Disclaimer: Do not own, yadda yadda.
Summary: Right after agreeing to Lionel's deal, Chloe regrets it. Before she takes up her column at the Planet, she comes across a new ally and a way out… which results in her getting stranded on an island with billionaire Oliver Queen. Chlollie. One-shot.
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Stranded
Chapter 1/1
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Lying back on a sand dune, hot from the tropical sun, Chloe raised her arm to cover her eyes. The situation sucked. And worse, it reminded her of those clichéd high school games. If you were stuck on a deserted island…
She had never hated playing those hypotheticals until now. But then, what use would three of her favorite movies or books be on an island? Worse, the follow up question – Who would you take with you? – seemed like some crap set-up contrived by a romance writer. The thought rankled her inner editor.
Somehow, Chloe Sullivan – high school student and Smallville resident – had ended up stranded on a deserted island with Star City's own billionaire playboy, the one and only Oliver Queen.
She shook off her derisive train of thought. He wasn't a bad guy. At all. Near as she could tell, the guy had been in a funk since his parents had died in a tragic plane accident. Of course, that had been over a decade ago.
But really, he was a sweet, decent guy. How many people went out of their way to get high school reporters out of another billionaire's sticky web of influence?
After the sophomore year had ended, Chloe had felt ripped in two over the situation with Lionel. On the one hand, Clark and Lana had gotten together and neither had said a word to her. She was hurt. Two people she trusted and they had betrayed her by omitting the truth. Even her feelings for Clark were ignored in their tangled love triangle. No, not a triangle.
Lana and Clark had romantic feelings for each other. Chloe just kept trying to latch on to Clark, because she loved him. The feelings were never returned. So all three just allowed her feelings to fall by the wayside. Ignored.
Chloe hated that she had let it happen.
Lionel Luthor had taken advantage of her hurt feelings. He had offered Chloe her life-long dream on a silver platter. She would have a column in the Daily Planet and resources to unearth the truth – as long as she turned over everything she learned about Clark Kent, her sometime best friend.
It wasn't odd that Lionel was looking into Clark.
It should, God knows, it should be. Machiavellian billionaire investigating some aw-shucks farmboy from a small town literally named Smallville? It should be absurd.
But no matter how Clark tried to blend in – drinking coffee at the Talon, briefly joining the football team, or crushing on a former cheerleader – he always seemed too big for the town. Chloe could see it in him. A sort of glory created by his seeming infallibility and his unwavering moral compass. He had a habit of saving the day, and his kindness and idealism were rarities in a world ruled by skepticism. He would be needed one day, called upon to achieve what others cannot – and when the time came, he would rise up to fulfill his destiny.
Chloe had already discovered her calling.
From a young age, she had dug for the truth because she honestly believed that people deserved to know information that affected them. The truth was her siren-call, her mighty mission, and it stung when the people she cared about hid the truth from her. This was how Lionel ensnared her.
Afterwards when the sting had faded from Clark and Lana's betrayal a little, Chloe had recognized the agreement for what it was. Treachery. Injuring Clark the way he had hurt her would not make her feel better. She knew this. In spite of her relentless quest for truth, Chloe held loyalty even higher. Never let it be said that Lane girls were not devoted to those they loved.
Her only recourse, then, would have been to beat Lionel at his own game, to take everything and give nothing in return. A desperate thought, she knew, but at the time, her only chance.
When she met Oliver Queen, she still had a week before she was to report to the Daily Planet. She had been a basket-case of guilt by then. An interview with recent college-graduate Oliver Queen – who would soon become head of his family's company – might make the Daily Planet want her for her own worth? Maybe cancel out Lionel's influence?
She knew that she couldn't outmaneuver Lionel in this little chess game. How many years had he been sharpening up that shark-tooth grin? How many thousand dollars of his lined the pockets of U.S. Senators? How many thugs might he have hired to follow her in case she changed her mind? Perhaps subconsciously, she had been seeking out allies.
That summer's day in Metropolis when she bypassed security and slipped into Queen's soon-to-be office, she found more than an ally. That day, she found a savior.
Oliver Queen – all blonde six feet and three inches of him – had been amused by her. Granted, a petite, blonde high school student had snuck into his office, complimenting him on his security.
"I had a harder time sneaking in to see you than I expected. Then again, my past experience with billion-dollar security has been disappointing – or maybe another mind game. It's difficult to tell. Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"
Chloe had not been professional. Lionel's knotted rope of a deal was tightening on her by the day. In a week, there would be just enough left for her to hang herself – which might have been his intention.
Thankfully, unprofessional and feisty was how Oliver Queen preferred his reporters, even if they were just sixteen.
Even though he didn't take her seriously, he let her talk. He didn't call security. He didn't throw her over his shoulder and stuff her in the elevator – which, considering his biceps, he could have. Instead, he heard her out. They bantered back and forth awhile – about her age, about her journalistic experience, about his experience. He didn't take her seriously until she again mentioned the Luthors offhand.
"I've played verbal judo with two billionaires before you – and both of them are far more depraved and diabolical than you could ever be. So give up on the half-assed deflection tactics, okay?"
Oliver's brows furrowed, concerned. "What are you doing getting involved with billionaires you know are unprincipled? And which two—"
Chloe rolled her eyes with a huff. Her jaw tightened and her eyes softened with regret. "It's Kansas. Take a wild guess."
"Luthor," he growled.
"Junior and senior," Chloe sighed. "At the moment, it's Luthor senior I'm more worried about."
His fixed gaze was demanding, driven by a flicker of worry. "Tell me why. Now."
Chloe didn't tell him the whole story – it would be too embarrassing to babble on about Clark and Lana. Rather, Lionel Luthor had managed to catch her in a weak moment and made a deal with her. A deal that would have her betraying a close friend. A deal she regretted. And now the clock was ticking.
One more week, and she would receive her thirty pieces of silver. One more week, and Chloe Sullivan would be firmly under Lionel's thumb.
Oliver refused to let it happen. He offered her a way out. She would turn down the column and internship at the Planet, all while building up her journalistic resume. She would get that interview with him – and better yet, a full expose on the life and times of Oliver Jonas Queen. She would even leave Kansas for the summer as a precaution.
"Alright, how about this. You get permission from your parents, and I will let you join me and some of my friends on my yacht for my post-graduation celebration cruise. You will be able to see Oliver Queen in his natural habitat." Seeing the apprehension on her face, he added firmly, "I will make it very clear that you are a friend and a minor. No one will touch you, mess with you, or pressure you to do anything. You will be a guest on my yacht but not join in on the partying. I want your head clear and alert, alright? Some of the guys that are coming might get handsy. Feel free to knee them where it hurts."
Chloe smirked. "I own a taser. Is that fine?"
He chuckled. "By all means. Whatever you need to feel secure. But I wouldn't recommend mace or pepper spray – we won't have a doctor available onboard, and I don't want anyone permanently blinded."
Chloe nodded her agreement. Lois had been training her in some hand-to-hand combat – not to mention the Swiss Army knife birthday present. She was still debating whether she wanted to bring her Uncle Sam's Christmas stocking stuffers. She frowned, disappointed. Bringing flash grenades and a SAT telephone might be overkill.
"In four days, the cruise will take us from Star City Harbor to the approximate location where my parents' plane went down on their way to Seoul." At the girl's curious tilt of the head, he elaborated. "I – I wanted to get some kind of goodbye. I never got to say it to them before it happened. Now that I'm going to head the company… I want the closure." He paused, shook his head, and continued. "The cruise will last a couple months. Depending on weather conditions and other concerns, we should be back in Star City at the end of July. From there, you are welcome to shadow me my first few weeks on the job at Queen Industries. Is that satisfactory?"
"Yes, Mr. Queen," she smiled.
"Please, just Oliver."
"Alright, Just Oliver."
He tried to glare, but his mouth twitched into a smile instead. He was not use to being teased. He rather liked it.
By the end of the afternoon, Chloe had been free to hightail it to Star City.
A quick call to her father got her permission. Gabe Sullivan was a good man and a hardworking employee, but he wasn't the most dedicated dad. By the time she was twelve, Chloe was a self-sufficient, latchkey kid. She made herself breakfast and dinner, did homework without prompting, and caught the bus to and from school alone. Her father worked more than he parented.
The telephone conversation with her cousin took a lot longer. If anyone loved her fiercely and completely, it was Lois. Moira Lane and Ella Standish were best friends before they became sisters-in-law, so when both women had married, they stuck close. Before Aunt Ella got sick or Chloe's mom left, they all lived in Metropolis together with the General presiding over the nearby army base. Lois and Chloe grew up like sisters, Lucy usually out on play-dates with her preschool friends. After Aunt Ella's death, the General couldn't bear to stay in Metropolis. Lucy was sent off to boarding school and Lois dragged along with him to whichever base needed him next. Though separated for years, the cousins kept in touch, occasionally meeting up in Metropolis for vacations or holidays.
While Lois had been irritated that she would miss out on Chlo-Lo time that summer, she conceded that it was a great opportunity, and afterwards, Chloe could tell her all the celebrity gossip.
The calls to the Daily Planet and Lionel Luthor were kept professional and at a minimum. Thanks, but no thanks.
At the end of the day, Chloe had gone home to Lois's apartment and questions, waiting for the morning when a handsome billionaire would pick her up and fly her to the Pacific.
The cruise itself hadn't been too bad. Sunscreen was a must for her light skin, and a bikini and a sundress became day-to-day wear. The food was great and the service from the staff was excellent. The ocean was beautiful, and Chloe often spent her mornings reading out on the deck beneath a sunshade. It had been her quiet time, since most of Oliver's guests were hung-over then from the night before – that, or having loud morning sex. There were downsides to being a minor on a party-ship, particularly the thin walls.
Strangely, for all his reputation, Oliver had not indulged nearly as much as his compatriots. There were multiple floozies aboard who were more than willing to be make up a rotating schedule of bedmates for the one and only Oliver Queen. But the billionaire contented himself with the alcohol.
Standing against the rail, Chloe watched the night-darkened water as the yacht sliced through it. Sensing movement at her side, she glanced up to see Oliver, clutching a tumbler of scotch in his hand. "What is it with billionaire moguls and glasses of scotch?" she wondered aloud.
"Beats me," he replied into his drink. Behind them, the usual midnight festivities were underway. Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe could even see one of the bimbos giving Rick a spontaneous lap-dance. If the occasional glances in their direction were any clue, the brunette was putting on the show for Oliver's benefit. Too bad he had his back to them.
Nudging him with her shoulder, she asked, "So why are you sticking with just alcohol on this cruise? I've noticed that your bed's the only one not thumping into the wall at night. Well – besides mine."
Glancing up from his glass, he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why? You going to say I'm gay or impotent in your expose?" he accused, defensive.
Chloe rolled her eyes, her jaw tightening. Oliver knew how much the truth meant to her, they had discussed it one morning when he had interrupted her morning peace. She would not publish anything without proof. "You can be such a belligerent ass when you're drunk, Oliver."
He sighed heavily, one hand kneading his face. "I know." His voice was slurred. Tired, disappointed. "I haven't been having sex on this trip because it wouldn't be fair to you."
"To be the only one not having sex?" Chloe smirked. "I suppose. That's awful chivalrous of you, Oliver, making sure I'm not the only one celibate this summer."
Oliver laughed, his voice rough from the alcohol. "Not what I meant, Chloe, and you know it." Looking her in the eye, he said, "I meant that it wouldn't be fair to you… to have the one person on this yacht you know and even slightly respect leaving you to your own devices so he could…"
"Plunder booty?" she supplied helpfully.
He blinked. "For lack of better words, yes."
Chloe bit her lip a moment in thought. "So, you're trying to set a good example for me?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe I'm just trying to be polite."
"Yeah…" she trailed off, "you'll need to work on that. On either of them. Your explanations aren't exactly ringing with truth with that drink in your hand."
Oliver sent her a mock glare, scrubbing a hand over his forehead and through his blonde hair. "Fine. I – I guess I don't want you to see me at my worst, okay? I'm a messed up guy. I drink, I fuck, and sometimes I do drugs. It's nothing to be proud of, and I don't want you to have to deal with me when I'm like that."
Leaning into his side a little, Chloe rested her head against his bicep. With a wry smile, she observed, "That's kind of sweet… But you don't have to be messed up, you know. There is some choice involved here. If you can choose not to get drugged up or fuck, why can't you wean yourself off the liquor, too?" Stretching one hand out, her fingers grasped the top of his glass. Pulling it from his hand, she motioned to the water below. "Do you mind? I figure a more dramatic demonstration might be fun."
A smile pulling at one corner of his lips, he gestured for her to go ahead. With a grin, Chloe tossed the tumbler and its contents into the ocean. Turning back to look up at her host, she smiled widely. "All in a day's work. Now, why don't you go to your cabin and sleep it off? I'm going to reread another chapter of The Weird and Unexplained before hitting the sack."
He spread one arm wide in invitation. "After you."
Oliver must not have been as drunk as she had expected, because from then on, he stuck to one glass of alcohol a day and only with dinner. It was gratifying in a way, to know that Chloe's influence was affecting him positively. In fact, from the moment his alcohol consumption lessened, the ship's dynamic changed. Oliver began spending less and less time with his college buds and their babes, and more time with Smallville High's own aspiring journalist.
It had surprised Chloe how interested Oliver was in her thoughts and opinions. Her stories. She was use to living in Smallville. No one there wanted to hear her off-the-wall theories – usually off the Wall of Weird – unless there was a meteor freak on the rampage. None of the teachers heaped praise on any of her book critiques or essays, instead just marking it with an A and moving on. Chloe was convinced that most of her ranting editorials in the Torch found their way at the bottom of litter-boxes or inside the art classes' paper mache (sp?) figures.
Oliver had wanted to know about her goals, her past, her friends, her concerns, her life. It was shocking and… pleasant. Really pleasant.
Of course, Chloe could not spill her guts without asking for the same candor in return.
"So, this guy Clark. Your best friend. The guy you're in love with. He just… runs off in the middle of a date to go after another girl when there's a tornado alarm going off?"
Chloe wrinkled her nose. She hated how awful it sounded when said straight out like that. "Yes, my friend Clark. And no, I'm not in – in love with him… I – well, I like him a lot. A crush." She glanced away from Oliver's brown eyes, swallowing down the leftover hurt. "And he was really concerned about Lana, so he went to see if she was okay. He ended up taking her to the hospital, so it – it turned out okay in the end."
"But not for you." This time, Oliver could see the pain that flickered in her eyes. She blinked and it was gone. He couldn't help admiring her strength, even though it saddened him to know that she had so much practice hiding her emotions.
Chloe rolled her shoulders, loosening the tension that had been building during the conversation. "What about you, Oliver?" she deflected. "Do you have any sad love stories to share? It's not fair that I'm the only one relating tales of the disappointed."
Staring up at the sunshade above them, he tilted his head in thought. Pulling his arms so his hands could cushion his head on the deck chair, he glanced at the girl next to him. "Yes and no…"
"Explain."
He smiled a little at her demand before continuing. "Well… I don't think I've ever loved anyone like that, or at all, really."
"Bullshit!"
"No, really. I mean, I loved my parents. But then they died. The Board of Directors was given custody of me and control of QI until I finished college. I was sent off to boarding school and told to be good and learn a lot so I could one day head the company and make everyone richer. I haven't exactly experienced a lot of love in my life."
"But, you've never had a crush? Some girl that made your head spin and your heart pound? Someone whose compliments or affection made you feel like you could fly?"
Oliver shook his head, wry. "I was a teenager at an all-boys boarding school. We worshipped the women in swimsuit ads. …There was a girls boarding school in the same town as Excelsior, and we'd occasionally have dances or socials with them."
"There wasn't one that you liked?" Chloe's voice was incredulous.
"Sure, I liked some girls, but not for the right reasons."
She sighed. "Explain."
Oliver raised his eyebrows as if to ask if she was sure. She nodded for him to go ahead. "Well, there was Sarah of the double D bust. Isabelle with the long legs and nice lips. Jess with the reputation for trying anything. Maddie – my first – who was older, experienced, insistent, and perfectly proportioned. Felicia –"
"Alright, I get it!" she interrupted, her lips screwed into a moue of disgust. "Frankly, I'm amazed you remembered their names if they were just sexual objects to you."
"So am I, though I do have an excellent memory."
They were silent for a little while, pondering. "Did you ever want to be in love?" the girl wondered.
Oliver shrugged, his face thoughtful. "I don't know… Sometimes I feel like I might be missing out. But people always leave eventually, right? It seems almost a waste to offer someone so much of yourself if it won't last."
Chloe swallowed hard, recalling her mother. "I – I understand where you might get that idea, what with your parents and all. But – I can't believe that everyone leaves. I can't. Thinking that way, everything's hopeless, so why bother? I – I have to believe that love is possible and worthwhile, because then…" Her voice was shaking.
Eyes intent and voice soft, he wondered, "Because then…?"
Her eyes were moist when they met his. "Because then I'll know that I can be loved and that perhaps I will be."
Reaching over to clasp her hand in his own, Oliver turned to face her completely. "What's this all about, Chloe?"
Staring at her lap, the girl replied, "Your parents loved you, Oliver. They left you, yes, but they couldn't help it. But you know they loved you." She paused before glancing up him. "My mom left voluntarily. And I hardly see my dad, he works so much. I have my cousin but we're rarely in the same country, let alone the same town. Romantic love has to be real. I want to be cherished by somebody, Oliver. Can you understand that?"
Nodding solemnly, he drew her into a gentle hug. His chin resting on the crown of her head, Oliver wondered how anyone – how Clark – could ignore Chloe. Her earnestness. Her curiosity. Her drive. Her devotion. She wanted so much to be loved that she was willing to put up with neglect.
"Well, Chloe, I think you've convinced me."
"Of course. I'm always right."
The cruise had been going well. Yes, some of the recent college graduates were handsy asses, but they were easily dealt with – if not by her then by Oliver. But, besides a few hiccoughs, the yacht had almost reached the approximate coordinates of where the Queens's plane crashed. That's when it all went wrong.
Chloe was in her cabin doing some of the summer reading for school. She was about ready to give up on The Iliad for the night. So far, the only reason she had kept so alert was by jotting down snarky remarks in the margins. It really sucked when the only decent guy in the whole poem was going to die at the end. Poor Hector.
Before she could inwardly rant on the unfairness of it all, the sound of running footsteps on the deck derailed her thoughts. Her muscles tensed. In all their time at sea, there had been little to no running aboard the yacht, especially not at night. Still wearing her swimsuit and sundress, the girl put on her sandals and slipped from the bed, picking up her messenger bag and throwing the wide strap over her shoulder before turning off the room's light.
Her bag held everything. The Lane girls knew the drill. Carry everything you might need on you – if not on your body, then in a bag that you will keep on you. Uncle Sam did not want any of his girls unprepared, especially with the other little Lane quirk active. Lanes always found trouble, whether they meant to or not. Uncle Sam found it in the US Army. Lois made trouble or solved it wherever she went. Lucy got into trouble over at her boarding school – she was popular, but tended to get in with the wrong crowd. Chloe? She went searching for trouble. Even if she could not fix it herself, she would shout it to the heavens so someone else could. That proclivity for trouble also might explain why Uncle Sam always raided his current base's armory for Christmas presents.
Rifling inside her bag one handed, she pulled out a flashlight. Holding the light against her body to prevent the beam from being seen, she switched it on. Moving the beam towards the floor as she walked across the room, she leaned against the wall beside the door. She switched the light off. Without a window to peek out of, the girl opened her door a crack, looking and listening intently. What had caused the commotion?
A figure passed her door, only to kick in the door to the cabin four down from her own. Chloe's heart rate picked up. This was no longer a matter of curiosity. This was dangerous. Someone – people? – were aboard that shouldn't be. She had her bag. Where was Oliver? Was he fine? Did he know where the inflatable life raft was?
People were screaming now in the other cabins and more strange men had arrived to take care of them. Gunshots. Chloe gulped. She had to get out while the men were busy. Her taser could not take on however many guys there were. She might not be able to save herself, there was no way she could save anyone else. Especially not the cabins the men had entered already. Noticing that no one was looking in her direction, Chloe slid the door open, blessing the well-oiled hinges. She could not run. They would hear the slap of her sandals against the wood floor.
Ducking out into the hall, she walked as quickly as she could to the stairs and above deck. Chloe paused once she had reached the deck and crouched into a dark corner. Where was Oliver? One hand covering her mouth, she nearly gasped in realization. His cabin was the largest at the end of the hall. Her room was the cabin nearest to the stairs. Was he trapped below deck? Oh hell.
She liked Oliver. She liked him a lot. He was a great guy, but was she willing to face death for him? Chloe mused on that a moment. She might not have it in her to do it for the other people downstairs. She hardly knew them and what little she knew, she didn't like. She should care that they were probably being slaughtered in their beds right now, and she did. God! She wouldn't wish that on anyone. But she couldn't risk sharing their fate.
But Oliver. Sweet, charming Oliver. Six years older and way out of her league. Still, his presence siphoned away her crush on Clark. He stopped taking drugs for her. Stopped fucking floozies for her. Stopped getting drunk. He listened to her tell him about Smallville and the meteor rocks and her mom. No, she couldn't leave Oliver behind.
Slowly rising from her crouch, Chloe slipped from shadow to shadow, approaching the stairwell to the sleeping cabins. She paused at the sound of more gunshots. Screams.
"Please! Don't! No!"
Her hands tightened into fists as she screwed up her courage to descend. She had only shifted one foot forward when a hand covered her mouth, another wrapping around her waist. Her instinct to scream rendered useless, Chloe began lifting a foot to grind down on her attacker's instep. But she paused. The hands on her were gentle. And with the sound of blood rushing in her ears only now starting to go down, she registered the soft murmurs in her ear.
"Chloe! Shhh… quiet. It's just me. God! Thank god you're alright! We need to abandon ship, okay? Now, I'm going to let you go…" His warm hands slipped away.
Taking a deep breath, Chloe turned to face him, endlessly relieved to see him safe. Seeing the archery bow slung over one shoulder and the quiver over the other, she quirked a brow at him but didn't risk a whisper. He shook his head slightly. No, she shouldn't ask right now.
Since he didn't need both hands free to hold her still and silent, he unloaded the bow and nocked an arrow. He pulled the string back slightly, so it would be only a few moment's work to shoot. If the time came, he hoped a few moments would be enough.
Nudging her to follow him, Oliver led her into the cockpit. The inflatable life raft lay inside an emergency box along the wall. Softly, he had her lift the entire box free. Besides the raft, tucked inside should be some food and flares, along with other basic necessities. The box was heavy.
Chloe wrestled it up and put the weight of on her hip. Oliver guided her, shuffling her out of the room and against the rail of the yacht on the side opposite from where the pirates were hitched.
With quick, assessing glances to their surroundings, Oliver returned the bow and arrow to their resting places over his shoulders. He helped her pull the raft free and activate it to self-inflate. They stood on the yacht's railing, then, one hand clasped into handholds on the raft. With a nod, they fell from the ship together, forcing the raft beneath their bodies.
The landing was jarring, and Oliver was relieved to find his bow undamaged. The emergency box, too, was closed and intact. Chloe was inside the raft, safe and undamaged with a bag of her own slung over her shoulder. Now, they could only lay back and watch as the raft drifted away on the dark waves, far from the white-bright yacht.
The occasional sound of gunshots still drifted across the water.
That had been last night.
The raft had drifted onto a fairly small island sometime midmorning. After pulling the raft all the way onto the sand, the two blondes had silently taken a few minutes to mope and freak out as they lied upon the beach.
Chloe sighed. Enough moping. She could practically hear a Lois Lane motivational speech urging her on. Lanes do not mope or moon or anything super-sappy. We solve problems. And yes, you count as a Lane! You may not have the last name, but you have the blood and the attitude! So get off your cute little ass, cuz, and go kick someone else's!
Rolling to her feet, Chloe offered her hand to help up the man at her side. "You going to lie there all day with your archery kit, Queen?"
He gave his bow a stroke. "Shh… it's very sensitive. And I'm just waiting for the bartender to serve us up some mimosa," he mock-pouted.
Chloe tried to hold back the smile from his comment. She failed. Oliver looked almost pleased with himself. Shaking her head, she offered him her hand again. "So, Oliver. You up to it? You and me. Survival partners?"
Taking her hand and rising, he smirked. "Tell you what, Chloe. You can be my sidekick."
Giving him a hard shove that sent him slightly off balance, she laughed before running toward the raft. "Only if you can catch me, Robin Hood!"
With a small grin, Oliver took off after her.
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A/N:
This may become the prologue-of-sorts to a fic series – I even have an idea of where I'd want the plotlines to go. But for now, this is just a one-shot.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Please review.