"Star City?" she repeated, eyes wide. "Oliver, we're supposed to be getting married tomorrow," she explained back to him, in her requisite Chloe-tone.
"Which is why I'm bringing it up now instead of after that whole taking vows thing," he replied smartly.
"This was not part of the deal," she shook her head, thoughts spinning.
His lips settled into a thin line. "I know." He waited and took a deep breath. "You can back out now if you want. I knew the idea was extreme to begin with, but I never thought I'd be taking you away from your family."
Blow after blow, it just kept coming. She dealt with one crisis just to hit another. Like marrying for justice wasn't enough of a game-changer. Her life was the equivalent of a superhero soap opera.
'But you're going to do it, aren't you?' a small voice inside her whispered.
Her lips settled into a thin line as she pulled her laptop close to her and opened it.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I want to see the scans," she said quietly. "Show me. Compared to last year and the overall trends."
Wisely nixing any commentary on the situation, he scooted around to the other side of the coffee table and accessed his remote files containing the data. Chloe mulled over the info as he explained what he'd found. Outlining the different sectors of the city, the increase in violent crime and his suspicions that certain people in power may not be wielding it appropriately. She tucked away several names to look into later, especially the local police commissioner.
"I'm not backing out," she finally said, turning to see his profile illuminated by the glare of her computer screen.
"Why wouldn't you?" he asked, as if her consideration was outrageous. "This is more than I-"
She stopped him. "It doesn't matter. It's going to be hard," she said plainly, "but it doesn't change anything. An hour ago I was prepared to marry you. It would be naïve of me to think we'd live here forever," she frowned, just now discovering she truly had been ignorant of certain implications.
She barreled on. "If the logistics of a cross-country move reverses that decision then it wouldn't have been as important as we thought. And if it wasn't important, well, we wouldn't be getting married, would we?"
"I don't know where you get your strength from Chloe Sullivan," he appraised her quietly.
"Neither do I."
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Chloe reached for her shoes.
"I have to meet Lois. After I bailed on her last time, there's no way she'll put up with a no-show tonight."
"Go out and enjoy yourself. I guess technically this is your last night as a free woman," he commented with a grin.
"Missing your bachelor party suddenly, Queen?" she goaded him. He opened his mouth and cocked an eyebrow in consideration. "Tough luck. That's what you get for putting a rush on this harebrained scheme."
'Push it down, Chloe,' she ordered herself. 'Push it all down and force yourself to laugh hysterically.'
Lois had praised some new comedy that had debuted a few weeks earlier. Chloe wasn't sure why she was so insistent on dragging her to a movie she'd already seen twice, but when hanging out with Lois it was best to follow one simple rule: if Lois is happy and not doing anything that will get her arrested or diseased, just follow her lead.
Spotting Lois in line for popcorn, she mentally prepped herself.
Things Not to Say
So I'm getting married.
To your ex.
Tomorrow.
Which means I'm moving out.
Tomorrow.
Essentially, I'm leaving you.
And just because I thought we should have a clean break...
I thought I should switch major cities.
And time zones.
Two, to be precise.
By the way, I do not love him.
Although, I'll admit he looks good in leather.
Just not to him.
I intend to save the world one wedding ring at a time.
And since I'm on a roll, I may as well tell you...
Clark's an alien.
Not as in alien, to us.
Alien as in the boy who fell from the sky.
And I've known about it for years.
Secret? Betrayal? No. I've shielded you from it.
You know how I hate to cause you pain.
"Ready for the movie?" Lois grinned, her arm wrapped around a jumbo tub of butter soaked popcorn.
"Absolutely," Chloe smiled back. "Just let me get some sno-caps first."
"To the margaritas!" Lois cheered.
Chloe was grateful for the noise and distraction a theater offered. A full two hours of bonding time void of any room for real conversation, and the movie really was laugh out loud funny to boot. There was nothing quite like a fictional laugh when real ones are hard to find.
That was followed by a giggle filled session of manicures as the girls recounted and reenacted their favorite bits.
"But I will never, never," Lois gasped out the line, laughter on the verge of tears, "tell you where I hid the blender!"
Chloe snorted as she watched the salon workers exchange looks. She didn't care what they thought.
Now Lois was hellbent on getting them good and drunk. Or she had been, right up until her phone had rung. In typical Lois fashion, she was kicking up her feels faster than a contestant at a dance-off. Some days Chloe swore she saw the words DIBS tattooed across Clark's forehead when it came to Lois. Somehow he managed to find the time to wrangle her a new story whenever he could. Chloe assumed it was out of guild of thwarting so many of her coulda shoulda woulda stories he quietly obliterated. Besides that, if they weren't madly in love, they were at least madly in denial and that had to count for something.
Dragging herself home she sunk onto her couch, leaving the lights off. Only the moon shining through the window offered any light. Peering around her second hand furnished apartment she pieced together the moments of her life.
There was a pink scarf flung over an end table; the product of an impromptu sing along to Grease. Scattered magazines covered most tabletop surfaces, along with more than one nail polish stain. Lois' dresser drawers were permanently askew, at least one having some sort of fabric jammed at all times. The kitchen chair they never moved because the legs were uneven but they'd finally found the perfect size book to prop it up. It's not as if either of them were on the verge of reading Pride and Prejudice any time soon, anyway.
She rescued her photo album from its shelf under the coffee table. Mostly newer pictures, she'd stashed a few of her old favorites. A cake spattered face from her second birthday. A snap from when she was nine, a toothy grin on full display as she gave her cat what must have been a viciously tight hug. Her middle school graduation with acne on full display.
The newer shots included a bevy of local celebrations with Clark. It looked like she'd attended as many of the spring, summer, fall and winter festivals she could when she wasn't busy getting herself almost killed. The early ones brought a reminiscent smile as she remembered Pete and the trio they'd once been. Photo ops with Lana ranging from back when they were more frenemies to a bittersweet goodbye of best friends as the orphan girl decided to embark on an overseas adventure nannying for two children.
Lois grew more and more frequent as her arrival in Smallville became permanent and the cousins became roommates. Oliver too had crept his way into her book of memories. Of course his debut had been as Lois' boyfriend in a Thanksgiving photo. There were a few other moments recorded as well; the barbecue that was put on as a thank you for Mrs. Kent's senate supporters, Clark's birthday party, and of course the official photo of her shortlived stint as Oliver Queen's arm candy or 'Watchtower's Subterfuge' as she'd dubbed the event.
Throwing on a pair of drawstring pants and her favorite cami she crawled into bed early that night. Comforter tugged up to her chin she tried to imprint every smell of her home into her skin.
Oliver had made a pitstop during his visit to Star City. There were two things he'd conveniently forgotten to mention to Chloe: that he'd gone to his family home, and how long it had been since he'd done so.
He hadn't set foot on the property since he was eighteen. Even before then the visits had been infrequent. The Queen Manor had been specifically left to the couple's only heir, not to be lumped in with any other properties or investments they'd made that could be handled by an approved guardian to be sold or maintained until Oliver was of age. No, the home was the only exception. The property could not be sold until Oliver himself was able to legally consent to the sale, and on top of that had been tied up in a form of trust that made that age twenty five years.
For a period of his youth he'd had various nannies and people tied to him as legal guardians. Once old enough though, the remainder of his years had been spent in boarding schools. He had many long term acquaintances and family friends he continued contact with from his parents years, but they weren't exactly family.
He decided the day he'd left for college that he was done with that place. A mausoleum of what he would never have again: a family. Reminders of where shortlived warmth once was and how obvious it was just an empty shell now. Off he'd went, thinking he could force himself to never go back. He survived that mentality through college. He'd hung onto it through a two year shipwreck. He'd ignored it as he came into adulthood.
During his time on the island he'd often thought about his family home. Returning to it, bringing it to life again. It was there, in the back of his mind. Upon his rescue he pushed the uncomfortable idea that broached his personal boundaries aside. Going home does not a man make. So he trained and fought and renewed his business senses. He became the Green Arrow and took the reins of Queen Industries. He did so from a high rise building conducive to saving lives, midtown meetings, thwarting muggings and random hookups. They knew where the door was and how to hail a taxi.
Since it was such a difficult area for him to inspect, he'd chosen not to altogether. The maintenance timetables that had been carefully managed for him up until age 25 he simply left in place. Turning his key in the lock had felt like falling backward in time. The winding staircase and bright foyer came rushing back to him. He had a dim recollection of getting in trouble for playing in the basement... and the attic... and the garage. He wasn't a bad child, just an overly adventurous one.
And now, that place in the recess of his mind would be his home, their home. The thought had originated as being time to take a hard look at himself. He was grown, and it was time to stop running. Once he knew he'd be returning to Star City he was surprised to know, just as certainly, that he would live in the home he'd been escaping for so long.
It was an afterthought when he realized he'd be inviting Chloe into this giant leap of his. She'd be right alongside him as he stepped into this version of himself, and she'd be there as his wife.