Author's Note: This is another one I published on Livejournal several years ago and am only just now posting here, so if it seems like you've read it before, you probably have. The last Chlollie fic I wrote was so depressing that I had to write something lighter.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing, DC/Millar/Gough/Tollin/Robins/Warner/whoever owns these characters. I just took them out of the box to play with for a bit. Please don't sue. I'm broke.

The penthouse had never seemed emptier than it did when he returned from the meeting with Dinah and the boys. Oliver poured himself a shot of something, swallowed it without tasting and followed it with another. He gazed around, surveying the damage Canary had left in her wake. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he walked to the balcony door. When he opened it, shards of glass sprinkled down anew. Ignoring them, he stepped out onto the balcony. Sounds from the streets below drifted up: horns honking, sirens blaring in the distance, the wind whistling through the tunnels created by skyscrapers, and an occasional shout. It often reminded him of a symphony, and this was generally the time of day he itched to participate in it, to help guide the melody and keep it from turning sour.

Tonight, the music was simply dissonance. He should be putting on his leathers and gathering arrows. But part of him just wanted to nurse the empty ache Lois had left behind. He had hoped that finally he had found a woman who could accept him, flaws and all, who could fight with him to help make the world a better place. And he knew Lois would continue to do that in her own way-just not with him. He couldn't blame her. A woman would have to be crazy to stick by someone with the kind of baggage he carried.

"Oliver?"

He stiffened, startled by the feminine voice. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that Lois had returned, but then he realized the owner of the voice was shorter, blonder, and possibly even more annoying than her cousin.

"Out here," he called. "Be careful of the glass."

He heard her picking her way through the rubble. Moments later she joined him on the balcony. He didn't turn to look at her.

"What are you doing here, Chloe?" he asked with a sigh. He knew he wasn't fit company for anyone.

"Lois called me," she said softly.

"So why aren't you in Smallville engaging in the usual post-breakup rituals? Chocolate? Chick-flicks? Male-bashing?" he said shortly.

"I offered; she declined," Chloe said with a shrug. "I was working late at the Planet, so I thought I would come by and see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," he said in a flat voice. He could feel her eyes on him, so he glanced over to see a skeptical look on her face, one eybrow raised. He rolled his own eyes and huffed, "Okay, I'll be fine.

Chloe looked pointedly at the empty highball glass he still held in his hands. "Had many of those?"

"A couple," he answered tersely. He wasn't in the mood to be chided about his drinking habits.

"Plan on having anymore?"

Oliver shot her a dark look. "I might. Want to join me?"

Chloe laughed. "Sure, why not?"

Oliver stared at her, surprised. He hadn't expected her to say yes; as far as he knew, Chloe didn't drink anything besides coffee. Finally he shrugged.

"Name your poison," he said.

"I'll just have whatever you're having," she replied

Oliver contemplated his glass for a moment, swirling the remaining droplets of liquid. "I don't really know what I was having."

Chloe held out her hand for the glass and took a sniff.

"Whiskey," she replied, shocking Oliver again. She laughed at the expression on his face. "I've always had a sensitive nose," she explained. "And I did attend a couple of parties when I was at Metropolis U."

"Right. Two whiskeys coming up."

Moments later he returned, a bottle in one hand and a second glass in the other, which he offered to Chloe. She accepted it and, after he poured himself another shot, clinked her glass against his.

"Sorry, I'm all out of little umbrellas," he said.

She shot him a withering look, then swallowed the shot without flinching. He whistled, impressed.

"You know, I think I have some tequila in there if you're really serious about this," he said offhandedly, wondering if she would take him up on it. He was oddly disappointed when she didn't.

"One is my limit, thanks," Chloe said. For emphasis, she gently placed the empty glass upside down on the balcony railing and turned, gazing pensively across the cityscape, unusually subdued.

"So, what's on your mind?" Oliver asked.

Chloe turned her head so that Oliver could see her face and smiled wryly. "I came here to cheer you up, remember?"

"Yeah, good luck with that," Oliver responded dully. He moved to pour himself another shot, but Chloe reached her hand over to cover his glass.

"Isn't it your night to patrol?" she asked gently.

Oliver shrugged. "I guess. Sometimes I wonder, what's the point? It's like fighting the Hydra. We lop off one head, two grow back in its place."

Chloe nodded in agreement. "Yes. That's why it's a job for a hero."

Oliver gave a short bark of laughter. "I'm nobody's hero." When she gave him a reproachful look, he sighed tiredly. "I'm not like Clark. I'm just not sure saving the world is worth what I've given up," he said, thinking of Lois.

Chloe didn't say anything. She was gazing at his hands. Oliver realized he had a small cut on the back of one of them. One of the shards of glass from the door must have grazed him when he walked through.

"It's barely a scratch," he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the blood. "I didn't even feel it happen."

Chloe said nothing. She took his hand in hers and lightly brushed her thumb over the cut. Oliver froze as he felt a tingle run from the spot her thumb touched along his arm and into his spine. He jerked his hand away, stunned, gooseflesh raising the hair on his arms. He'd heard of sparks flying between people before, but he'd never actually felt it. He stared at her.

Chloe's faced had paled slightly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just... I didn't mean to..."

Oliver rubbed at the spot on his hand she had touched. It was still warm, noticeably so. When he examined it, he realized the cut he had seen before had completely disappeared. Stunned, he looked back at the petite girl he had often jokingly referred to as Sidekick.

"Chloe? What did you do?" he asked in a low voice.

Chloe's eyes met his, a wary expression on her face. "Surprise. I'm one of those meteor freaks you're trying to protect from Lex."

Oliver said nothing for a moment. He was too busy trying to process the implications of what she'd done, and what she'd said. In all the months they'd worked together to dismantle Lex's 33.1 project, she'd never let on that she had a personal stake in the outcome. And her power... When he noticed she had grown uncomfortable with his silence, he struggled to find something appropriate to say. Unfortunately the best he could come up with made him sound like an idiot, and he gave himself a mental shake even as he voiced the question lamely.

"You're a...you can heal people?"

Chloe simply nodded. Oliver reached his hand up to the cut on his face and looked at her questioningly. With a small smile, she reached her own hand up, brushing his out of the way and smoothing back his hair. This cut was larger than the one on his hand had been. She closed her eyes for a moment. This time, the tingle enveloped his entire forehead, easing the ache he'd felt there since he'd struck it against the steps the previous day. Warmth shot down his spine and down each of his limbs until his body was awash in sensation for a brief moment. It faded slowly, leaving just the warm spot on his skin where she had touched him - and a growing arousal.

"Wow," he whispered, awestruck.

"Feel better now?" she asked faintly.

He did. His muscles no longer ached, and the bruises Lex had inflicted during their fight were gone. But he didn't like the look on her face. She had paled considerably, and her breathing was ragged.

"Chloe? What's wrong?" he asked. When she swayed slightly, he slipped his arm around her shoulders, realizing as he did so that she was trembling. He guided her to one of the nearby patio chairs and helped her sit. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Oliver," Chloe said. "It just...takes a bit out of me sometimes."

Oliver noticed that Chloe's gaze shifted away from his with this admission. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair, rubbing her temple in the exact spot where his injury had been. Oliver knew it couldn't be a coincidence. He suspected she was seriously downplaying the side-effects of her meteor power, thought to what extent he couldn't be certain.

"Chloe..." Oliver began in a warning tone, but she interrupted him.

"Could I have a glass of water, please?"

Oliver nodded shortly and, after gathering the whiskey and the shot glasses, reentered the penthouse. He took his time in the kitchen searching for a glass, filled it with ice, then selected a bottle of water, his thoughts churning all the while. Finally, when he believed himself capable of discussing Chloe's actions rationally, he carried the glass and bottle back to the balcony and presented them to her. She ignored the glass and drank deeply from the bottle. He took a seat across from her and waited until she stopped shaking before he spoke again.

"You didn't just fix my cut," he said flatly.

Chloe shook her head, wincing. "No, I'm pretty sure you had a slight concussion, too. Not to mention the bruises, sore muscles, and various other aches and pains."

She was still rubbing her temple, and when she shifted to cross her legs, she moved stiffly, emitting a soft groan.

"And now you can feel all of it," Oliver continued in the same flat tone. When she didn't reply, he took her silence as confirmation. "Why did you do that, Chloe?" he asked. "I would have been fine in a couple of days."

For the first time since she had healed him, Chloe met his gaze directly. "I thought you needed to be reminded of what you're fighting for. Maybe it's not important to you, but it is to me. You are somebody's hero, Oliver. You're my hero."

"I thought that lofty position belonged to Clark," he replied, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of his tone.

Chloe gave him a crooked smile. "What, a girl can't have more than one hero?"

Oliver couldn't suppress a small grin of his own. "I think it's against the official rules. One hero per damsel."

"Rules, schmules," she said, waving her hand as if sweeping them away. "Now...about that chocolate you mentioned earlier."

Oliver once again surveyed the wreck of his penthouse. He obviously couldn't spend the night here.

"Looks like I'm checking into the Metropolitan Grand for a while. I could use some help moving in," he hinted shamelessly.

"Uh huh. I'm sure Bart and Victor would love to give you a hand," Chloe retorted.

"I hear room service delivers a chocolate mousse that some have killed for..." Oliver said innocently.

Chloe perked up a bit. "Keep talking..."

Ollie slipped out of his chair and hunkered down in front of her, placing his hands on the arms of her chair. Chloe's eyes widened, her pupils dilating until her eyes appeared almost black, and a faint blush colored her felt the stirrings of arousal return. This was the moment he would generally swoop in for the kill, sweeping the object of his desire off her feet and into his bedroom for a night of unrestrained passion. In the morning he would promise to call, and perhaps he would, once or twice, until he moved on to the next pretty face.

He couldn't do that with Chloe. Not that he wasn't tempted. God, was he tempted. As he breathed in the subtle mixture of scent that was part perfume, part shampoo, and part Chloe, there was a side of him that couldn't help but think of how sweet it would be to lose himself in her for a while. He knew Jimmy was out of the picture. And he knew she'd enjoy it. He'd make sure of that.

But she deserved so much more. Along with the hint of desire in her darkened eyes, there was a look of trust he had never seen in Lois, and it humbled him. Still, a little harmless flirtation never hurt anyone. He leaned in close, and Chloe followed suit, bending toward him until they were almost nose to nose, and the slight breeze brushed her hair against his face. He gave her a grin that would have charmed the pants off her grandma, and spoke in his deepest voice.

"Did I mention they make it with a hint of espresso?"

The look on Chloe's face was one of pure rapture as she closed her eyes to savor the thought.

"Arrow, I'm all yours," she said with a dramatic sigh.

Oliver stood and helped her to her feet. "There's just one condition, Sidekick."

"What's that?"

"No chick flicks."

"Aw, come on. Just one? I promise, no male bashing," Chloe teased as he held the door for her.

"No chick flicks," he repeated adamantly. He offered her his arm, and, as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he felt another strange surge of sensation, one he knew had nothing to do with her meteor power. He recalled the words she'd spoken in jest.

Arrow, I'm all yours.

He glanced down at her as he guided her across the shattered glass, and for the first time in a long time, he felt hope.

Not now...not yet, he thought. But maybe someday.