Subtraction Time (Chapter Ten)

Banner by Purplemoon123

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Just finishing up with the last bit of Collateral that I already had from Action Time, then going into a pre-Beacon scene before getting into Beacon itself.

Chapter Ten

December 29th, 2010

Once out of that virtual world, they spoke, but it was the barest sentences, mostly consisting of words unsaid and feelings masked with the more pressing task at hand. She still got a read on some of his. And they were hot anger and barely-masked bitterness. Sure, they kissed. But she'd kissed him, really. And they barely got started before Flagg and Deadshot came in and followed her orders, causing Oliver to turn to her with betrayal in his eyes.

But he understood how it was now, didn't he? He wanted to see her, didn't he? Wanted to dress up? Couldn't that mean something... better?

She wasn't sure if it was longing or fear that was on top as she pushed open Watchtower's doors. 

So she let herself feel both as he turned to her, in a dark suit... and what looked like a dozen red roses.

She let out a breath as she thought back a year, to that Valentine's Day when he sent her three such bouquets and she'd deflected them and their significance, joked about all his gifts, chided him soon after for trying to give her a nicely wrapped spoon, to all the ways he reached to her and all the ways she pushed him away. Well, not anymore. She'd pushed him away. She'd put up walls. She'd run away. Enough.

"Oliver, they're beautiful," she said softly.

He shrugged just a little as he moved to her, his eyes mostly on the roses and off her, she noticed. "Yeah. I thought so. I think you might want to, uh," he held them to his face and gave a long sniff, "put these in water. I'm pretty sure they're real."

She smiled widely. Because she'd been waiting for a joke, even a horrible one. The clipped sentences and hurt looks of this night did nothing to tell her where she stood with him. But a silly joke... it spoke of hope. "I haven't been given flowers like this in a long time," she said, taking them and wondering if she'd find a vase here now, packed up and covered in plastic, but mostly wondering if he'd think of that last Valentines day, of all the potential in them then. And that was nothing to now. Maybe they didn't have to go over all the damage she'd done by leaving. Maybe they could...

"I just stopped looking for you."

Her smile dropped and she stilled, cradling the flowers.

"Figured that's what you wanted. Right?"

It wasn't right. Not really. She'd still been thinking about what was needed and, with that in mind, it would have been better if he'd just accepted that email and not even started to look for her. But what she wanted... she was only just starting to really consider that. She placed the bouquet down gently and slowly turned to him. "You have no idea how much it means that you trusted me," she said, trying to work herself up to more, to saying what she wanted, what she really wanted.

"You could have called me," he cut in before she could formulate another sentence. "You could have called me," he repeated. "You could have said...uh..." He shrugged and trailed off and she supposed the both of them were wondering what she might have said.

But she couldn't have said a thing, not even in code. "Yeah. I wanted to." She stepped toward him. "But the Fate helmet warned me to stay away."

He didn't move to her. "Did the helmet, um, say anything about how I'd be sitting alone, listening to old voicemails just to hear your voice? Anything like that or, uh... Or that I'd be scanning every single stranger's face on the subway just... in hopes that I'd come across your smile..." He stared at her and she still felt the waves of bitterness, of loss, coming off him. "...never to find it," he finished. 

"No. It didn't tell me that." She took another step toward him, realizing she had to. Looking back, he'd done most of the work here. It was her turn. As for what she saw, she'd seen him, but not like that. She'd seen him alone or with Clark or Tess or Lois or any of the others. Just flashes. Sometimes he smiled and sometimes he glowered. She supposed the helmet wouldn't allow to see things that concerned her. But she'd seen enough to know he was safe. "I figured that out on my own." 

She'd seen it in other ways, saw the news footage when Oliver unveiled himself, saw the barely leashed anger in him and knew, just knew, that most of that was about her. She'd wanted to go to him then, but she'd stayed away because she felt that was what was needed of her. Right now, she didn't much care what was needed of her. She knew what she felt. She knew what she wanted. And she'd say it now. No more hiding. 

"Oliver, I didn't reach out to you because I didn't trust myself," she said, "l knew that if I looked into your eyes or felt your breath on my cheek there was no way I would have walked out that front door." She moved a little closer, taking another step to him, to what she wanted. "And there hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't dreamed about the time when I would walk through it again," she said breathlessly, hoping he'd give her some sign that he wanted the same.

He glanced everywhere but at her before his eyes finally landed on hers. "You stickin' around... for a while?"

She didn't want to hesitate, but she did, still tortured by the idea of that future she didn't see herself in. But she wouldn't, would she? The very nature of Nabu concealed the wearer from knowing their own fate. Who was to say she wasn't there? Couldn't she be? Somewhere that might have been unseen? 

And she'd come back now with no repercussions. She'd stepped in and saved them and there had been no bolt of lightning to strike her down. 

"Yeah," she said, making the decision then and there. Why shouldn't she have a shot at what she wanted?

She smiled hopefully as Oliver seemed to take that in... for too long. Maybe she'd pushed too hard this time, running away for half a year. Her smile dropped as he remained silent. Maybe he truly had moved on and all his talk about listening to her voicemails was just a process, something he used to finally push her out of his mind. Of course, there was an edge of anger in her as she'd replayed his press conference, no matter how she disagreed with his coming out, over and over. That hadn't brought her any nearer to forgetting him and all they'd been or might be. And was she seriously that easy to get over for him? That faithless...

"Good." He smiled, just that small half-quirk of his lips, but it might as well have been a thousand roses raining on her.

She smiled as he leaned in, met her lips, leaving no doubt. She kissed him back, pulling him down and diving into this. Her mind wandered back to the first time they kissed, to the idea that it had been the first kiss of her life that had her feeling definitively kissed. It was still that way, every time, as if to tell her that she had to hold onto this one. She did. And with both hands. 

She might not know what her future held now. But who the hell did?

He loved her. He still loved her. And she loved him.

And that made anything possible. 

November, 2011

“You’re impossible,” she grunted, pelting a fry at him. He just caught it in his mouth, the big jerk! “I thought we were dropping Batman.”

“Nope,” he said, chewing rather smugly. “We moved onto you freaking out over Rachel, so it wasn’t dropped, just put on hold. You know who he is and you know how to find him.”

“And I’m not going to abuse his confidence and tell you anything more. You know enough.” She dropped her burger. “You know, I just want to call Victor one more…”

“Rachel’s safe in bed,” Oliver cut in. “You even made him look twice. Let the man recharge, for crying out loud!”

“But in case…”

“She is in the safest possible place she can be at Happy Harbor. Besides, if the Squad is after her, it’s been for longer than this. This is just the first you knew about it. And you don’t even know they are!”

“You were the one who said it could be related to Rachel.”

“Well, she’s the only person I know who gets demon tagged on her name – by Zatanna, at least. Doesn’t mean everything demon-ish is about her. Flag and Friends are pretty shady. They could be messing around with anything. Now, finish your food or I will.”

He had a point. She took another bite. “That doesn’t leave us out of it,” she said, her mouth full. 

“Yes, it does. I thought there was a deal. They stay out of our business and we stay out of theirs. I don’t like that creepy little cabal, anyway.”

“You’ve seen their methods. They will find the worst, most violent, most explosive possible way. We need to figure out what they’re messing with before…”

“Not this time of night, we don’t. We can think about this after a good night’s sleep.” He pushed his plate away. “Why do you eat so damned slow?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why do you eat so fast?”

“I have to sit watching you eat with nothing to do,” he grumbled. “Look at you, sitting there with those steak fries when you know I had grilled chicken and salad.”

“They’re really good, too,” she said, picking one up and taking the slowest possible bite. 

He chuckled. “Am I masochist if watching you bite into something is doing it for me?”

She paused, considering it. “You might need a therapist. Or a cold shower.”

He shrugged. “Well, I don’t like to shower alone because that shower is huge and… the environment.” He huffed. “Damn it, Woman, are you done yet?”

She laughed and dropped her fry. “I guess. Just let me brush my teeth.”

“Nope. We’re good.” He gripped her hand and pulled her to the bathroom.

“I’ve got burger breath.”

“Babe, I’ve kissed you with coffee breath a million times now. If I can handle that horror, I can handle anything.” He unzipped.

She pulled off her top. “So am I masochist if I still let you have shower sex with me after you insult me horribly?” She pushed down her pants as well.

He shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. Can’t hear you when you’re naked.”

She giggled and pushed him into the shower, leather pants and all. She started to turn it on, just to see him hurriedly shuck them off and toss them out. 

“Don’t get them wet! You keep that up, I really will end up wearing tights like… Who am I thinking of?”

“I’m not finishing that thought.” She pulled him under the spray. “And stop making fun of Clark’s…”

“Tights?”

“Uniform,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes. “So what does it mean if you like to think of Clark when you’re in the shower with me?”

He drew back. “Subject change. You never did get that field hockey uniform. Welsher.” He pulled the showerhead from the wall and turned it on her.

She tried to grab it back. “I think all the fun went out of that when you told me you were the cool kid to my nerd.”

“I did not.”

“You said you were a jock and I was the dorky school reporter and…”

“That’s even better,” he breathed, taking that shower head and holding it high over her. “Like maybe you’re trying to be all serious and interview me, but I’m just trying to get you out of those glasses… We should get you some glasses. And an argyle sweater. Not that I have any issue with you being all naked and wet, but…”

She gripped his wet neck and laughed. “What if you were the one trying to talk about all your… touchdowns and I…”

“Really? You see me in football? I always felt I had more of a baseball…”

“Fine. Home runs. The point is that it doesn’t always have to be you as the seducer.” The one in control. She pushed him lightly to the small ledge built into the stone, though he was still holding that showerhead. She deflected the spray away from her face and leaned down, licking the drops of water that had already collected on his neck. “What if that dorky reporter takes charge?”

“There’s a new way to go,” he groaned as she kissed her way down his chest. 

“I’m a writer,” she murmured against his nipple. “I have a way with dramatic twists.” She slid her hands ahead of her mouth, gripping between his legs and pulling just a little as she kissed her way down.

“God, Chloe, if you start that, I can’t…”

She didn’t let him finish. She took him into her mouth, sliding her tongue over the tip before moving down. They almost never did this. She knew she might be beaten over the head by women everywhere if she dared to complain that her husband gave at least ninety percent more oral sex than he received, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed by it. It was about more than physical satisfaction. 

In the beginning, she had no reason to complain. She still didn’t, looking at it objectively. It’s not like she didn’t get her jollies. It was just that Ollie was always the one doling out the jollies. And she let it happen at first as he’d definitely been the more experienced of the two of them. Hell, she thought cunnilingus was horribly embarrassing before him. 

But time had worn on and she’d like to think she’d picked up a thing or two by now. She hummed lightly in the back of her throat as she slid her lips down and he shook under her.

“Sh*t, Babe!”

Yes, she knew what to do. She gripped his thigh, then slid her hand upwards. Her eyes lifted to his face, tight and tense, head thrown back against the tiles, eyes squeezed shut. 

“You need to… You have to… You gotta…”

She wasn’t going to stop. She told him so wordlessly as she kept sucking, sliding one hand between his thighs, very lightly cupping his balls.

He bucked up, then, a few choice words echoing off the tiles.

But she kept on task. She could feel sharp tingles racing all over her by then, though it might take no more than the tiniest touch, even from her own hand, for her to fall to a satisfied heap, all she really wanted was him, gasping and depleted beneath her. If she could just get him to let go…

“I’m gonna… You need to stop or… I’m gonna…”

Exactly! Just do it!

His body was arching away from the wall and his hand was on her shoulder, but didn’t seem to know if it wanted to pull her away or keep her there. It just squeezed and she placed her own over it, stilling him, hoping he knew…

His other hand slid over her now wet head, that showerhead falling to the tiled floor and spraying the both of them. She choked a bit, almost laughing, heady with all this power when he stilled.

“You okay?”

She pulled back, let him fall from her mouth. “I’m fine. Just…”

But he moved away, bent to pick up that nozzle and promptly fell on his ass. 

She laughed. She couldn’t help it.

He turned to her. “Enough of that.” He yanked her to him with his free hand and she found herself straddling his lap before she could blink. 

She started to tell him she had not been finished, damn it, but his lips met hers and his hands slid to her wet breasts and she couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed, especially not when he lifted her over him.

She sighed into his mouth as he filled her completely, gripping his wet body as that damned showerhead moved back and forth on the tiled floor. He slapped a hand on it and pulled away just a little, grinning as he slid it between their bodies.

She tried to meet his lips again with an exasperated gasp, but froze as she felt the warm stream on her clit. The dueling sensations of him moving inside her and the water washing over her had her nearly insensible in seconds. She tightened around him, collapsed over him with a whimper.

She was barely able to hang on as he pushed upwards under her, grunting her name and gripping her hips.

It was some time before either of them moved, shielding their faces when that damned showerhead started going berserk again. They made standard use of it, then, lazily shampooing and conditioning with only half-hearted attempts to attack each other.

All in all, it was a damned good use of shower time. It didn’t occur to her to be annoyed until later, drifting off with his leg thrown over her.

“You did it again,” she said into the arm under her head, biting it just a little.

He just snored in her ear and pulled her closer.

January 25th, 2011

Boredom. That was the only word she could think of to describe this.

Watchtower was effectively mothballed… or trapped in plastic. All preventative heroics had been postponed for the foreseeable future. The gang, as a whole, might claim not to be scared off from the little kidnapping that had happened last month, but everyone was definitely keeping a low profile lately. 

As for her, her profile had been so low these last months as to be nonexistent, so it was really more of the same. The only big excitement was a box from Gotham.

She’d called Bruce last week, mostly just to let him know she was still among the living. He’d very obviously tried not to ask for any details before groaning about “all the crap she left cluttering up his guest room.”

“Maybe you can put it in one of the other seven,” she’d suggested.

“Cute,” he’d grunted. “But what do I do with this stuff? Look up your teleporting sidekick to take it to the mountains or are you… in… Metropolis , I see.”

“Are you tracing my location?” She’d tried to be offended, but it actually felt nice, knowing he cared through all his grousing.

“Just to know where to send your crap,” he’d said tersely. “You said your old apartment blew up. I see you’re in some place listed as an office building. How does that even work?”

“And I thought you didn’t care how my little team out here worked.”

“I don’t. Just want to know how to label it is all,” he’d finished quietly. “And maybe how you landed there again after your little vacay with your militant friends.”

“It’s a long story and pretty much restricted to members of my team. If you ever want to know all the gory details, I suggest you meet with us and…”

“I work alone, Chloe,” he sighed. 

“So you keep saying, but…”

“Just give me an address for your stuff.”

So she had. And here it was. Yet, despite his insistence, she didn’t quite feel like it was her stuff. Then again, she’d felt the same way about the few boxes she’d taken from her storage locker. She hadn’t even unpacked them, just took out a thing here and there as needed. Everything she looked at, past or present, felt like something that was not quite hers.

That included Watchtower these days. Tess had been running things in her absence up until everything was covered in plastic sheets. Tess claimed she was glad for the break, that she had a paper to run, anyway. Yet Chloe couldn’t help feeling Tess was just a wee bit jealous, giving up her place in the gang to its previous holder. For her part, Chloe couldn’t help but be a bit jealous that Tess had something else to do. She had nothing to break the monotony… save this box.

She dug through and was arrested by how drab everything was. It was all grays, blacks, and navy blues. Then again, she’d insisted it be that way, keeping a low profile through her time in Gotham and even when traveling. It had just made sense at the…

She stopped, arrested by a flash of red. She pulled out some clothes, finding the source wrapped in some tissue. She tore it aside and pulled it out. She definitely didn’t remember buying anything like this. In fact, she specifically remembered, when Bruce complained her wardrobe was depressing him (“What are you, a prison matron? At least get something red.”) telling him she only wanted the bare essentials so as not to abuse his generosity (“I’ll let you know when you’re abusing my generosity!”).

It was a dress. Not only that, but a matching belted coat. She could tell by the feel of it them that they were way out of any budget she’d ever seen and from the creases that they were brand new. She sighed and looked for a price tag. But she found nothing. Even the labels had been ripped out. 

“You think you’re so clever,” she groaned. They were basically unreturnable now. She did find a note stuffed in the coat’s pocket.

Go out once in a damned while!

She chuckled and stuffed it back in, then folded them back into their tissue. She had a good mind to call him and inform she had been out just last… month. Had it really been that long? She and Oliver had gone to dinner that first night, though, dressed to the nines… and in the darkest possible corner of the least popular restaurant in Little Italy. 

It wasn’t as if they didn’t want to get out more. It was just that the VRA restrictions didn’t make for wild nights on the town. They’d felt nervous almost the entire time, jumping at every new arrival. In the end, they took their food to go and ended up back here where they could talk in something besides a whisper. They’d been ordering in ever since. 

Except tonight, when he insisted he’d only be satisfied with the one Chinese place that didn’t deliver. She glanced at the clock, noting he’d been gone a lot longer than a jaunt to China Moon should take. In fact it had been an hour! How had she missed that?

She stared around her frantically, shoving the box away and staring longingly at the monitors, wishing she could tear the plastic off. She knew it was risky, bringing attention to Watchtower now, but if she could find out if a certain known vigilante was in police…

The doors opened then. “Luuucy, I’m ho…”

“Oh, thank God!” She threw herself at him.

He chuckled and gripped her. “You must be hungrier than I thought.”

She drew back and pushed at his chest. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Hey, there was a line.” He shrugged. “There was also a little bank robbery and…”

“Oliver!” She turned and moved to the desk, opening her notebook. “Bank robberies make the news. It probably… Oh, God! There it is! Breaking news… Metropolis National… Unnamed vigilante...”

“See? Babe, they barely saw me. I kept my hood down the whole…”

“That’s not the point!” She whirled on him. “What if they caught you?”

“But they didn’t! Not even with the other…”

“But they could have!” She slapped his shoulder. “And what other…”

“There were these two very tiny little muggings,” he added, flinching as she slapped at his chest. “But, I swear to God, those were nothing to that line at China Moon. That was like… seconds. Really long line. This place must be good.”

She held her hand up. “I’m trying to figure out where to hit you next.”

He held up a second bag. “Does it help that I got wine, too?”

She dropped her hand. “A very little bit.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to fight, but…”

“Then let’s just not do it. At least not on an empty stomach.” He winked and moved to the kitchenette. “Listen, I’m not going to let a crime go by right in front of me, not when I’m there to stop it.”

“But with the restrictions on heroes and you in particular…”

“That just means the criminal element’s getting cocky. They think we’ll be out of this picture and they can own this town. I’m not going to let…”

“I’m not saying you should,” she tried. “But you’re the one who’s out, so to speak, so you have an even bigger target on your back. The risk is too much for…”

“So says the woman who was commanding the Suicide Squad,” he said, placing the food down and throwing his arms up. “If you want to talk about risk, just look at that name.”

She glared at him. “And you know I only worked with them because I had no other choice, both to stop them and to save you.”

“Then you should know that I have no other choice. Chloe, you of all people should know that I’m not doing this for fun. I’m doing this because somebody has to! And, when it happens right in front of me, that somebody has to be me.”

She stared at him, then sighed. “Let’s open the wine first. I meant it when I said I don’t want to fight.”

He took two glasses from the cabinet and plucked a corkscrew from the drain board. “Maybe we’re just getting cabin fever, stuck in here day and night.”

“Dead girl and a wanted man. It’s not like we have a choice.” She took a corner of the couch and tucked her legs under her.

“Well, you might be more able to venture out than me. Maybe I should have you work some computer voodoo on my state of being.” He handed her a glass.

“Let’s just wait for the vote tomorrow.” She stared at him as he uncorked the bottle. This was probably harder on him than her. As much as she was bored, she was a bit more used to being cooped up in this tower, before this crazy year. She learned to fight these last months for necessity, but she knew Oliver was just physical by nature. He itched to be out there and she hated that she was now nagging him to stay inside. “I don’t want this, you know. It’s just where we are.”

“Hmm?” He glanced up as he poured her wine.

“I don’t want to browbeat you out of being who you are. I just want you safe.”

He leaned in, his lips meeting her forehead before he poured his own glass. “I’m being careful. Enough about me. Did you go out and get more boxes?”

“No. I had that one sent from… my time away.”

His eyes widened. “The Washington lady?” He sat up straighter. “Is it true she wears a flag bikini? I’m not leering, I’m just wondering how she’s dealing with the east coast winters in that thing.”

“Let’s just say she’s a bit like Clark. I don’t think they get to her much.” She’d felt okay telling him about Diana as Diana was just as curious about them. “I’m pretty sure we’ll all have a little meet-up when the VRA dies down.” 

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Even then. We’re going to have to find a way to work around things.” It wasn’t as if they could all just stop saving lives. “We’ll know tomorrow, what we have to do, whatever happens. Anyway, the box wasn’t from her.” She took a long sip of her wine, wondering if she should tell him about Bruce. If she were to ask Bruce, the answer would be a definitive no. But she wondered if Bruce would change his mind if the VRA wasn’t voted down. “It’s from a good friend,” she said, deciding that was a safe answer.

“Lana?”

She just smiled and moved to the kitchenette. “It was nice seeing her. Sometimes I think she and Clark should talk, not in person, maybe just a video chat.” She brought the food back to the couch, opening the bags. “I think it helps, revisiting the past, if only to understand it better.”

“Like with your dad?”

She sat back and considered that. “I definitely understood him more, hearing it from his side. But I want to think he’s still going to be a big part of my future. But Clark… I feel like he and Lana never talked as adults, you know? They never had a post-mortem. I think they need to try it, just to make peace with how things ended.”

“They know how to find each other if they ever want to.” Oliver sighed and started doling out the food. “Are you ever going to stop worrying about what Clark needs?”

“Excuse me?” She lifted a brow as she took her food. 

“I’m just saying, Chloe, Clark has gotten by these last months without you holding his hand. I think it’s something he needed. You’ve spent so many years anticipating his needs and trying to fill in all the blanks. He needs to learn to get by without you.”

“But I’ll have to be there if he…”

“Yes, you will. I’m not saying you won’t. But you shouldn’t let him lean on you indefinitely. You have to know that.” He nudged her shoulder. “You might have other places to be.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to pimp Star City again?”

“Of course not. I don’t need to. You saw for yourself the many amenities and charming architecture and coastal vistas of my fair…”

“Yes. It was all very cute. But, right now, we’re here.”

“We might not always be. And, just an FYI, we have a paper, too.”

“Oliver, I can’t even think about writing right now.”

“Obviously, but if you were in the market for a day job, The Register might be a fifty years younger than The Planet, but that just means they’re hungry for new blood.”

“Well, I’m hungry for garlic shrimp. Are we gonna eat or what?”

He groaned and opened his own. “Garlic shrimp. Is the thrill gone? Do you not want me to kiss you ever again?”

She plucked one shrimp out and took a bite. “We can even things up.” She quickly leaned to him and put the rest in his mouth, wiping a bit of the sauce on his cheek. “There you go.”

He swiped at his face as he chewed. “You do realize I got General Tso’s Chicken.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Way worse than garlic shrimp.”

“Also a way bigger portion. They always skimp on seafood.” He plucked one out. “I could pelt you with these and still have plenty to eat.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He did… at least enough that they ended up in Watchtower’s cramped shower by the time dinner was done. After that, the boxes were left, mostly uneaten, on the end tables as they hurriedly pulled out the couch. 

They did finish the wine, though.

The next morning, Chloe woke first, leaning up on her elbow and staring at him. He looked so peaceful in sleep. She wished she could keep him that way for a bit longer. The minute he woke, he’d be itching to be out again. And she’d have to nag him to stay and she really wished that wasn’t the way things had to be.

Up until that vote went through, they had to sit and wait. Everything was up in the air for one more day. Maybe that was what had her reluctant to even unpack a few measly boxes. She had no idea what was going to happen and felt like a visitor in a space she’d once called her own.

But that wasn’t all of it. She felt rather like a visitor in her own life. Maybe it was all down to Fate’s helmet. From the moment she put it on, her life had taken on this feeling, as if there was something she’d forgotten… or that she had yet to remember. She couldn’t put it into words, but it hung over her as if to say she was not free to relax, her work wasn’t done.

So the boxes stayed unpacked. Where would she put them? What would she take from them? She had no idea what was hers to keep.

Ollie moved just a little in his sleep and she stroked his cheek. Even with the tension of being stuck inside, the little fights, she still couldn’t get enough of him. She barely cared about the rest of it, could take almost anything, if he could be hers to keep.

He stirred and opened his eyes, smiling lazily. “They say being a wanted man is supposed to be a bad thing.” 

She grinned back, then cut her eyes to the left, to the laptop. Wanted man. Was there any news? The polls didn’t open for another hour, but if she could just see where the wind was blowing… She dragged her eyes back to him. Obsessing about it wouldn’t change anything. She’d just focus on him and take what time they and…

Of course, he caught her. “Were you peeking at your…”

“I…”

“Okay,” he groaned, sitting up.

“I…” She couldn’t deny it. “Just a peek. Just a really quick peek.”

“The government may have framed me as a terrorist,” he said, handing it over, “but it would truly be criminal to keep you from checking up on the world, wouldn’t it?”

Wonderful man. She was definitely keeping him, if she had anything to say about it.

“And while you do that, I’m going to, uh, take a walk, stretch my legs out a little bit.”

That or he had his own sneaky ideas. “Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

She threw an arm over him. “Your stretching yesterday led to you stopping two muggings and a very public bank robbery.”

“That’s right,” he said, nearly preening. 

God! It was like he refused to be even a little sorry! 

“I wore the hoodie.”

“And, if you get caught, you’re gonna be wearing prison orange, which is not the best color on you.” She’d argued this last night. She didn’t want to fight again. She tried another tack. “Hey, I just got you back.” Hadn’t she just decided that he’d be hers to keep? “I don’t want to lose you again.”

It seemed to work. He smiled and leaned to her.

VOTE DOWN THE VRA! VOTE DOWN THE VRA! VOTE DOWN…

She turned to her laptop and picked it up. “What’s going on?”

A young man was yelling. “Our heroes need our help now more than ever!” 

She turned to Oliver, smiling. 

He was grinning as well. “A pro-hero rally. Okay!”

She shook her head, staring at the footage. “I knew there had to be support, but...”

“The news wasn’t covering it. Why now?”

Her smile widened as she saw a familiar red-head, just a bit grayed these days, getting out of a black car. “I’m thinking the presence of a U.S. Senator might have made this a little more newsworthy,” she said, just before the man at the podium called out “Senator Martha Kent!”

Chloe let out a tearful laugh as Martha took the podium. “These are difficult times. With heroes being treated as criminals. It’s easy to lose hope…”

Oliver nudged her. “Did you know about this?”

“I know she worked on the national vote. D… My friend in Washington told me she was working like crazy to make it happen. But I didn’t know Mrs. Kent was coming to town today.”

“You mean Senator…”

“I know, I know. I think, over and above that, she’ll always be Mrs. Kent to me.” She leaned into his shoulder, feeling safe just knowing Martha Kent was in town. “I think, growing up without a mother, she was just my ideal -- so soft, but so strong.”

“Aw! Look at you, all mushy over…”

“Shut up and let me listen,” she cut in, pinching him even as she snuggled closer.

“… to take a stand against fear and hate,” Martha said forcefully. ”To get to the polls tomorrow and vote down the VRA!”

The crowd took up the cry from there.

”Vote down the VRA!”

“Vote down the VRA!”

Martha joined them.

Chloe joined in softly.

Oliver laughed, but did so as well.

They glanced at each other, smiling as they chanted… until the shots rang out.

“No!”

“She’s okay! Look! Chloe! She’s okay!”

November, 2011

“What?” Chloe shot up in bed. “What?”

Oliver snorted and crumpled to the bed, then fell on her. “That was awesome.”

“What was that noise?”

Oliver held up something, but she was too bleary to see it. “Air horn,” he chuckled, getting entirely too big a kick out of himself.

She batted it out of his hand. “Why are you torturing me?” she groaned before falling back to bed and pulling the covers over her head.

He pulled them away again. “Victor’s waiting at the airport.”

“For what?” she groused, trying to pull them back over her.

“I told him to bring the jet and come get us for the meeting.”

“We don’t have a meeting,” she moaned, trying to pull the pillow over her head.

He held it away. “Yes, we do. We have new information that calls for an emergency meeting, so get up.”

She sat up and glared at him. “What new information?”

“You know what.”

She shook her head. “No. We are not meeting about Batman.”

He leaned in. “Yes. We are.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I just wanted something between Collateral and Beacon to bridge the gap. I’ll be back in the next to finish with Beacon and also that emergency meeting.