled her eyes. She was becoming bored with Bloom’s obsession with Chloe Sullivan. First Queen, then Bloom. Tess couldn’t figure what was so special about the woman. Certainly she was intelligent and useful, but beyond that, Tess couldn’t understand it. “She’s of no consequence to you now, Davis. We’ve got more important work to do. And you’ve only just recuperated from whatever it was they’ve done to you. No need to worry about Ms. Sullivan.”

His eyes flashed red. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t worry about, Ms. Mercer.”

“She’s Oliver Queen’s problem now.”

Davis felt a sense of sadness wash over him and cast his eyes downward. Chloe Sullivan belonged to Oliver Queen, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“You can help her.”

“Maybe. But I won’t.” Tess shrugged, returning her attention to the file in front of her.

Davis looked up at her now, wonderingly, as though he couldn’t fathom why she’d not want to offer her help. “Why not?”

“Are you all right, Davis?” Her brows furrowed at his question. Davis was acting strangely.

“You have to help her!”

“Why should I?”

“Be…because, it’s what you should do.”

“And if I don’t?”

Davis shook his head, clearly becoming agitated and flustered. “But… but you have a healing serum that you’ve developed from her blood. You took her blood when you captured her. You can help her!”

Tess stood abruptly from her chair moving to stand in front of him. His behavior was more than cause for concern. Since when had her killing machine gone soft? “Davis. Davis! Look at me,” she began, waiting until he lifted his eyes to hers. “Those people are our enemies. They’ve hurt us, they’ve done something to you, how can you want to help them?”

He shook his head. “Not them. Chloe.” He said, and in the blink of an eye, the air swirled around her, tossing her hair about her face. Davis was gone. Tess headed toward her desk picking up her cell phone, dialing angrily. This would not do. Whatever they’d done to Davis, she’d put a stop to it.

* * * * * *

Oliver stood on the tarmac, ready to board his private jet. Chloe was already inside, along with a private nurse, two doctors, and medical equipment.

“You’ll let us know as soon as anything changes, right?” Clark asked nervously. He wasn’t certain of the wisdom of having Chloe transported to Star City, but it seemed to ease some of the despondency Oliver felt, and Clark knew she’d be in good hands.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s safer there for her.” He cast a backward glance at the opened jet, dark, tired eyes returned to Clark. “You let me know the same. Just because we haven’t found him yet, doesn’t mean he’s not out there. If that creature shows up again, I’ll do what I can to help.”

Clark pulled a Kryptonian crystal from his jacket pocket, showing it to Oliver. “This might be the only thing we have left that that’ll work.”

Oliver gazed down numbly at the crystal. He wasn’t certain what it was for, and didn’t ask, but if Clark thought it would help, then he’d have to trust him.

Their attention was diverted by shouts coming from the jet. A sidewall of the plane billowed out and exploded, as the creature plowed through it, Chloe’s limp body in its arms.

“Chloe!” Oliver shouted. “No!” He hobbled toward the beast, it’s red eyes glowing, it stared at Oliver momentarily, and then gazed down at the small woman in its arms. Lifting its head once more it let out a deep growl. “Clark! Do something! Use that damned alien crystal!”

“I can’t! That thing’s got Chloe, if I use it now, it’ll take her to the Phantom Zone too.”

Before Oliver could answer there was a whoosh of air, and it was gone, Clark taking off in hot pursuit.

“Mr. Queen!” It was the nurse running toward him. Oliver turned, dumbstruck over what he’d seen and his inability to react or do anything about it. “Mr. Queen,” she struggled for breath. “He said… he said he was taking her to Tess… to her facility... and that… that you should follow him. Does that mean anything to you? Does that make sense? And then…. and then he just… transformed. Oh, it was terrible! Mr. Queen?”

Oliver blinked. “Yes. Makes perfect sense. Thanks,” he said doing his best to trot with a banged up knee, over quickly to where his car was parked.

It was growing dark by the time he reached the site. He drove like a maniac to the facility, but upon exiting the car he wondered if he’d been too late. There was extensive damage to the exterior. Having no time to gear up, Oliver simply retrieved his compound bow from the car, and made his way inside. It was quiet. Too quiet; as though he’d come upon the aftermath of some disaster, or perhaps it was the calm before the storm? Oliver tread carefully down a corridor, pivoting swiftly around the corner, bow at the ready. His heart pounding wildly with every step he took, he entered the main lab, his eyes widening in horror at the bloodbath before him. Several people in white coats covered in blood, lay strewn about the room, their bodies torn and shredded. Equipment upturned and surgical instruments helter-skelter everywhere he turned. He scanned for any sign of Chloe, thinking he’d wretch at any moment at the sight of such human devastation, when a loud screeching noise sounded on the air, and Oliver, almost grateful to be out of the room, headed toward it. It lead to the opposite side of the building seeming to come from outside.

Shouldering an exit door open, he came upon the sight of the beast, still clutching Chloe’s pajama clad body in one arm about the waist, her body slung over, arms and legs dangling, her golden hair tousled over her head. Dread and fear rioted within him at the sight of her, but he needed to remain calm. Someone called his name softly, and Oliver moved toward the sound finding Clark some twenty feet away, tossed carelessly to the ground near some underbrush. Oliver crept over toward Clark, crouching low, keeping his eyes on the creature who continued to howl as though in pain.

“What happened?” Oliver whispered breathlessly, sinking to his knees beside his friend, panicked eyes still on Chloe, searching for signs that she was unharmed.

“He’s killed everyone inside…” Clark gasped. “He made them do something to her. Injected her with something, I don’t know what…” Clark swallowed, wincing in pain. “I couldn’t stop them. Too much Kryptonite in the room…. Then, when nothing happened he went berserk. Everyone’s dead.”

“How’d you get out here?”

Clark motioned with his head toward a gaping hole in the side of the building. “He tossed me through it.” He shook his head. “I can’t beat him. He’s stronger than me, has my abilities, only more powerful.”

“He might be strong, but he has a weakness,” Oliver said, his voice determined, rising to his feet. “Chloe.”

“No. Wait. Oliver…”

“Davis!” A shout sounded from the building exit, causing both men to turn toward the voice. It was Tess. She waited until the creature lifted his head in her direction, a low growl escaping its throat. “Put her down.” Tess moved slowly toward him. “Come inside,” she continued, her tone soothing. “We’ll fix her. We’ll fix her and then you can keep her, all right? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The creature only growled more loudly at this, tossing its head from side to side.

“I promise.” Tess stepped closer, stealthily slipping a pistol loaded with Kryptonite tipped bullets from behind her, tucked in the waistband of her jeans. “Your own little pet. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Bitch,” Oliver muttered beneath his breath as he listened to Tess. She hadn’t seen them near the bushes in the growing darkness, and he had half a mind to send an arrow flying in her direction.

“Easy Oliver,” Clark warned. “Just wait. Watch him. I think he’s listening to her.”

“Come on,” Tess crooned, urging him as though talking to a petulant child. “Come on, put her down. That’s it. Easy.”

The beast lowered Chloe to the ground carefully, and Oliver was struck by the tenderness it seemed to show her, even stroking her cheek as he settled her onto the soft earth.

The beast lifted its head once more, and as it did, Tess fired off six shots in rapid succession. The Kryptonite bullets penetrated the creature’s gray cast skin, but did not stop him. Enraged, it flew at Tess. Oliver fired off several arrows in a vain attempt to stop it, but it clawed at her, and flung her around tossing her into the brick wall, her limp body falling to the ground in a broken heap after impact. The beast, satisfied that Tess was no longer a threat, stomped back toward where he’d left Chloe, finding Oliver already kneeling at her side. He’d removed his leather jacket covering her against the chilled night air. The monster simply stared at them with those red eyes, a low, almost ghostly sound emerging from its chest. Oliver stared back wide eyed, slowly, carefully gathering Chloe in his arms. He wouldn’t attempt any sudden moves, but now he’d just made himself a sitting duck. The beast could easily attack them now, but for some reason, he didn’t, and Oliver, his pulse pounding, body frozen, could do nothing but wait for the killing blow. Still, the beast did nothing, and Oliver wondered if he’d let them go. Adjusting Chloe in his arms, he rose to his feet, never taking his eyes from the beast. Seeing that it made no move toward him, Oliver took one step back, then another, inching further away. Red glowing eyes simply watched him.

Slowly the creature turned its head in Clark’s direction, as though expecting him, as though knowing what lay ahead. A blue-white beam of light hit him, and Oliver watched, awestruck as Clark held up the crystal in his hand. The creature spread his arms, and lifted his head, emitting a heart-rending howl, as he seemed to accept his fate, and his entire body swirled before Oliver’s eyes, the crystal like a vacuum, pulling, drawing the creature’s body inside, and then abruptly sealing itself up.

Exhausted, Clark fell to his knees, and slipped the crystal back into his pocket.

“Ollie?” Chloe’s soft voice broke the silence. He blinked and looked down at her in his arms, relief flooding him.

“Chloe,” he could barely breath, so overcome with emotion at her recovery. “It’s all right now. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, gladly accepting his every kiss.

End Chapter 20

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