Action Time (Chapter Twelve)

And here it is! Already. I'm on a roll this week!

Finishing up with Checkmate here.

Chapter Twelve

As if this day wasn't bad enough. First Oliver missing, now John was sneaking around outside the group. She hoped, truly hoped, that he wasn't working against them. Even more, that it hadn't been going on this whole time. But he couldn't be. Not John. John always made her feel important. John always gave her a nudge when he felt she might need it. Not that he eavesdropped on her thoughts. But he always seemed to know just what to say when she felt lost. She'd caught only snatches of his short conversation with Clark near the tracks, but he picked up that earwig. He was investigating. So maybe he was going a bit rogue, investigating on his own. Lord knew she couldn't lay into him too much for that. Not with Clark, almost the king of rogue these days, pacing around her upper level, being horribly impatient.

"Chloe?" She heard him coming down as she tapped away. "Seems to be taking longer than normal to find an earwig serial number."

And unnapreciative. She wanted to give him a sassy apology about how sorry she was, apparently, not fast enough for him. But they were working together tonight, for a change. She didn't want that to stop. Not with with Oliver missing. Besides, there was no time for feelings. Whatever John knew, she needed to know yesterday. "That's because someone's hidden it, but after cross-referencing those last four digits, Clark, I think that the earpiece in John's pocket was government-issued."

She moved to her desk, wondering if she could narrow it down by organization or...

"Why would the government take Green Arrow?" Clark asked behind her.

She wanted to ask if he was kidding. She was sure the government would be happy to get a hold of anyone on this team, but then she heard something. Something that made this horrible day, even some of this horrible year, melt away. She turned.

"Considering what I pay out every year, it better not be for tax evasion."

Stupid jokes. She'd been out of her mind all night and Oliver was making stupid jokes. "Oh, my god. You're safe," she breathed, launching herself at him. She briefly considered giving him two tight slaps for being perfectly fine while she was envisionioning torture and beheading. But all she wanted to do was hold on tight. Maybe he was wearing her down. Maybe she was just a little crazy about him.

"I'm safe," he said softly as she touched his face, making sure he wasn't hurt and, really, just to touch him.

He leaned down, his nose brushing hers, started to whisper something...

"I'm glad you're safe, too." She pulled away just slightly, registering that Clark was talking. "You want to fill us in on what happened?"

"Definitely, she said, feeling a silly grin on her face. 

"Absolutely." Oliver moved away. "Uh, so let's see. One minute, I am saving someone's bacon. Uh, next thing I know, I'm the only pig on a Pork Chop Express." His jokes were really devolving. He must be tired. She was glad when he sat. "Some harpy gets on a monitor. She starts telling me this is the welcome wagon and she's recruiting heroes for the U S of A. I'm guessing you didn't get the Evite," he said, gesturing at Clark.

"No, someone else did." Clark turned to Chloe. "And that explains why John Jones was covering for them." 

Chloe nodded, still hoping that John, whatever he was into, would let them in. She'd found the footage of him with an unknown man earlier, but hadn't shared it yet. There hadn't been time. Clark had come in with the serial number and now Ollie was back...

"Did this woman give you her name?" Clark was asking him.

"Nope. No name. Just that her organization was called Checkmate."

Chloe's mind latched on to the word. "Wait a minute. Checkmate? When Sylvester Pemberton from The Justice Society was murdered, he warned me that, 'They came after us, and they'll come after you.' His dying word was check."

"If he meant Checkmate," Clark said. "These are the same people who took down the JSA."

Chloe felt strangely nervous as she moved to her monitors, pulling up footage. Pieces of little puzzles were falling in place. She'd been so distracted when Clark brought her the serial number that she hadn't fit this piece in yet. "I searched the archived security footage that was taken from the cameras across the city." She stopped on the image of John with the mystery man. "This was taken a few hours ago." She highlighted the man and let her engines loose, turning back to Oliver, wondering if he'd seen the man. If this guy was among the ones who took him, then she could be sure John had been trying to get him out. Maybe gone rogue, but still with them in the end.

"That was right after I confronted him. Clark said, squinting at the monitor. "Who's he talking to?

She focused on her monitor again at a small beep. "We got a hit from the passport agency. Edward Lott. He's the CEO of a consumer manufacturing company. He seems pretty high-profile for a secret-agent man."

Oliver chimed in. "Well, maybe they recruit people that are already established in the private sector."

"Or plant them there," Clark said levelly.

A series of noises brought her eyes back to her search for the man... which seemed to be at an end now.

"You're not gonna be happy where he was planted next. Within an hour after this footage was taken, he was on the list at Metropolis General morgue." She glanced back at Clark, thinking of his conversation with John, how he wanted Clark to stay out of this. John wasn't the enemy. But how rogue might he have gone? Please no...

Oliver looked between both of them. "Whoa, slow down, guys." He stood. "You can't think John murdered this guy. Come on, now."

She didn't know what to think. She didn't want to think about it at all. Clark looked ready to go, though.

"Clark, I'll come with you," she said quickly, moving to grab her things. "I can run some..." And he was gone. "Support on site," she finished, disappointed. That seemed to be how it went these days. Clark just left. She'd thought tonight would be different. She'd thought they were a team again, that maybe she and Clark could stop shutting each other out and... Not be what they used to be. That was gone now. But something like it.

"Looks like you got benched," Oliver said lightly.

She knew what he was trying to do, what with how she poured her heart out about the distance between her and Clark after her birthday party. And she didn't have time to be made to feel better. In fact, she decided she didn't need to. She was used to this, wasn't she? She still had a job to do. She moved toward Oliver, trying to put everything together. "Sylvester Pemberton came to warn me about Checkmate the moment that he was attacked by..."

"Icicle," Oliver finished for her. "Huh. Well, either that's quaintly coincidental or he's working for the same lovely lady whose gaze wilts small trees. What do you think?"

"Last I heard, he was in the psych ward at Met Gen," she said, glad someone wanted to know what she thought. Then, Oliver usually did these days. She was glad of that.

"Let's go," he said in a voice that was only missing a leather hood and a bow.

No. Not tonight. Not after everything. She grabbed his arm as he moved past her. "You know, Oliver?" He turned back to face her. "Now that Green Arrow is officially on Checkmate's radar, I think it might be a good idea for you to just hang your tights for one night. Go civilian."

Oliver looked like he might protest. And he did, but not about staying. "Well, t-they're not tights." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "They're not tights." He rolled his eyes. "But I see your point. Yeah." He grunted and his face grew a little tight. "Unfortunately for me, that means attending a LuthorCorp shareholder dinner, which..Yeah, I'd rather be shot at."

She chuckled and grabbed at her bag and coat, glad he was listening to her. 

"Hey, Chloe."

She turned back, hoping he wasn't going to try to make her stay, too. As much as she'd love to, after almost losing him tonight, she had to help neutralize this new threat, make sure it was safe for him to be back out there.

"Um, just I was just gonna say, be careful out there, because... there's Checkmate agents everywhere, so... be careful," he finished, sounding just a little sheepish.

She smirked and raised an eyebrow, tempted to tease him. Considering how hard he needled her for wanting him safe earlier... But she wouldn't. He'd had a hard night. She just smiled and left, thinking she'd give him a little hero's welcome and a hard time later. 

An hour later, when she'd been knocked out, trussed up, manhandled, then marched around with a sack over her head, she kind of wished she'd said something, anything to him. She'd only gone to Met Gen to look into Pemberton. Just light research, she thought. She should have been more careful. Should have known this went deep. Should have known that the very unfirendly Doctor Brenner was likely part of it. From CEOs to psych ward doctors. Checkmate seemed to have a finger in every pie.

She was forced to her knees and the sack came off. She rather wished it hadn't. 

She stared in panic at the black and white tile under her, the white walls around her, gave half a glance to the black clad men around her. This was Checkmate's headquarters. A little on-the-nose, but how could it be anything else? And now she could see it. Why let her see? They'd taken Oliver, wanted to recruit him. What did they want with her? Maybe nothing. She was no superhero. It was possible she was just an annoying stranger who asked the wrong question of the wrong person at the wrong time, very easily disposed of. She thought of Oliver and Clark, Bart and John, Dinah and AC, Zan and Jayna. They'd all have a plan B for this. She didn't. She was supposed to be surrounded by monitors, keeping them safe. She had no tricks and gadgets in the field. She had no field these days. 

It's not like she hadn't been in this situation before. She'd been tied up, hung from celings, bound to chairs and operating tables, beaten and tortured. She might have racked up more time in bondage than anyone she knew. And she usually only had one weapon to get her out or buy her time. And that weapon had a tight gag on it. It was just as well. None of the men around her seemed open to dialogue. They looked like soldiers... or pawns, she thought madly, looking at the checkered floor.

She let them pull her to her feet, drag her to a chair. She had no other choice. Especially not when the one stationed in front of her chair was holding a gun and looked like he wasn't too bothered by pulling the trigger. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the shot. So that's how it was. She was just a nuisance who was about to be swatted away. She felt strangely resigned. This was bound to happen. She'd walked this line since she was twelve, when she'd snuck into her junior high principal's office to prove he was keeping liquor in his desk. He was, but that didn't prevent her school from suspending her and her father from moving them to Smallville thinking the scenic land would have a calming influence on her. Funny how things turned out.

She'd been caught snooping before, not as many times as she got away, but enough that she'd been in this spot before and had to do some fast talking until Clark... Clark. She'd never see him again. She wondered whether that would matter to him. It mattered to her, even after everything this year, being in his life would always matter. But Ollie... She choked on her gag and a few sobs as she remembered him, looking worried through his smile as she left. He was waiting for her. That Luthorcorp dinner must be over by now. She wondered if he'd blame himself. She hoped he wouldn't. She knew, looking back, that this fate was in store for her all along. 

Maybe it was better in the end, that she hadn't admitted it. Not that she doodled his name on a notebook and dreamed of greeting him with martinis and foot rubs. It was kind of cute, how he could take an idea and exaggerate it to epic proportions. Such a brat sometimes. But she was crazy about him. He was right about that. She didn't know why saying it was so scary. It wasn't just because he grinned like a jackass whenever she seemed to show it. But because... it isn't what you do. You just don't tell people that kind of thing. To give them that power over you... Still, maybe she would have told him tonight. She wished she'd had a chance to... But no. Maybe he could let her go easier now. Now she was still technically just a fling. That might be easier on him when that trigger was pulled... or if that trigger was pulled.

She opened her eyes, thinking that somewhere in her inner monologue, she should have been shot dead. She opened her eyes and looked up, into the cold, almost robotic eyes of the man with the gun. He was just staring at her, his gun still in his hand, but pointed at the floor. But his arm was straight, tense, and his mouth was one thin line and his eyes were barely on her. He didn't seem to be thinking of her at all. His head was cocked to the side, as if listening. She noticed the very small bud in his ear and the clear, twisted wire. It looked like what Clark had described of the earwig John found by the tracks. Well... obviously. He was with Checkmate. The only question left was why she hadn't been shot yet. He seemed to be waiting.

She stared at the man for what could either be seconds or hours, tried to think if she should be grateful for more time to say goodbye to her life, such as it was, or if she should be upset that they were dragging this out. She looked into her executioner's eyes and wondered if he actually saw her as more than some task to carry out, live or die based on some whim neither she nor he had control over. She couldn't speak, but she tried to communicate. Whatever she was to this shady organization, she was still a someone. She had things, perfectly harmless things, she'd like to do. She'd never taken up gardening or pottery or cooking beyond the microwave. She couldn't promise that she'd do these things and never ever engage in subterfuge again. Hell, she couldn't even promise she'd actually do these things. But shouldn't she have the option?

He raised the gun, his eyes still untouched, and she realized he just didn't care. How sad for him. It was the strangest thing to focus on. But she knew she could never live like that, under someone else's command with no feelings or thoughts of her own. No mercy. She suddenly had flashes of a man, a fairly helpless man in a hospital bed. Had she shown mercy? The events were still a blur, but she saw them. Saw her own hands, heard her own voice and she knew that, were she to die right now, that would be her purgatory. 

She was raised a not-quite-practicing Irish Catholic, after all. As disinterested as her religious upbringing had been, she'd caught the odd reference when her father had sudden attacks of guilt and dragged her to mass on holidays. Purgatory. It made sense in a way that Heaven or Hell didn't. It was somewhere between good and bad, like most people. Like this world. She'd often romanticized it in her mind as where people had a fighting chance, whatever they'd done. The good ones might look over a few white lies and silly mistakes, watch them like a movie and cry and rend their garments, before getting that pat on the head and sent to Heaven where they belonged. The bad ones would have to see the horrible things they'd done, but maybe also the horrible things that led them to doing them. It might take more time, but they had that chance because of all the horrible things that made them do horrible things. What was her excuse? Her father was indulgent, if a little indifferent. There was no excuse for murdering a fairly harmless man in a hospital bed. 

She'd seen it a million times, relived it before quickly pushing it away over and over. Felt herself screaming in protest deep inside as she merely touched him and he went still and cold. Cold as she was, even as she screamed inside. Her chances of Heaven were slim. Maybe Purgatory would give her a shot. It was all the hope she had left as the man's finger curled around the trigger... then the room went black.

She'd think his gun was silent, but then the lights flickered and she heard her executioner's voice.

"Come in, White Queen," he barked in a monotone. "Come in, White Queen," he repeated. The lights still flickered and the men around him shifted in ways they hadn't up till now, as if confused. "I'm showing external power breach." He didn't sound too sure of himself, either. "Am I clear to shoot? Over."

But he didn't seem to wait. She saw that finger curl further, as if on reflex as shouts and thumps sounded in the flickering darkness. She heard the gun's loud report and waited for nothingness, but saw a... hand.

Clark! She knew it even before he was crouching in front of her, gripping her arms and speeding her away from death. Like so many times before. She gripped him back as best she could as they moved through the city and reflected that this was why she'd held on to him long after she should have let go. It was hard to let go when he finally, inevitably, came through. 

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

She saw Oliver, moving down Fourth Street, his hands in his pockets, and she couldn't stop her smile. He wasn't smiling. He looked strangely sad. But then he looked up and he did smile.

"Hi," she said, not having anything else. You'd think, having cheated death, she'd have something better to say, but she was just so damned happy to see him again.

"Hey, he said, his smile growing wider.

"Thanks for keeping my seat warm at Watchtower," she said, walking backward, not wanting to take her eyes off him just now.

"Well, you're welcome. Don't get used to it."

"Oh, but your timing is so good," she said, facing forward and falling into step with him, unable to resist glancing up at him. "I mean, if you hadn't flipped that Castle's electric switch when you did, I would have b..."

"Chloe..."

His tone held a warning note, but she couldn't resist a little tease. Wasn't life a bit short, anyway? "But, you know, I kind of liked being out in the field, knowing I had a warm bed to come home to..." 

"That's very, very funny." He gripped her arm and pulled her back to face him.

She'd been ready to launch into him waiting for her with a Cosmopolitan and an apron, but he looked rather serious. 

"It scared the life out of me," he said, not a hint of a smile.

Yet she found herself smiling just a little. "You better be careful, Ollie. I'm gonna start to think you're falling for me."

He did smile then, even with that telltale roll of his eyes as she gripped his hand and led him... home? Well, Watchtower was kind of home these days. She certainly spent more time there than her supposedly official home address at The Talon. Come to think of it, he did, too.

"Is it too much too hope," she asked, pulling him behind her, "that you have a hot meal waiting for me? I mean, I just spent a hard night out in the field, risking life and limb and..."

He drew up against her, sliding an arm around her waist. "You think you're pretty cute. Don't you?"

"No. You do. I bet you compose the most adorable little sonnets to me, staring tearfully at my picture in the vain hope..."

"Hardy-har." He bumped her forward.

She chuckled, trying to move down the street with a large man flattened to her back. "Well, I did have a hard night at the office, anyway. If it weren't for you, that bullet would have hit home way before Clark found his way to me."

"You might have to thank Tess for some of that," he grunted in her ear, gripping both of her hands. "I certainly won't."

"Tess?"

"She told me how to shut down the power grid at Checkmate. But don't be too grateful. She tried to kill me at least twice before that."

"They wanted me," Chloe said, still dazed as she moved down the street. Clark had let her in on Waller and what Tess had let slip. "I thought I was just... collateral damage to them. And I was the target."

"I guess you're more valuable than you think."

"Well, not me. But what I know." She pulled free and turned to him. "They wanted all of you. They thought I was the way to get the Blur to give it up. Get my database." She dropped her smile and stood still. "I had a gun in my face and I felt like I was nothing but what I knew and... isn't that what I am?"

His eyes clouded over and he leaned in. "This sounds like sad birthday talk. You aren't a search engine, Chloe. Did Clark make you feel..."

"No," she cut in quickly. "This wasn't about Clark. Clark... Well, he tried to apologize, if you can believe it. He told me he appreciated what I've done and... and he apologized to me."

He drew back slightly. "Are we talking about the same Clark?"

"We are," she said, still a bit dazed. It wasn't just about Clark. She'd seen him this year, seen the things he'd done. Burning those towers regardless of the damage, choking Tess, starting a relationship with Lois yet refusing to even consider telling her just what she was getting into. She'd watched and she'd judged. But she had no room to judge, did she? "I think I dreamed of every word falling from him and yet it felt wrong," she said softly. "Maybe I don't deserve it. I've screwed up, Ollie. The things I've done..."

"Hey, hey..." He pulled her to him. "You surveilled a bit too heavily, but you had your reasons. You wanted us all safe and..."

"Ollie, no." She pushed away, sniffling. "I've done things I... I can't even defend... Last year, you even said..."

"You know what?" He gripped her shoulders and met her eyes. "You might want to forget anything I ever said under the thrall of deep alcohol psychosis."

"Oliver..."

"Seriously, take half of this year and chuck it. We all know my old pal, Scotch, had a heavy hand in it. Anyway, you've hardly asked me about my night. I'm starting to think your notebooks are sadly empty of my name and all those little hearts. Do you like me even a little?"

"Shut up," she sniffed, pushing at him. "Fine. What happened to you?" she asked, moving backward.

"Same as you, I guess. My not-quite-ex attempted to curry favor with me by saying sorry. Didn't exactly land, in my case."

"Did Tess really try to kill you?"

"Definitely. If you think you and Clark have issues, let me tell about my supposedly safe dinner at the stately Luthor Manor and Tess' knife-throwing skills."

Chloe broke free. "Where is she now?"

Oliver caught her arm. "Whoa! She's likely on the run. Checkmate doesn't take kindly to agents that share their secrets,"

"So she really did..."

"Help us? Yes. That doesn't mean she gets a free pass on every nefarious move she pulled. But she can fend for herself. We're square with her." Oliver turned and pulled her sideways and she found herself on Watchtower's steps with him. He nudged her up them. "Hey. My gear... I mean, it doesn't really come off as tights, right?"

She turned and pulled her keys from her pocket. "Tights? You? Never!"

"Ha-hah!" He was at her back as she opened the door. "It's just that Tess said it and..."

She pulled him in and shut the door, frowning. "Oh, if Tess said it, then..."

"Well you said it, too. And then she did. Tights, damn it! And both in the same night and..." He drew in a deep breath. "I mean, should I get it tailored a little looser or..."

"Please," she cut in, smiling now. She yanked at him as she pressed the UP button. "Don't. Ever."

He smirked at her as the elevator doors slid open. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were ogling me all this time."

She laughed and moved in. "Now, that would be unprofessional. I just want to make sure you don't get caught on nails and roof shingles."

"So it's all about safety?" He moved in after her. "Should I get one of those bright orange vests now?"

She managed a shrug as the doors slid shut and she pressed her button. "If you like."

It didn't light up until she pulled out the panel and put in her code, something she put in just in case someone tried to access her floor without clearance.

"You can't even admit that much?" he said, leaning against the opposite wall.

She lounged against her own wall and sighed, smiling to herself. "What are you chattering on about now?" She just couldn't help it. After tonight, she needed to have a little fun.

"Fine. No more leather. I'll get some nice green wool."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Much more practical."

"Nice, scratchy green wool," he said as the elevator dinged through floor after floor.

"Should be very warm for winter."

"Exactly. I'll get some long sleeves and..."

"Don't you dare!" She launched herself at him, moving her hands around his waist, underneath his leather jacket.

"Ah! I've found your weakness," he fairly purred, sliding his own hands to her hips.

"You knew," she laughed, pulling him back as the doors slid open on Watchtower.

"Sure I knew. You want me. And my delicious arms. You've said it, but I didn't want to use it for evil till now. But I might."

"And how evil are you getting?"

"I'll make you say you more than want..." He stopped himself. "Nevermind. I think it's been long night." He shook his head and prodded her in as the doors slid open with a hiss. "I think we're tired. So... fine. Don't say it."

"Don't say what?" she repeated, playing it a bit dumb as she moved in ahead of him.

"Hey, you're alive. That's going to have to do for tonight."

She let out a laugh, moving to the kitchenette. "Fine. If you don't want me to say it..."

"Oh, no. We're not twisting this around on me. I've been on tenterhooks about you saying it. But you still won't." He gave long and slightly exaggerated sigh behind her.

She smiled as she pulled out a water bottle. "It's not as easy as you think," she said, her smile fading as she peeled at the label. "I mean, there's this gulf between what you think and what you say. Isn't there? You need to come off right. Come off strong and resilient and independent." She turned around, leaned against the counter, but didn't look up. "Because you can't just say it out loud. Then they have the power and power is... scary. They might realize they don't want that power. Maybe they..."

"Maybe they aren't complete chickensh*t. But go on."

She let out a dry laugh and looked up. "You know, really, this is more just interaction in general. I think women, and men to some extent, are kind of programmed not to let things out. Like, when you have a crush, they say not to let him know or to ignore him. And it's all games and you'd think grown-ups would be beyond that, but..."

"Yeah. I'm going to have to interrupt the dissertation and tell you to say it. You're c... c... cr... cra..." His hand made several little circles as he moved closer to her. "Just sound it out. You got this."

She pulled her lips together and turned back to the counter. "You know, when you get all smug and bratty, it doesn't exactly make me want to say anything nice about you. Ever."

He only laughed and leaned into her, brushing his lips along her neck. "Oh, just say it. I might even say it back."

She pulled the last of her label off as he hit a spot that made her shiver. "Fine. I'm... Mmmm. That's nice."

His lips were gone, then. "No. Focus. Out with it. You were just about to say..."

"I'm crazy about you," she breathed, reaching behind her to pull him back down.

"Atta girl. Of course, now I have all this power. What to do..." He pulled at her blue blazer. "I'm going to banish this. No more layers."

"You're kind of power-mad," she laughed, letting him peel it down her arms.

"I'm just getting the taste for it. I'm going to outlaw this blouse and decree that you go topless for the foreseeable future." His hands went to the buttons.

"No." She stayed his hand and turned. "You have a bad rep with my tops."

"If you'd be diplomatic enough to wear stretchy, form fitting ones, we wouldn't have these squabbles."

She pulled it over her head and pushed at his jacket. "Well, I have room to squabble. You're welshing."

"Me? I will be just as naked as you. Even more if you leave those heels on."

She wanted to laugh, but she didn't. "You said you'd say it back."

"Mmm? Oh, no. I just said I might. I actually can't stand you. But I'm very flattered by your little crush on me." He shucked both his shirts off and tossed them away. He grabbed at her belt loops and pulled her forward. "Can I banish pants now? Mostly for you?"

"Ollie..."

"Of course I'm crazy about you," he whispered, brushing her nose with his. "And you know it."

She supposed she did, but that didn't stop what she knew might be the goofiest of grins. "So what is it about me that most makes you want to book time at Belle Reve? Is it my killer body or my biting wit or..."

"Definitely those," he cut in, sliding his hands to her back and down. "That and an ass that won't quit." He leaned in for a kiss.

She frowned against his lips.

He laughed. "Not as fun as you thought, is it?"

"Not really. No."

"Maybe if I got all blushy and huffy like you..."

"I was hardly huffy," she said, even knowing she had been. "I just tried to ignore your silly little..."

"But I'm kind of hard to ignore," he said, his hands still in her belt loops as he pulled her backwards.

"You kind of are," she had to agree.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Going into Upgrade next. Not so much the ep itself as Ollie didn't appear in it, so it's not Chlollie heavy, but into the aftermath of it as I think Ollie would, if he knew of Clark pushing Chloe around in it, have a little something to say about it... or a lot.