Action Time (Chapter Thirteen)

Chapter Thirteen

"Hey Chloe?"

She grunted, but didn't open her eyes. It couldn't be morning already. 

"Chloe..." 

"S'not morning." She felt him pulling at the sheet and gripped it tighter around her, rolling onto her stomach and grasping at a pillow when she felt the sun. It was too bright. She felt the back of the couch at her feet. Ollie must have been pushing at her again.

"No. It's two in the afternoon," she heard him chirp, sounding all cheery and annoying.

"I don't care," she groaned. "Leave me alone and... turn off the sun." She swore it was boring through the pillow to the back of her head and somehow drilling into her eyes.

"What if I got you waffles?"

She took a deep breath. There was a certain buttery, maple smell in the air. She decided he was less annoying and raised her head, smiling as she breathed it in again. She finally opened her eyes lazily.

"There we go. Smile for the birdie!"

A flash went off in her eyes. "What the..." She recoiled on the bed to find Oliver holding a camera and shaking something in his hand. 

"You think the shaking makes it develop faster. I don't know, but people always do it."

"Is that a..."

"A paloroid. Yeah. You don't see these anymore. Everyone's gone digital. So impersonal." He held up the camera in his other hand. "They had it at the thrift shop near the Met Stop Diner. An old one. With film and everything. For only seven-ninety-five." 

"Oliver!"

"What? Just because I raised with money doesn't mean I can't appreciate a bargain. You know, I had one of these when I was seven. My dad was trying to get me some fancier one when I said I wanted a camera, but it had to be a polaroid. I'd seen the commercials and..."

"Did you seriously just take a naked picture of me?"

He snorted. "Hardly naked. See?" He held it out. "All your good parts are covered. But if you wanted to show a little more skin, I've always imagined myself doing artistic nudes. With the right lighting, of cou..."

"Give me that," she said, making a grab for it, but her motor skills were a bit off.

"Nuh-uh!" He pulled it back. "This one's a keeper. It might be my favorite."

She sat up. "It's too early for your jokes. I don't have any makeup on."

"That's the best part. I like morning Chloe," He held the picture back. "She doesn't have that crazed workaholic look in her eyes yet."

She let it go and pulled the sheet under her arms. She'd destroy it later when he was good and distracted. "Well, I feel terrible. I feel like I didn't even sleep."

"Probably because you hardly slept the last week." He put the camera aside and picked up a plastic bag. "This is what happens when I go away. I come back and you've been on some work bender, then you want to sleep for a year." He doled out two styrofoam containers and plastic forks. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to wake up? You do realize I have a red-eye back tonight."

"It's only... after two," she finished sheepishly, looking at the clock as she opened her container.

"You're lucky the Met Stop serves waffles all day. I figured it was the only thing that might finally work." He handed her a little sealed cup of syrup. "Maybe I'll start taking you with me when I go. Make sure you do normal things like relax."

She felt a strange kind of thrill, thinking of being away with him... successfully this time. "I can't. There's too much going on here." She dug in and rolled her eyes. "And like you ever relax."

"Hey, I do Yoga, Tai-Chi, and lots and lots of sex with you. I am a very relaxed and centered kinda guy. I don't fuel myself with coffee instead of sleep."

"And yet you got me a coffee maker," she pointed out with the bit of waffle on her fork. "So that's enabling and you can't complain."

"Ah, so it's all my fault if you drink more because of my vastly superior coffee maker and unmatched perfect birthday gif..."

"Stop gloating and tell me how Star City went. We didn't get to talk much last night."

He winked at her. "We didn't, did we?" He shrugged and dug into his food. "You didn't even finish telling me about Clark's wild night. Never seen that guy stoned. I know was hoping for some better ripping material than him making it snow in Seattle. That's all he did?"

Her eyes slid to the upper level. She'd slapped two coats of spray paint over it in the end, but she swore she could still see Clark's crest. "Well, you know, I told you we had a little argument about the weapon stash," she said, keeping her voice light and her eyes on her food. "That wasn't fun. None of that day was."

"No kidding. You had to team up with Tess."

"It was the price of getting Clark back to normal, but I wish there'd been another way. Chloroforming Lois wasn't one of my finest acts."

He shook his head. "I'm wondering just how much knock-out time that girl's piled up over the years."

"It might even approach my record on bound and gagged. I didn't like doing it. Someday, it'll all make sense to her, when she knows. If Clark ever tells her. For now, I'm buying her lunch for a week. See if that eases my conscience." She shrugged. "I have to believe it's all for the good, in the end. At least things are in the open now. Me and Clark are making some inroads again. Maybe things will be like they were."

Oliver peered closely at her. "Do you really want that?"

"Of course I do. Things might get back to normal or... normal for me and Clark. No more secrets. Clark knows about the weapons and he even... understands why. Apparently, my stash was the alternate world's last hope."

Oliver bumped her knee. "Look at you. Savior of the otherworlds. Don't get cocky, now."

She didn't laugh along. She really didn't want to talk about last week. Maybe ever again. "Anyway, stop changing the subject. How's Queen Industries going to survive the economic meltdown? I'm just fascinated."

"Liar." He snorted. "It was okay. Remember how we were shutting down some research divisions to save the satellite offices?"

"I think so." It seemed like years ago, but it was only months ago that he was telling her about it, back when all this started. And here she was now, eating breakfast in bed, wrapped in only a sheet while he was fully dressed. And it didn't feel weird, which was the weirdest thing about it.

"Well, we actually had some good talent there, but most of the management was booking hours for nothing. So we've restributed, gave the research divisions left more workers and less people over their shoulders, made the severance packages of those that abused company privileges less genrous, and cancelled the corporate retreats to Barbados. Not all of the board was happy, but I stuck firm and we saved ourselves at least three."

Her eyes widened. "Three Million? Good work."

He laughed. "That wouldn't keep our electronics division running. No. Billion."

She gaped at him. "How can you just say that?"

"What?"

She chuckled and stabbed at her waffle. "I don't know. My upbringing was pretty blue collar. It's strange to me to hear a billion like it's some everyday thing."

"Well, I grew up with those amounts being tossed around. And what about you? Aliens and meteor mutants give you no pause."

"They don't seem to phase you," she pointed out.

"Well, they did at first. Believe me, I thought I was possibly insane the first time I geared up and took to the streets. So, when I found this larger world of superhuman powers, I was kind of floored."

She smiled as she swallowed. "I never was. I think it just felt... right. I always wanted to believe there was more out there." She leaned in. "You know, the first article I ever wrote, when I was eight, was on the Loch Ness Monster. I hated the idea that people didn't believe in her."

"I thought it was a him."

"Common misconception. And she's not a monster at all. She's just a prehistoric leftover trying to live peacefully."

"You sound pretty sure of her."

She laughed. "Well, I was then."

"Maybe you should dust off your investigative journalist hat and out Nessie once and for all."

Her smile dropped. "Don't talk like that. You know I've chosen this. There's no going backward."

"Well, how is that backward? Maybe, when this hooplah is over, you can take some time and write again or..."

"This hooplah is never over. Even if the Kandorians all turn into fluffy kittens, there's always something else."

"You could do both. You have this down by now."

"No, I can't. And there's no time for me to indulge some... childish whim to be a journalist when there are bigger things. So drop it."

Oliver drew back. "Wow, someone's still pretty cranky."

"Well, I'm still tired," she said, scowling. And she didn't want to look at pretty things she couldn't have. "Maybe you were murdering me in my sleep again and I just don't remember."

"This again?"

"Well, my head was at the foot of the bed."

"That might have nothing to do with me and..." His eyes widened. "I almost forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"You'll see. Because we're gonna finally settle this." He got up and moved to the coat rack, took off a plain sweatjacket. "I've got all the evidence here."

She pushed her food aside and sat on the edge of the bed. "In a hoodie?"

"A strategically placed hoodie.with a secret weapon." He detached what looked like a pin. "I have two weeks worth of video footage. Focused right on this part of room. Or the bed, when it's pulled out and all."

She gaped at him. "Do you have some kind of kink you've been hiding?" 

"Kink?" he grunted, sort of disinterestedly as he moved to her console and toyed with some wires.

"First the picture, now... " She grabbed her robe from the floor and jerked into it. "Oliver, this is not okay."

"You're just saying that because you hate to be wrong."

"Wrong? You recorded us having sex! How wrong is that?"

"What? No!" He stilled. "Well... kind of. I just meant to record the sleeping." He turned to her and raised his eyebrows. "Guess that's just a bonus."

She moved to the console. "Oh, no it isn't. We are erasing every second..."

He waved her away. "Yeah, yeah. You can destroy all you want after I vindicate myself and prove once and for all that I am not trying to murder you in your sleep." He hooked the minicam to her USB port. "Let me just get the visual and... rewind." He batted her away from the monitor. "No. This is happening and you are about to eat so much crow."

She glared at him.

"What? I told you I'd do this."

"I thought you were joking. I don't even care anymore. Maybe I'm used to you rolling all over me and..."

"If I even do," he cut in, then turned back to the monitor. "Damn it. I've gone too far back. Look, there's Clark. You let him touch your precious computers? That's new." He chuckled and gestured to the screen. "Oh, now you're coming in. Probably to chew him out for messing up your screensaver. Hey, there's no sound. Don't worry. I'll do the voices. 'Chloe,check out my sweet new My Little Pony wallpaper.' 'Darn you, Clark. I will now spout a bunch of meaningless technobabble like I constantly do just to confuse people.' 'That's it. I'm leaving.' 'Wait. Come back! It's okay that you're a brony.' Not my best work. Me and Bart should bring back Muted Movie Monday. I was getting pretty good at..." His voice trailed off.

Chloe felt a sick, sinking feeling and tried to pull him away from the monitor. If this was the day she thought it was... She forced a laugh. "You know what? I believe you. Why don't we just skip the replay. Okay?"

"Not okay," he said darkly. "There is nothing okay about this," he nearly growled, his eyes glued to the screen.

She knew what he was seeing, but she moved around anyway, touching his hand. "Oliver? It's not as bad as it looks."

"Really? Because it looks like Clark just pushed you to the ground. And that's pretty bad." He turned on her. "And you didn't tell me!"

She stood her ground. "Well, I did. I told you we had an argument and he burned that symbol and then he left."

"You just left out that he beat up on you first?" He started to move away and she gripped his arm.

"He didn't beat up on me. It was just one little push, a very teensy little..."

"From a guy with superstrength?"

"He'd been exposed to red kryptonite. He wasn't himself."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but Clark on Red K is a Clark who does things he actually wants to do. So if pushing you around is something that's rattling up in that head of his, then he needs to know what it feels like." He shrugged her off and moved to the doors.

She ran after him, grabbing at his sleeve. "Oliver, don't do this."

He whirled on her. "Don't worry. I'm just going to give him one teensy push, maybe with a fist full of green..."

"He hardly hurt me. I just... happened to land on the floor. Did you see any bruises on me? Oliver, I'm fine!"

"You're always fine. Well... fine," he growled, taking several deep breaths. "But I think Clark and I need to have a little chat."

"No, you don't. Not even that. It's over. He apologized and he... he feels bad enough."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Just leave it," she pleaded. "We're just getting to the point where we can actually talk to each other without sniping. I don't want..."

"That's the most important thing, isn't it?" He threw up his hands and paced away. "As long as you guys are still pals, he can do whatever he wants to you."

"That's not how it is."

"No. I get it now. And I've gotta wonder how Jimmy put up with it for so long."

She drew back. "Don't you talk about Jimmy. That's... not... we don't talk about..."

"Why? Hell, you can talk about Clark and analyze every word, but Jimmy is somehow off-limits? You ever think why it didn't work, Chloe? Why it never worked?"

She glared at him. "You don't know anything about us."

"Well, I spent the best part of a month cleaning him up, so I might know more than you think. Maybe it's time we actually talked about Jimmy."

"No. Because he and I were..." deeply in love, weren't we? We were separated by death, maybe we would have been happy. "We were different." 

"Different from what? From us?"

"Yes, we were. This is... this is nothing like..."

"No. I get you. This is nothing to you."

"I never said..."

"But some things don't change, am I right?" he sneered. "Clark always comes first. Hell, Jimmy knew that."

"That's not true," she choked out, shaking her head vehemently. "And it wasn't true then. It was just there were bigger things at stake. If he'd lived, with him knowing, he would have understood that. We would have been..."

"You would have stayed divorced. Because he wasn't the one for you. And, deep down, you know it. You can't use his ghost as the reason you lock me out."

"Use his..." She turned away, seething. "You know what? I think this whole thing has just run it's course." 

He laughed bitterly. "Oh, is this where you get off? Because I was wondering exactly what excuse you'd use."

She turned slowly. "Excuse? You think you throwing a failed marriage that ended in death in my face is some excuse to me?" she hissed.

"Call it what you want. But we never talk about Jimmy. I've half wondered if you were saving it up for the dramatic exit. Guess I was right."

"That's ridiculous. We agreed not to talk about the past. Do I make you talk about Tess or Lois or..."

"I don't need to. I've made my peace with how those ended. But, speaking of Lois, I see a certain family resemblance."

She froze. His tone screamed that he was really itching for a fight now. If he wanted it... "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You get out when it gets real. I've seen her run off on Clark. Hell, she did it to me. She finds out who I am, what I do, and she couldn't cut ties fast enough."

"I know what you do. I know who you are."

"And you've been planning your exit strategy since the first time we touched!" He crossed his arms. "But you know what? I'm not giving up that easy. I'm not Jimmy and, in case you missed it, I'm not Clark."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am over Clark?"

"This isn't about you being over Clark. This is about you falling all over yourself to be in good with him after everything. Do you seriously want to be his girl friday again? Do you want to go back to the way things were? You told me about how you saw this bigger world, how working with all of us showed you he wasn't everything. But that's all gone now! Clark says a few apologetic words and now no one can rock the boat. And all for a guy that couldn't care less if you even know who he is. He can just take your memories like it's nothing."

"What are you even talking about?"

"I'm talking about last year," he snapped. "Maybe you forgave all, but that doesn't make it okay. He can rant all he wants about your monitoring, but for someone to choose what you can and can't have of your own life is the worst..."

"No." She shook herself and backed away. "You're remembering things wrong. Brainiac took my memories. Clark got them restored."

"He sure did, except for about everything about him and us and all you were and..." He stopped, froze even. "You didn't know."

That sinking feeling? She had it again. "Didn't know what?"

"I thought he must have told you. Thought maybe you talked it out, that you forgave him. I never thought he never..."

"Told me what?" she demanded.

"It's not my place to..."

"I don't care whose place it is, I have a right to know!"

He took a rather shaky breath in. "Chloe, you just said it yourself. The two of you should be friends again. Of course you should. I... you're right. I was angry about what I saw. And it's obvious I've let some things build up." He moved to her, took her by the shoulders, she felt his fingers dig in in a light massage. "I just... overreacted. I'm sorry. I never should have dredged all this up."

"No," she said, nearly sobbed. "Please don't try to make this go away. You need to tell me. What happened to me?"

"What happened is that Brainiac was taking over your mind. Clark took you to the fortress to restore your memories."

"And? I mean, it's just that it didn't work all the way, right? He just couldn't get them all... He'd never..."

"Yes. That's what I mea..." He seemed to steel himself. "I cant to lie to you, Chloe. Not now. He could have gotten everything. He just... He chose not to. Not your life. Just the things that have to do with him and his secret."

"But that's..." She ripped away, her hand going to her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick. "That's so much of my life. Nearly four years by then. So much of my what I did was tied up in him and his secret. How could he..."

"He thought you'd be better off. That's basically what he said at the time."

"Then he doesn't..." She hastily swiped at her cheeks. She didn't want to cry. She was too angry to cry. "Does he even know me at all if he thinks I want to live like that, not even knowing who I am? For Christ's sake!" She moved to the kitchenette and grabbed at a cup in the sink. It landed back in the basin in satisfying pieces. It had been her "Go Crows!" coffee mug. She'd had it since sophomore year. She didn't even care. What good were memories if they could be so easily erased? She just wanted to break something. Her hand inched toward the Daily Planet mug sitting under her new coffee maker. 

"Chloe, maybe it doesn't matter. The legion undid Brainiac's work, so you still remember..."

"It matters to me!" She whirled around, angrily swiping at her cheeks again. "He did it! And what the hell was he thinking?" She clenched her fists and paced toward her monitors, decided not to shove them to the floor. Enough things had been broken beyond repair today. "How the hell does he think things would have turned out, with me being romanced by the man with the double life and none the wiser on how dangerous it was?"

"Maybe he thought you'd be safer out of it."

She gave a hollow laugh. "I would have been in it no matter what. Brainiac made sure Davis felt connected to me and me to him." Her mind worked furiously. "Without Brainiac pulling my strings, I might have lost that lovin' feeling, but Davis wouldn't have. Jesus! He was shifted from foster home to foster home and had no one. Even a hint of... of anything, any kindness from another human being and he was gone, Brainiac or no. And if I didn't know my history with Clark going on... I would have never been able to see who he was. I... I don't know how I would have reacted. Maybe with more fear, maybe I'd have run and maybe I wouldn't have gotten away when the beast took over and maybe... Dear God! What was Clark thinking."

"I know, but he... he seemed to want you to be happy. Maybe he couldn't see beyond that."

"Happy? Happy half-blind? He let me walk down the aisle like some clueless baby. Hell, he even marched me down it himself! And I'd look back on those weeks before... so full of holes. I thought I was having some kind of PTSD reaction and that was why, but then I'd remember pieces, times when I said things or did things that didn't make any sense." She paced back to the kitchenette and stopped, staring up at Oliver. "And it makes sense now. He was why. And you can even take Davis out of it, but how... How did he think my life would go on after that? I was running a foundation for the meteor infected! How the f*ck does he think that would have gone considering half of my knowledge on that came from him, from so many events all tied up with him and... I... How could I even..." She could actually feel her entire body flush with rage. "I need to get dressed."

Oliver moved forward, gripped her robe, then pulled her in. "No. You need to breathe. Just take a moment, here. I know you're upset."

"No. You can do all the yoga you want. I want answers."

"This isn't yoga. This is just breathing, something you've hardly done in the last five minutes."

If it would shut him up... She took several rapid breaths. Counted to ten. It didn't help. "Let go of me," she said as calmly as she could. "I need to go to Smallville."

"And you're insane if you think I'm letting you do that when you're like this." He moved too quickly for her to react. She found herself pinned to the bed in half a second. "Chloe. listen to me..."

"Let me go!"

"No. I shouldn't have done that. It was Clark's place to tell you." He pinned her hands more firmly.

"Which he never would have! If he didn't by now..."

"Well, maybe he thought it didn't matter. Not if you had your memories back."

"But it does," she hissed, struggling under him.

"I know it does. And, believe me, I understand every damned thing you said. But I'm not letting you get on a freeway like this. You wouldn't be this keyed up if I didn't pick that fight and I shouldn't have. I didn't mean any of those..." He took a deep breath. "That's not true. I meant some of them. But I didn't want to say them that way."

"I don't care what you say! Now let me up!"

"No," he said... and calmly. It made her see red. Made her want to slip a hand free and hit him with it repeatedly. She couldn't. He was too strong for her. "And you do care," he went on, "or you wouldn't be this angry." 

"I have a right to be angry!"

"Damned right you do. So yell and scream all you want, but you'll do it while I'm keeping you safe."

She did the only thing she could. She lifted her head up and met his lips.

His relaxed against hers briefly before he pulled himself away. "What are you doing?"

She strained upward. "Just..."

"Is this some kind of seduce and distract thing so you can slip off? Because I'm not that easy to get around, Chloe."

"I'm not trying to get around you, damn it!" Her blood was boiling from the fight, from what she now knew. It might not exactly be lust, but... "If you aren't going to let me up, then just... Damn it, make me feel something something better than this," she breathed.

He stared down at her, open-mouthed and confused and, she could tell, still a little angry from their fight, no matter how he'd tried to brush it off. But his body leaned into hers, all the same.

Anger. It sort of invaded every touch. She could feel it in the way his teeth scraped along her neck before his tongue soothed the bite. She could feel it in the way he only let her hands free for bare seconds to pull at her robe and let her rip at his jacket and T-shirt before he pressed them to the bed again. She knew, somewhere inside, he might still think she was trying to distract him and get away. He wasn't wrong. That was still on her mind. But it was overshadowed by him, by touching him, being touched by him. Somehow, in these months, he'd become her escape. It should be strange to think of him that way when her involvement with him put her even more in the thick of all this intrigue. But he was. He made her feel something more than useful and dependable. He made her feel wanted.

And, right now, she needed that. It was almost scary, She'd only just gotten accustomed to the idea of being wanted and she already needed it so much. "You want me," she breathed. "Please say you..."

"You know I do," he breathed, his lips running over every inch of skin he could reach while still holding her hands to the mattress.

"I need you," she admitted, nearly sobbing it as she tried to wrap every bit of herself around him.

"Jesus, Chloe..." He let out a long breath, his hands loosened, his hips lifted and she quickly grappled with his jeans and pushed them as far down as she could before she gripped his hands again, pulled them back, with hers, to the bed.

"Just hold on to me," she gasped. 

His eyes widened as he pressed himself to her again, naked now, nothing between them. "What are you..."

Her body bowed upwards and she met his lips again. "I need you," she repeated, remembering how he responded before. He welcomed it and it made her nearly giddy, that someone would. 

She'd always been so afraid to admit needing anyone. Growing up with a single father, she didn't want to need anything. She didn't want him to worry. She was supposed to be fine, always just fine. Needing him meant he coudln't work, couldn't keep a home for them. He never said that, but she gathered that, all the same. Latchkey kids are always just fine. They were supposed to be satisfied with what they could get. She tried to hastily push her dad and her childhood out of her mind as Oliver nibbled at her ear.

She wondered, rather dreamily, if what she could get was enough. It didn't feel like enough, It never had. But now it felt like nothing at all. Not compared to what he gave her. He needed her, too, after all. She felt it. And not as a search engine, not as a sounding board for his doubts. He really needed her. He saw her, knew her, knew all the horrible things she'd done and he still... 

You know, the human mind is simply a highly sophisticated computer. Download too much information, and it crashes.

She pushed the words away, pushed the image of her hand removing that glove away, and pulled him down to her. She didn't like to think about that, She'd refused to for over a year. Still... what Clark did brought it up. Maybe that was why... If Clark knew this, what she'd done, she might even see his point of view on erasing her memories. She'd sure as hell rather not remember that moment ever again, remember how she couldn't make it stop. Maybe that was why. 

But Clark didn't know that. She might have understood if that was why he did it, if he knew. But Clark didn't know about Sebastian Cane. He had no idea she was a murderer, deep down. Oliver knew, though. In that time, when they were so at odds, he might have threatened to tell Clark. But he didn't.

She pushed the dark thoughts away and decided to be grateful Oliver still cared about her, that he was here with her now.

He was pushing inside her now. He started to release her hands, but she kept him there, holding his fingers in hers and her own hands to the mattress. She wanted him to hold her down, keep her safe, like he said. She needed him to keep her tethered to who she was now. She had to believe that what she did now made it alright. Made her a good person, after everything. "I'm not a..." She choked it out, but couldn't finish.

Oliver stilled inside her, his thumbs moving down to rub at her wrists. "A what?"

She shook her head and wrapped her legs tighter around. "Just make me forget. Please..."

His brow furrowed, but he didn't ask what she meant, just leaned down to her, brushed at her lips as he moved rather slowly inside her.

It wasn't enough. All the anger, the guilt, the regret, every emotion that had built up inside her made her feel like she was ready to burst. She moved faster under him, spurred him on, squeezed him inside her until he gasped into her mouth and thrust faster. It was broad daylight, there were waffles spilling out of styrofoam containers, syrup in her hair, his pants were likely still around his ankles. None of it should feel sexy, but damned if it wasn't working for her. She could feel that release coming. She strained to meet it.

She let go with a sob when she finally came. He nearly yelled in her ear when he followed, falling spent over her. And then the sobs kept coming.

He lifted his head, bleary-eyed and concerned. "Chloe?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but she only sobbed harder at the worry in his eyes.

"Shh-shh." He pulled out and laid on his side, pulling her to him. He didn't ask her what was wrong and she was grateful for that. Really, with this last hour, he mostly knew. But only mostly. She couldn't bring herself to tell him everything. So she was just glad to lay there, feel his hand running up and down her back, murmuring that it was okay until she found herself lulled to sleep.

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

It was night when she opened her eyes to rustle of cloth and the jingle of keys. She croaked his name in the darkness.

"I'm here." 

She saw him, dressed now, in the glow of her monitors as her eyes adjusted. "Where are you going?"

"I have that red-eye back to Star City. Next round of meetings."

"Oh, yeah," she said, trying not to sound disappointed. "I almost forgot is all."

He gestured to her consoles. "I, uh, took the liberty of running patrol since you were dead to the world. It was a quiet night, unless you count Bart jabbering. I told everyone you were feeling sick, so..."

"You didn't have to..."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "I wanted you to sleep."

She sat up and nodded. "Thank you for that."

"Just do me a favor and go back to sleep. You keep pulling your crazy all-nighters and you really will get sick." He brushed her hair from her forehead. "Syrup. Looks good on you," he said with a chuckle. "Might be the new thing."

She let out a hollow laugh and tried not to say it. But she did, anyway. "I don't want you to go," she whispered softly and nearly cringed at how needy it must sound. But, damn it, she was sick of pretending she didn't need anyone.

He tilted his head, then leaned down to briefly kiss her. "You know I have to," he said against her lips. "I wouldn't have come back except I missed you so damned much." He sat up and sighed. " And since I've gone green and got rid of the jet, I'm at the wiles of the Metropolis International Airport." He smiled and leaned in a little. "And you could be, too. I bet I could get you a seat right next to mine. You'd be much more fun than the usual chiropractors and screaming kids." 

She laughed in earnest, relieved he didn't seem scared off. But then she knew that, deep down. "You know I need to be here."

"Fair enough. Maybe you'll come one of these days. I'd like to show you my town." He took a deep breath and looked down at his lap. "I suppose I can't stop you from high-tailing it to Smallville now."

"No. But I don't know if I will." She leaned back and stared at the darkened upper levels, where Clark's crest was still burned in under the layers. "What does it accomplish? Confronting him about it? It's been more than a year. He never told me and he was never going to tell me. I'm just going to have to accept that about him and see... how that fits now."

"I'm not going to confront Clark, either. You were right and... and of course, I want you to be friends, just... I couldn't see beyond you defending him in that moment." He glanced up, meeting her eyes briefly before turning away again. "I feel like... sometimes it feels like all I do is try to get through to you. You brush off compliments. You act like it's some kind of weakness to show you care about something or... someone. It's like I'm scaling a wall and every time I get to the top, there's another one. And I... sometimes I think I blame him for that. I've let some things fester and... and I didn't want to throw them at you that way."

"I know," she said softly. "Maybe it's good we have some time apart to... think about things."

"You mean... whether you want to be with me?"

"No." she glanced up, surprised. She was thinking about Clark and Jimmy and all the things he said, but not about that. "Do you want me to mean..."

"I think I made it clear that I'm not giving up. Are you?"

She shook her head. "So... we're okay." She tried to laugh, but it came out rather wet and sniffly. "I mean, apart from how we keep fighting."

"Yeah, well..." He leaned over, brushed her lips. "Maybe we're fighting for something."

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Canon tweaks: 


-I wanted to give a basis for that picture of her in the sheets seen in season ten. I couldn't see Chloe doing it so much as Oliver sneaking a picture. Naughty man.


-THERE! I always had a problem with Oliver just going along with Clark wiping Chloe's memories in season 8 when even Lana could see it was too far. It was one of the two big things I wanted to fix in this fic (the other's coming). I wank that he might not have been as invested in her at the time and that, now, he'd see something wrong with it. Also, that he assumed Clark had told her.


-I will be dealing with one more "roadblock to love" from season eight that always stuck out in my mind before the end. Also, there will be more on Chimmy. 


-I borrowed a few lines from another fic of mine because I couldn't think of a better way to say what Chloe might have thought, finding out about the Abyss mind wipe and what a bunch of BS it was.