Action Time (Chapter Two)

When she opened the front door, she rushed to the mailbox and jammed her key in. Between email, snail mail, and frantic calls to First National, she'd been checking every medium for weeks and today was no different. Sadly, today really was no different than a slew of days before it. Her entire body deflated as she found nothing but an Alberto's Pizza circular she suspected every box in the building had.

"You almost shut the door right on me," she heard behind her, reminding her of the tall, still-annoyed blonde behind her. "I wonder why you're in such a hurry."

Well, he wasn't the only blonde who was still annoyed. "Didn't you know? My mailbox key activates a secret trap door. Very handy with unwanted visitors."

"Funny."

She shoved the pizza coupons at his chest and strode to the elevator, bouncing between indignation and shame.

She understood. She really did understand why he was angry. She'd had her reasons for keeping the weapons largely secret, but that didn't mean he didn't have a point. She understood that siphoning money from Q.I. was wrong, wrong, wrong. But she wouldn't have done it if she didn't have a way to get the money back. And she did. She'd even explain every bit of it to him right now if he would just stop being so...

"See, you press the button to call the elevator. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were stalling."

She punched the button hard, then, and turned to him. "Happy?" she snipped before turning back to stare at the doors.

She'd told him everything and he was still insisting she was hiding more. How much free time did he think she had, babysitting all of them day and night? The damned weapons were about all she'd done with what time she'd had... Well, that and a side of him for the past few weeks. And she was nearly ready to say no to seconds... or fifths. Whatever. And still, only nearly.

She tapped her foot until the elevator dinged, then squeezed in before the door had fully opened, not really caring if he followed right now, though she knew he would. And he did, stepping in and pulling at her arm until she turned around. "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" she echoed, reaching past him and pushing the PH button.

"Last I checked, I was the one who got their money borrowed," he sneered, "while I was shut out as somehow unworthy, so you don't get to be pissy, here. And, another thi...."

"ACCESS DENIED."

Oliver jumped, still clutching her arm. "What the..."

"Crap! Victor warned me about this," she muttered, pulling away from him. "What was the new protoc... Oh, yeah." She pressed her thumb to a tiny screen that slid out on the other side of the doors, sighing in relief as it lit up. The whole elevator did, filling with blue light.

"VERIFY," a mottled, computerized woman commanded.

"Chloe Sullivan, password 0,5... um...." She took a deep breath and pulled a takeout receipt out of her coat pocket, reading some of the digits she'd scribbled there yesterday. "um... 1,4,0.9." Blue light surrounded her, moving up and down for what seemed like a good, long while.

"VOCAL AND BIO-ANALYSIS CONFIRMED," the voice finally said, before booming SECOND OCCUPANT.

The blue light seemed to zero on Oliver and he jumped backward.

"Calm down. It's fine."

"How is this..."

She grabbed his hand and pressed his thumb to the lit pad.

"VERIFY."

"Oliver Queen," she prodded.

"I know my name," he hissed. "Do I have a password or am I not allowed here either?"

She shoved her receipt at him and pointed to the second line.

"Password 0, 6, 2...."

"ACCESS DENIED"

She groaned and pressed his thumb to the screen again. "It's 0,6,7,5...."

"Your sevens look like twos. You're supposed to put a line..."

"Could you stop nitpicking and verify?"

"VERIFY," the computerized demanded in echo.

"Oliver Queen," he sighed, staring at the receipt. "0,6, SEVEN, 5, 1, 8... but I might be wrong," he added on a mutter, "considering..."

She slapped his arm as the blue light surrounded him.

He froze, his arms at his sides. "Just so you know," he said, staring ahead, "this has kind of ruined any ideas I might have had about elevator sex."

"I don't see why," she said levelly. "I do have clearance to erase the footage." She stiffened as he turned his head, giving her a sort of heated smirk, sort of wishing she hadn't said that. She didn't want him to think she wanted to have sex with him at the moment. Of course, she did, this moment and most moments. But he didn't need to know that.

"VOCAL AND BIO-ANALYSIS CONFIRMED," the voice announced, making them both jump as the elevator returned to its dimly lit state and started its slow journey to the top floor with a slight jolt.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Yeah. That's not a mood killer at all. Please don't tell me Vic's got the entire building wired with this."

"I'm not clear on all Victor's upgrades, but I know he thought preventing unwanted visitors on the top floor was the most..."

"Ten to one, if we tried it, this chick," he cut in, nodding to the ceiling, "would sense an attack and vaporize us both."

"Then I guess we won't," she said stiffly.

"Well, not here."

"Maybe not anywhere," she muttered.

"Okay. Really?" He moved in front of her. "Once again, I think, of all the people on this elevator, only one of us gets to be mad. And I think I'm taking this pretty well."

"So demanding to see what else I'm hiding even when I told you many times I told you everything... That's taking it well?"

"You know what? When Emil charged a damned Apple store to my 'special account' even though I wasn't in the game, I looked the other way. In the end, I got that it was for the good. I did. When you and the rest of our merry men played your high stakes games to get me back, I knew it was for the best. But now... I mean, what does it take for you to actually trust me? If you'd come to me for the money..."

"I didn't want to come to you or anyone for the money. I had a plan..."

"Yes. So you said." The doors opened and he strode in ahead fo her. "You had your plans and your strategically assembled team and I wasn't worthy to be a part of it. But my money made the cut, like always."

"That's not how it is," she said, following him off.

"That's exactly how it is." He stalked to the Watchtower doors, waved his hand impatiently until they opened. "I can pay for it, but I'm just not good enough to really be..."

"Don't put words in my mouth," she said, following him in. "I never said you weren't good enough."

"I'm sorry. You said Go Oliver.. By that, I guess you mean I'm just some hotheaded playboy without any real intelligence who has little tantrums and has nothing of value to..."

"That's not what I meant."

"What does it take, Chloe?" He threw up his hands and whirled on her in the middle of the boxes and crates. "I work my ass off to make more money. I lie my ass off to hide the funds for our little think tank. All of this," he yelled, gesturing around him, "comes from me and I can't know when... where..." He trailed off, looking around him. "Where the hell did everything go? I suppose you can't tell me that, either."

Chloe pulled off her coat and stared at, though littered with boxes, the empty space around her. "That's what I've been trying to tell you if you'd just listen to me for a se..."

"And you know what really pisses me off?" he drawled, moving toward her. "You." He jabbed a finger at her. "You using sex."

She really did feel her jaw drop there-- and a sudden urge to slap him. "What a disgusting..."

He moved toward the window. "Oh, don't go all maidenly, here." He turned and pointed at her. "I show one tiny bit of completely justified anger and you're withholding sex. And that's a dirty trick, Chloe, especially after this week..."

"How was I withholding sex... this week?" She wasn't saying she wasn't considering it now, but...

"Oh, come on! It's been sex, sex, and more sex, then nothing."

"Whose fault is that? You're the one who's stayed pretty damned clear of me."

"You've been staying clear! In Smallville!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She stomped toward him. "I guess I'm not convenient enough." It all made sense now. "I guess someone like me is fine when it's an easy trip from your office, but add in a little drive and it's just not worth it."

He rolled his eyes and turned away. "So I'm going to show up there with you staying with Lois? That won't be awkward at all, considering we used to..."

"Oh, how could I forget?" she sneered. "You have your type and they're obviously more worth the travel time."

He froze, then turned back. "What are you even talking about? You knew I wouldn't go there, which is exactly why you went there."

"Now you're just talking nonsense. What..."

He slapped a large, refrigerator-sized box. "You know, if this too weird or too much or too... I don't know what, then just say so, Chloe. You don't have to avoid me."

"Avoid you? I happen to live there!"

"Oh, so we start having sex and, all of a sudden, you live there."

"This isn't sudden. I've lived there for four years," she said tiredly.

"Well... you wouldn't know it," he finished, sort of deflated before he paced toward her. "Anyway, it's funny timing for you to suddenly be there all the time."

"Look around you," she burst out. "The Watchtower is techno storage space. I don't even have wireless right now. Why would I be here?"

"Oh." He pursed his lips. "So, again, what's with all the..."

"And you know what? Don't make this about me when it's about you. Maybe I was a novelty. Maybe you got it out of your system now and you'd rather take some lingerie model to bed. I don't care! I told you we can end this at any time with no hard feelings. So, if you want to end it, don't make up stupid excuses. just..."

"I never said I wanted to end it," he growled.

"Well, I bet you would have braved the awkward trip to Smallville if I was one of your tall, busty goddess types."

"If I wanted some goddess, I wouldn't be here with you!" He stepped back and shook his head. "Okay. That came out wrong. I mean that I don't want some hot model when I can... No. Okay. Give me a minute. I just mean that I want..." He groaned and pulled her in. "I want you, okay?"

"I... I want you."

He leaned in, gripping her hips, "So why are we fighting about this?"

"I don't know," she gasped as he lifted her against him.

"Neither do I," he said, fitting his lips to hers.

She wanted to enjoy it, but... "We have bigger things to fight about," she mumbled against him reluctantly.

"Not now," he murmured, holding her tighter.

"Actually, now might be..."

"Not now." He nudged her lips open and his tongue swiped softly between them as his hands moved from hips to ass, clenching harder, lifting her higher. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in loudly. She knew, an idiot knew, where this was going and she wasn't sure it should just yet. Not with things between them still so murky.

"Oliver, we need to clear the..."

"Not now." He breathed into her neck.

It was like the new "Don't," except she didn't mind so much when he was sucking on her neck. She sighed and wrapped her legs around him.

He responded enthusiastically, sucking just a little harder and moving forward. She felt her lower back pitch up against the corner of what she knew to be a large packing crate and yelped. "Sorry," he gasped, detaching his lips, then staring past her to the crate. "Okay. Maybe we need to talk. Seriously, why is everything..."

"Not now," she said with a smirk, using one hand to lean back on the crate.

He smiled sort of wolfishly and took the hint, tearing off his jacket and lifting her onto it. "Definitely not now."

She hummed to herself as he laid her down on top of what probably contained her three big-screen monitors. Any other time, she'd care about potential damage, but not now. Not when his lips were on hers and his hands were just everywhere. They seemed to be torn between undoing her blouse and fondling her hips. The blouse seemed to win out, both his hands coming up to quickly work at the buttons, maybe too quickly as he tore one right off.

"Sorry. Kind of hate this thing." He pulled it down her arms.

She lifted to let him, frowning. "I thought you'd like it. I g..." She stopped herself, not ready to tell him she bought it just for that. "I mean, because it's green," she finished on a mumble.

"Too damned long." He pulled her up and pulled it off and tossed it away. "It hides things." He slid his hands, under her. "The best things." He squeezed what she was beginning to understand was her best thing, just by the sheer number of times he talked of and/or had his hands all over it.

She could understand favoring a certain body part. She didn't have any complaints about him, as a whole, but there was one thing... She gripped his arms, shivering just a little as his muscles slid under his skin. She'd always secretly approved of his sleeveless costume, though she'd never allowed herself to indulge in why before. Now she freely admitted it would be a shame to hide those arms. She was loathe to let them go, even when he seemed to be insistent she do so.

"Chloe... bra..."

"Take it off," she breathed, sliding her fingertips over his arms.

"You," he grunted, still fondling her ass.

She groaned and pulled away, just pulling it up and over her head before putting her hands back where they were. Of course, she had to remove them again when she realized he still had his shirt on. It was just wrong. She tried to pull it up, but he just wouldn't take his hands off her. "Oliver..."

"Tell me you want me," he said, hands moving to her breasts.

"You know I want you." She bunched his shirt in her hands. "Now take it..."

"I don't know." He squeezed his eyes shut, hands lifting away. "I never know. Just say it again."

She stilled, realizing he was serious. She took a moment to marvel that a man that might as well have wandered out of International Male thought someone, anyone, might not want him. She almost wanted to laugh. "How could you think..."

"Chloe, the timing is suspect," he said harshly, opening his eyes on hers. "So just look me in the eyes and tell me this wasn't just for the money and I'll..."

"The timing?" She pushed at his chest, then, horrified. "If you think that..."

He gripped her hands as she tried to pull further away. "What am I supposed to think, Chloe? You sleep with me and, about a week after, you start bleeding my company of thousands of..."

"Borrowing," she growled, pushing him away harder and jumping to the floor. "God, I liked it better when you didn't want me anymore," she grumbled, searching for her bra.

"I never said I didn't..."

"At least then, I could stand you." She gave up the search and snatched up her fallen blouse and whirled on him. "You think that all this... that us... you think this was all for money?"

"Not exactly," he said lowly. "I know you don't care about money or you wouldn't have negotiated such a pathetic salary."

"My salary is perfectly adequate," she said, jerking her blouse on. "And I've never cared about money. If you know that, then why are you...

"But the greater good," he cut in, bending to pick up his jacket. "I know you care about that, have your own ideas about it. And I think maybe you care about that more than you care about anything. And maybe you'll do anything to..."

"Get out," she nearly growled, pulling her blouse closed, despite the lack of buttons.

"Fine!" He shrugged into his jacket. "You could have just answered me."

"You could have not asked," she countered, holding her blouse together and backing towards the window.

"Well, I know the answer now," he said, storming toward the doors.

She watched him pull on them until they opened with a hiss, swallowing him up as he moved into the hall. She stared at the doors, wanting to stomp out after him, tell him he didn't know anything, that if he could think that her sleeping with him was some decoy, then she could never even speak to him again. Of course, speaking to him right now would defeat the entire point of never speaking to him again, so she'd just stay silent... forever. That would show him. Logically, she knew she'd be unable to hold onto that. There would be missions and team endeavors and she'd probably have to speak to him at some point. But that wasn't tonight. Tonight, she could stew and rage and wish she'd never...

The loud buzzer interrupted her and she strode toward the call box with a loud huff. "I'm not speaking to you," she yelled as she pressed the button, then winced and pulled her hand away, knowing those very words ruined all her highly unrealistic plans. And damn it, they were nowhere near realistic. And she'd scrap them all if he'd just... "I mean, unless you apologize." She winced again, wondering if she was being too easy. He did accuse her of prostituting herself, if not for money, for the greater good. But, the idea of him out there when he could be in here was too...

"Well... I'm sorry, Miss Sullivan. Mind telling me what I'm apologizing for?"

She sighed and leaned against the wall. "Victor." She pressed the button. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Why don't you just use your key?"

"I wanted to test the new system as a visitor. Just buzz me in, okay?"

She wanted to point out that his new system didn't even kick in until the elevator, but it would waste time. She really wanted to get Watchtower back up and running. Especially now that it looked like a significant amount of her time had been freed up, But that was for the best, wasn't it?

She glanced to the doors as they hissed opwn and Victor strode in, rubbing his hands together. "Everything's perfect."

"If you say so," she muttered.

"Come on! The elevator is so secure, it's scary."

"You mean creepy," she mumbled, moving to a large box and picking at the tape, knowing she wouldn't think it if Oliver hadn't brought up elevator sex.

"If by creepy, you mean necessary, then yes it is." Victor easily tore the lid off the largest crate and let it clatter to the floor. "Speaking of creepy, necessary things, I've cleaned up our little mess. No one will ever know."

"Except Oliver," she said miserably.

He stopped in the middle of pulling out her biggest monitor. "Who told Oliver?"

"Well, me... in a way."

Victor chuckled and set it down.

She pushed away from the box. "It's not funny."

"Sure it is. Especially with all your long speeches to Dinah and me about how nobody else was going to know, then you let it slip."

"I didn't let anything..."

"Oh, don't worry. I get it. Now will you get the stand?" He gripped the monitor like it was made of styrofoam and moved to the center of them room.

"What do you get?"

"Well, you have to tell him, I guess, with you two..."

"The two of us are not... anything."

"Okay. Fine."

She moved to follow him, wringing her hands. "Anyway, I had to tell him. I had no choice. I needed the money quickly and Queen Industries was the only way I had to..."

"You got the funds from Oliver?" To his credit, he didn't drop the monitor, only placed it down, before he turned, glaring at her.

"You're mad," she sighed.

"I'm not mad. I'm annoyed and confused. I mean, why the hell did we have to help pack up this whole damned place?"

"Because I couldn't do the heavy lifting," she answered lamely. "And... so you could redo security?" she suggested, knowing he kind of loved that part of it. But he still just glared. So she sighed and gave him the real answer. "And so the First National appraiser wouldn't think it was a terrorist hide-out."

"Exactly. So you could get the funds."

"Well, I got the funds. They just... they hadn't technically arrived yet." She sank down onto a smaller box. "I didn't count on the down time and our makers were about to walk, so I... I borrowed some money."

"From Oliver." Victor groaned. "Well, why didn't you just do that in the..."

"He wasn't supposed to know." She buried her head in her hands. "I thought it was just temporary, that I could put it all back before he had an inkling. But now... Well, he found out and I had to show him why and now he thinks I only... did... some certain things for the money."

"Can you blame him?"

Now it was her turn to glare at him.

"Hey, I don't think it's true, but I'm not a billionaire you're doing certain things with. And I count myself lucky never to have been a billionaire because, if I was, I might always think certain things were tied up with my money."

"But it was never about..."

"Chloe." He stood and took her by the shoulders. "You know that. Hell, I know that. But Oliver... Well, he's got some issues. So maybe you should just explain it."

"Well... I shouldn't have to," she said, knowing it sounded childish. "He should never think I did... certain things just to..."

Victor sighed. "Okay. Do we have to keep saying certain things? Because we both know..."

"Yes," she cut in. "I mean, let's not call it something because this is just... I mean, it's only..." She groaned and leaned. "Oh, what does it matter? Whatever it was, it's over now."

"Not if you solider up and talk to the man."

"What's the point?" She shook her head. "This isn't the first time Oliver thought the worst of me." Her mind drifted to an unpleasant place and time, an Oliver who sneered at her... Please don't stand there and look so innocent. You know, I did a little video viewing of my own. Seems a certain meteor freak named Sebastian Kane died at the hospital right after he got a visit from somebody who looked an awful lot like you. And she told him it was Brainiac. Hell, she told herself that. She'd committed herself to helping freaks like her. She wouldn't kill one. She wouldn't kill anyone, but...the way he looked at her. "Maybe that's just how he sees me," she said blankly. And maybe he was right. She could never be sure...

"Jesus, Chloe, if you won't admit it, then stop talking about it," Victor groaned, hefting the monitor. "I have enough to do without playing love doctor for you."

"There's no... love to play doctor to. This is just... I mean, there's not even anything at all. So stop implying..."

"Fine. No one's playing doctor. Not even you and Oliver. Now will you get that stand? I know my strength and I can't hold this up for more than... 653 more minutes at the most."

"Okay. but just so we're clear," she grunted, tugging the stand out of the crate and dragging it to him. "There is nothing going on and there never was..."

"Yes. Nothing at all. Now can we finish this? You can talk to nobody about nothing later."

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

She was not talking to Oliver... yet. Being a realistic girl, she knew that, at some point, she would have to talk to Oliver. But today wasn't that day. Today, she was going to focus on the practical things. After Victor left, she'd spent half the night sifting through wires and wireless hookups and trying to remember what went where. After a fitful sleep on a couch she didn't have the energy to pull out, she woke up and did more of the same. It was good for her, focusing on mind-numbing work. Getting a call from her broker was even better for her. She'd thought she'd be perfectly happy after that, that it would be a weight off her, but that was before yesterday.

Regardless, she kept moving, hoping the heaviness in her stomach would eventually go away. But it didn't, not after she finished hooking up Watchtower, not after she signed that check, and not even after she cleaned a filthy bathroom that had been servicing six supposedly grown men. So she took a drive, hoping that checking on her potential, hopefully-not-needed, weapons supply would help. That was what it was all for. Her fail-safe, her insurance policy, the thing that was supposed to help her sleep at night. Maybe just looking at it would help her feel less wretched. Of course, the minute she rounded a rusty trailer, she felt worse than wretched.

Her entire body froze up at the sight of Tess Mercer. Not just Tess Mercer. Tess Mercer and some goon. And, worst of all, they were standing in front of an empty trailer. What had they...

"...wanted a higher pay grade, Lenkov." She jumped back at their voices, peeking around the corner. "Prove to me you're worth it. Whatever they're spending that money on, you find it!" She watched Tess slam into her SUV, noting that she didn't sound happy. She'd take it as a good sign except that her weapons were gone.

She watched them drive away, torn between relief and horror as she stepped out from behind the trailer, looking into hers, the empty one.

"Figured Tess was up to something," she heard behind her and turned to see Oliver moving toward her, "when she gave me the tip about all the money that you... um... heh... borrowed," he said, moving right past her. Her hand inched toward her pocket, ready to set him straight. "So I moved your stockpile."

Chloe nearly relaxed as he turned away from the empty trailer. Not gone, then. But Tess knew... or had some idea. "So, what other dirty little tricks do you think the amazing Mercer has up her sleeve?"

Oliver stared around, before his eyes landed on her. "It's too soon to tell. Clark saw a future that we wanna run away from. You said Tess saw the same future. Maybe she wants to take us there."

Chloe moved to him, glad that, whatever damage had been done, they were on the same page. "Which is why we need those weapons now more than ever. Where'd you put them?"

"They're in a safe place," he said, not elaborating.

Or maybe they were far from the same page, even reading entirely different books. "Are you keeping me in the dark because I lied to you?" It seemed a petty action when so much was at stake.

"Well, you know, Chloe, you can't have a set of rules for yourself and then a whole another set of rules for everyone else."

"Clark's in the Kandorian family now," she said, knowing he had a point, but hoping to point out that this was not the time to stand on principle. If anyone should know how easy it was to believe in rehabilitating the wrong kind of person, it was her. She didn't have a clue she'd been so wrong about Davis until he skewered Jimmy. She didn't want Clark to watch someone die because he put his trust in the wrong places. "And I don't want to let his loyalties lead us into another doomsday scenario."

"Neither do I."

"So do you really think we should tell Clark everything?"

"Absolutely." She stared back at him miserably. If she thought Clark avoided speaking to her now, it would be nothing to the silent treatment she got when he knew she was hoarding weapons full of his greatest weakness. "But only when the time is right," Oliver added.

She stared back at him, wanting to be relieved, but not managing it. Because when would the time be right? What would it take for Clark to lose his trust in Zod? Innocent death, possibly. That was the thing about having a failsafe. You only knew you needed it when something terrible happened. "I hate all of this," she said, shivering in the cold.

His hand lifted toward her before falling away. "I'm not over the moon, either."

She turned away, feeling alone. He couldn't even touch her now. She didn't expect they'd go back to their previous arrangement, but it was something she'd missed, being touched. After nearly a year of isolation, she'd gotten used to it again. She heard his steps crunching in the gravel behind her as she moved to her car. She'd think he was following her, but she saw his parked some ways behind hers. "So why did you come back here if you'd already moved the weapons?"

"I was coming to Watchtower and I saw you leave. Thought I should follow, tell you what was going on so you didn't have a panic attack."

"You could have just called," she said, pulling out her keys. "With the price of gas these days..."

Her keys jangled on the packed dirt as he gripped her arm, spinning her around. "We need to clear a few things up."

"I thought we left things pretty clear last night," she said, trying not to lean into him, angry that she wanted to. "But I forgot. I'm supposed to look you in the eyes and tell you I wasn't whoring myself out to you for the greater good."

His grip loosened and he stepped back. "Fine. Correction. I'm going to clear a few things up and you're going to listen." He paced two steps away before turning back. "You didn't let me in. And I hate that, but I can wrap my mind around it. What I can't get over is that you didn't even let me in even after you used my company's money. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

She shook her head. "I do understand. I never wanted to... You were never supposed to..."

"No. You've implied that I wasn't supposed to know. And I think that's what pisses me off most."

She reached into her pocket, then. "Oliver..."

"But let's forget that for two seconds and go back to why I couldn't know. You really think I would have gone after Zod? I may be hotheaded, but I'm not stupid. I might have learned a few things from this last year. Okay? And I'm done. I'm finished going rogue or going Oliver or whatever you want to call it. We have a team now and I'm a part of that team. But you need to be, too. You might have a tendency to go Chloe."

She stilled, clenching the envelope in her fist. "And what does that mean?"

"That you know better. That you take yourself out of things. That you've been burned one too many times and you think it's better to be out of the way, stay above it all. And because you're out of the way, you think you see it so much clearer than the rest of us."

"I... I never said I..."

He stepped closer. "Because you pulled my head out of my ass six months ago, let me return the favor. You don't know best. And watching from your tower doesn't make that so. And the only reason I agree that Clark's loyalties are in the wrong place is because I've seen it happen before. With you."

"You think I don't know that? I made a mistake with Davis. I let myself get too involved. That's exactly why I need to keep perspective. Keep out of the..."

"Fine. Then you didn't learn anything from this last year. Never mind."

"Oliver, I won't argue that I screwed up. But this is different. I only had the weapons made. I hope to God we don't use them at all. I..."

"This isn't about the weapons. This is about the team. When you put yourself above..."

"You yourself just agreed that we can't tell Clark yet. He's not in a place to see things clearly."

"And neither are you! That's my whole point. I know what happened in that future, too. I know those weapons should exist. But there should have been discussions before you just hauled off and did it and especially after you took the money."

"Then let me clear that up," she growled, shoving the envelope at his chest.

He took it, staring down at it. "What's this?"

"It's the money I borrowed. With interest." She scooped her keys up from the ground and stalked to her car. She found his hand flattened against the door before she could open it.

"Where did you get this?"

"Don't worry," she said, shoving at his arm. "It's completely legal. I happened to have a prime piece of real estate to borrow against."

His hand dropped away and he turned her. "You mortgaged the Watchtower? Why the hell would you..."

"It was the only way to get the money needed."

"So that's why the boxes and..."

"Do you think anyone would give me the money if they were looking at a techno war room?" She pushed him off and opened her door, then. She got in, but he stopped her from closing it.

"Chloe, that's risky. You can't just..."

"Why not? It's mine. And, after Jimmy's life insurance money, it was free and clear."

He stepped back. "But how do expect to make mortgage payments?"

"I thought I'd worry about that if we lived," she said, closing her door. She locked it then and drove off, leaving him behind her.


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CHAPTER THREE


AN: There. The borrowing is fixed.

Also, it broke my heart, writing that Chloe was wrong to believe in Davis. But I couldn't get around it, with what show canon did and the sneery way they had Chloe refer to him after.

But let me be clear in saying that I'll never believe what happened in Failsday was the original plan. Witwer worked so hard and said so much in early interviews about what he was trying to do with Davis. And he did it, IMO. He made me feel for a villain. And for it to be retconned that the man was just a psychopath underneath it all pissed me off. To have an actor give such a tortured layered performance only to get, at the last minute "by the way, your work has meant nothing and you're just a selfish, murderous psychopath," still guts me. From Witwer's post finale interviews, it seems he was a bit taken aback as well. It's a shame, really, how Smallville manages to set up stories with depth only to pay them off in the shallowest possible way.

But I guess nobody would write fic if they got it right. Right?

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