Author's Comment: Please note that I changed the rating of the story to M for some mild sexual content. Nothing graphic, just wanted to be on the safe side.
"Look, she won't even open the door for me," Clark said, anxiety etched across his face. "She's been angry at me for ages and now there's nothing I can do for her because she won't even let me inside the apartment, let alone talk to me. Just, do something, Oliver."
Clark continued his subconscious plan to pace a hole in the floor of Oliver's apartment and Oliver could only watch in exasperation. "What exactly makes you think I can do anything? She and I aren't exactly thick as thieves."
"She trusts you."
"God only knows why," Oliver looked at the ceiling, muttering under his breath. "What about Lois? She'd be much better suited t--"
"Lois has already tried. She's the one who realized something was wrong in the first place. She said Chloe's just sitting there, practically catatonic. Nobody's seen her leave the building in days and Lois is completely freaked out because we're not even sure if she's eating."
Oliver gulped. What on earth was going on? "Well, I'll do my best, Clark. I mean, I don't know what good it'll do, but of course I'll try."
"Chloe?" Oliver called through the door, pretending to sound confident, as though nothing were wrong.
There was no answer.
"Chloe?" he tried again. "Now, Chloe, look, as your friend, I'm asking you to open the door. We both know you're in there," he tried, a hint of pleading in his voice. Nothing. "All right, listen, Chloe. As your boss, I'm demanding to be let in."
Still nothing.
Oliver took a step back, looking at the door, wondering what the best way to handle this was. He was beginning to wonder at Clark for not just beating the door in and forcing Chloe to talk to him. What did Clark expect him to do about this? He had no idea how he was going to be able to help Chloe in the slightest. Why on earth she would want to confide in him to start with was beyond him. Concern, though, kept him determined.
"Chloe, I'm warning you, as Green Arrow, I'm not asking or demanding to be let in. I'm breaking in."
Thirty minutes later he landed on her balcony in full-fledged green leather (because, really, the last thing anyone needed was for Oliver Queen to be seen breaking into Chloe Sullivan's apartment on the twentieth floor). He approached the doorway off her balcony slowly, not sure what to expect. He pulled off the hood and sunglasses and stopped for a moment when he saw her. She was curled up on the couch, just staring out, not really seeing, definitely not seeming to care that the Green Arrow had just resorted to coming swinging onto her balcony. Oliver still felt a bit ridiculous for not being able to think of any other way in. He was going to make a point of rewiring her security system later to include himself.
"Chloe?" Her head turned slightly toward him to acknowledge him, but she did not look at him properly. He felt just plain awkward with the whole situation. "Do you...umm...mind if I sit down?"
"Go ahead," she said. He practically jumped out of his skin when she spoke. He hadn't been expecting it. Her voice sounded different, though. Quiet, weak. He didn't like it.
Dropping his gear in the doorway he walked cautiously toward the couch. He sat down next to her, "leaving room for Jesus," as they used to say at his old private school. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say. "So..." he paused, hoping she would suddenly volunteer what was wrong so he could swoop in and save the day and bring everything back to normal, knowing that wasn't going to happen. "So," he repeated, "I imagine you know why I'm here. You've got Clark and Lois pretty freaked out." He waited for an explanation.
Nothing.
"Right, and honestly, now I'm starting to get worried, too. Any reason you won't let any of us in?"
Chloe was silent at first, but then she said quietly, "Can't talk to Lois. Don't want to talk to Clark. And just now," she raised her eyebrows slightly, "I really didn't want to get the door." She thought, a small furrow forming on her brow, then added, "Sorry."
Oliver looked at her awkwardly. Well, he thought with a sigh, it was probably indicative that she at least didn't mind talking to him. Why he was the chosen one, he had no idea, but now was not the time to question it. "So do you want to tell me what's going on here?"
Chloe shook her head, still not looking at him. "Not really."
"Okay...will you tell me what's going on?" he pressed.
Chloe sighed, turning her head away from him.
"Start at the beginning," he encouraged, moving a fraction closer.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her, staring at the floor. "Three days ago, I realized that Jimmy died two years ago."
Oliver felt something grip his heart. He wished he had the slightest idea how to comfort her, but he didn't know where to begin.
"But that wasn't what started this. It was the fact that I realized it three days ago, but the anniversary of his death was a month and a half ago. It--" her voice caught in her throat for a moment. "It passed me by without my so much as blinking at it."
One small tear formed and slid down her cheek. Oliver reached over and brushed it away. "Hey," he said soothingly. "It's okay. Jimmy never would have wanted you to dwell on it or become consumed with grief. He wanted you to be happy and live your life."
Chloe started to legitimately cry at that. "That's just it, though. I'm not happy. I'm not even close to happy. It's the same thing that's plagued me all my life: no matter where I go, no matter how far away I get, I always end up feeling trapped, like I can't wait to get away. But I can't run away this time. I'm needed here." She glanced sadly around her at all the computers that composed Watchtower's headquarters.
"Woah, woah, woah, Chloe," Oliver said, moving over to put his arm around her. She flinched at the contact, causing a pang in his chest. "At no point do I or any of the others want this job to come before your happiness. You can walk away anytime y--"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ollie. I could never leave all of you. And even if I could, where would I go?" she uttered a dry sob and leaned against his chest.
"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "Maybe you need to take some time off for a while. Or maybe we all just need to make a point of getting you out of this tower a little more often. I know Clark's been on my case lately because he thinks this isn't healthy for you," he admitted, a little ashamed that he hadn't heeded the warning.
Chloe brushed it off. "Clark doesn't know anything," she said with a hint of disdain in her tone.
"Can you tell me why you didn't want to talk to Lois?"
Chloe stared off for a moment, not sure of the answer herself. "I'm not sure there's a good reason. But I guess I already knew everything she'd say and none of it would be any help. She never really liked Jimmy to begin with. And as for my feeling trapped, she'd just end up blaming you, which would make me angry and not make any progress toward actually making me feel better."
Oliver looked down. He already knew why she wouldn't talk to Clark. That was obvious. They'd been on the outs for a while. He couldn't help it. He had to press his luck and ask. "Any reason you feel comfortable talking to me about this?"
Chloe looked at him for the first time since he'd arrived, still hugging her knees to her. "I don't know," she said. "I don't have any reason not to talk to you, I guess. Maybe it's the leather," she joked weakly.
"Yeah, well, this wouldn't have been necessary if you would have opened the door," he said pointedly, trying to make her laugh. "Next point of concern, though, Sidekick: Lois is scared you haven't been eating."
Chloe scoffed. "Typical of her to blow it out of proportion like that. I promise I've eaten, Oliver. Not a lot, mind. But I haven't been that hungry, honestly
Oliver stroked her hair thoughtfully for a bit, still holding her to his chest. She felt so fragile in his arms, he didn't want to let her go but was afraid of crushing her at the same time. "Why don't I make you some dinner?" he suggested, giving her a squeeze, trying to cheer her up. He couldn't help but notice that the light seemed to have gone out of her eyes.
Chloe looked at him skeptically. "Are you telling me you can cook?"
Oliver mocked being affronted. "I will have you know that I make the world's greatest spaghetti and meatballs."
Chloe giggled and Oliver nearly let out a huge sigh, the sound was such a relief to hear. "Sidekick, do you have any idea what you've done to your friends the last couple of days? Lois was beside herself."
Chloe nodded, a little ashamed of allowing herself to sink so deep into depression.
"I guess I really can't talk, though," Oliver said thoughtfully. "At least you didn't run out and drown your sorrows in sex and alcohol."
Chloe gave him a hard look. "In the past, Ollie," she said flatly, indicating that there was no need to discuss it. "That's not you, anymore."
"And this isn't you, Chloe," he said, running a hand over her cheek. Then he stood, heading over to her kitchen to start making them dinner. He was relieved to see her fridge and cupboards were relatively well-stocked with groceries. "I've never known you to just shut down like this." He pulled out ingredients, not looking at her. It was heart-breaking to look at her when she was like this. "From what I can tell, no one has. We both know this isn't the way to handle things." He glanced at her quickly, but she hadn't moved from the couch. So he didn't press the matter for the moment. Things would be easier when she had some hot food in her. "Why don't you come over here and help me with this?" he suggested after a while, having put the ground beef and seasonings in a bowl to stir together.
Chloe stood and walked over, but didn't join him right away. He looked up and realized she was watching him from across the island, a small smile gracing her features. "What?" he asked, grinning.
"This," she gestured at him and the spaghetti-in-progress. "The Green Arrow, making me dinner."
He snorted. "I'd much rather be Oliver Queen, making you dinner, honestly. I feel ridiculous in this outfit right now. Completely inappropriate for the situation."
Chloe didn't say anything, but the small smile didn't fade.
"Just come over here and help me roll the meatballs or stir the sauce or something."
She walked around and washed her hands slowly. Then she pushed up her sleeves and silently reached in the bowl to pull out a lump of ground meat. Her hand brushed against his and his heart stopped for a second. Odd. He watched as she wordlessly rolled the meat into a ball and placed it on wax paper. Then he turned around to stir the sauce, making sure it wasn't sticking to the pot.
Moments later he was spoon-feeding her a sample of sauce with a smug grin on his face. "Careful, it's hot."
She blew on the wooden spoon, cooling the sauce and he was suddenly seized with a mad desire to kiss her puckered lips. Woah, there, Ollie. This is Chloe we're talking about. She tasted the sauce and failed to suppress a grin.
"Well?" he demanded.
"By far the best spaghetti sauce I've ever tasted," she conceded. She'd loosened up quite a bit in the last few minutes. It was good to see. It bothered Oliver on a very deep level to see her in the state she'd been when he first arrived. This was much better. When she was like this, they could figure something out, try to put her life back together.
They ended up back on the couch with their dinner, Chloe having finally revealed that she kept a spare change of clothes for all members of the JL at Watchtower "just in case." Oliver felt much more at ease in a pair of his own jeans and a T-shirt and hoodie. He felt less defensive. The Green Arrow suit was great, and it definitely served it's purpose, but he felt like a different person when he wore it, less human, even. Now he felt like Ollie again, like someone who could actually be Chloe's friend and help her.
He looked over at Chloe. She was sitting with her legs tucked up underneath her, eating slowly but steadily. It struck him how adorable she looked at the moment without any make up and her hair just a little wavy, unstyled. He tucked a strand behind her ear and her fork paused midair as she glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. When he didn't say anything, she chose to ignore it, but set her plate down on the glass coffee table.
"Finished?" he asked. She nodded. He took her plate and his long-since-empty one over to the sink. He would wash them later.
He sat back down on the couch beside her, studying her for a moment. He wondered in frustration how on earth he was supposed to help her. Then something caught his eye. A long silver chain laid against her throat, vanishing below her top so that it was mostly hidden from sight. He leaned forward curiously. "What's this?" he asked, reaching out to move the chain before she realized what he was doing. He tugged the chain gently, pulling it away from concealment, and a small, delicate charm was revealed. It was a tiny silver arrow.