Subtraction Time (Chapter Five)

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Still dealing with things relating to Homecoming, then going into what Chloe was doing during Isis.

Chapter Five

Chloe’s cell phone beeped loudly and she pulled it out with an apologetic glance at Victor. “Sorry. Meant to…” She broke off. “You know… Can we wait just five minutes more?” she asked, staring at the screen. Chloe had asked her to come, help bolster the youth set, even knowing she was busy enough. She didn’t think she would. She quickly sent the coordinates, then looked up at the others and smiled. “I think we’ve got just one more special guest.”

Victor sighed and stood. “Maybe we should just get started and…”

“Trust me. They’re going to want to hear her.”

Clark met her eyes. “Her?” He knew who she meant.

Chloe smiled. “Exactly.”

That was the thing with kids. You had to keep their interest. And if there someone aside from the socially responsible Superman and the famously elusive Batman that could inspire them, it was her. Chloe had seen that quality in her the day she met her, even before she knew what she was…

October 17th, 2010

“Is that what you thought? God, Honey... If I knew...” Her father handed her another tissue.

“Well, what was I supposed to think?” she said, swiping at her eyes. This was turning out to be very watery reunion.

“I thought you wanted me somewhere away, somewhere I couldn’t… hold you back.”

“I never said you…”

“I could never say no to you, never punish you, even when you crept in past midnight. And… Well, once you we’re eighteen. I thought there was no point in trying. I thought you wanted your freedom. So I just stayed away. But I saved every article.”

“For your information, freedom doesn’t mean I…” She stilled in the middle of blowing her nose. “My articles?”

Her father gave her a watery grin as he moved to a bookshelf. “You don’t even want to know how many people I showed these to,” he said as he spread an album on the table.

She opened it, thumbing through. There were articles, but there were also the police blotters and City Hall reports. “Dad, most of these aren’t even worth saving.”

“Oh, I know. I paid attention when you told me what made a good story, but just seeing my little girl’s name in print…” His eyes darkened. “Then they slowed down. I barely had to wonder why.” He turned a page. 

“Lex luthor, Editor in Chief,” she read. He’d pasted it there as if it explained everything. Crazy enough, it did.

“I thought of contacting you, then, asking what happened, but I think I knew.”

She didn’t think he did, but she let him go on, all the same.

“It seems like a good idea, doesn’t it? The Luthors tend to make promises and you tend to believe them, believe that they can make things right. Lionel had me blacklisted in three states, but Lex promised he’d make that right.” Gabe shook his head. “That didn’t happen. These powerful men, they don’t care about people like us in the end.” He covered her hand. “But I thought it would be different for you. You were so smart, so capable of… so much more than me.”

“I was n…”

“Don’t argue. You were. But they pushed you aside, too.”

More like targeted. But he didn’t need to know that. There were too many things he just never needed to know. But for her… she needed to know something. “Why didn’t you come to my wedding?”

He shook his head. “Did you want me to?”

God, no! Not with how it turned out. For him to be found under the rubble…

“I just thought… I mean, you’d stopped even emailing me by then.”

She had, hadn’t she? But there was always so much going on? So much danger and she never wanted him, of all people, in the middle of it.

“That invitation came and… I didn’t even know him. So I called Lois and… You know, she said you were happy. She said Clark was giving you away and...” His voice hitched. 

“Dad…”

“I figured you had it the way you wanted it.”

“No!” She pulled him to her, then, angry at the circumstances, angry at those dangerous years, but mostly angry at herself. Because she never tried to see it from his side. “I didn’t want it… want any of my life going by without you.” She held him tighter, probably ruining his shirt. “Daddy…”

“Okay, okay.” He pulled back, wiping her eyes. “So now we know. No more of this. We’ll just… talk more… about… feelings and… stuff.”
.
She smiled through her tears. “Is that something Sullivans even do?”

“Well, maybe we’ll be the first to get it right.” He sniffled and smiled. “So… how are you… feeling?”

She laughed. She had to. “Awful.”

He blinked at her. “Why?”

She actually couldn’t say, still couldn’t share a thing with him? Didn’t that beat all? “I just… I’m a little lost right now.” I don’t even exist right now. “I don’t know where I should be,” she said, trying for what honesty she could share.

“Well, what about Metropolis?”

She shook her head.

“Come on now. I know you had some fun in Smallville, but you’re a city girl at heart.”

“That’s probably true. But maybe that isn’t my city anymore.” Not now, at least, not with Chloe Sullivan erased from all records. 

He seemed to brighten. “Then maybe other cities. Like… DC?”

She sighed as she stared at him. She knew where this was going. 

“You know, on a good day, the commute to DC only takes twenty minutes from here. I’m not sure what the papers are like, but a writer like you…”

"Oh, no. Dad, I don't write anymore.”

He just stared at her. “But… you’ve been writing since you could hold a crayon.”

“Well, see that just evolved into… what I do now.”

“Oh, then…” He smiled and drew back. “What do you do now?”

Nothing. I don’t exist. But up till now… “You know, I’ve always been very good with computers, so… I’ve been working with that.” 

“Well, you always were tied to your computer, I guess. I mean, I thought it was just for the… writing part, but…” He patted her hand. “As long as it makes you happy…”

“Exactly,” she cut in, more to end the conversation than to agree. Because had it? She felt like she’d had this exact conversation with Clark, wondering if her position as nothing but some hub of information actually made her happy. Even having experienced something approaching joy with Oliver, it couldn’t make her unplug from that world, that duty, that purpose in life. 

She’d given up so much protecting this secret, hero world that it had become her life. Then even that life had to be given up. Where did it stop?

As long as it makes you happy.

Those words haunted her when she left her father’s home, dogged her as she drove back to Lana’s apartment, echoed in her mind as she paced the small, empty rooms, wishing Lana would come back and stop her from touching it.

By it, she meant Lana’s laptop. Information was still a bit of a drug to her. All the things she knew… they destroyed her and kept her going at once. They were the reason for everything. So what could it hurt, knowing a little more? Just seeing him again would help.

Right now, the only thing she felt was alone and cheated and exiled. There was only one thing that approached joy. So why shouldn’t she have a taste of it, of him? Oliver. Oliver Queen. She typed his name in the search box. He was a perfect lead, a front page story, a bolded byline. He was the only thing that approached that feeling, that unmitigated satisfaction, that sense of excitement. 

It seemed almost crazy, but he was the one thing that could make it feel… better somehow. And the idea that she was the one he wanted to see at the end of a long day made her feel like she was doing something right. So she needed to see him, even if it was that awful press conference, the one where he sacrificed his privacy, his double life, for good.

It had gone viral, of course. She saw the view count, but didn’t even dare look at the comments as she watched it again. She didn’t want to know what other people thought. For just a second, she just wanted to see him and his… exclusive interview?

She saw another video on the side, saw the date. It was recent. It was different. He was sitting, was wearing a darker suit. She shouldn’t click it… 

But she couldn’t help it.

“Good morning Metropolis, we have a very special show for you this morning. We have an exclusive interview with a very special guest who needs no introduction, Metropolis' infamous badboy and self admitted practicing vigilante Oliver Queen. Or should I say, the Green Arrow? What's on your answering machine?”

Chloe glared at the woman and her smug, dismissive tone.

Oliver just sighed. ”Yeah that's....”

“It's not every day a billionaire admits to parading around in leather playing cops and robbers,” the interviewer cut in.

She wanted to turn it off right, then, if that woman was going to keep boiling what he did down to just…

”Why do it? Seriously? Were you just getting too bored sitting around counting your money, decided to play dress up and it just stuck? Or how does that work, exactly?

“Ooooh! You… Oliver, don’t let her...” 

Oliver just grunted.

”I think our audience would like some answers,” the woman cut in… again! 

“She’s controlling the interview! Don’t you let her…”

“I lost someone, she meant everything to me,” he said.

Chloe’s words, useless as they were, said to a screen, dried up at that. The reporter, if you could call her that, seemed taken aback as well.

”So, for that you want what? A merit badge, and special rights?”

“B*tch,” Chloe hissed. She’d come in with an agenda to belittle him. That wasn’t journalism, that was sensationalism and…

”No. No, you're right I'm not special, this isn't about who I am it's about what I do. And-and I don't think I'm the first rich boy who felt that way,” he went on, not stopping now. He was taking control back. "It was John F. Kennedy who once said ‘ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.’”

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s good. You’ve got this.”

”So now you're-you're comparing yourself to a fallen hero of this country?”

“God! Shut up! You shrewish, opinionated…”

“Well why not? He saw the hero in all of us. I'm not dwelling on revenge for past atrocity's or looking ahead to what I can purposefully gain from a few tax breaks, drilling oil wells in the ocean, putting up razor wired fences to keep out immigrants who only want what our grandparents wanted. In this world of arm chaired bloggers, who've created a generation of critics instead of leaders, I'm actually doing something, right here, right now for the city, for my country.”

“Bring it home, Baby,” she whispered.

He smiled. It was small, but it was there. “And I'm not doing it alone, you're damn right I'm a hero.”

“Yes!” She was standing by now, actually applauding. He’d handled this just right. As much as his coming-out had put the fear of God in her, the fact that he wasn’t backing down was glorious. He could do this. He was getting by just fine without… her.

And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? That was no reason to… hyperventilate. God! She needed some air!

She ended up in Dupont Circle, as the plaques said, staring at a fountain with a number of other tourists, families, and people on lunch break. 

“Make a wish,” she heard a mother call out as a toddler tossed a coin in the fountain. She almost wanted to tell the woman not to encourage him. You start a kid off, telling them wishes come true and they start to believe it. People didn’t always get the things they wished for, even strived for, even if they wanted them desperately.

She was living proof. She didn’t have the career she’d wanted, she didn’t have the man she loved. Nothing, really.

Lost someone… Meant everything to me.

That’s what he said and she wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. She wasn’t lost, was she? Not forever. Just for… Just until… 

The toddler blurred, the fountain dissolved to muddy shades of gray, as the backs of her knees hit the bench. She sank onto it.

That’s when it hit her. She was gone. She was lost. She kept thinking of it as only for now, but she couldn’t even say she was coming back. She made a deal to keep them safe from The Suicide Squad and, her apparent death aside, it was a done deal.

But that wasn’t what hurt the most right now. It was Oliver. She was gone. And he’d be fine. He’d rally. He’d come back from it. And she wanted him to. Of course she wanted him to. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, seeing the potential in him for a life without her.

So she cried. She cried until the people around her gave her strange looks and moved away, probably not wanting to be bothered with an unhinged woman on such a beautiful day. She didn’t blame them. She’d always thought people who cried in public were definitely…

“You’re okay, right?”

She looked up to see a woman standing above her, blurry as she was, holding out a napkin.

“I mean, it can’t be that bad.”

She took the napkin. “You’d be surprised.”

“Bad break-up?”

“Maybe. With my entire life,” she found herself moaning. She didn’t even care how crazy she sounded right now. She was at rock bottom is she was blowing her nose into a stranger’s napkin.

“Oh. Fired, then.”

Chloe stilled in the middle of wiping her nose, finally looking at the woman as she sat next to her -- dark hair, a rather unassuming navy blue jacket and skirt, glasses, hair scraped into a tight bun. It seemed like all that should add up to a mousy appearance, but none of it seemed to take away from the fact that she was possibly the most intimidatingly gorgeous woman Chloe had ever seen.

“Well, I’m just assuming. This is kind of a career-oriented town. So if someone says their life is over, it’s usually the job,” she went on drily, putting a hand on Chloe’s knee. “ But you’re young. There are plenty of internships and…”

“No, I’m not fired. I mean… I don’t even live here,” she sniffed. “I don’t live anywhere, actually,” she found herself sobbing afresh.

The woman drew back, tilting her head. “Do you need a place to…”

“No, no. Not like that.” Chloe took a deep breath, gathering herself. “I probably have no reason to cry… in public, at least. I’ll be fine. I just have to get it under control and…”

“Well, that’s silly.”

She balled up the napkin, feeling embarrassed now. “I know. It could be worse. I’m not broke or homeless or sick. I’ve got that going for me, so…”

“No. I mean… It’s silly to think you have to be in dire straits to deserve a good cry, public or not.”

“Still, I don’t usually…” Chloe stopped.

“What?”

“I was going to say I don’t usually cry, but that’s not true. Now I’ve been crying all day. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing. What do you think tear ducts are for? If they were there just to look pretty, they’d have made them… pretty.” She smiled. 

“Well, I just usually dry up quicker than this. There’s never much time to sit around and cry before the next crisis.”

“High pressure job, huh?”

Chloe gave a watery laugh. “You could say that.”

“I know the feeling.”

Chloe suspected she might. Nondescript suit, no-nonsense hair… She was either military, CIA, or FBI or… Dear God, what was she doing? As much as she avoided the news, she saw enough to know the Vigilante Registration Act was gaining ground. And what was she doing, unloading in front of the very type she should avoid, given her history? She stiffened and started to stand. “Sorry about all this. I feel much better. I should…”

The woman placed a hand on her arm. “You should lean into it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever you’re feeling, even if it’s not convenient or the right time. Just let it happen to you. It’s like laughing. Trying not to usually just makes you laugh harder. I think trying not to feel something you genuinely feel or burying it doesn’t make it go away, just makes it stronger. So let it out, lean in, laugh or scream or cry.”

Chloe stared at the woman and, It was the strangest thing, but she didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to stop talking. There was a strange empathy about her. “Are you a counselor or something?”

The woman laughed. “Maybe in my next life. I’ve just never believed in apologizing for having emotions. I actually…” She suddenly stood, gathering the remains of her lunch. “My God, look at the time,” she said in a rush. “I really need to get going.”

“Of course,” Chloe said dejectedly, though noticing the woman didn’t look at her watch. She stood as well and bent to pick up her purse. “You know, I don’t live here, but…” Chloe trailed off, looking around. 

She was gone. 

Chloe turned around as sirens blared somewhere across the park. “Rude,” she muttered, even knowing it was unfair. It wasn’t as if she could expect the woman to listen to her unload all day, as much as she kind of wished she would. She’d probably read the exchange all wrong, anyway. The woman gave her a few platitudes and helped her stop crying. She shouldn’t expect anything more than that. And what was she thinking, ready to make some kind of coffee date with someone she’d known less than five minutes? She was in no position to be making new friends. In fact, she should be relieved she’d gone.

She adjusted her purse and tossed the napkin away. She was done crying, at least… for now. 

Lean into it. She thought of the words as she moved across the park, not in any particular hurry. That was the thing about now. She had nowhere to be. No reason to dry up and get to work. What work was there? It wasn’t something she’d ever experienced until now, the lack of urgency. Hell, even the sound of sirens didn’t have her checking her phone, wondering who to put on the emergency of the moment. Maybe that’s why she felt so adrift.

And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Lean into it,” she whispered.

October 22nd, 2010

It was strange, almost indulgent letting herself think of Oliver, letting herself sort of wallow in him. Yet it seemed unavoidable. At the moment, she felt surrounded by him, even though she was staring at her mother. 

She was in his town, in a facility he chose, staring at a woman whose care he’d arranged these last years. 

“You think I should have known then?” she asked, squeezing her mother’s hand. She didn’t respond, only continued staring out the window, but Chloe liked to think that, somewhere in there, she heard. “That he’d be more to me, I mean. More than just one of Clark’s hero pals. Sometimes that gives me hope. You know? That we can’t have all these connections, these little sign posts along the way, just to have it end like this.” She let go of her hand and adjusted her mother’s robe as a nurse walked by. “There,” she said loudly. “It’s getting chilly.”

She picked up her hand again as the steps faded down the hall. 

“Sorry about the act,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be able to visit in earnest when… Well, I don’t know when. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just know I’m sorry for not visiting this year. Once Lex was gone, I… I mean, there was no reason not to, except the weekly crisis and all.” She moved to face her, trying to smile. “But I’m here now. And maybe… I don’t know, Mom, maybe we can put some serious man hours into you. That formula Lex had… maybe there’s a way to make something like it. And I know, I know,” she said, even though her mother hadn’t said a word. “You had a genuine reason to be afraid of what you could do, but if we work on it, maybe there’s a way to control it or block it or just… just have you back,” she finished on a sob. "Sometimes, I think I'd take even a day."

She hastily swiped at her eyes as more footsteps sounded in the hall. As much as she was trying to let herself feel, this wasn’t the time or place for a good cry. She’d been in here long enough. She’d taken some precautions, with her little disguise and hacking in to set the security feed to loop, but she couldn’t control people seeing her and asking questions. 

She squeezed her mother’s shoulder. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” she said. “Promise.” 

She moved out, keeping her head down and pulling the new phone Bruce sent her out of her pocket, enabling the cameras as she passed under them. Sometimes, she was tempted to let herself be seen, knowing there was only one person who’d be looking for her. But she couldn’t do it, wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t want the Suicide Squad to find a reason to target him again.

But she could damned well think about him. It was most of what she did with her days here so far, walking around his city, seeing the sights, some of which seemed vaguely familiar until she realized why, remembering that week he’d been away, sending her picture after picture, trying to tempt her to Star City.

And she always meant to see it. She’d just thought it would be with him, not alone with him practically haunting her. She stopped at a bus bench, let herself sink onto it, letting herself have that cry. She was getting better at crying in public, almost losing all sense of shame.

She wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer. As much as leaning into it seemed to be her thing right now, she was getting damned near self-indulgent, fantasizing about life here. What neighborhood was walking distance from her mother’s rest home? What exactly was the application process for The Star City Register? 

But it was possible, wasn’t it? She could find another name, stay near her mother, yet be far enough from Metropolis that the Squad wouldn’t find her. But the idea of living here, in his town, without him…

That wasn’t the only thing stopping her, though. As possible as it all seemed, it didn’t seem right somehow. There was still that vague sense left over from those moments in Fate’s helmet, that sense of something just off the periphery, something she had to do, some reason behind all of this.

And she wasn’t going to find it here. She stood and looked around, taking a deep breath. She did like this city. She liked Northern California and the relaxed sort of energy and the quaint, old buildings, and little neighborhoods with cobblestone streets. She was glad she’d seen it, but she couldn’t stay much longer, couldn’t keep dreaming. 

The question was… Where to now?

November 2011

“Exactly how long are we supposed to wait?” Victor grunted. Everyone else had gone back to chattering, but he seemed to prefer to sit and scowl.

“More than thirty seconds,” Oliver muttered next to her.

She chuckled and elbowed him lightly in the side. Everyone else had happily gone back to talking, but Victor was not known for wasting time. She shrugged at Victor. “She’ll be here any…”

“We were supposed to be touring by now.”

“Fine.” She stood. “Then we can start with the tour and end with the speeches.” 

“Bad idea,” she heard Oliver say under his breath. So she just kicked him a little.

“Sound good?

The conversations died down at that and everyone else stood. She supposed everyone almost as eager to see the digs almost as Victor was to show them off. She couldn’t blame him for being impatient. He’d done most of the planning so far.

“Okay, everyone form an orderly line behind me. Some of this construction is unfinished and unsteady, so don’t touch anything. We actually have a long ways to go before headquarters is finished. This will be the entrance hall and the next room will be the gymnasium.” Victor led the way to a rough-hewn doorway before stopping. “This will be a part of your time here. Everyone will be expected to put in two hours of crew duty every day, apart from study and training.”

“Way to get butts in seats,” Oliver mumbled as they fell into line.

“Would you behave?” Chloe hissed.

“What? He’s putting the stick before the carrot. This is why we needed the inspirational sh*t first. It’s going to be all work, study, and duty if…”

“Needless to say, physical training will only be allowed when and if your studies are completed,” Victor announced, moving through.

Oliver nudged her again. “See?”

“Stop. Victor needs this.”

Hell, he deserved it. He was the only one who volunteered when they finally met about figuring out what to do with this rag-tag group of teens they’d somehow attracted. Most eyes seemed to turn to her, at the time. She supposed she’d gained kind of a rep with her soft spot for burgeoning hero types. But they all seemed to forget she had a life of her own, one that included a job and a husband. When she pointed out that she couldn’t imbed herself in Rhode Island for the foreseeable future, Victor stepped right up.

They moved through the bar sort of gymnasium as Victor pointed out the equipment. 

“The pool is salt water and drains to the Atlantic in case…”

“Besides, it’s good,” Chloe went on, letting the others move past them, lagging behind with Oliver. “Study first, apply later. It’s like the college experience, you know?”

“I don’t know. I gave the Ivy Leagues a pass and went for the marooned-on-an-island experience. Where you learn by actually doing. And I turned out okay.”

“Fair enough,” she conceded. “But even you have to admit that a bunch of kids tossed together are better off studying than just showing off.” She gestured to Garfield, who had taken the form of a very green bat, flapping around the girls’ heads. Courtney and Mia were not amused, though Rachel seemed to be amused… for Rachel. Zayna seemed to be conspiring with Zan to help her turn into something that could give him a good scare. Chloe nearly stepped in when Clark separated the twins before they could whisper "activate" and ordered Gar to the back of the line.

“Ah, the co-ed dorm experience,” Oliver chuckled. “Could have been fun.”

Chloe grunted. “Please, you went to boarding school.”

“With nothing but a bunch of guys,” he sneered. “And Lex.” He pulled her back slightly as the group trekked onward. “But what about you? Any Met U stories? Little too much to drink one night with your hot roommate? Please be very graphic.”

She laughed and pulled free. “I told you. I only spent freshman year in the dorms and my roommate was gone in the first week, then it was Lana.”

“Ah, so you and Lana…”

“Shut up,” she squealed, then quieted down just as quickly, clearing her throat as the rest of the party turned to them as they moved out of the gymnasium and into the locker rooms. She pulled Oliver beside her. “You know, we’re supposed to be the grown-ups here,” she hissed.

“That’s no fun,” he whispered. “But seriously, where are all your infamous college party stories? I’ve watched the odd comedy. Togas, sticking it to the stuffy dean, beer-pong… Give me the goods.”

She chuckled. “Ask Lois. She got most of that out of the way in her first and only semester.” Chloe shrugged and walked on. “I don’t know. I only lived in the dorms freshman year. After Black Thursday, I moved in with Lois and pared down my classes to night school and, after Lex fired me, there was just no…”

“And we can move onto the workshop if everyone quiets down,” Victor said loudly, spearing them with a glance.

“Sorry,” Chloe said soberly.

“You got us in trouble,” Oliver whispered when Victor finally moved on.

“You started it,” she hissed back.

“Now, this is for practical weaponry. The lab above is for chemical experimentation and there will be a sign in sheet for each, only to be utilized if…”

“If you’ve filled out five forms in triplicate?” Oliver hissed.

“Stop it.”

“Never.” He grinned. “What if we let the tour go on and check out the locker room? This whole college thing takes me right back to high school.” He backed her out of the doorway. “I’m thinking you’re a cheerleader and I’m stressed out before the big game.”

Her back hit a locker and her hands slid up his chest. But she should at least try to resist… “Ollie…”

“Okay, gender flip. I’ll be the rare male cheerleader and you are just so wound up for your game of… Is field hockey still a thing?”

“After this is over…”

“This will never be over if Victor’s in charge. Trust me.” He leaned in. “Anyway, one of us is really wound up and there’s apparently this big game. However will we…”

“Am I too late?” The words came with a rush of air just to their right.

Oliver stiffened and pulled back. “No. Come back later,” he groaned.

“Nope.” Chloe extricated herself and moved to Diana. “You’re just in time for the tour,” she said lightly. Chloe tossed an apologetic glance back at Oliver as she took her arm. “I told them to wait, but you know Victor…”

Diana laughed. “I’m starting to.”

CHAPTER SIX

Note: For the design of the not-quite-finished Happy Harbor headquarters, I used this as a guide: 

http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090318002140/marvel_dc/images/4/4a/Secret_Sanctuary_002.jpg