Disclaimer: Don't own them or the world they live in sadly.

Pairing: Chloe/Oliver. With a little Chloe/Lex, but just read it ok.

A/N: I have to warn people who read my other Chlollie this isn't as lighthearted and fun but it was something that was banging around in my head and I just had to get it out. So I hope you enjoy.

Greta hadn't expected this day to be different than any of the other days in the two years she'd spent working at the hospital. She loved her job though she could see where people found it strange, her friends especially. They constantly asked her how she could stand it, how she could stay in that place for eight hours a day, in the quiet, all by herself in what they called hotel des morts, or Death Hotel. She constantly reminded them the patients weren't dead, they were just sleeping, in comas. She might have had the critical patients, the ones most likely to never wake up, but they weren't dead. In fact, she'd explained to her friends, kept on the life support machines, nourished with the IV's they would most likely end up outliving her, if you could call it living.

They also didn't understand she wasn't all by herself, she was surrounded by people, they may have all been asleep but they were still people, and they were there and she never felt alone. Perhaps it was because she worked the graveyard shift, maybe that's what made it worse, at night she was the only one there, during the day there were two nurses on duty and every other Tuesday Dr. Beck came through and did a check up, but at night it was just her and the patients.

It wasn't quiet either, no one was talking, people weren't laughing or moving around or fighting, but there were noises, noises that Greta had grown accustomed to, noises that she had memorized by now. There was a quiet symphony of life support machines pumping air into the lungs of the patients, the heart monitors letting out a steady beep as it tracked vital signs. She knew that every night around eight o'clock, when she got in, starting in the first room, then almost as if they were harmonizing, moving down the hallway, the printers would whir to life and spit out the reports from the day and she would go around, gather them up and put them in the charts. Around midnight, and then again at five an alert would go off at the main nurse's station to let her know it was time to change the IV's. There was noise, like a background soundtrack that chronicled her work day.

Mondays and Thursdays were bath days and it generally took her the whole shift just to get through all the patients. Wednesdays and Saturdays she had off, Sundays she worked with Rachel the other night shift nurse. Tuesdays and Fridays could get boring, especially when she first started working there. Rachel told her she'd go crazy if she didn't find something to keep her occupied, entertained. Rachel had many ways of entertaining herself, from inviting her boyfriend to work with her to playing poker with Mr. Steven's who'd been there as long as Greta had been born apparently. The funny thing was, Mr. Steven's had a tendency to win, a lot, and often times Greta would come in and find the jar on his nightstand over flowing with money. Rachel had set it up to hold his winnings and when Greta asked her why she would even bother, Rachel was offended. "Just because he's in a coma doesn't mean I can stiff him." She scoffed and Greta gained a little more respect for her flaky co-worker.

Greta found a different way to occupy her time. She was a reader and hoped one day to be a writer, a published writer. All her nieces and nephews always told her that she told the best stories and some of her Aunts had encouraged her to write them down. Her mom just called her a dreamer, always trying to find a story that was better than the truth, what good would ever come of that. But Greta couldn't help it, it was what she did. Before she got to know a person she generally concocted some sort of history for them in her own head, some whirlwind romance or tragedy that left them slightly broken. She figured she could do it for everyone else so why not the patients, and the best part was, they couldn't contradict her, they'd never wake up and tell her about their real life so she could go on imagining her stories. There were never any relatives either to visit either, when people ended up here, they'd generally been in this state so long that people had given up, just not enough to pull the plug.

So Greta came up with her stories, stories that she shared with Rachel one day in a rare bonding moment. Rachel had loved them, even gone so far as to write them all down and bind them together for Greta. Ms. Mayton in 514, they decided had been a Mati Hari type spy in World War II, risking her life, betraying her country, all for her German lover. Mr. Planer in 509 was a stunt pilot, he did air shows and death defying tricks. Everyone had a story and on Sundays when they were bored most of the stories got elaborated, expanded, ridiculous, except for one, Ciel. That wasn't his real name, no one knew his real name but Rachel and Greta both agreed that John Doe simply didn't suit him.

Rachel spent days combing over baby name books and internet sites before settling on Ciel, it means "from heaven" which fit him perfectly. His hair was golden, soft and smooth, his jaw and cheekbones chiseled as if made from stone, his body fit and lean with muscles in all the right places, he couldn't be any older than Greta herself but he seemed as if he had an old soul. The name didn't fit just with his looks, but also how he came to be in the clinic. He'd washed ashore one day, five years ago. A fisherman found him on the beach, his body torn up by the miles and miles of coral reefs surrounding the island, and by the time they'd gotten the scratches and broken bones repaired, they'd found a gunshot wound. He was fixed up as best as they could but he wouldn't wake up. He was breathing on his own, unlike most of the other patients and the Doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him but he wouldn't wake up. He was moved to the terminal ward when the search into his identity came back empty and they had no family to act on his medical behalf.

For some reason Greta couldn't make up a past for Ciel, she had a feeling that whatever she came up with wouldn't be good enough, would do him justice. Rachel jumped on his story, washing ashore, gunshot wound, no ID, there were tons of ways to explain that. He was a drug runner, he was a smuggler, she had tons of stories but none of them seemed right to Greta. He was fighter, that much she knew by the care he'd taken with his body, by the way he held on to his life. There were two small calluses on his hand, on his fingers that she couldn't seem to find an explanation for and a small scar on his chest, Dr. Beck said most likely came from an old gunshot wound, which only gave Rachel more ammo.

It was Sunday, an ordinary Sunday. She'd gotten up, ate her breakfast, hung out with her friends at the beach and then come into work expecting that her day would be just as all the Sunday's before it. She gathered printouts, changed IV's and made her rounds and then settled herself in Ciel's room and pulled out the book from his nightstand. "Where were we?" She asked herself, searching for her place marker before continuing with the reading. Sometimes Rachel sat in the room and shaved him while Greta read but tonight she'd lost the coin toss and was changing the sheets. She was only a paragraph in when she heard it, an unfamiliar noise, a beeping that didn't fit in the room. She looked up, sliding the book closed and stared in confusion at the monitor. The readouts were going crazy, this happened every now and then when the machines got old or a battery was dying. She stood up and leaned over the bed to hit the reset button, which usually worked until they could get someone in to look at it when something grabbed her hand. She had to keep herself from screaming, crying out as she looked down and saw him staring up at her, his eyes slightly unfocused, his hand squeezing her wrist as if he could break it without a second thought.

He croaked out, his throat dry and scratchy from years of non use and Greta brought her free hand to her mouth in astonishment.

He must have seen the fear in her eyes because he relaxed his grip on her wrist and she stepped back. "Don't try to speak, your throats not used to it. I'll go get the Doctor." She said to him as she ran from the room and down the hall.

"Rachel." She screamed as she made her way to the phone at the front desk. "Where is Dr. Beck's number?"

"On the pad by the phone." Rachel walked out of Mr. Steven's room and looked at Greta confused. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Ciel." Greta panted. "He's awake." She said dialing the number as Rachel's eyes went wide.

Ciel tried to pull himself up to a sitting position but he couldn't, his muscles were so stiff they wouldn't move and it had taken almost all his strength just to reach out to the girl. The girl who'd looked amazed to see him awake, The girl who ran out of the room as fast as she could muttering something to him in French. French! Did he speak French, he must, he understood her. Was he French? He didn't feel French, not that he knew what it felt like to be French, but he just knew he wasn't French.

Rachel poked her head in the door and smiled slightly at him. "Parle vous Frances?" He nodded. "Good." She smiled at him and walked in the room. "Drink." She handed him the water. "It will help your throat."

"Thank you." Oliver said as she pressed the glass to his lips and he drank greedily, as if he hadn't had water in years.

"Slowly." She admonished him and he pulled away sheepishly. "Would you like to sit up?"

"Yes please." He managed to say, in French, and the little bit of water seemed to have worked wonders, his throat was still raw, but it hurt a little less now. "Where am I?"

"Mamoudzou." She said. "An island of the West Coast of Africa."

"Africa?" He said confused, wondering how in the hell he'd gotten there.

He said sighing and laid his head against the pillows. "How did I get here?"

Greta walked in the room and sat down in her chair and told him the story, of how the fisherman found him, torn and beaten and unconscious. He felt his face and studied his arms confused, they didn't look torn up at all. "They've healed." Rachel told him.

"Healed?" Ciel looked over at the two woman. "I don't understand, how long have I been here?"

Rachel and Greta shared a look that seemed to form a twisting knot in Oliver's stomach. "Eight years." Greta finally said and that just seemed wrong to him, eight years. "We've called the Doctor, he'll be here soon." She laid, what he assumed was a comforting hand on his arm and then stood up to walk away. She glared at Rachel who followed her reluctantly out the door and they closed it behind them.

Roughly an hour later a Doctor came in, Dr. Beck. He checked Ciel over, constantly mumbling under his breath how it was impossible, astonishing that the young man had woken up after eight years. He was healthy, perfectly healthy, his muscles slightly atrophied but that could be fixed with intensive therapy Dr. Beck explained before leaving the room again mumbling once more about the impossibility of the situation. After the Doctor was gone Greta came back in the room, smiling at him as she moved to his IV bag and pulled a needle out of her pocket. "What's that?" Ciel croaked out.

"A sedative." She said.

"I've been asleep for eight years." He smiled at her. "Is that really necessary?"

"You'll strain your muscles, trying to do too much, they aren't ready yet." She said, almost apologetically. She administered the medicine and turned to leave. She stopped at the door and turned around. Ciel could fell the medicine start to take effect. "Is there anyone we can call?" She asked him. "You had no ID, is there any family?"

"I don't know." He said confused. Was there anyone they could call? Surely if he'd been asleep for eight years someone had come looking for him.

"What's your name?" Rachel asked quietly and he opened his eyes to look at her.

He stared at her for a minute before shaking his head. "I don't know." He closed his eyes again, his head a mass of confusion and drugs, any memories he could have tried to access were being clouded by the sedative. Who was he? How did he get there? Why was he shot? Questions swirled around, threatening to overwhelm him, take him over. Maybe things would be clearer when he woke up. Suddenly something so vivid and real flashed before his eyes, a face, a set of green eyes, a laughing smile, a name. "Chloe." He gasped out before succumbing to sleep.

"A woman's name?" Rachel asked later as they sat at the nurses' station eating their diner. "He said a woman's name?"

"Chloe." Greta nodded her head, remembering the pain in his voice as he whispered her name.

"Who do you think she is?" Rachel was on the edge of her seat, expecting some fantastic tale from Greta about star crossed lovers and battles of honor.

"I don't know." Greta said frowning. "She's special." She said. "Special to him."

"Go on then." Rachel wiped her hands and Greta looked over, realizing that she'd have to come up with some story to make Rachel happy or she'd sulk the rest of the night.

"I bet they met while he was on holiday." Greta said forming the story in her head as she told it, feeling that same feeling she had whenever she tried to come up with a story for Ciel, that whatever she came up with wouldn't do this mysterious Chloe justice.

He could hear her laughter, it echoed through his head and sent a strange tingle down his body, he couldn't see her face, not clearly, never as clearly as that first time, when he'd first woken up. Chloe, she haunted his dreams, every second he was asleep she was there, laughing and smiling. He was laughing and smiling too, down at her, always smiling at her.

"Come on Sidekick." He spoke to her in English in his dream. He was American. "You're not playing fair."

"Like you ever play fair." She joked with him, foggy images of the two of them, possibly in a park, nothing was ever clear. Except the ending to the dream, the part where he got shot, the part where she got shot. Where her smiling face turned to confusion, to pain and blood welled up around her feet, dripping down slowly.

"Chloe!" He screamed.

Ciel jerked awake groaning at the dream. "Sleep well?" Greta asked as she walked in his room.

"No." He pulled himself up and marveled at how much it still hurt. He'd been doing physical therapy for five hours a day since he woke up and his muscles were still sore, still weren't functioning as well as they should be. Eight years in a coma will do that.

"Did you remember something?" She asked him. "Chloe maybe?"

"Just her eyes." He shook his head. Not wanting to think about the dream, not wanting to think about her. "Always her eyes." Amnesia, common with head traumas according to the Doctors, now that he was awake, now that he was exercising his brain, they say it should go away but it had been months.

"You'll remember her." Greta laid a hand on his arm and he was grateful for her. He was moved from the coma ward the day after he woke up but with all of the shocks to his system the doctor thought it would be better to have something familiar around him, so Greta had been transferred to stay his nurse, and Rachel came to visit a lot. He recognized their voices, remembered Greta reading to him while he was in the coma, Rachel complaining to him about her job.

"Yeah." He grumbled and pulled himself out of the bed. He had to keep up with the physical therapy if he ever wanted to get out of there.

"Dr. Linus says you're pushing yourself to hard."

"I'm not." He assured her. "I'm just anxious to get out of here." He tossed her a smile, something he thinks he used to use to get out of tight spots a lot and she glared at him. They never worked on Chloe either. It just came to him suddenly and he knew, he just knew it was true, he knew Chloe never fell for his bright smile and dimpled cheeks. "Not that you're company isn't wonderful."

"If I was asleep in a hospital for eight years I'd want to get out too." She sighed. "But you're not going to do yourself any favors if you push too hard and hurt something."

"Yes ma'am." He said making his way to the bathroom to shower and then head off to physical therapy. Three days a week Dr. Linus was there in the hospital gym, helping him work his muscles, showing him the right exercises, the rest of the time he was there by himself, probably pushing himself too hard but he didn't care. He needed to get out, needed to find Chloe, needed to make sure she was ok. Whenever he thought of her, there was always a feeling of calm at first, comfort, affection and then suddenly an overwhelming feeling of worry, for her, about her. He'd think of his dream, watching her get shot, the color drain from her face as blood dripped down the side of her pants and had to know that she was ok, that she was alright.

Greta sighed as Ciel made his way down to the physical therapy room and stripped the sheets from his bed. He was going to hurt himself, push himself too far and then he'd never find this Chloe, this "angel with the green eyes" he'd called her once.

"Angel?" Greta smiled. "Really?"

"I don't know." Ciel blushed, feeling strange. "I just, I have this dream sometimes, and she's standing in front of me and then suddenly she's glowing, like really glowing, there's this bright white light that just surrounds her, almost swallows her. You think it's just a metaphor? My brain trying to tell me something symbolically?"

"Could be." Greta smiled at him as she took his diner tray away. "Could be she's a real live Angel, wings and all." Ciel rolled his eyes at her. "Or could be Rachel's sneaking you chocolate before bed again, and that would explain the strange dreams."

"Could be." He smiled at her.

"Greta!" She turned her head as she heard Rachel screaming her name through the halls. She dropped the pillow on the bed and rolled her eyes as she walked to the door.

"I'm in here." She called down. "Stop yelling, and running."

Rachel slowed her pace to a fast walk and hurried into the room. "Where's Ciel?"

"Physical therapy."

"Oh, maybe that's best for now." Rachel hopped on the bed. "You'll never guess what I found. I was cleaning out the waiting room cause I got bored and the magazines on those tables are like twelve years old, so I'm tossing them in the trash until I see this one." She pulls a magazine out from behind her back and passes it over.

Greta almost gasped, staring back at her from the cover of Time Magazine was the smiling face of Ciel. "Oh God."

"I know, but wait, the headline is the best part." Rachel practically clapped her hands together in giddy anticipation.

"Search called off for Oliver Queen, Billionaire Business tycoon presumed dead at sea?" Greta's head shot up. "Oliver Queen?"

"I think that's him." Rachel said. "I mean it looks like him, and the magazine's from about eight years ago."

"We should show him this." Greta headed for the door Rachel hot on her heals.

"He's a billionaire." Rachel said smiling. "Can you imagine, a billionaire."

"Rachel." Greta glared at her. "That's not even relevant."

"Maybe not to you." Rachel scoffed as they hurried to the physical therapy room and saw him lifting weights. Greta picked up the magazine and looked at the picture and then at Ciel, it was definitely him, unless he had a twin somewhere. The guy in the picture looked younger, happier but then again they all looked younger and happier eight years ago. He noticed them right away, standing in the door nervously.

"Is something wrong?" He let the weights fall to the ground and stood up.

"I don't think so." Greta said before slowly handing him the magazine.

"What's this?" He took it from her and flipped it over. The girls stood anxiously as he stared at the cover for a full minute before sitting back down on the weight bench.

"Is that you?" Rachel took a step forward.

"Oliver…" He tried the name out on his lips. Scenes passed in front of his eyes.

"Oliver!" Chloe's voice sounded surprised and happy as she opened the door to find him standing there.

"Oliver!" Someone else, unfamiliar, a man in black and purple leather, he screaming out a warning.

"Ollie…" A woman, a brunette, she seemed annoyed with him.

"Oliver, come here." This woman was more than familiar, it was his mother, she was bending down to pick him up.

"Yeah I think…" He ran his fingers over the lettering of his name. "Oliver Queen."

"You're rich." Rachel said to him and he looked up at her. Greta elbowed her in the ribs. "What? He is."

"What did the article say?" He asked ignoring Rachel and flipping through the magazine.

"Well most of it's not in there, but it says you were flying to India on a business trip and had to bail out of your plane, only your chute must have malfunctioned. They searched for months, far longer than they were supposed to." Rachel explained to him.

"But they didn't find me?" Oliver asked.

"No you were presumed dead." She shrugged.

"Chloe!" He said suddenly. "Did it say anything about Chloe?"

"No, sorry." Rachel said.

"Oliver Queen." He tried the name out again. "Hello, I'm Oliver Queen." It felt write but it didn't feel completely right, like there was something missing from the name. He flipped through the article skimming it a bit until he saw a page with pictures, picture he presumed of himself. Some when he was young, then in high school, then in college. In one of them he was wearing a costume, it must have been Halloween or something. He was dressed as Robin Hood. Amazing how you can't even remember your own name with Amnesia but early medieval folk tales you remember just fine. There was something about the picture though that just hit him in the gut. He traced the bow and Arrow that he was holding in the picture and suddenly had another flash of memories.

"Green Arrow come in." Chloe's voice again, in his ear this time, an earpiece. She sounded so worried. "Green Arrow what's your status." He was fighting someone, two someone's, guards. He was dressed in Green leather and for some reason he didn't find that strange at all. "Green Arrow do you read me."

He dispatched the guards and stood up, slightly out of breath. "Green Arrow to Watchtower, going silent running, await for instructions."

"Green Arrow…" He whispered to himself, careful that Greta or Rachel didn't hear. He wasn't sure what that memory meant but he was sure he couldn't tell anyone about it. "Watchtower."

Suddenly it was as if the floodgates opened. Memories came pouring in from every side, top bottom, left, right, everywhere. Losing his parents so young, the bow and arrow, learning to use it, to master it. Donning the suit for the first time. His first time out, fighting as Green Arrow. Going to Metropolis, Lois Lane, Clark Kent, his team, Chloe. "Are you ok?" Greta's hand was on his arm and he looked up at her and winced, it was giving him a headache, but he didn't' want it to stop. Chloe helping his team out, Chloe helping him out. Moving her into the Clock Tower so that she'd be there whenever he needed her to. His mom and dad smiling and laughing at him. Bart his nose bleeding, walking limp after Clark rescued him from Lex, Lex Luther grinning at him manically as he pulled the trigger and shot him. Chloe being shot.

"There!" He actually screamed out loud, that was the memory he wanted, that was the memory he needed. He closed his eyes and thought hard about it.

"We have to go." Oliver screamed at Chloe. "We can't wait any longer."

"We can't leave him here." Chloe screamed back.

"He's a big boy Chloe; he can take care of himself." Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the ship.

"Leaving so soon?" A voice said from behind them and Oliver froze as he heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking, even over the roar of the winds and the rain.

"Lionel." Chloe said. "Thank God."

"Chloe…" Oliver warned as she let go of his hand and made her way to the elder Luther.

"We've got to get out of here but AC…"

"Is still inside." Lionel said. "I know."

"Can you help us?" Chloe asked looking between Lionel and Oliver with a relieved smile on her face.

"No." He shook his head. "But…I think there's a way that you can help me."

"I don't…what are you talking about."


"A proposition Miss Sullivan." Lionel said smiling a smile that Chloe hadn't seen in years, a smile that she would never forget, the same one he gave her as she left the courthouse after testifying in the trial that would send him to jail, right before he tried to blow her up.

"Chloe, come on." Oliver stepped forward. Possibly to speed up Chloe's thought process, to help her realize what was happening Lionel aimed and fired.

Chloe turned around just as Oliver hit the concrete like a ton of bricks. "No." She screamed running to him and laying her hands on his chest.

"Don't even think about it Miss Sullivan." Lionel cocked the gun again. "Put your hands up where I can see them and back away slowly."

"Do it." Oliver choked out as tears rolled down Chloe's face.

Lionel stepped closer and bent down, pulling off the sunglasses and hood of the Green Arrow to reveal Oliver Queen. If he was surprised he didn't show it. "Miss Sullivan and I have some business to discuss."

"I don't understand." Chloe said shakily looking at the blood that was being washed away by the rain as soon as it escaped from Oliver's chest. "I don't…"

"Do you wish for your friend to live Chloe?"

"Of course." She said astonished that he would even ask her something like that.

"Then I suggest you come with me." Lionel told her.

"Come with you where?" Chloe screamed. "He needs a doctor…let me, I can heal him."

"Oh I know." Lionel smiled. "I've seen what you can do, and I really can't have that."

"But…"

"Miss Sullivan." Lionel said. "Will you come with me?" Chloe looked from Oliver to Lionel, Oliver was shaking his head, encouraging her to go.

"Yes." She said in a whisper.


"Good." Lionel aimed the gun at Oliver. "Push him over the side."

"No." Chloe screamed. "You said…"

"I said that he could live, and he might." Lionel told her. "I'm certainly not going to do anymore damage to him."

"No." Chloe was really crying now.

Lionel aimed the gun again and Chloe felt the floor slam into her hip before she registered the pain in her leg. She looked down and realized that she'd been shot. "Chloe!" Oliver cried out.

"You'll be fine, with quick medical attention Ms. Sullivan, push him over." Lionel told her. Chloe half crawled, half dragged herself to Oliver and put her hands on his chest. "Any lights and I kill the both of you."

"I'm so sorry." She was sobbing now. "I…"


"Just do what he says Chloe." Oliver told her.

"I'll fix this." She assured him. "I promise."

"I know." Oliver smiled as she reached into his top, seemingly to get a better grip on him, but really to active the GPS hidden in his suit. Her plan was risky but there wasn't much else she could do. If the GPS receiver was on, she could come back and find him when she got away from Lionel. She kissed his lips, lightly, tentatively, and then pushed with all her strength, sending him splashing in the turbulent sea as she broke down again.

Lionel Luther shot him, shot Chloe and then took her away. Where? He had no clue, was she ok, was she still alive? He had to hope, pray that she was but if she was surely she would have come looking for him, would have found him, and taken him home. If Chloe was alive he'd been in a physical therapy room in Star City by now, not in a clinic in Africa.

"You remember?" Greta knelt down in front of him and he nodded as the tears fell from his eyes. It was like he was feeling everything for the first time, remember his parent's death all over again, Chloe.

"She's dead." Oliver said stiffly.

"Dead?" Rachel asked. "Whose dead?"

"Chloe." Oliver dropped the magazine to the ground. "She's dead."

"Oh I'm so sorry." Greta squeezed his shoulder. "Can I…"

"I think I'm going to go back to my room." Oliver said pulling himself up. His limbs never felt so heavy, so useless as he dragged himself all the way back to his room and collapsed on the bed. He'd promised Clark he would take care of her, keep her safe and she was dead, because of him, because of his stupid fight for Justice. Where was his justice? In what world was it fair that he lived and Chloe Sullivan died.

Two weeks later Greta walked into Oliver's room and flung the curtains open, spilling light into the room. "Close them please." He grumbled and Greta sighed. Every since he'd remembered this was all he'd done, lay in his bed and stare at the ceiling, preferably in the dark if it was possible.

"No." She said defiantly and nodded to the door. Rachel walked in.

"What are you going to drag me into the shower again?" He glared at them and they rolled their eyes. He wasn't sick enough for a sponge bath so after the first week of sulking they'd basically ambushed him in his sleep and dragged him into the shower stall. He hadn't been happy but at least he was taking semi regular showers now.

"No, we're going to drag you to the gym."

"No." He rolled over.

"Ok." Rachel stormed over to the other side of the bed and glared. "We've had it about up to here with the attitude. Greta took care of you for two years when you were in that coma, I was there for four and the whole time we figured you had this great life to get back to and now you know you do and we aren't going to sit here and let you waist away in a hospital in a small island off the coast of Africa. So get the hell out of bed and go to the gym." Oliver looked over at Rachel and rolled his eyes pulling himself out the bed. He reached for the walker and she jerked it away from him. "You could walk on your own two weeks ago, you can walk on your own now."

And that's how it went for three more months, Oliver would start to feel sorry for himself and Rachel would kick his ass and send him to the gym. The exercise made him feel better, it gave him a purpose, something to do, a way to get ready to exact his revenge because if there was anything that Oliver was good at it was revenge. He was practically back to his pre accident weight limit when once again his whole world came crashing down on him.

"You don't have to sit in here and babysit me." Oliver groaned as he lowered the weights to the ground and grabbed the towel and water bottle Greta was holding out to him. Rachel scoffed.

"Rachel just likes seeing you without a shirt on." Greta flipped the page in her magazine, not paying Oliver the slightest bit of attention as Rachel's face turned red and went back to the television. She was flipping channels and something caught his eye.

"Stop." He screamed, scrambling over weight machines on his way to the television. Rachel was frozen with the remote in mid air.

"The news?" She asked confused.

"What are they talking about?" He ignored her.

Greta looked up at the screen and squinted. "The school thing."

"What school thing?" He took the remote from Rachel and turned it up.

"A bunch of charities got together and they're building something like 200 schools in Africa, the representatives came yesterday to start the two week tour before they break ground on the first sites." Greta closed her magazine. "Why are you so interested in it?"

"I thought…" He lowered his head. "I thought I saw Chloe's picture."

"Chloe?" Greta took a step forward and placed an arm on his shoulder. "You said she was dead."

"I thought she was." He frowned. "I think she is…"

"Are you talking about her?" Rachel asked blowing a bubble with her gum, her voice bored. "That Chloe?" She pointed to the screen and Oliver's eyes went wide as he took in the site before him. It was Chloe, it was his Chloe, she was alive, she was happy, she was beautiful and smiling and being crowded by children as locals gave her a tour of a village.

"That's Chloe." He sat down heavy. "My Chloe."

"That's your Chloe?" Rachel turned to him. "You mean you actually know her?"

"You know her?" Oliver asked confused.

"Everyone knows her." Greta said to him her brow furrow. "She's America's first lady."

"She's…" He looked between the two girls confused. "Married to the president?"

"No." Rachel rolled her eyes. "That's just what everyone calls her, though people say someday it could be possible. She's like a cultural icon, our Generation's Jackie O."

"Jackie O was the first lady." Greta pointed out.

"But even after she wasn't the first lady she was still the first lady you know."

"I get it." Oliver let out a breath. "She's alive, and she's healthy and she looks happy, doesn't she look happy?"

"She looks happy." Greta said to him.

"That's good right?" Rachel asked.

"That's great." Oliver smiled. "I thought she was dead, I thought she was dead because of me and she's not dead, she's not even hurt, she's great." They showed more footage of her studying building plans and meeting with officials. "So she's like important?" Oliver turned to Greta. "She's got like a great job or something, Secretary of State or maybe she's a Senator or Congressman, well Congresswoman, and Ambassador? I knew she'd do great things."

"She doesn't really have a job." Rachel shook her head.

"But what's she doing here?" He pointed to the screen.

"That's her thing, she does charities." Greta said. "Tons of charities, I don't think there's a charity out there that she hasn't done something for."

"Mind you she's got the money to do most of this stuff by herself." Rachel sighed.

"She's got money?" Oliver asked confused.

"More money that you probably." Rachel shook her head. "Well it's not really her money is it, it's her husband's."

"Her…so she's married then?" Oliver seemed to deflate a little and Greta's heart broke for him. "To who?"

"Lex Luther." Greta said.

All of the blood in Oliver's body went ice cold, the remote fell to the floor and broke as he stared at Greta in disbelief. "I'm sorry." Oliver said trying to even out his voice. "I thought you said she was married to Lex Luther."

"Yeah, well, look." Rachel pointed at the television and it showed Lex getting off a plane with Chloe standing at the foot of the steps waiting to great him. When he reached her they embraced, shared a kiss and she snuggled into his shoulder as he pulled her against his side.

"They've been married forever." Greta said.

"I need to see her." Oliver shook his head. The image of Lex kissing Chloe and Chloe smiling forever burned to his retinas. "I need to see her now."

"She'll be in Madagascar Friday." Rachel said pointing to the itinerary on the screen.

"I need to be there." Oliver stood up and walked to the showers. "Whatever it takes make it happen."

"Yes sir." Rachel said sarcastically. "Boy didn't take him long to start shouting orders." Rachel walked after him. "How am I supposed to pay for this?" She called after him. "I mean you're not exactly rolling in the dough seeing as how you won't let us tell anyone who you really are."

Oliver stopped and turned around. "Just pay for it and trust me when I get back to being Oliver Queen, you'll be reimbursed."

"Like I got money lying around doing nothing." Rachel scoffed before going to the computer to book a flight and hotel room. "I'm charging you interest rich boy." She screamed down the hall and he just waved at her. "He has to know we're coming with him."

"He's stupid if he doesn't." Greta agreed.