Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow it is without prejudice property of The CW, Berlanti Productions, DC Entertainment, Warner Bros. Television, Warner Bros. Television Distribution, Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisberg, and David Nutter. I do not own Smallville; it is without prejudice property of The WB (2001–06), The CW (2006–11), Jerry Siegel, Joe Shuster, DC Comics, Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin/Robbins Productions Warner Bros. Television. All comic characters are property of DC Comics not mine. I own nothing I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed…well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. All recognizable characters are not mine, merely my own creations. I own nothing I merely borrowing a group of fascinating characters. I will return them relatively unscathed…well I return them anyway. No money is made from this and no infringement of copyright is intended. This will be removed if contacted. This story is not for monetary gain but purely for enjoyment purposes. I claim no ownership with exception to my own original characters and ideas. So anything, you recognize…not mine.
A/N: Set AU Smallville season five. No Oliver Queen and so on. In the Arrow verse, this story begins right after the return from the island in season two and AU from there. Also, I am taking liberties with all future comic book characters that may appear.
Summary: The day Clark Kent walked into Queen Consolidated for an interview with Oliver Queen, was the day Felicity's carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down.
From the Edge
Chapter One:
She'd had that dream again.
Of cold steel, disinfectant, nylon straps pulled tight across her limbs and chest holding her flat against the cold unyielding metal of the exam table, and the bright burn of industrial grade fluorescent bulbs as they fried her retinas and the light whisper of a husky voice in her ear. A voice she knew all too well. One that had long made her skin crawl. Belonging to the man that had whisked her and her father away moments before the FBI safe house had blown like a grenade, sending a cloud of red-hot steel and flaming wood flying like deadly shrapnel that would have torn Chloe and Gabe Sullivan to bloody ribbons.
Lex Luthor.
He had saved her that day.
Not because she was nothing more than a teenage girl that had gotten in over her head, or-God forbid-out of the goodness of his heart. Chloe was under no naïve delusions that Lex Luthor had a conscience let alone a heart. As sociopathic and egomaniacal, as she believed Lex to be, he was by no means stupid (in fact-much to her chagrin-, it was just the opposite; he was a strategist with a borderline genius IQ). Despite his smooth words and endless platitudes of thanks, she knew without a doubt that Lex held no misconceptions about her. Lex was well aware of her looks of suspicion and disparagement; she had made no effort to hide it and everyone from the guards to the prosecutor knew how Chloe felt about Lex Luthor. In the months following Lionel Luthor's conviction and her return to Smallville she had watched as Luthor's obsession with Clark Kent's secret only grew. If Chloe hadn't seen the lascivious looks, the bald billionaire directed at Lana Lang, she would have thought Lex to be half in love with the strapping farm boy. As Lex made it a habit to frequent their local hang out at least once a week. Despite Clark's blatant suspicion of his motives, Lex continued to interject himself into every aspect of his life uncaring of the 'slight' stalker like behavior. It had put Clark on edge, well more so than he already was when it came to his secret. Lex's first step had been befriending Lana Lang, the perfect pastel princess that had held Clark's heart in an iron grip since the sandbox. Lana had fallen prey to his charm heedless of both Chloe and Clark's warnings. The beauty had been convinced that Lex was a good man beneath the stain of his family name. At the risk of alienating her friend, Chloe had backed off. Clark hadn't been that bright…blinded by his love he had continued to try to make her see reason. Despite that fact that his love had a boyfriend-in a teacher nonetheless- that could easily play the role of protector; he was never far from reach. Lex had exalted in throwing that in her face more than once as her already battered heart splintered beneath his vicious words. Those cold blue eyes that gazed unflinchingly into hers had been gleaming in triumph and it had stoked the already simmering fire of her temper into a blazing conflagration. That was when her research began.
Chloe's first act of war had been breeching the mansions security, for a billionaire with limitless resources the incompetence of his security was ludicrous; she had easily made it into the study and cracked the passcode to his laptop- using the date of the first meteor shower had been telling as it was predictable-within minutes. A new record for her, and she hadn't resisted the urge to fist pump in pride. Ten minutes later, she was slipping out the servant's entrance and into the night.
No one would find out Clark's secret if she had anything to say about it, especially not a megalomaniacal billionaire with rampant daddy issues, who would not hesitate to exploit a teenager he had once called friend. Before she allowed that happen, Chloe would first bring Lex's worth crashing down around his ears by whatever means necessary. With a few keystrokes, she could and would make him a pauper see what he could do without his billions. Under normal circumstances she never would consider the lengths she was willing to go to, but Chloe's love for Clark Kent was stronger than her conscience or fear of Lex's retribution. So patiently, she waited, hunkered down in her bed in the cracker box apartment she shared with her father-that they had been forced to move into when Luthor Corp had fired her father and blackballed his name-studying every keystroke, data log, and website waiting to for pay dirt.
Sure, she had found evidence of a case of embezzlement…that… okay she should have reported, but well it tickled her. After all what was a million dollars between employer and employee? Illegal, yes…immoral?…definitely, Clark would give her his disapproving face, but did she care? Yeah, not really. Every cent that was siphoned off was one less dollar Lex could use to fund his plots and that was just fine with Chloe, and Abigale Fisher, a low-level executive, had a sick child and parents to care for. The funds were not funding a lavish lifestyle or month long vacations in Antigua, so much as keeping them solvent. Not that Lex would care, but Chloe had, but she also had a heart, so she let her fingers do the walking and…poof the money trail was gone. However, the evidence of insider trading she had helpfully and anonymously passed along to the FEDS.
It was night before graduation, when Lex had finally revealed the depths of depravity that he hid behind that charming façade and smoldering smile. Finally, proof of what Chloe had known all along that beneath the sheep's clothing was a bloodthirsty wolf lurking within waiting to pounce on its prey. But even she hadn't been prepared for the pure wickedness that she would uncover.
Chloe had been alone in her apartment, when she had located the live stream video feed. Pulling up the window, she had barely been able to stifle a scream of terror. Thunderstruck that even Lex could be capable of something so horrendous. Strapped tightly to an unpadded metal table, thick nylon restrains stretching across the nude chest and limbs of a man not much older than herself. The angle of the camera, allowed her to almost look square into the glassy intoxicated brown eyes of Lex's victim. Clustered along the sides of the table, was at least five men and women clad in surgical garb, some preparing syringes with brilliant shimmering liquids of green and red as others organized what looked to be medical implements.
There she sat her back against the headboard of her bed, hands clapped to her mouth in horror. Tears surged down her face, unstoppable, as watched the man writhe in agony, despite the drugs that had been pumped into his system. His head flailed uselessly from side to side in desperate search for escape or rescue. But the restraint held true and rescue never came. The man could not even scream, due to the intubation tube down his throat, but Chloe could hear the silent screams echoing in her mind. She should have closed the laptop and tried to purge her mind of the images and methodical actions of the team of doctors hovering over the boy.
The window had named him as Patient 643Az; Lex had made sure to strip his victim of everything. His name, dignity, and freedom. Lex had taken everything from that young man and she had no doubt that he was exalting in that fact in his study, as he watched the proceedings with rapt attention. However, there was one thing that Lex couldn't take from his victim, her support. That curly haired boy may have thought he was alone, but she was with him every step of the way. It wasn't much, but she had been unable to trace the feed, as it was feed through a proxy and was being bounced around the globe, before she finally lost the trail somewhere in Beijing. There was nothing she could do, except forward a recording of the feed to her contact at Metro P.D. Although Chloe doubted they would find anything. Lex had covered his bases, and she hated him for it. But she sat there for every excruciating moment, until the feed finally went dark. Chloe had tossed aside her laptop and barely made it into the small half-bath before falling to her knees and retching up her hasty dinner, of coffee and ramen noodles; by four in the morning she had fallen into bed and sobbed herself into an exhausted sleep.
That morning she had tried to pull Clark aside to tell him of her discovery, but she had never been able to get him alone in the mob of students, parents, and faculty. Then all hell had broken lose, a meteor shower was bound for Smallville and martial law was in full effect as the National guard and Army lead the evacuations. Evacuations that had come too late. After saving Clark from meteorite poisoning in Lex's secret lair, the bald billionaire had found Chloe before she could make her escape and he had abducted her and took her to the Kawatchee caves. Where, thanks to alien technology, she had hitched a ride to the artic with Clark.
After all was said and done, Clark had dropped her off in a small, artic hospital that, Chloe was sure was accessible only by dog sled, and had speed off to save the day. But not before pressing a kiss to her forehead, and gazing at her with something akin to awe. That was where Lex Luthor found her twenty hours later, sitting up on her gurney glowering poisonously at him. He grinned spitefully in return.
Chloe had known the moment they were away from prying eyes, Lex would pounce. So when she was bodily carried onto his privet jet, after her latest bid for escape, by a hulking mass of muscle she had not been at all surprised when she was thrown onto the bench seat and felt the bite of a needle on her neck.
Through hazy eyes, she could see Lex, dressed to the nines in Armani coming to crouch in front of her. Weakly she tried to bite at the hand he extended to brush her hair from her face. He snickered mockingly and flicked her nose as if she were nothing more than an adorable harmless kitten.
When she awoke, on the freezing steel table pure unbridled fear raced through her veins. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears as gazed up into the burning bulbs overhead. To her left a shadow moved into her line of view. Flinching when the figure drug a finger lightly down her cheek.
"Oh my Chloe. I thought you were smarter than this." He whispered his hot breath wafted across her skin, and her stomach clenched in revulsion. She tried to jerk her head to the side, but a cold plastic strap held her head tightly in place. Lex snickered and tapped a pale index finger against her lips. This time, driven by anger, she sunk her teeth deeply into his flesh. The bald billionaire howled in agony. Chloe gaged as warm blood trickled down her throat. With a snarl used his free hand to smack her brutally across the face. Her jaw fell open, releasing the wounded digit, pain exploding across her cheekbone and stars burst across her vision.
"You'll pay for this." She ground out, roughly. Her voice hoarse from what she assumed was lack of use. Suddenly his lithe shoulders eclipsed the spotlight, his nose nearly grazing hers. His eyes twinkled down at her victoriously and whispered smoothly. "If only that were true Miss. Sullivan."
Angry and terrified she surged and wrenched against her bindings, wanting nothing more than to wind her hands around his throat and wring his neck. The bindings held tight, and he grinned down at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Chloe snapped her teeth rabidly at her abductor, her pearly whites just missing his retreating nose. Lex tisked lightly as he stepped out of her view. Barely managing to muffle her the whimper of pain as her eyes were once again exposed to the glaring florescent bulbs.
"You never could behave, could you Chloe? Always had to snoop into things that weren't your concern. I will admit it was charming for a time. Then you crossed a line. All in your quest to protect a boy who doesn't love you. Whom we both know has a secret, despite his numerous protests. A boy who always has and always will chose Lana Lang over you. My father was right about only one thing, love destroys. And Clark certainly destroyed you, Miss. Sullivan. So tell me Chloe, are you willing to suffer to protect his secret? Is he really worth it?"
Chloe glared defiantly up toward the ceiling through a sea of tears her fingers curling, nails biting into her palms.
"Always. He was always be worth it, if you knew anything about love…if you were capable of feeling it at all; you wouldn't ask me that question. It's why, if, Clark did have as secret he would never trust you with it." Her voice cracked, brokenly. As she told Clark mere hours before, she would die to protect his secret. Chloe's love for Clark Kent was not the only factor in her silence. The powers Clark possessed were amazing. At only eighteen, he had saved so many lives, including hers. The moment he had pulled her from being buried alive, she had known-despite only suspecting he was different-Clark Kent could change the world. He could be a hero. And for Chloe that was enough. By keeping her silence hundreds maybe even thousands more might be saved.
When he spoke, his voice was stiff and scornful. "We shall see if the first battery of tests loosens that acerbic tongue of your, Miss. Sullivan."
Fear pulsed in her veins as she heard the soft shuffle of his four thousand dollar Italian shoes on the metal staircase as he left her. Masked faces came into view, hunching over the table in surgical garb.
Then all she could do was scream.
"Fel-i-city!"
"What!" with a cry of surprise Felicity Smoak snapped back to reality. Jumping in her seat and hissing when her knee struck the underside of her glass desk. Rubbing absently at her knee she turned her eyes on the man standing at the foot of her desk. Clad in a perfectly pressed gray suit, he regarded her from beneath a creased brow, blue eyes peering at her in concern.
"Oh, Oliver. Sorry I must have drifted off there." She fidgeted awkwardly rolling forward to tuck her legs beneath her desk.
Oliver was unconvinced. "You sure? You look kinda pale."
Felicity resolutely refused to meet his eyes, and forced a smile to her lips.
She could practically feel the disgruntled (insulted, well because he may be a bit dense but he wasn't stupid) frown and she didn't even have to look at him to know he had aneurism face. (Yes that was a Hawaii Five-O reference, she made no apologies Steve McGarrett was hot)
Needing something to do with her hands, still not meeting his worried gaze, she reached for the slim silver laptop that Harry Weston-from HR- had asked her to work her magic on. Again. Flipping open the top and powering it up, she hoped Oliver would take the hint and head into his office to go over those briefings she'd been poking at him all week to read. He didn't.
Peachy.
Of all the days for him to notice something was off, it just had to be today. Okay so Oliver was actually pretty decent about picking up on her moods, if they weren't board line sarcastic or hostile, even worse she couldn't simply write off her disquiet off as simple guy trouble. After all Felicity didn't have the time (or the energy) to flirt properly let alone date and juggle a boyfriend between 'Oliver Queen CEO' and 'Oliver Queen the broody vigilante, so there was no way they would believe that…hell even she wouldn't, which was a whole other kind of sad. Seriously what was it with her and brooding men with hero complexes? It was as if she was the mother ship sending out a homing beckon calling her broody slightly damaged babies home. Felicity had hoped she had left that particular talent in Smallville, let Lana or God-forgive her Lois shell out their signature brand of love and cuddles. (Or in Lois' case an Army brat mentality and biting wit, if nothing else it would certainly shock Clark from his default broodiness, even if he graduated up to sulky and irritated it would be a vast improvement.)
What she gathered from her weekly digging Lois Lane was still residing in Smallville living in Lana's old apartment over the Talon, and working at the Planet of all places. Right alongside Clark Kent. They were partners, bickering over coffee, scrambling to reach deadlines over greasy Chinese food, and wading shoulder deep into the criminal underworld of Metropolis. Together. From what she could gather, it seemed Lois had filled the role she had vacated. Just like she hoped she would, but it had still cut her deeply. As much as Felicity had thought herself prepared for, the two people who loved her most moved on with their lives. Apparently, the dreams of Chloe Sullivan had also become Lois'. Somehow, in the seven years since she had left her life behind, Lois had achieved every dream and goal Felicity had set for herself. Two years ago, when she had seen the first byline for Lois Lane and Clark Kent it had nearly destroyed her. When she had been a teenager, she had been so sure of what her future held. Then Felicity discovered her best friend and the boy she had been in love with since she was thirteen, was in fact an alien. It had a tendency to change things. Even then, somehow, she had been able to add juggling Clark's secret seamlessly into her everyday schedule. It had not influenced her dreams of the Tiffany lamps (that graced every desk of the main bullpen of the Planet) and Pulitzers, if anything they had grown. Not that it mattered anymore. Chloe Sullivan was her past, the person she had once been and had been left behind in the warehouse that turned her meticulously planned life on its ear.
Once she had spent her nights in Kent barn, surrounded by the familiar sent of hay and motor oil, ash she helped her big dumb alien crack Smallville's latest mystery. Other times, on her bad days, Felicity would bury her head in Clark's chest, crying out her heartaches or simply allowing the familiar intoxicating scent of hay, flannel, and a hint of worn leather (from his work gloves, that he didn't truly need, because invulnerable) and let the world melt away. On the rare days when there was no meteor-mutant running amok through town she and Clark would sit on the porch swing, sipping lemonade while she mostly listened to him lament his tragic love for Lana. Back then, she hated when Lana, was brought up in the moments where all she wanted was to enjoy some quality time with her best friend. Now Felicity would gladly sit through another mope session, and cherish it.
For years her life after MIT had been holed up alone in her too large townhouse with a pint of mint chip, hacking into the Luthor Corp mainframe in search of level 33.1 (the Frankenstein's lab that had destroyed Chloe and so many others) to pass on to Courtney. Until Oliver Queen had barged into her life, with a bullet riddled laptop and an offal cover story. When he had shown up bleeding in the backseat of her Mini clad in blood soaked leathers, her world had once again spun out of her control. When she had entered the lair, she had wanted to turn right back around and go back to the boring life she created for herself. As much as she missed a life-playing guru to heroes, Felicity couldn't bare having to leave behind another life when her life eventually careened out of control.
She had lost too much. Then Walter was kidnapped and she told herself joining team Arrow was only temporary. When after months Walter was rescued and back with his family, she had tried to walk away.
And failed miserably.
With Oliver and Dig, she could feel Chloe reemerging from the cell she had crammed her into so long ago. Slowly Felicity Smoak began to rediscover Chloe Sullivan and for the first time in years, she had felt like a whole person.
Feeling the familiar burn of tears nipping at the back of her eyes and the hot flush of rage sizzling through her veins, Felicity shook her head sharply in effort to clear her head. She couldn't afford to stumble around the sharp eagle eyes of Oliver and Dig. They of all people would see the shadows of fear, pain, and past raging in her eyes and it was something she could never explain to them.
They had their secrets she had hers. Something's were just too painful to be spoken of, and in her case, some were too dangerous. The last thing she would do was drag the two people that had brought fire and passion back to her life, into the dark shark infested seas of her past. If only she knew that fate had other plans.
Felicity could feel the weight of his gaze, the skin of her arms broke out in goose bumps as a trail of heat followed his eyes nearly making her shiver. To distract herself she idly drummed her bright yellow polished nails against the hard plastic of the computer as she waited for it to boot up.
Seconds ticked silently by as she awaited the welcome screen, but Oliver's eyes never wavered. With a sigh, she glanced over the rim of her glasses and nearly groaned. Standing legs braced shoulder width apart, arms crossed over his broad muscular chest, and lips pulled into an unamused frown proved he was not about to leave well enough alone. That was his stubborn face. An expression she was particularly well acquainted with. It was practically his default beside angry face that is. It was not one of her favorites, but it was markedly better than his angry face. Angry face meant he was about to go all 'Grr' on some criminal butt. While it was always deserved it meant no sleep for Felicity, and sadly it wouldn't be sexy fun time keep her up until dawn but algorithms and data mining programs.
With a sigh she sat back in her chair, crossing her legs letting her pump dangle from her toes as she nervously bounced her foot. "I had trouble sleeping. No big deal. It happens sometimes."
Whenever she thought of home, she added silently.
Felicity shrugged her shoulders slightly, but instead of satisfying the CEO by day vigilante by night it made his blue eyes darken with worry. Diggle, who had just arrived carrying her favorite white ceramic coffee mug with a waving little green alien on the front, gave her a look of concern coming to a halt a few steps from her desk. Looking between its two occupants worriedly. He and Oliver shared a silent look, that had her gritting her teeth in frustration. Now she knew why Lana always hated when she and Clark would hold silent conversations. It was a pain in the tukhus.
"Did something happen?" his voice was deepened to that of the Arrow. Normally Felicity would have rolled her eyes, because if she said yes Dig would have to wrestle him to the floor or render him unconscious to him to keep him from turning on his heel and stalking out of the building bound for the foundry and his leathers. It was sweet, and so very reminiscent of Clark that it warmed her heart, if not a tad misguided.
Felicity tensed slightly at the question, something that did not go unnoticed by Oliver, and she fought the urge to worry her thumbnail with her teeth before she spoke in a slightly strained voice. "No, I've had them for years. So no, no need to riddle anyone with point objects. Now I have to try to salvage Harry's computer-I keep telling him there is nothing free about internet porn, not that he listens… from what I've found on here the last time he has a disturbing addiction to cosplay. Which really isn't soooo odd, as mildly disturbing. Still not that was the worst thing I've ever found on a computer. That would have to be my Econ TA's penchant for recording himself doing naked Zumba. Guh," Felicity shivered in disgust, her coral painted lips pulling into an unattractive line, "that is still seared into my brai…"
"Felicity." The slightly disgusted (yeah she could totally relate) and slightly irritated look that said he really didn't need to know about her TA's nudist tendencies or the fetishes of his employees. Felicity cringed at the mental image of Roger doing Whisks with his equally nude female partner (who Felicity really hoped was a girlfriend and not a family member like she suspected, that was just twelve different kinds of revolting). Something's could never be unseen.
"Right, sorry. You do not want to know about Roger, neither did I to be honest. I mean I'm not a shallow girl, I don't need a perfectly sculpted body…I mean I appreciate it…what heterosexual female wouldn't? Well you would know I imagine." She waved a dismissive hand at him.
What she said didn't register until she watched her boss' eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, but when what she said finally registered in her brain, Felicity winced comically. Dig snickered as he strode forward placing her ceramic mug on the edge of her desk, within arm reach, and turning his head to look between his two friends with twinkling eyes. Oliver sighed and she flinched, rubbing a nervous hand over her forehead. Her mouth once again, started to flap before her brain had time to react. "Not that I've noticed your body, or that your into looking at guys…not with all the woman you parade around…not that I'm calling you a slut…but you do get around I mean Helena, Detective Hall, then Laurel again…really I don't know how you find the time. Oh God, what is wrong with me! Please someone stop me…huh?"
Dig stepped forward finally ending her misery, by clamping a large callused palm over her mouth. "Fank ou." She muttered, her voice still muffled by his hand. Oy why did she try to fix things? She knew well enough by now that her rambles only made things worse. But for the life of her, she could not shut her mouth!
"Felicity, breathe and reel it back in. I think you jumped the rails awhile back." Dig grinned brightly at her, letting his hand drop from her lips, and tossing a gleeful look toward Oliver. Flushing to her dark roots, she refused to look at her broody boss. No doubt, he was giving her that look of supreme surprise and more than a little confusion. Clapping her hands to her eyes in mortification, she moaned pitifully wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, if only to put her out of her misery.
"Felicity" Oliver spoke up, an amused lilt to his voice, that had her peaking up at him through her fingers. Despite for the slight up tic of his mouth his face remained impassive. She was more than a little grateful. Clearing her throat, she summoned up that old screw'em mentality and squared her shoulders. Unfortunately, her still vivid blush nullified her efforts. Still despite her lingering embarrassment, she pasted on a bland face of professionalism. She could find a rock to crawl under later, when they weren't running behind schedule.
"Right, sorry I'm going to go ahead and blame all that," she spun the fingers of her right hand in a circle. "on lack of sleep. My verbal diarrhea only gets worse without at least eight hours. Which sucks since I'm lucky to get four. Now as I meant to say before my brain blew a fuse, I have work and so do you. Marcus Whilsbee will be here in twenty minutes for your interview."
When Oliver's forehead creased in confusion, Felicity stared at him mystified. Which quickly exploded into anger at his uncomprehending "Who?"
Abruptly all thoughts of her verbal gaff fled, her eyes narrowed dangerously and her dangling foot fell to the floor with a loud clap of her heeled pump. As hard as she worked at a job he chose to-foist upon her- and that she loathed, with a burning passion he couldn't even be bothered to listen when she spoke.
"Seriously? Oliver, do not tell me you forgot about this, very important interview!" Her voice was now very nearly a snarl. Out of sight, Digs eyebrows flew up in surprise, while Oliver adopted a look of slight constipation.
"Unbelievable! Un-freakin-believable, Oliver what is it you hear when I speak? Shtupn! It's as if I speak in tongues! No, because if I was speaking in Russian or Mandarin we wouldn't be having this conversation. Seriously do I slip into dolphin squeaks or equine whinnies when I talk, and I just neglected to notice? Well aroyszogn shmok? How bout it Dig, do I suddenly become an incoherent imbecile at random intervals throughout the day?"
"Whoa!" Dig threw his free hand up in appeasement, gone was the look of amusement and in its place one of stunned confusion at the abrupt turn of events, and took a step back, as if trying to step out of the line of fire. Felicity always knew Diggle to be a smart man. "Leave me out of this. I'm just here to look pretty, take bullets, and drive the car. This is all on him."
Dig jabbed a finger in the other man's direction, unrepentantly throwing his boss under the buss. Oliver glowered at him, but Dig shook his head silently giving him a pointed look that said 'you fucked up, you fix it.'
"TWO WEEKS, Oliver! I have been reminding you for two weeks. And you still forget?" she thundered, smacking her hand heavily on the glass desktop. Her coffee cup rattled ominously as it shifted a few inches to the left with repercussion.
Suddenly sheepish, and slightly uncomfortable, Oliver scrubbed a hand through his short-cropped hair (strike that, extremely uncomfortable. He should be! The putz.)
Lunging to her feet, she stalked toward him, poking a perfectly manicured finger into his hard warm chest. No! Felicity mentally scolded herself when the feel of his rippling muscles beneath the thin dress shirt caught her attention. Bad, anger now lust later. "This is the Daily Planet were talking about here Oliver. It's bigger than the New York Times, For Christ sake! This isn't some trashy gossip rag, do you think Whilsbee is going to cut your any slack for that charming 'Hi I'm Oliver Queen, CEO, Playboy, Billionaire' act? No, he'll crucify you for it. Which you would know if you read the notes I left on your desk. It took me a month of e-mail tag with Perry White to get you this interview. So you march into that office and study up on the Applied Sciences Division to wow him with you dedication and knowledge, unless you want to give Isabel another point with the shareholders."
"But," Oliver began gazing back to her now flushed face, and narrowed eyes. It a fit of pique she childishly stomped her foot, the slim four inch stiletto landing to close to his foot for comfort. Oliver had been injured the pencil thin heels before, and it had been…unpleasant and an incident he was in no hurry to repeat. Therefore, for safety sake, he shifted back a step, and it had nothing to do with the fact he was now on the receiving end of her 'loud voice'.
"Uh-uh no buts Mister, I except yours moving through that door. I am fine, I appreciate the concern but I am just tired and now seething. So go or so help me God, I will donate your trust fund to charity. Go. Go!" Felicity stood from her chair and scowled jabbing a finger to the glass walls of the office.
"I guess I shouldn't ask for coffee then." He muttered under his breath.
Felicity, eyes still glaring daggers at him smiled with sardonic sweetness. "Oh you could ask, but you won't like where I pore it."
Dig guffawed, nearly choking on a mouthful of coffee, from his own cup, and nearly slopped the rest down his front. Dig always did like when her snarky side came out to play. Which was ironic really, since snark had once been her main form of communication. Years of suppressing her old life had taken its toll, but sometimes Chloe's biting humor reared its acerbic head in times of great irritation.
Like now.
Flashing her a look of supreme irritation he stalked through the glass doors like a chastised puppy. Rolling her eyes, she fell into her chair with a huff.
Still smirking slightly, Dig rested a hip on her desk and regarded her with a knowing look. "You need to talk, I'm here."
The simple and concise statement warmed her, and she gazed up at him through her lashes. "I know."
"Good, now drink your coffee. Since someone broke the coffee pot I had to go all the way down to the cafeteria for this." He looked at her knowingly, and held up his mug as if his statement need proof drawing a laugh from her. John grinned, tapping a warm finger against the tip of her nose. From the corner of her eye she caught Oliver glowering at them through the glass partitions, and still miffed she gave him a cheeky wave. He muttered something under his breath, and turned his glare on notes, as if hoping his gaze would set them ablaze.
Rolling her eyes at his childishness she reached forward looping her fingers through the handle of her cup, she fell comfortably back in her chair inhaling the mouthwatering aroma. Taking a deep draught, she sighed in contentment, the tension bleeding from her muscles, turning them to butter. With a wink, John slid off her desk and was off to his post.
Felicity eyed the laptop in front of her warily. Truly, she didn't even want to comprehend just how many virus were infecting the hard drive, she especially didn't want to know from what site it came from, but she had promised. Depositing her cup on the desk, she cracked her knuckles and wiggled her fingers above the keys before setting to work.
Thirty minutes later, she eyed the desktop clock and frowned slightly. Whilsbee was late, not that she was about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it was odd. Marcus had been an up and comer when she had been a summer intern at the Planet years ago. She had never met him, but she had heard of him and he was a stickler for punctuality. Then again, traffic around QC this time of the morning was a nightmare, a fact Marcus probably hadn't been aware of. Felicity shrugged slightly, and dove back into her work.
The elevator chimed, just as Felicity was bringing her mug to her lips, glancing around the screen toward the elevator bay her world screeched to a halt. All because of the man stumbling from the compartment, and greeting Dig kindly by the elevator. Her fingers went numb and as if in slow motion coffee sloshed over the rim as the ceramic whistled silently through the air on a crash course with the marble tile.
Her first instinct had been, run. Run and never look back. For so long that had been her default. Conceal. Protect. Run. But there was no escape. The stairwell was housed clear at the other end of the floor by the break room, the elevator bank laid just outside the main glass doors that opened into the spacious reception area that housed her desk. Both exits however would lead her right past the cause of her fight or flight response. Felicity was trapped. Fate had lead Clark Kent right to her doorstep. Maybe it was time. Time to stop running from the past. To entrust the shadows, scars, and secrets that had driven her away from home. Allow him to wrap her up in his strong arms and let the world melt away once more. Escape to a place where she was no long Chloe Sullivan and Felicity Smoak, but one woman who was torn between past and future. So, finally after so many years cloaked in shadow, cold and alone with her demons God granted her a warm flame.
And she stopped running.
"Clark." The strangled whisper had his head snapping toward her.
He wore glasses now, sliding low on the thin bridge of his nose.
Behind the lenses his soft baby blues widened, his jaw flapping open stupidly. If Felicity hadn't been in shock, she would have ached to tease him. The ceramic shattered at her feet, splashing luke warm coffee on her bare legs. She didn't notice.
"Chlo." He said her name with such reverence, that tears flooded her eyes. Felicity didn't remember getting up, or the ceramic crunching under foot as she moved forward in a haze of blue. She refused to blink, to look away from the boy-now man-that she had lost so long ago. Never heard the glass door open as Oliver's concerned voice echoed in the corridor. Or that she shrugged off his hand when he had grasped her elbow, trying to turn her to face him, and continued on her path.
"God Chlo."
The tears fell, just as large arms banded tightly around her waist lifting her up of her feet. Her nose was assaulted by the familiar scent of hay, a hint of flannel, but sandalwood had replaced the scent of worn leather. Felicity missed it. Through tear-clouded eyes, she saw Dig gazing at her in concern, but she beamed at him. Laughing through her tears, heedless of the fact coffee was dripping from the backs of her three hundred dollar pumps.
Felicity didn't care, because in the moment she felt the two parts of her meld. She was Felicity Smoak and Chloe Sullivan, and now she had her Clark Kent back.