Um...so...I've read Smallville fanfiction for years, but never wrote a successful one. I had a few ideas, but the most I ever got out of it was a few sentences. Then the rest was crap. Oh well. I think this one has a solid foundation, though. Since this is my first, I'm open to any suggestions and whatnot.

I've watched the series since the beginning, so I know the characters and the facts. You won't find any facts out of place, except for maybe something from season 9, which I missed a lot of. :( I mean, Friday nights? For a high school kid? Right! I only watched about half on TV, and some online. SO I only know moderate amounts about Chloe and Oliver's relationship.

This takes place maybe...ten or eleven years (maybe more) after the end of SEASON 10, the last season ever. :(

I'm sorry if they're OOC. I found it hard to capture their characters well. (And I just contradicted myself. Wow.)

Anyway, read on-

-SMALLVILLE-

I turned around as I heard a sound from behind me. (Was someone trailing me?) I kept one hand on my crossbow as I scanned the area. There was no sign of movement. I frowned and turned back, continuing my patrol. But something told me that I wasn't alone. And I was left with that thought as I felt something crash down on me. The impact knocked me off the rooftop, and I regained my bearings enough to land on my feet instead of my face. The intruder was a second behind me. But my bow had been knocked out of my grasp, and my only defense was broken. My glasses slipped off my face and split in two as they hit the pavement. I reached up to touch my face…feeling the blood that trickled down from my forehead. My adversary was skulking in the shadows…an unknown man…as they all were.

"Show your face, coward!" I called, my voice only normal. My identity was already compromised. Whoever my enemy was…he now knew that I was the Green Arrow. "Fight me like a man!"

And I finally saw his face. "You know you're just going to hurt her, Oliver," said a low, firm voice that I had grown accustomed to. Except it wasn't warm, as I knew it to be. It was cold and harsh…one of my worst fears. If Clark Kent was to grow angry…there wasn't anything, save Kryptonite, that could stop him.

"You'd be one to talk, wouldn't you?" I shot back, my voice ten times stronger than I had expected it to be. "What about Lana? You didn't hurt her?"

In the next second, I had been shoved to the ground again, a pair of large hands clamping down around my throat. "You're making a mistake," he said, his voice filled with anger. "Chloe's been hurt enough times…" And the rest, I didn't hear. His voice grew fainter as my eyes became fuzzy…and then everything faded to black…

I woke up, gasping for air. I swallowed, taking a deep breath as I closed my eyes. These dreams weren't new. Even after years of proving myself as Chloe's boyfriend, fiancé, and finally, husband, there was some part of Clark that didn't trust me. It was small…barely visible…because he wanted her to be happy. But he couldn't hide it from me. And I understood his perspective. I completely agreed with him.

In another life…I was a world-class jerk. And Clark knew that…Chloe knew that. Everyone knew. But when everyone else had given up…she helped me back. And when she lost the man she loved…I helped her.

But maybe this dream kept haunting me because I knew Clark was right. Yes, Chloe can take care of herself. But everyone has their limits…some people more so than others.

I slid out of bed and leaned down, running my fingers through my hair that (though you couldn't see it in the dark) was a darker shade of blond. As I made to stand up, I felt a hand wrap around my waist from behind.

"What's bothering you?" asked a soft voice that I knew belonged to my wife. I turned around with a groan.

"Chloe…" I started to say, but she pressed a finger to my lips.

"The dreams again?" she prodded gently, and I nodded, not willing myself to speak. Chloe smiled and kissed my forehead. "What was it this time?"

"It's always the same one," I said simply. "Clark's been killing me in my dreams for nearly ten years." Something resembling a laugh escaped her lips, causing me to raise an eyebrow in her direction.

"You know Clark wouldn't hurt you," she said, adjusting her position to sit beside me as I put an arm around her shoulder.

"I know," I said. I turned to look into her bright green eyes that shone even in the darkness of our bedroom. "It's just my own fears trying to affect me."

"You know what you need to do?"

I gave her a subtle, slightly confused smile. "What's that?" She allowed a small laugh before answering.

"Just talk to Clark," she said simply. "We both know that he'd never do anything to hurt anyone. Whatever issues you think you have…"

"I know, Chloe," I said again. "It's just…"

I never finished my sentence, not even knowing where I was going with it in the first place.

It was silent for another moment, until she said, "That's not it, Ollie." I groaned inwardly. Chloe had always known me too well…sometimes more than was good for either of us. "What else?"

Frowning, I told her the truth that I knew she wouldn't believe.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, not the least bit surprised when she raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"Right," she said with a laugh, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"I knew you wouldn't, Chlo," I said, my voice plain. "But I swear, it's the truth. Something's happening…something that my dreams are trying to warn me about."

"And this has to do with Clark?" she asked, her voice suddenly filled with worry.

"No," I said slowly. "I think that the Clark in my dreams is symbolizing something else. I just don't know what. He's trying to warn me about something."

"You don't think that the Kandorians could escape from the Zone…do you?" she asked, frowning deeply.

"No," I answered again. "It doesn't have to do with them. It's very human, Chloe. Something…something from the past."

"Well, I do know from experience that the past cam come back to bite you on the ass," she said with a laugh. "But…" She looked up and studied my confused expression. "You don't think that's it, do you, Oliver? There's more to it."

"I don't know!"

After another moment of silence, she added, "You need to get some sleep. You've got shadows under your eyes the size of the Sahara. And we do have the art opening tomorrow." I smiled slightly and captured her lips into a soft kiss that left us both breathless.

"Don't distract me, Mr. Queen," she admonished, accompanying it with a light slap across my bare chest.

"You do know that only turns me on, Mrs. Queen," I said, immediately wishing that I had held my tongue. She looked into my eyes, her green irises angry.

"You're going to kill yourself, Ollie," was the next thing she said, her voice much quieter than I had expected. "Please…just take care of yourself." She slid out of bed and walked across the floor, wrapping a bathrobe around her waist.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," I muttered to myself, but there was no one left in the room to hear me. "But some things…some things just leave one too many scars."

-SMALLVILLE-

And yes, I'm aware that this chapter is short. My chapters normally aren't, but this is more of just a prologue type thing than anything. I couldn't stretch it out any longer. Believe me, I tried.

I've started on the next chapter, but this is just a sampling to see if anyone likes it. I THINK I have a storyline for this one, but if anyone has ideas, of course I'll take them. I don't want this to be a typical Chloe/Oliver story.

Remember to review, and thanks-

William D. J. Watson