Title: Farewell Future, Hello Hell
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Rating: T (PG13)
Prompt: Appalachian Springs by The Verve
Spoiler(s): 10x1 - Lazarus
Word Count: 2,589
Summary: "Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the archer?" Undoubtedly, yes.
Does anybody know where we really gonna go
I was wondering if we've got that real soul
You know the thing we cannot trade, forever wrong
Does anybody know where we really gonna go
I was wondering if we've got that real soul
You know the thing we cannot trade
Coz solitude, my sacred mood,
Appalachian springs, on my things
Took a step to the left
Took a step to the right
I saw myself and it wasn't quite right
Does anybody know where we really gonna go
I was looking for answers in the sun
And the feelings that a man can't control
And if the fire burn bright in the dead of night
It's a wonder you care I told a lie
I said that I would never be on this side
I took a step to the left
I took a step to the right
And I saw myself and it wasn't quite right
I took a step to the left
I took a step to the right
And I keep it together, yeeeaaaaaahhh, whoaaaaaaaa,
yeeeeeaaaah, whoaaaaaa
And I was waiting for my number come
Like a bingo calling singing in the sun
You said a number sixty-nine, I said ok
Coz solitude, my sacred mood,
Appalachian springs, on my things
Took a step to the left
Took a step to the right
And I keep it together
You know I'm not right
Took a step to the left
Took a step to the right
I'm gonna keep it together
Does anybody know where we really gonna go
I was wondering if we've gotta have real soul
You know the thing we cannot trade, forever wrong,
forever wrong, forever wrong, forever wrong,
forever wrong, forever wrong, forever wrong,
forever wrong, forever wrong, forever wrong
Lord, I'm going wrong, I feel so young, I don't know where I've gone
I took a step to the left
I took a step to the right
And I saw my soul
And it wasn't quite right
Hey, slip to the dreams
Slippin out, slippin in and out of dreams
Appalachian Springs – The Verve
Farewell Future, Hello Hell
-1/1-
The Helmet of Fate was aptly named. Chloe Sullivan had little time to consider her own, regardless of the fact that when she put it on she could see the devastation her actions would bring to the man she struggled to save. She knew well that to do what she was planning would likely mean her own demise; or at the very least, entirely too many physical and mental scars to add to the already critical list she owned. There was nobody to talk her out of it; she knew this because she told nobody of her plan. The sudden resurrection of Clark could have meant back-up; it could've meant a lot of things. What she knew for sure was that he had enough on his plate already and adding the disappearance of Oliver on top would only send it overflowing.
She went to the helmet for two reasons. She didn't want to bother with convincing anybody just how important it was that Oliver be saved; she didn't want to hear Clark's laundry list of reasons why it might be better to cut their losses before this became another of their many wars on-going. And secondly, because when her heart pounded loud in her ears and her eyes clouded with tears, she could hear him saying those three words, over and over. I love you. God, it was never supposed to be this way and yet it was.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, shattering on a sob. Chloe Sullivan stepped out of her overworked self to find a little fun and instead she found love; she found Oliver Queen. And just when she was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, life was going to let her have this one bit of reprieve, he was taken. He was taken from her and from the world that needed him so. As Clark ran off to save Cadmus labs, Chloe stalked through the Justice Society's all too hollow halls; she approached the glass cabinet that safely ensconced the golden hat, beckoning and warning her in the same dark, sanity-crossing voices. There was time to back away, to find another way, but her feet didn't falter, her resolve didn't sway.
Even as Clark told her not to, she knew she had to.
Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the archer?
Undoubtedly, yes.
Falling unconscious was almost welcome. The turmoil that had been eating at her since Oliver was taken was like a virus that twisted and turned her insides, her eyes stinging without fail. It hit her like a ton of bricks that the first person she wanted to turn to, to help her, was the same man she was trying to get back. Chloe was no idiot; she knew the tell-tale signs as she and Oliver grew closer, leaping far past that of a stringless relationship. Fun, she scoffed. What followed may have had its fun, but in its wake was something much deeper, much more than she'd ever imagined.
The whispers of the helmet echoed in her mind; the scenes played out with gross clarity. Was fate a one-way street or were their avenues she could take? If she went left would Oliver die in that dark room, tied up and blinded, at the mercy of his unknown assailants out to strip him of the heroism he'd so earned? Or was it always her fate to intervene, to step up and take his place? She couldn't see her own fate; only what her actions would result in for Oliver. And when she saw him, safely if not a little harshly, dispensed in front of the Queen tower, she breathed a sigh of mental relief. The only option she was willing to take was the one that resulted in his safe return; maybe he'd be scarred and the fire of revenge would burn quick, but he wouldn't be down there anymore. He wouldn't be breathing in that dank air; a cold sweat forming across his bare skin, the metallic scent of his own blood the only thing he inhaled.
What was love if not sacrificial?
Even unconscious, she felt the urge to wince. Oliver would disagree. In fact, she could see him vehemently arguing that she leave him alone, that she find some other way; a way that didn't involve her taking his place. But time was running out; resources were low. She had only the picture of his kidnapper's face and the helmet to tell her she had to hurry, had to interrupt this so-called interrogation that would only end with one more man she loved dead and buried. And with the way things looked, it would seem he never got the chance to tell her how wrong she was to do what she did. There would be no moment where he tried to shake sense into her, silently thankful that in the end it all turned out well.
Instead, she would take his place in every way. The final downfall of one Chloe Sullivan would be what had always plagued her. Love.
And where would she go when it was over? After all she'd learned and all she'd done was there some fabled heaven that would make up for all she'd had to put up with? Would some higher being commend her on her selfless act of trading herself for the one man who got her? All her life, it was all she'd ever wanted and here she was sacrificing what she'd finally found. But what was it worth if he died, keeping the secrets he'd so closely guarded, laying down his life for the rest of the League, for her? He would fight until the end, trading snarky jabs through bloody, cracked lips and only encouraging their blows instead of admitting the truth of it. Admitting anything of the League, of Watchtower, would have them knocking at her firewall and she might have held them off for awhile but eventually they would infiltrate and they would destroy what she and Oliver were putting back together.
Perhaps there was more to her sacrifice than just Oliver; she needed him to continue their legacy. She needed him to watch out for the team, to keep it going. And what was she in the grand scheme? They could find another computer whiz; he could find another woman to ease his broken heart. But there would be no one and nothing that could take his place; not in the league or in her heart. She'd had enough; she'd seen the end of the road long before the helmet had laid it out for her and she knew that if there had been no interruptions, she would've ended up Chloe Queen; happy, for once. The wife of a man who sported green leather and saved the world. He was no naïve and sweet Clark Kent, but a charming man who'd struck an arrow center in her chest and reeled her in for good.
She sent Clark off to Cadmus labs knowing her own destination, her own fateful path.
Ever the computer magician, she wielded its awesome ones and zeroes and found the not-so-secretive man that should've learned a few things about masks when he thought to take Oliver and sneer his vow into the camera lens of Green Arrow's glasses. Tracking him down was easy, it was convincing him she knew more, could be of more importance that was difficult. They had Green Arrow in their grasp, what did they need with her?
"He's a billionaire that can toss his money around for gadgets, but he's not the one putting them together… You've got the brawn, well I'm the brain, so let's play a game of Trade and we'll see if you don't get more than what you've got…"
It was true in some sense; she was the brain behind the whole thing. But he was more than the money or the muscle; he was who came up with it all, he was the one who encouraged the others to see what good they could do. Oliver was the heart of the League and she was the woman who watched over them, found out what needed to be found, ran intelligence for every mission and knew what was coming before it got in the way. She was the file-folder they needed and while they might think she was easier to break than the brawny mouthpiece already in their position, they'd be sorely tested to find otherwise.
In the end, she got what she wanted.
She walked submissively into the dark van that pulled up in front of a corner coffee shop she frequented. Meeting in front of Watchtower was a no-go; she would give them as little as possible from the get-go. She didn't fight as her hands were bound, her face covered in a black bag. How cliché, she thought though. The military-style men that took up space on either side of her, keeping her stuck between their hulking shoulders as they drove across smooth highway before turning off into bumpy country road didn't say much and she didn't want to speak for fear she might cry.
She accepted that what life she had left in front of her would be one of solitude; not the kind she'd once cherished but the kind with little human interaction. Save for any interrogation for information she would be alone; without the joys of friendship, secluded and bereft of the laughter she'd only recently been able to enjoy again. The van drove on, silent, a sign of what was to come. Would she be in the same unforgiving chair Oliver had suffered in? Would her snark fail her as the days grew long and endless? Would her mind break down until she was as empty and unseeing as her mother?
They came to a jerky stop, the van pulsing forward and forcing her into the henchman at her left. She was brought out of the van with little fanfare. A hand on either arm, she was forced forward into the biting wind that rattled the fabric bag around her head. Night had dawned thick; the only light coming through from the headlights on either van, spreading through the center between point A and B. She couldn't see, could only react as they shoved her forward. And so she walked; didn't bother to struggle despite how her fight or flight reaction kicked into overdrive. All her life she'd gotten into these situations, only she was the one who needed saving. And she'd gotten out; through her own endless resolve or that of the heroes on her speed dial. And now she walked, head bowed, the knowledge of her giving up weighing heavy on her shoulders.
The walk seemed endless; the destination too close and too far. Was Oliver here? She wondered. Had he any idea what was happening?
And then her questions were answered; a shove, body meeting body. She was nearly thrown off her feet as the passerby kept going, taking a step to the left as she pivoted right, just as sightless as her. And she knew, deep down she knew… There was no mistaking that body; she'd spent enough days and nights doing no more than learning every inch with the pads of her fingers and her diligent mouth. He'd walked right by her; the last touch they would ever share was her shoulder hitting his bound arm. She stumbled; her heart swelling heavy in her chest, her eyes filling quickly. He couldn't know and she couldn't let him. So much of her wanted to cry out; to alert him or warn him or something, but she knew… She knew he would only fight. Even as he was broken and subdued, so past tired he was just desperate for rest. He would fight with his arms bound behind him and his eyes shrouded in the bag. He wouldn't let her do this.
So she bit her lip and she kept her silence, even as she was shoved into the van and she knew it was over; there was no going back.
She sat back and accepted it as the bag was drawn off; she stared at the cruelly smiling man she'd tracked down and made her deal with. In his dark eyes, she saw herself; she saw the devil as he took her soul. She saw the way her mouth trembled and her eyes bloomed with tears; acceptance. It wasn't quite right; it wasn't the woman he would have had to answer to under different circumstances. If she hadn't been bound, expecting to be his prisoner, she would've sneered, snarked the smugness right of his face. Instead, she accepted that in the van across from them sat a confused Oliver Queen, wondering what brought this on, possibly playing out the scenario in his mind for answers to questions she didn't want him asking.
The van backed up with her stuck there, blinking hard against her tears. The man who'd stolen Oliver and was now willing to take her instead nodded, sitting back in his seat as if he'd won. She wanted to smile, watery as it might be, wanted to tell him that he may have her, but he'd just let the most important one walk away. The leader of their League was being driven away, brought back to reality, where he could find a way to battle this new threat. It was a wonder they believed her; as if she'd ever give them what they truly wanted, as if she'd ever come over to their side, see their line of thinking.
She watched after the bouncing headlights of the opposite van as it drifted off into the distance; she felt her chest cave in and her tears spill down her cheeks. Some hopeful inner-voice cried out, "He'll save us… He will…" and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes to it. Would she dream of the day he'd come for her or accept the nightmare that came? Leaning her head back, body slumping in defeat, she let her mind get whisked away, slipping in and out of reality.
The Helmet of Fate drew Oliver's life out for him, but there were paths. Which one she hoped for, she couldn't say. If he saved her, she wouldn't be the same, the situation between them wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be tomorrow or the day after and time would wear on her, break her down. Not a word would escape her lips; nothing that would ruin her team. But they would keep trying, keep pushing, and they knew who Oliver was, ruining him would be an easy feat. How long could they dangle his duo-identity over him before they acted? She would keep their attention; keep them distracted while he figured out a way to fix this. Maybe she wouldn't survive it, but he would. He and the team would go on to save the world, in whatever way they had to. And she would be the willing sacrifice that let them do just that.
Willing. She laughed darkly. The helmet got it wrong. It wasn't her sanity she was sacrificing, but her heart, her future. Lord, she thought… The future she'd once sought was lost now; what lay in front of her was wrong, she was wrong, and she didn't know where she was going but it wasn't anywhere she'd hoped. It was farewell to the future of Chloe Queen and hello to the hell that awaited her.
[End.]