Reaction Time (Part Four)

Spoilers for Persuasion, some hintings at Conspiracy.

Didn't there look to be about three dozen roses in that vase? Thought I'd play with that.

PART FOUR

The first came Friday around noon.

She was curled up, sleeping and shivering, under a thin throw on the Watchtower's sofa. She'd been too lazy to bother with better blankets, having collapsed after a night of what can best be described as a porn binge, though maybe not for the usual reasons.

Chloe Sullivan, who never had an adventurous sexual experience in her life had spent the night poring over sex positions, tips and tricks, even how-to videos until her eyes burned. Research never hurt. She was not going into this blind. If she was going to have "fun" with Oliver Queen than she'd better give as good as she got.

Not that she thought she was absolutely terrible. Jimmy certainly never complained. Sure, he had more adventurous ideas than she did, but he never quite got to them. He had a tendency to giggle whenever he tried. She was always rather relieved. The fuzzy handcuffs, she was particularly glad to see go.

She'd felt a sudden flash of guilt in the middle of copious note-taking on the Kama Sutra that she was putting forth the kind of effort for Oliver that she never did for the man she married. But that was exactly why. She'd loved Jimmy. She'd married him, hadn't she? When you love someone, sex isn't important. It doesn't have to be earth shattering. It's about the connection, about building a life. Sex is such a tiny part of that life together.

This wasn't about that. This was about hedonism and sweat and all the things she'd never pictured herself doing. She could picture it with Oliver... or at least she could picture Oliver. She was kind of a blurry face in these heated fantasies, which lasted until she dropped to the sofa, prompting fitful dreams where Oliver, bare-chested in fly-fishing suspenders, pulled her out of a lake, slapped her onto a dock, shoved his tongue down her throat, then tossed her back in repeatedly as the water lit up with a loud buzzing noise as if she was a decidedly bad fish.

This led to her waking up with a suffocated gasp and wondering why her damned dreams couldn't be sexier. Then she registered that the insistent buzzing was real and shot upward, wondering why anyone would have to buzz. The guys had access and nobody had any reason to buzz her unless... Was it Thursday?

She looked around her, gasping louder at the dirty images still flashing on every screen. She was not ready for it to be Thursday! Victor wasn't coming by till Wednesday to help box the equipment. This place couldn't be appraised looking like a techno war room, let alone with screens full of porn and...

She shook herself and realized that it couldn't be Thursday if Wednesday hadn't happened yet. Friday. It was Friday. She had nearly a week. So who the hell was that? She hurriedly shut down two of the monitors and rushed to the call box, trying to ignore the man that was still moaning as "Dirty Debbie" turned to the camera, stopping her ministrations to explain about firm grasping at the base of the co...

"Yes? Who is it?" she said, quickly letting up on the button after. Whoever they were, they didn't need to hear that.

"Delivery for Chloe Sullivan."

She narrowed her eyes and rushed to the monitors, shutting down Debbie's antics as well as the plaintive Hindi music that accompanied the pictorial Kama Sutra slideshow. This was no time for sex. If someone was going to deliver something to Chloe Sullivan, they'd do it at The Talon, not here, which was in her name, but not an address of public record.

"Should I come up?"

"No!" she shouted, then realized that wasn't doing much good from across the room. She rushed back to the box and pressed the button. "No. I'll be right down."

She rolled her neck, wishing she'd thought to pull out the couch bed before she started on her "research." Now she had a stiff neck, a stiff everything, and God knows who out front. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out her gun, then moved to the monitor and pulled up the street cam. It was a male, looked to be young and skinny and... sort of bored, if the way he was clutching a long white box with a green bow and rolling his eyes was any indication. He stabbed at the callbox. "Ma'am? I have kind of a full morning, so..."

She rushed to the intercom and pressed the button. "Right down. Who's it from?"

"From Conroy's flowers."

She glanced at the monitor, saw a bike on the sidewalk with a helmet dangling from the front and a black, padded bag on the back with the department store's signature C on the back. Seemed legit. But who...

"Who ordered it?"

He groaned and glanced down at the box. "I don't know. I didn't open it. Can't I just..."

"Just leave it on the steps. I'll be down."

"Good," he groused. "Thank you, Ma'am," he said into the intercom before tossing it down.

She watched him ride off and moved out the doors to the elevator, tucking her gun into her waistband. She was aware that she might be overreacting, but with a bunch of nameless aliens, most of which she was now giving names to, roaming around Metropolis, it didn't pay to get complacent.

Though she didn't believe a white box with a green bow would shove a pole through her gut, it might contain...

She nearly laughed as she descended to the ground floor. Green bow. No one but Oliver would be sure it had a green bow this close to Valentine's and this far from St. Patrick's Day.

Still, she gave the rather long box a shake when she finally picked it up from the stoop. Something shuffled, but nothing ticked. That was a good sign. She tore the bow off in the elevator and gave it one more cautious rattle before she pulled the top off.

Roses. Longstemmed red roses. A dozen of them in a bed of green with one tiny speck of white hiding between the stems. She pulled at it. A card.

For "this girl."
Your move.
O.

She chewed her lower lip. He was onto her, frantic tap dance or no.

Once upstairs, she laid the box on her desk, staring at the red roses, wondering what "her move" should be. She pulled them from the box and breathed them in. She'd never been sent a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Jimmy always picked out a pretty and colorful arrangement, but there was something about the simplicity of red roses set in the bed of deep green that seemed to indicate... desire.

She buried her heated face in them. She was desired. She was desirable. A giddy teenager was squealing inside her that Oliver Queen wanted to have SEX with her. She pulled them away and took a deep breath. She was a grown-up. So that was enough of that. She'd known since he pressed his erection against her back in this very room that he wanted to. The roses did, however, help seal it for her. She caressed one, smiling to herself.

She picked up her cell phone and texted, knowing he wouldn't see it until he landed, and went in search of a vase.

The call came in the afternoon. She took a deep breath before picking up, giggling just a little now, wondering how he'd answer her move.

"Oliver," she said in a cheery voice. "Having a nice lunch?"

"Listen, I'm on my... How did you know?"

"Well, you're two hours behind. Must be noon there. Figured they'd finally let you out for lunch."

"Just barely," he growled. "Thought you might be surveilling or monitoring or something."

Her lips thinned. "Yes, Oliver. There's a miniscule camera on your lapel pin and I've been watching your every move."

"I'm not wearing a lapel pin."

"Oh, drat," she said blandly. "Foiled again."

"Okay. Don't act like you'd never do that."

"Yeah. FYI, I monitor when no one gets back to me and I'm envisioning you lying in a ditch somewhere. But I'll just stop and that way, when you really are lying in a ditch somewhere, you can just rot there and..."

"Jesus! Fine. Monitor away. I don't even care. I just... I've been locked in a board room since I touched down and I hardly had any sleep and they're trying to shut down five satellite offices and put about a thousand people out of work and they're treating me like..." His voice became garbled and she could hear chewing. "...spppllltttrrrrch haven't been that affftvgggniiinthh company and what the hell did you mean by that?"

"By what?" she snapped, her good mood completely disintegrated.

"Great Idea," he sneered. "They really liven up the place. You know what? I don't have time for this. I've got a busy weekend here and I'm not a mind reader, so why don't you just cut the crap and tell me..."

"That's great. Why don't you get back to being really busy and important and leave me alone." She hung up, fuming.

I don't have time for this. So why did he f*cking call?

She moved to the side table, ready to pick up the vase and toss it to the floor with extreme prejudice when her phone rang again. She knew it was him and she debated not picking it up, but she strode back to it, pushed talk and took a deep breath, preparing to tell him just...

"Hi. I'm an assh*le."

She closed her mouth, considering she was about to say the same thing.

"This isn't going well and I'm frustrated and I'm taking it out on you. They're treating me like some little rich boy who's just here to sign his name and I'm starting to think they're right. I'm no good at the business part of this."

Her anger disippated in a sigh. "Oliver, I'm sure that's not true."

"No. It's true. I never was. Half the reason I started getting out there as Green Arrow is because I hate this sh*t."

"This sh*t is what's funding our efforts."

"Exactly. It's a means to an end." He groaned. "I don't know. Maybe I should let them shut down the East coast satellite offices. If it cuts costs, then..."

"But you said that would put people out of work. And in this economy. Could you live with that?"

He was silent for a moment. "Not easily."

"So don't do it. Tell them to find another way."

"I can't just march in there and tell these people what to do."

"Really?" She had to laugh. "Because I thought you owned Queen Industries."

He chuckled. "You have a way of cutting right through the bullsh*t... at least sometimes."

Her smile faltered.

"Chloe?" His voice was rather low and a shiver snaked its way up her spine. "what did you mean by that text?"

She swallowed hard. "Just what I said. They're just... They're really pretty. And it's a great idea, brightening up the place and..."

"I didn't send them to spruce up The Watchtower," he cut in. "I sent them to you. For you. I just... I wanted you to have them."

Her smile returned and she glanced back at the vase, glad she hadn't smashed it.

"Mr. Queen?" a distant voice called. "They're ready to..."

"Yeah. Hold on," he said, an edge to his voice. "I need to go. I have about a million more hours in there if I'm really going to consider fighting this."

"I just bet you really are," she said. "You're a fighter, Oliver."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "So you've said."

"Well, that's not just confined to heroics."

"Mr. Queen?"

"Okay! Just a second... Listen, I'll call you tonight."

He didn't, but she didn't mind, really. She dreamed of rose petals that night, falling from his hands to her body before he covered her...

**************

The next came Saturday.

This time she went downstairs to meet the surly kid with the bike, wondering what he had for her today. There was the same long rectangular box with a green ribbon, but there was also a square one.

"They just give me the deliveries," he said tiredly when she asked after it. "We have combo deals and stuff for Valentines Day, so maybe it's like that. I don't know."

He didn't seem to care, either. But she took the boxes, smelling something besides flowers, something rich and just a little nutty... and sweet... and full bodied.

She could smell coffee grounds across a three-block radius, so the fact that it was coffee was no secret. But the smell was so busy. It had her shoving a twenty into his hand and tearing the smaller box open with relish on the way to the elevator, wondering what kind of coffee packed all that.

It was better than she imagined. Four coffees. All from costa rica. Dark roast, hazelnut, coconut, and german chocolate. It was like a feast for her nose and she was trying to decide which to taste first when a card fell out.

I know what makes you feel good.
Trust me.
O.

She leaned against the elevator wall, her knees weakening. It was just so inescapably, blatantly sexual. What was she supposed to say to that?

She had to think of something sooner rather than later because her cell was buzzing on the desk as soon as she got upstairs. She almost didn't answer. She needed more time. It wasn't just about the game. It was about the fact that he was on the other coast for another day at least and if they really got into this now, she'd go insane with waiting and...

She put her boxes down and pushed talk, figuring she was already there anyway if she was getting turned on by coffee. "Oliver," she said, trying not to sound breathless.

"Did you get it?" he said by way of a greeting.

"Oh, the coffee?" She said as casually as she could.

"And the flowers."

"Yes to both." She pulled the new dozen from the box. "You're spoiling me."

"If anyone deserves to be spoiled, it's you."

"Is that your way of telling me I work too hard?"

"It's my way of telling you I wish I was there right now to spoil you in person."

Jesus. She did, too.

"I'm just getting ready to leave, but I... I meant to call you last night."

"You probably had a long day and you said you were tired. I get it."

"I know. I just really wanted to talk to you," he said in a sinfully low voice.

"You mean about the meetings? How'd they go?" She moved towards the side table, thinking that would buy her a little more reaction time.

"No. About the... Oh. They went well," he said, his voice brightening a bit. She smiled, glad he took the bait. "I won't bore you with the details, but I've finally got them thinking of shutting down some of the medical research divisions instead. Most of the work was theoretical and wasn't getting results, plus it's highly skilled labor and they shouldn't have trouble finding other work. We just have to figure out which divisions, so it's going to be another long day."

She grinned as she started slipping the new batch of roses with the others. "Told you you were the boss."

"Does being the boss mean I get what I want?"

She stilled, one blooom falling from her fingers. Was he really going to get into this? when he was about a thousand miles away? But if he really wanted to play... "Depends on what you want."

"Well... I'm working awfully hard to bring home the bacon for our cause. I wouldn't mind being a little spoiled when I get home."

She grinned to herself. "Maybe the guys and I should go in on some cupcakes and a plaque."

He chuckled. "Tempting. But I'd rather be spoiled by just you."

"Ah. I get it. Should I greet you with flowers and fancy coffee?"

"You don't have to greet me with anything... clothes, even."

She moved to her desk and sat, choosing her words carefully. "Just as well. I don't know your size."

He laughed again. "Okay. How about if I asked for a full-body massage?"

"Man or woman?"

"Excuse me?"

"Those ads are all over the city papers. Just tell me if you want a man or a woman and I'll set it up." She moved to put her feet up. This was kind of fun.

"I want a woman, then. A blonde one with short hair and short legs and a way with technology."

She decided to let the "short legs" comment slide for now. "Technology? Is she going to slap electrodes on you? Jeez, Oliver. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were kind of kinky. Maybe I should make myself scarce."

"Oh, no. You'll need to be there. How else would you get your massage?"

"Maybe I don't want a massage."

"You'll want this one. By the time it's over, there won't be an ounce of tension in your body."

By God, she believed him. She took a moment to marvel at the fact that she was damned near having phone sex with Oliver, then decided she needed to say something. "And here I thought you were the one getting spoiled."

"I think you need more... spoiling than I do. Like hours and hours of it, just to even it out."

She snorted. "I might need years of spoiling to be even with you."

"Then we'd better start as soon as I get back."

"I'll make the arrangements. Short blonde for you and... Well, we never specified who's going to tend to me."

"I'm thinking a blonde for you, but a tall one. Business type with that just-got-off-a-long-flight look."

"You really think that's what I need?"

"Definitely. In fact, I'll make sure he's at your door by about seven Metropolis time."

She had half a mind to hire a short blonde actress just to mess with him. But she wouldn't. She was pretty sure she'd be more interested in tearing his suit off by then... or now. "Hope he's good," she said, all breath.

"He's very good. Trust me on that."

She did. She didn't trust Oliver in every way, but on this... She took her feet down and crossed her legs. She felt so strange and... wet. She could feel it and she took a moment to reflect that she'd not often been wet from anything short of massive clitoral stimulation. If he could do this with nothing more than words, then... "I'm pretty tense right now."

"Aren't we all," he muttered. There was a clicking noise. "Damn it! That's probably my car. I... F*ck this. Chloe, I can cut it short today. I don't need to take that flight tomorrow. I can use the company jet. One flight is not going to deplete the world of all fossil fuels. I can..."

"No, you can't," she cut in, hating every word. "Oliver, you and I both know there are more important things going on." There was silence. "And you and I both know that tomorrow's not too far away," she said in a softer voice. "So go on."

"Fine," he said after a while. "But I have a condition."

"Uh... What?"

"You'll get it tomorrow." He chuckled. "The condition... among other things." He hung up.

Oh, boy.

*************************

The third came Sunday at dusk. She'd been in the middle of making a few choice modifications to the last batch of IDs for their Kandorian "friends" as well as turning off all security systems at Hubbs Marine Research Facility for AC when the buzzer rang. Her skin tangled at the sound and she wondered if she'd been programmed like Pavlov's dogs. She brought up the sidewalk cameras on the screen to her left. It was him. Not Oliver, but the surly guy with the bike and another two boxes, which was as close to him as she could get right now as he was probably flying over Idaho.

She ran to the buzzer. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Take your time, Miss."

She drew back. No testiness? No Ma'am? She'd been expecting even more of that today, when he must have been slammed with deliveries. Then she remembered the twenty she'd shoved at him yesterday and chuckled. Money was a hell of a motivator, she supp...

"Dude, Watchtower?" AC's voice rang in her ear. "I'm kinda treading water, here."

"Jesus," she hissed, rushing back to the console. "Sorry. I'm on it. Just a few more..." She absently wondered if sex was a more effective motivator than money because her fingers were flying over the keyboard and she'd cleared AC to stop any and all Dolphin abuse at Hobbs in a mere two minutes.

By the time she rifled through her purse and got downstairs, the guy was grinning at her. "Happy Valentine's Day. I believe you're recieving a gift from our promotional package with Lacey's. I made sure to ask just in case." He smiled again and held out the packages... and his hand.

She sighed and slapped a twenty into it with a "Thanks," hoping Oliver didn't make this a habit. She'd go broke.

Not that she cared at the moment, her curiosity was so piqued. Lacey's was a rather pricey department store and, to her knowledge, didn't sell candy. She was so expecting candy.

She moved into the elevator, tucking the long box under her arm to study the very flat one. She shook it and something sort of slid. She pulled at the bow and her stomach dropped as something black slithered out and billowed to the floor. Her stomach dropped a little further when she saw it wasn't one thing, but two things. A camisole and a pair of tap pants. both so lacey and transparent they might as well have not existed. She bent to pick them up and noticed a third thing that had slithered out as the doors slid open: a card. Not just a card. A condition.

This or nothing.
Those are your only choices.
O.

She tried to busy herself with putting the new dozen in with its pals, but kept staring back at her desk, at the loungerie, her insides fluttering. They still fluttered as she attempted to concentrate on finishing up with Clark's Kandorian homework. She wasn't sure if she was scared or giddy. On the one hand, she was going to have sex tonight, wild, crazy, sweaty sex the likes of which she'd never had. On the other, she was going to have sex tonight. It might seem like she was looking at the same hand, but she hadn't had sex since before her wedding over a year ago. And despite putting her mind to sex research like a test was coming, she had little hands-on experience with someone like Oliver Queen... or none.

There was also the vague rumblings from that leftover encyclopedia inside her about the effects of oxytocin on women and how orgasm triggered it and...

She needed a walk.

So she took one and almost immediately realized what a mistake that was. She was surrounded... no. She was bombarded with couples. Couples strolling hand-in-hand, couples in horse-drawn carriages, couples standing on corners gazing at each other. It wasn''t what she needed right now. It might give her ideas and she didn't want...

"Bethany, I can't stand it anymore. I want to be with you all the time."

Chloe rolled her eyes at the couple now blocking her favorite coffee cart.

"Me, too, Jared. But my son... I can't uproot him to Minneapolis. All of my family's here."

She stopped herself from interrupting them. This was getting dramatic.

"Then I'll find work here," Jared said intently. "I can't be without you another second."

"And start over?" Bethany said tearfully. "You just got promoted. They are going to send you all over the world. I can't ask you to give that up for..."

Jared took her face in his hands. "Bethany, you are... my world."

She found herself snorting and hid it behind a cough. They turned to her, looking rather annoyed, and she quickly moved away, giggling to herself. It wasn't that the romantic struggles of Jared and Bethany were so hilarious, it was just that she'd suddenly envisioned Oliver tenderly stroking her face and calling her his world and... She laughed harder as she approached her building again, figuring she didn't need to go for coffee when she still had two bags of gourmet grounds upstairs.

She felt lighter as she moved upstairs, realizing that she really wasn't in any danger of getting ideas. She smiled and moved to the roses on the side table, now three-dozen strong. They may be roses and this may be Valentine's Day, but this was Oliver Queen, the kind of playboy that made Colin Farrell look like a virgin. And she was Chloe Sullivan, the kind of girl that was really too smart to be that stupid.

She was going to have sex, lots and lots of what she fully expected to be mind-blowing, toe-curling sex. She was not going to overthink this and ruin it for herself. She'd learned long ago from dealing with Clark that reading too much into things was just...

There was a tell-tale whoosh as she moved to her desk with her purse. Speaking of Clark...

She braced herself and pasted on a smile as she took off her coat. She was in a good mood. She was going to continue being in a good mood. She was going to make an effort with him. Maybe things had been strained, but she could try to forget that for a while. She was going to have sex... no. She was going to have great sex tonight. She was filled with good will, even for Clark. "Hey. I was going to ask you for the lowdown on your V-day with Lois, but something about you being here with me tells me it didn't go over so well."

"Do you have the passports and ID cards ready?"

She was hardly surprised. "Hello, Chloe." wasn't something she'd heard from him since... she couldn't remember when. But it didn't hurt less. "Or we could get right down to business," she said, striding away as her good will slipped. "All the materials you would ever need," she began, grabbing the envelope she had ready for him, "to escape your life and start a new one."

"Thanks, Chloe. You're a lifesaver."

She'd appreciate the sentiment more if it was anything but lipservice. "If by that, you mean sweet on the outside and empty in the middle, that's pretty much exactly how I feel right now."

"Look, I realize you're not on board with me helping the Kandorians."

She wondered if she should bother explaining herself better. He couldn't even make smalltalk with her these days. It was in and out, info in hand, hardly a pleasantry when it used to be so... She decided to drop it. What was the point of attempting to interact on a personal level? Maybe there just was no personal level with them anymore. If that was how he wanted it...

"You know how it is." She leaned on her desk and turned away. "You find out one of them skewers you in the post-apocalyptic future, you kind of lose interest." She glanced back at him, wondering if her death was even a concern of his these days. It might be. It would be inconvenient, at the least -- or the most.

"It seems I may have overlooked some of their mistakes," he said, almost casually.

"Mistakes? By mistakes, do you mean them building a tower to give themselves powers so they can take over the world?"

"I'm going to lead them to a better place," he said, sounding annoyed.

"The tower will be completed in two days," she said, annoyed herself. "Granted, they haven't got the satellites up and running to change the atmosphere, but... Come on, Clark. We both know one of them killed your father." Maybe that would affect him since her impending death hardly made a dent. "Look, maybe it would be safer if we sent the Kandorians to the Phantom Zone." It was the very thing he'd wanted to do with Davis. She'd stopped him, then, thinking she could take care of things in a more humane way. And look what happened. Now he was about to make the same mistake she had. If he couldn't be concerned for her, then maybe he could at least learn from her mistakes.

"I know that you're saying that because you want to protect people," he said softly, looking down and for just a second, she hoped it was sinking in, that he'd listen to her as he used to. He could at least give her that if being a friend was off the table. But he looked up, his eyes hard. "But right now, I want you to focus on watching my back."

All feelings of hurt vanished suddenly. What was she thinking, pouting over hugs and hellos? That wasn't what Clark needed. He needed her to watch his back. It was all so clear now. Nothing else mattered.

"Leave the rest of the planet to me," she heard him say as he turned away.

"Clark," she burst out. He stopped. "I will protect you," she said, meaning every word, "no matter what it takes."

She watched him leave, taking this pointless week with him. Where had mind been lately? Mourning about fun? Thinking about sex? She'd been right in what she said to Oliver yesterday. There were more important things than... Oliver. She shook herself. She had to focus. Focus on watching his back. No wonder Clark had been so strange with her. She wasn't doing what she had to. That changed, starting now. She stared around her at her monitors, thinking of Clark, of his secret and his weaknesses and how much of that was stored in these very walls right now.

That would be the first thing to change. This place was on lock-down.

She wasn't sure how much time ad passed, but she was deep in encryption when a hiss of air broke her concentration. She whirled to the doors as they opened on Oliver in a rumpled suit and a smile.

"Daddy's ho..." His face fell. "Damn you, Sullivan. You didn't meet my condition."

She gave him a withering look and turned back to her monitors. "I've been busy."

"Well, I haven't. I've been sitting on a miserable, packed commercial flight that had to deplane in Wyoming because some chick actually fainted and hit her head when her doofy boyfriend proposed on loudspeaker, then I forgot to charge my damned phone, so I couldn't even play Tetris to make the time go faster and they didn't even give us peanuts on the flight, so I'm starving. But you know what got me through it?"

She could feel him behind her, but she didn't turn. She didn't have time for this. Clark needed...

"The thought of a certain blonde in a certain lacey, little thing or in... nothing but a smile."

She felt his breath on her neck and her fingers faltered. She shook herself. "Oliver, I'm trying to work."

"So am I. But I guess I need to work a little harder." Her fingers gave up altogether when she felt his lips just behind her ear, then his tongue. It felt so... No!

She whirled on him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He drew back, his eyes wide. "Not this again," he groaned. "Okay, Chloe. You're gonna have to help me out, here. Because if this is another game, I'm not exactly in the mood for it."

"That makes two of us," she said through clenched teeth. "Didn't you hear me? I need to work, damn it! I need to protect Clark. Do you even know what's going on out there?"

He peered closely at her. "I've been out of the loop. I told you. My phone..." He straightened. "Okay. Is he hurt? Do you still have my spare gear in the..."

"No, but he could be." Her mind grew hazy. What exactly was she protecting him from? It was... I need you to focus on watching me back. His words cleared her mind. It didn't matter from what. It could be anything. "The Kandorians, Tess, Zod, any number of things... And I need to watch his back." She turned back to her console, but he appeared at the side.

"Well, what's changed? Last I knew, he had you making IDs and he was trying to help them blend in and..."

"Nothing's changed," she snapped, trying to keep her mind on her work.

"Then I don't see why we can't," her world spun and she found herself against him, "take a little break." He ran his hands up her back.

"Oliver..."

"Wow, you are tense." he smiled. "Don't worry. I'm all over this." She froze as he slid both hands down and gripped what he found. A haze stole over her mind again as he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "You know, I'm not technically an ass man, but you could convert me."

She gripped his shoulders. She wanted to... She... "No!" She ripped herself away and rushed to the stairs, gripping the railing. "I need to focus. I need to focus on Clark," she growled. "It's the only thing that matters."

He was silent. So was she, trying to get a grip.

"Here's the thing," he said quietly. "I know the both of us have carried our torches in the past, but... I'm putting mine down, Chloe. And you... I thought you were long over Clark."

"You think this is about some crush?" she spat. "I'm not that stupid anymore. This is about the work. The work is what matters."

He threw up his hands. "I'm not saying the work doesn't matter. But I seem to remember a certain girl sighing into her scotch about having a good time and I've been trying my damnedest to give you that good time, but first you're clueless, then you're... scared or something. Now you're... I don't know what you are now."

"I'm focused. That's what I am now. And I was never clueless, Oliver," she sneered. "I've known what you've been up to from the start. Maybe I was scared for a bit, but now... It all seems pointless. Seriously, you get your jollies and maybe I get mine, too. Then what? What does it even accomplish?"

He didn't answer, just stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "So this whole time..."

"Don't you get it? None of that matters. Clark's in danger every second. Now you can either help me or stay out of may way so I can..."

"That," he cut in coldly. "I pick that one."

She watched him stalk out. Her feet started after him before she stopped them, turning back to her monitors. She was relieved. Definitely relieved. She had to finish up here, then find Clark. He could already be in danger. She didn't need Oliver's help. She didn't need Oliver.


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