…0…

"To say the truth, reason and love keep little company together."

Midsummer Night's Dream act 3 sc 1

…0…

He's embarrassed to admit it, but having Chloe on the jet with him makes him nervous.

Not nervous in the traditional way that a pretty girl might make a guy nervous, but more of a worried he'd step out of line nervous.

They don't need to go down that uncomfortable road again.

Oliver gets dozens of funding requests a week, so the packet from India that found its way to the top of his pile was nothing new. But the timing, wanting to see him before the New Year, was seemingly perfect and the idea of getting several thousand miles of land and water between him and Chloe had been like an answer to his prayers.

Of course she had to go and barge her way on to his plane, armed with her passport, refusing to leave.

He just can't win.

About two hours in she fall asleep, and he tries in vain to keep his eyes on the folders he's brought with him, books, magazines, even his DVD stash, but nothing is working. His gaze keeps straying to her and he traces the lines of her face with his eyes like he can't do with his hands.

Thankfully, he falls asleep a few hours later, and Chloe is absorbed in a copy of Dickens he keeps around for long flights and doesn't realize he's woken up.

It takes several minutes (in which he studies her brow crinkling in thought as she reads) but eventually it seems that she can feel him watching her and her head turns, eyes meeting his. "Hey."

Oliver sits up, stretches the awkward position from his muscles, and yawns. "Morning. Where are we?"

"About an hour outside Mumbai."

He nods and gets up to pour himself some coffee. He can see that she already has a cup, but he does offer her a muffin, which she takes and they sit in silence until the squealing of tires on the tarmac makes them both jump.

…0…

When they finally get to the ashram that Oliver has come to see, that is in dire financial straits, the tension between them falls to the back burner.

Waiting for them at the campfire in the epicenter of the camp is Gil Hawke, a man Oliver met back in college. Back then, Oliver had dismissed a lot of Gil's talk of spirituality and peace as nothing more than the rambling of a new era hippie covering for the fact that he really just wanted to smoke a lot of pot.

But when Oliver got back from that island, he found a message from Gil in his pile of well wishes waiting for him with the word that the Queen heir was alive and the simple words on plain lined paper touched something in Oliver, and he sought his old classmate out for lunch and Oliver ended up in India the next month learning ancient mysticism and meditation high in the Ganges.

They've kept in touch, and when the ashram moved down onto the coast, they found the upkeep to be more difficult.

Smiling wide, Gil walks toward Oliver and gives him a hearty hug and introduces him to Chloe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, welcome." Gil takes her hands in his and Oliver's smile broadens when he notices the genuine affection on Chloe's face.

"Thank you." She looks around, at the beach and the tents, at the people in their mix of Western and traditional Indian attire. "Wow, it's really beautiful here."

He gives them a tour, his freckled face expressive, shaggy red hair flopping in the wind as he introduces them to several other members and slowly explains to Chloe the history and tradition of ashrams that gives way to a lesson in Hindu tradition, yoga, and the benefits of surfing.

She turns her head to Oliver; face more relaxed than he's seen her in weeks, and asks him if he surfs.

"Well, maybe a little," he confesses, "but don't tell AC."

Just then a woman walks up to them, and winds her hand through Gil's. He introduces her as his wife, Sandra, but she goes by Moonday now. Oliver can tell that Chloe is momentarily as struck by her as he is. She's striking; tall, with waist length hair like ebony silk, smooth cocoa colored skin, and almond shaped eyes that look almost black with the squinting in the bright sun.

She and Gil exchange a pointed look which leads her to ask Chloe if she'd like to see where dinner was being prepared, subtly, so the men could talk about the real reason Oliver decided to fly halfway around the world on Christmas Eve.

Besides getting away from the tiny blonde currently walking barefoot along the sand away from him.

…0…

After a delicious dinner of rice, lentil, and spiced vegetables all cooked in the vegetarian tradition, and Punjab folk music played live as the sun was setting, Oliver sits back, happy to have the business talk over and the stress of Metropolis life waiting thousands of miles away.

He watches Chloe, across the fire, as Moonday and another woman show her the jewelry they make and sell in the city streets to help out with the expenses any way they can. She tries to buy something apparently, but he sees Moonday shake her head and press it into Chloe's hand.

He sees what it is later, as Gil is showing them to their accommodations-a thick gold bangle bracelet with a mix of Indian and Sanskrit etchings that tells of the tradition of Yajnas, sacrifices and penance, in the ashram history.

"Here we are." Gil stops in front of a tent, face open and friendly. "Sleep well."

A look passes between him and Chloe and he pulls his old friend to the side. "Um, Gil, is there possibly another tent somewhere?" He looks quickly over his shoulder to see Chloe trying too hard to not look uncomfortable. "See, the thing is," his words are clumsy feel heavy on his tongue and he hates it, "Chloe and I aren't…"

Realization dawns on Gil's face. "Oh. I'm sorry, I just assumed…the way you were looking at her, I was sure the two of you were together."

Oliver fights the urge to squirm.

"I'm afraid there aren't any more available, but maybe I can-"

"No, no." Oliver interrupts. "We'll make do."

He can see that Chloe knows he hasn't had any luck by the way her face falls when he meets her eyes. And just like that, the very air has shifted and the tension that's been brewing between them since fall is back.

"Chloe, I can sleep on the beach or something. It wouldn't be the first time."

Her face softens, and she grabs his sleeve. "Don't be crazy. If I bring you home with malaria I'm never going to hear the end of it." They step inside and zip the flap back down to keep the bugs at bay. "Besides, we're adults. I don't think one night in the same tent is going to end the world."

So they settle in, each in a tent in the middle of the tent, tossing shoes and bags to the side. He tries not to stare when Chloe pulls her thin long sleeve shirt off, leaving her in a tiny tank top. He debates whether or not to yank his tee shirt over his head-it would be more comfortable in the humidity, but he's worried about what kind of impression it might give her.

Finally, he does, quickly, and snuggles into his sleeping bag before she can get the wrong idea.

There's a lantern that sits an arms length away, an old fashioned brass one that uses oil, and he blows the wick out as soon as he sees Chloe has zipped up her own sleeping bag.

From what Oliver remembers of his high school physics class, it should be impossible to feel emotions in any type of physical way. Biology taught him that feelings can manifest themselves into symptoms, but as far as the tent filling up with awkwardness of wanting her and knowing every reason why it's a bad idea, well, that's just not possible no matter how much he can swear he feels it.

Chloe's voice finally breaks the heavy silence. "Are you asleep?"

Oliver rolls over. "You kidding?"

He hears her chuckle, hears the fabric of her sleeping bag rustle as she moves. "It is a little hard with that elephant taking up all the room and oxygen, isn't it?"

There's a little makeshift mesh window cut out on his side of the tent, and the moonlight is just bright enough that he can see her and her smile aches of teasing and genuine lightheartedness. He wants pretend like that grin doesn't seep under his skin and melt his heart like candle wax, he knows better and feigning otherwise would be lying.

"We do keep feeding him," he says and his voice whispers of "control yourself," even to his own ears. Her smile slips, but he goes on. "I'm one of those 'I can't go for that,' types," he remarks. "I get it, but it still sucks."

Sitting up, Chloe brings both of her legs up underneath her and looks at him in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sighing, Oliver rolls over onto her back. This will be easier to say without looking at her, without seeing her looking back. "It means just that," he explains. "I know that, someday, you're going to be able to open your heart to someone, and I want that for you Chloe, I do. You're amazing and you deserve to have someone love you." Now he does look at her, twisting his neck and locking the gaze of her big green eyes in his own. "And when that happens, God, I am going to die with jealousy, not even gonna lie." She grins at that, not even trying to hide it. "But no one ever actually dies of a broken heart."

"Yeah, but no one really lives with one either."

His heart, thudding erratically in time with the rushing of his blood at his confession, cracks at the sadness on her face, the pained knowledge lacing her words. He wants to fix that hurt for her, wants to reach deep inside of her and try to piece together the fragments of that big heart of hers left splintered by Jimmy, by Davis, by Clark.

He knows its wrong, but Oliver can't stop himself from untangling his legs from the thick fabric surrounding him and crouching in front of her.

Her breath hitches when his thumb presses against the corner of her bottom lip, the tips of his fingers flexing over the soft skin of her cheek. Searching her eyes, he gives her the opportunity to stop him

She doesn't.

When their lips touch, it's with a sigh, a whimper, hot breath and soft lips melding together, sweetness overflowing from her mouth into his.

Barely touching, Oliver's lips skim her mouth from one corner to the other, thousands of pulse points awakening under his skin when she responds and all those pockets deep inside him that have remained empty for so long fill up, brimming to the surface, and he's close to exploding with need of her.

He pulls away, though it takes all the strength he possesses. "Chloe," he grinds his teeth with the struggle to be noble. "I don't know if I can stop."

"Don't," she breathes, her hands clutching at his biceps and he can hardly believe his ears. "I'm tired of being afraid. Oliver," her voice catches, teeth digging into her bottom lip, "ready or not, these feelings aren't going away, and ignoring them…it might be the bigger mistake."

Again, he leans in, all hesitancy gone, and together as one they crumble, crashing into each other until there is no more room left between them, falling back onto Chloe's sleeping bag, hands seeking purchase wherever possible.

Oliver breathes her in, refusing even for a second, to contemplate any outcome any less than perfect stemming from tonight.

…0…

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Chloe turns her head, feeling a smile spread over her face when the sound of a deep voice, husky with sleep, reaches her ears. Oliver is still behind her, and just the small movement of her neck allows her to look up into his eyes, alight with mischief.

"A penny?" she teases. "All the money in the world, and that's your opening offer?"

He grins at her, making all the corners of her body come alive. "Maybe I can work off the payments instead." Leaning down, Oliver presses his lips to the skin below her jaw and she feels her head fall back, a sigh bubbling up from deep within.

The sun is rising and the camp around them is waking, the sounds of life beginning on either side of their tent. Groaning, Chloe stretches her arms out, feeling her muscles protesting after what she put them through the night before. "I kind of wish we could stay here."

Oliver settles down alongside her, head propped in one hand, the other playing with the ends of her hair. "We can," he says softly. "We can stay as long as you want, or we can go somewhere else, anywhere else. Just say the word."

God, the offer is so tempting. To just pick a place, any place she wants, where she and Oliver can hole up and hide from the world, indefinitely.

"I would love that," she tells him, letting her fingers thread through his thick hair, "but I left Lois in my apartment on Christmas Eve, drunk, and didn't even tell her I was leaving."

He shrugs. "She'll get over it."

"Bart was there."

"Oh." Comprehension dawns on his features, and he laughs. "I don't know who to be more concerned for."

She laughs as well, and untangles herself from him, which he does not make easy for her by any means, and begins to pull her clothes back on. After several minutes more, Oliver emits a deep sigh and follows her lead, tugging his clothes and shoes back on.

He stops her when she goes to unzip the tent flap and she looks at him, amused but curious. "What?"

Pressing a quick, firm kiss to her lips, Oliver rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Gil gave us one tent, but this is still a pretty conservative country. Just trying to be discreet."

Chloe beams at him. "Aren't you the gentleman?"

He gives that lopsided grin, the first one he ever gave her, standing in Clark's barn, when the only thing she could get through her brain was trying not to act like a bumbling schoolgirl in front of the cute, famous, billionaire and her stomach flutters, identical to the way it did then.

Breakfast, fresh fruit and newly baked bread, goes smoothly and she talks with Moonday again, listening raptly to the story of how she came to end up in India, of leaving home in England when she was a teenager and traveling around the world, meeting Gil in Israel, and a whirlwind wedding on the beach in Crete.

Again, Chloe is struck by how lovely the other woman is, and knows now that it's thanks to a mixed heritage of Korean and Nigerian, and probably a childhood in Paris and then London. Her voice is soft, heavily accented, and she speaks with deliberation in heavy English.

People like this, women like this, is what Oliver is used to and she watches him intently talking with Gil and a tall Indian man with salt and pepper hair, easy smile on his face and she thinks that, in his way, Oliver is just as beautiful as the woman sitting beside her. Equally as beautiful as Lois, who had captivated him in a millisecond, or Tess, who'd retained a hold over him for years. While she doesn't think she's without her own type of attractiveness, Chloe knows that she's no Lois, no supermodel like so many of the girls Oliver dates, and somehow, he still wants her.

Feeling her eyes on him, Oliver looks at her, the corners of his lips curving up, and winks at her.

…0…

Lois, as expected, is furious.

"You left me with mini Casanova-on Christmas no less-without a word." It seems like there's been more drinking going on as Lois sits across from her in the café around the corner from her apartment in large sunglasses, a grimace twisting her face. "Are you going to tell me where you disappeared to?"

Chloe feels a blush rising up in her face and struggles to keep it at bay, but it's not easy. Lois has always been able to read her pretty easily and her voice is laced with suspicions.

After all, she was the first one to start finger pointing in Oliver's direction.

Well, after the Daily Planet that is.

"Can I plead the fifth?"

Pursing her lips and setting down the strong coffee, Lois leans back in her chair and lowers her sunglasses so she can look her cousin in the eyes. "Sure, but doing so gives me permission to make it up in my head and it will involve a certain businessman slash crime fighter we both know, also suspiciously absent the last three days."

She's busted and she knows it, but that doesn't mean that Chloe is going to cave.

"Have it your way," she tells Lois, going for that disinterested air that she's never been very good at. Doesn't mean she's gonna stop trying though.

"You forget who you're talking to Little Cuz. I'm not the Planet's best up and comer for nothing."

Chloe snorts. "What are you going to do, Lois? Check the flight manifest for the Queen Jet, sneak a peek at our passports?"

"Aha!" Lois shouts, drawing looks, and her finger points in Chloe's face in triumphant glee.

Shushing her, Chloe casts apologetic looks at the other patrons and lowers her voice. Maybe Lois will take the hint and follow suit. "What aha?"

"You said passports," Lois explains. "Plural. Meaning you were both out of the country, and on Oliver's private jet. Why be all supersleuthy when you give me all I need between the lines."

Eyes narrowing, Chloe glares at her cousin and her astuteness. "I hate you."

Erupting in laughter, Lois smiles for the first time since walking in the door. "I knew it."

She leans in, face mischievous. "So…details."

"Lois, we're in public."

"So?" She signals for another cup of coffee. "It's not like it's a subject that all of these grown people are unfamiliar with." She looks around, makes a face. "Well, maybe with the exception of that guy."

It looks like she has no choice, so she submits, groaning and letting her head fall into her hands. "Are we really that obvious?"

Scoffing, Lois sips greedily from her refreshed coffee. "Only to people who have eyes." Off Chloe's grunt of indignation, she continues. "The first time I really looked at the two of you together I could see it Chloe. There's serious heat between you two. Not knowing exactly how long you two have been in cahoots with the whole secret identities thing (Chloe tries to shush her, discretion is part of the game) I have no idea when exactly it started, but obviously whatever there is between you two has been building up for a long time, way before you slept with him." She grins. "The first time that is."

Chloe feels her cheeks flare up in mortification. "Well its good to know that Oliver and I have been radiating sexual tension for God only knows how long."

Lois takes out her wallet and pulls a few bills out, placing them under her coffee cup. "Sexual tension is tame compared to the kind of burning you guys do when you think no one is looking at you."

She has no idea what that means, but it sounds…intriguing. "Burning?"

"The way he looks at you could melt a glacier, Chlo. We're talking bedroom eyes the likes of which I doubt even Hugh Hefner could imagine. I bet your 'trip' was amazing." She finger quotes the word trip in her sentence, a habit she's always had, and her innuendo comes with a shoulder bump a huge Cheshire cat grin.

"My embarrassment aside," Chloe says, "you're not upset that I basically ditched you on Christmas, are you?"

Lois shakes her head. "Nah. I would never begrudge you any fun, Chlo-even if you did leave me with Speedy Gonzales and his wandering hands. "

Panic hits Chloe and she whirls on her cousin. "Lois, you didn't do anything to Bart, did you?"

Her answer is accompanied by a smile; big, bright, and deceptively innocent. "Nothing permanent."

…0…

Chloe is getting dressed for what she's been told is going to be an amazing night when Oliver calls to tell her he's been called to an emergency meeting in Egypt and he's already on his way to the airport.

"I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm going to be in meetings for days, and one of my board members is meeting me at the jet, I can't get out of it. You can come though, I may be able to steal time for a midnight kiss somewhere over Portugal."

Disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach, she sets down the makeup brush she'd been using and hopes that her voice doesn't convey what she's really feeling. "Its okay, Oliver. It's not like you planned this."

"I'll make it up to you," he promises.

Dressed in sweats and armed with chick flicks and coffee ice cream, she settles on her couch for a night with Hugh Grant and Ryan Reynolds when she hears a knock on her door.

"Lois?"

Breezing in, Chloe sees that, under her long coat, her cousin is wearing her old pastry pajamas and her fraying bunny slippers. She sets down two pizzas with two bottles of wine balanced on top.

"You can't have a good stag New Years without booze and greasy calories," Lois explains as she opens the lid on a fully loaded deep dish pizza.

Chloe sits beside her on the couch. "Not that I don't appreciate the rescue from a solo night in, but Lois, what are you doing here?"

"Oliver called me," she says, that 'duh' look on her face. "So I bailed on the lame office party and its stale beer and decided to ring in the New Year with my favorite cousin."

"I'm your only cousin."

Lois waves her hand. "Semantics. Now," she rubs her hands together excitedly, "what movies do we have?"

The night is fun, and just what Chloe needed, even if she does fall asleep before midnight actually rolls around.

Chloe can't remember the last time she was out before two at the earliest.

Oliver calls her to say Happy New Year and tells her he's going to be home in a few days only to call on his way back to Metropolis to tell her about a lead AC has come across in Sydney and that he has to follow up on it.

Good thing he travels with an emergency Green Arrow back up kit.

Lois has seemingly picked up the assignment of keeping her busy with Oliver out of the country. She appreciates the gesture, but trying to do her Watchtower duties is difficult with a 5'8 shadow by her side.

"You don't have to keep me company while Oliver's gone," she tells her during a Guitar Hero marathon during week three of Operation Occupy Chloe, "I've had practice spending my evenings solo."

"But being alone when you have an absentee hottie boyfriend is different than it is when you're single," Lois says, using her most authoritative voice.

Chloe ushers her out the door, ignoring her protests of going out for a late night ice cream binge. She's chronically exhausted lately and really just wants to go to bed with the left over Chinese in the fridge. "I have an arsenal in my trunk and a team of superheroes on speed dial. I'll be fine."

Finally alone, she digs in to the cold noodles and relishes in the silence for however long she has it.

Waking up to the sound of the phone ringing, Chloe contemplates throwing it against the wall. Five hours of sleep is just not enough anymore.

"Hello?"

"Hey." Oliver's warm voice flows over the line, making her smile without even realizing it. "Did I wake you?"

She assures him that it's okay. "I need to get up and head in to Isis anyway."

"Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard, Sidekick?"

Throwing back the covers and stuffing her feet into the fuzzy slippers Lois gave her for Christmas and makes her way downstairs, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder to turn on the coffee pot. "Once or twice, but I have this rowdy bunch of heroes I have to play mother hen for. It's a big job."

She hears his grin through the phone and he tells her he'll be home the next day. "You feel up for some company?"

"If company brings me a present," she teases and takes a sip of her coffee.

At once, her stomach rolls and lurches, her chest constricting with the feeling that she's about to be sick. "Um, Oliver, let me call you back, okay?" She flips her phone shut and takes deep breaths until the feeling thankfully passes. "Okay, no more take out from General Wong's," she mutters, and opens the fridge to get the Pepto Bismol.

It works…at first. But then Lois pops up at dinner time with Thai food and sulky Clark in tow and she actually welcomes the nausea. It gives her an excuse to escape the awkward, awkward meal. Clark gets her more medicine and a glass of ginger ale and leaves, telling her that he doesn't want to bother her while she's sick.

Lois decides to stay the night and help take care of her, and its nice being babied just a little-even though she does end up in front of the toilet for the rest of the night, throwing up what seems to be everything she's ever eaten in her life. Sitting beside her, Lois rubs her back through the night and places cool washcloths on her head between stomach heaves.

Sometime around noon that day, Oliver shows up, using his key and he finds them both sitting on the floor of the downstairs bathroom.

"Bad Chinese," she tells him.

Lois wrings the washcloth out over the sink, and hands Chloe a bottle of water that's been sitting on the counter since dawn. "She stopped about an hour ago, which is the longest she's gone all night, so I'm going to run home and grab a few things and then I'll be back."

"No, Lois, I think I'm okay now. I'm just gonna crash. Go home and get some sleep."

She tries to protest, but a yawn cuts her off and Oliver assures her that he'll take care of her, and that he'll call her if Chloe gets sick again. She leaves, and Oliver kneels down and scoops Chloe up off the bathroom floor.

"You heroes and your damsels in distress fetish," she quips, snuggling against his chest.

"What can I say," he replies, "saving the girl is just part of the job description."

He sets her on her bed, tucking the quilts around her. "And there's always a girl," she mumbles before drifting off.

Chloe feels she could sleep for about a week, as she has for a while now, but that sadly is not the case. About two hours after she lays down she jolts awake and runs into her bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach once more.

And she'd thought there wasn't anything left in it.

There's a note from Oliver on her nightstand when she comes out of the bathroom. Dinah's gotten into a sticky situation in Star City and he's gone to help out, but he'll be back as soon as he can, and yes, he's told Lois and she promises not to kill him for abandoning his girl in her time of need.

Chloe pretends her heart doesn't warm at Oliver referring to her as his girl.

Her equilibrium comes back with a couple bottles of water and without the feeling of dizziness, she figures that she can make it down to the corner pharmacy without incident.

She stands in the aisle, looking back and forth between bottles and boxes, trying to decipher what would be best for dehydration and food poisoning. She assumes its food poisoning. Maybe a virus, in which case she'll know for sure if Lois or Oliver get sick.

Cutting through the aisle that bookends with contraceptives at one end and diapers, formula, and baby food at the other (weird) she pulls out her wallet and the bracelet Moonday gave her in India falls out.

"Let's see, it's been about a month, and I am late," a girl behind her hisses in an agitated whisper a few feet from her. "Do you really think it's possible?"

The words slam in to Chloe's stomach, making her drop her purchases and she sinks to the floor, the feeling of her little lighthouse charm suddenly heavy on her wrist. She thinks of Oliver, of India, of that look in his eye when he hovered above her that made her insides heat up and her heart thump in her chest.

She thinks of his skin and his scent, their complete and total lack of a condom, and her own stupidity for letting it happen.

This is not possible.

…0…