So, this was inspired by a twitterpeep. I hope you like it! :) Disclaimer: I don't own Nikita or Smallville-which is probably for the best because I'd probably rename them Mikita and Chlollie respectively. Just kidding. Probably.
XXXXXX
Chloe tried not the groan. Instead, she smiled. She wiped a few strands of blond hair away from her face, and leaned closer with a slightly flirtatious look on her face."It's really quite brilliant, but have you ever considered—" and she proceeded to take over his keyboard. This was the first time he'd given her access to Shadownet, and she was not going to let this opportunity just slide by.
Birkhoff—who Percy had assigned to be her "mentor" of sorts—looked over at her in surprise a few minutes later, after going over what she'd done. "You're good."
Chloe smiled, "That I am."
"I'm surprised that, you know, before you got here you weren't doing something more . . . productive with your skills." Birkhoff was obviously a little upset that she'd so easily taken to Shadownet, even the second best techie at Division still had trouble with it, which was why it was still his baby.
Chloe quirked her head to the side, "Before you ended up here, what were you doing?" she asked pointedly.
Birkhoff smiled slightly, "Touché." He'd been caught hacking into the Pentagon as a college student, which most people wouldn't consider "productive." Though, honestly, he wasn't proud of that fact like most people seemed to think he was. After all, he had gotten caught. Not exactly a hacker's dream.
Chloe noticed him getting distracted, so she snapped him back to reality. "So, when do I actually get to . . . do something?" Chloe asked, not seeming particularly eager. "Just curious. Because I've been here for two months now, and you know what I'm capable of."
Chloe waited to see if he'd open up to her.
He hesitated, "Loyalty, Chloe." He was being honest with her, which boded well for her future plans for him, because she really didn't want him to end up killed in the crossfire.
Chloe narrowed her eyes, "I think I have more reasons not to trust you than you do to not trust me."
"Exactly. We're trying to ease you in." Birkhoff seemed to close off at that, turning back to his computer system. He was done.
Chloe wasn't ready to let it go. "You let me work on upgrading Shadownet today," Chloe pointed out.
"Yes, and you did great," he replied more than a little condescendingly. "Now, head off to your next training with Michael before he yells at me."
Chloe tried not to sigh—Michael was still suspicious of her, and she needed to make sure that he didn't find out what she was really trying to do, because that would ruin everything.
After everything she'd sacrificed, and after everything she'd done, she would not let that happen.
As Chloe turned around and walked away she smirked. Birkhoff still had no idea that she was increasingly screwing with his technological baby, although it had been more difficult before he'd given her access to it. It hurt her to do it, but no one should have that sort of power. At least not Division anyway.
It was too bad, because Birkoff wasn't a bad guy—most of the people at Division weren't, but they were severely misled. And it was her goal to snap them out of that. And, well, destroy Division. It would all happen in good time—even though 'good time' was driving her crazy in the meantime.
XXXX
Two months ago
Chloe had made her decision, she knew that Oliver would hate her for it, and that he'd be upset. But it was necessary. After what she'd seen whilst wearing Dr. Fate's Helmet she realized that there was so much more that needed to happen, beginning with this sacrifice.
She'd planned to fake her death, she'd written her letter goodbye to Oliver, she'd erased her existence—mostly, of course. She'd set up crumbs for Division to follow to her, and she'd contacted the men who had taken Oliver.
Oh, Oliver. Chloe already missed him. Upon admitting that she'd loved him, it had been as if a dam had broken inside of her, releasing all of her emotions at full power. This would hurt so much more now.
He was going to hate her for this, but it was necessary.
But it would be worth it. Hopefully.
She knew what she had to do, so she was doing it. The only problem was that she didn't know how it all ended—only that it had to be this way for things to even have a chance of working out.
And so, she readied herself. It was time to leave.
XXXX
Present
Chloe threw the girl—Jaden, she thought her name was—over her shoulder and onto the floor. Practicing self-defense with Oliver all of those months had really paid off.
Oliver.
Chloe felt a pang in her heart, one she chose—quite forcefully, in fact—to squash.
It didn't work. She stood there, not even noticing the clapping, or the notes that Michael was giving to Jaden about her performance. She didn't care.
She was stuck in her own head. Every day she replayed it in her mind—trying to understand how things had turned out the way they had.
She wondered when it had all gotten so complicated. Friends with benefits, no strings attached—that's what they'd said. But then love had gotten mixed into it, and now everything was a mess.
This would probably be easier if she weren't so in love with him—if she didn't miss his touch, his voice, his snark . . . him.
She shoved it out of her mind as she turned to face Michael—who really didn't seem to trust her. But that was okay, she didn't trust him either. "Good, but you need to put more force into it. If she were any bigger, you wouldn't have been able to do it. You need to work on strength."
Chloe fought the desire to be snippy and bit her lip so hard it bled.
"That's enough for today."
Chloe sighed in relief and headed off to take a shower.
XXXX
Michael watched as the newest recruit headed off. She bothered him for some reason, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why. And he would not admit that part of the reason he was focusing on her so much was because Nikita had returned, and Chloe was therefore just a distraction. Because if he did that, that was as good as admitting that he'd missed Nikita, that whenever he came in contact with her, it was harder and harder to let her go.
But not because he wanted to kill her.
Michael mentally shook himself free of that train of thought.
The problem now was Chloe. She'd fallen into Division's lap and it seemed too good to be true, though Michael seemed to be the only one who thought so.
He looked around and saw Alex, and in doing so saw opportunity. "Alex," he called. "Come over here."
He guided her out of the earshot of the guards and the other recruits, "How would you like to do something for me? It has to be top secret, just between the two of us."
Alex raised an eyebrow, "Sure. I can do that. I want to prove myself, and I'm getting antsy."
Michael's lips curved into something resembling a smile—which seemed more like he was about to growl, which made Alex want to laugh. She didn't, of course, because that wouldn't have ended well. "Get friendly with Chloe."
Alex tried to contain her surprise. "Okay. I can do that. Why?"
"Because I need to know how she is around the rest of you recruits, if she has some sort of outside agenda."
"And you're trusting me with this?" Alex seemed slightly disbelieving, and slightly happy that he would trust her.
Michael smiled, a real smile this time, and placed his hand on her shoulder—almost as a fatherly sort of gesture. "Yes. Are you in?"
Alex smiled, "Of course."
XXXX
Alex passed by Chloe in the hall, looked around quickly and stepped in front of her. "Michael wants us to be friends. He might be on to you. You might want to try being a little nicer to him." There was a bit of a bite in her voice, as if she weren't particularly fond of the woman standing in front of her.
Chloe lifted an eyebrow, "I appreciate the warning, but if I were nicer to him now, I'm not the only one he'd be suspicious of. It would blow your cover too, and we don't want that, do we?"
Alex narrowed her eyes, "No." She stepped to the side and headed to the computer lab. She'd delivered her message, and she had other things to worry about.
Chloe sighed, watching her go. This was a lot harder than she'd thought it would be.
XXXX
Oliver Queen had done a lot of shameful, terrible, dumb things in his life—but he'd also done quite a few good, heroic, amazing things.
Right now, he could only remember the worst of them. He concentrated, breathing deeply, before flipping over back onto his feet. The slight head rush seemed to help numb the pain.
He was trying not to dwell, but it had been two months. Two months. Two months since Chloe had left him, without any indication of when, or even if, she'd come back.
He'd come out to the world as the Green Arrow, and that had been a good distraction. He'd had to worry about the crusade against superheroes, and while that was a headache, it did help to have something to focus on.
But it didn't help to realize that things would have been so much easier with Chloe. Because Chloe . . . he needed her. He loved her. That was really all there was to it. He needed her, the league needed her, the world needed her.
And she was gone.
At that he grabbed his towel and ruthlessly wiped at his skin, rubbing it raw. It hurt, again, but it helped.
He got into the shower, leaving the water on as cold as he could bear it. He knew it was slightly pitiful, but he was going to take whatever numbness he could. It had been two months. And that was almost equivalent to half of the time they'd even been "together" in the first place.
He was beginning to wish he'd noticed her soon—because he was guilty of that same transgression as Clark. He hadn't noticed her until there was no one else, until she was all that he had. There was no one else he wanted though, he assured himself.
Yet, besides all of that, he felt another strange feeling whenever he thought about her: anger.
He was angry at her for leaving him, for leaving him in order to save him.
And that hurt more than anything else.
XXXX
Chloe sat down at the computer, looking around. She looked back down, ready to talk.
'Are you there?' she typed.
'Yes, is something wrong?'
'Not at all. They're close to knowing it's me, but I'm close to finishing the job.'
'Good.'
'I'm almost ready. It's time to call him.' Chloe sighed to herself. She was ready for this, wasn't she? She was ready to see him. She was ready for this to all be over. It felt like a lifetime had passed within Division's walls.
'Are you sure?'
Chloe hesitated. 'Yes, it'll probably take you some time to convince him to listen to you, just remember what I told you. Just try to be in place for when I need you.'
'Good luck.'
'I'll need it.'
Chloe sighed again. She really would.
XXXX
Oliver got out of the shower, pulling on sweats, too lazy and wet to bother with a shirt. He heard his phone ring. Probably another reporter. The past few days had been particularly crazy, as the public was became increasingly anti-hero.
"Oliver Queen." Oliver said, deciding to take the call.
"Hello, Mr. Queen. I need to talk to you about something, and I need you to trust me, okay?"
Oliver looked at his phone and considered hanging up, "You have thirty seconds to say something of interest."
"Chloe needs your help," was all the mysterious woman said. It was all she needed to say.
"You have my interest Miss . . . " Oliver felt his heart jump in his chest when he heard her name. Chloe.
"You can call me Nikita. Chloe is . . . helping with an important project, and she'd like you to join in."
"Look, I don't know who you are, but if you hurt her I will—"
Nikita laughed, "I'm not going to hurt her. We're . . . friends, of a sort."
"Really? And why should I believe that?" Oliver demanded.
"Because, she said it's your turn to save her." Nikita's tone softened, "You're her knight in shining leather, and she loves you."
Oliver felt his heart squeeze painful, "What do you need me to do?" he heard himself say without even thinking about it.
He needed to see her.
He could almost hear Nikita smile over the phone, "Sending you directions now, follow them to the letter. Which means no, you can't take your private jet."
XXXX
Nikita hung up a few minutes later, smiling. She'd waited a long time for this. Finally, things would start happening.
