Within Enemy Lines
by Catheryne (tennysonslady)
Summary: Oliver joins the Suicide Squad in order to save Chloe Sullivan.
Characters: Oliver, Chloe, JL, SS
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: PG13
AN: I love this story, and I love you for accompanying me on this journey.
Part 4
"Don't look like you're trying to get his attention," came his voice in her ear. Chloe itched to pull the communicator from her ear. Having him there, so close, reminded her of all the times when he would lean over her in bed and whisper sweet nothings. His voice had always been tender, like his breath was caressing every hidden part of her. Now his voice was cold, detached. It was like his own protest for her carefully selected words of rejection. "Plant yourself in one location where he can see you."
"Any ideas?" When she was the guide in his ear she gave him precise directions. Oliver sucked at being the watch.
She heard the rapidfire way he hit the keyboard and knew he was checking a map of the ballroom. After a few minutes when he did not return to her, Chloe checked around her until she was sure no one was close enough to hear. "Layout folder. It would be in the assistant's drive, not in the manager's. Search for the file that's been printed, say—" Chloe did a quick count in the perimeter, "fifty copies. It should be the one that was last accessed at about ten this morning."
There was silence. And then she heard a sigh of satisfaction. "You're still much better at behind the scenes work than me."
It made her smile. She was glad the hidden camera did not show her reaction. "Never doubt it, Archer." It sounded familiar. Chloe reminded herself to be more careful in her responses.
"Go to the bar. The one in the left corner about twenty feet from the stage," he said into her ear. "Bruce will pretend not to talk business across the piano. You'll be right where he can see you."
Chloe trusted him enough that she walked in the direction he gave.
"Get a cocktail. Limit yourself to two."
"I'm not going to lose my head," Chloe stated calmly.
"Can't be too careful."
So Chloe came up to the bar and asked for a Bloody Mary. She turned around and observed the guests. She was fascinated, and even murmured, "Kansas always hosted so much strangeness. But it doesn't compare to this."
"Show me," he said quietly.
His voice was soft. Chloe leaned back in the bar and thought if she closed her eyes it would be easy to imagine Oliver standing right beside her, and they were having this conversation as they attended together.
"Be careful," he said. "A couple of those are crooks. I've seen them before. We never have hard evidence so the team couldn't do much about them."
And this was the Batman's territory.
Chloe sipped her drink. Her gaze wandered to the crowd as she searched for Bruce Wayne. The entire time she had him in her sights except for those few seconds when her attention was caught by all the suspicious guests.
"Chloe," came his sharp voice. She realized the screen that Oliver got moved in a jarring speed as she frantically looked around. "Calm down. What's wrong?"
"I lost him."
"Relax. He'll find you," he said into her ear.
Chloe grimaced. He had said it once and she knew it was true. She needed to work on this. His assurance was empty. She was no Lois Lane or Lana Lang. Men did not seek her out. If she was going to complete this mission and at least warn Wayne against investigating the Squad, she needed to do this right. "Like hell he will," she said softly. "I'm no catch, Oliver. We both know that. I actually need to work to get attention."
He cursed under his breath, but it was audible enough that it rang in her ears.
"Good thing because I hate it so much," she told him.
"That's not true. Chloe—"
Chloe placed her glass back on the bar. She made her way through the crowd. The ball was thicker now as more people came to support the cause. Many seemed to have come to gawk at the billionaire, judging from the way his name dropped from many lips as she strode through the floor.
As she searched for the dark head of hair, Chloe found herself in the other end of the ballroom, looking at through the glass windows. The balcony was dimly lit, providing a safe haven for anyone who needed to get away from the crowd. If Bruce had one bone in his body that was similar to Oliver's, she knew she would find him out there seeking some silence.
"Who is that?" came Oliver's voice in her ear.
Chloe squinted her eyes and saw the shadowed figure in the darkness. Her gaze studied him in the darkness, and she gasped. "Floyd," she whispered. Chloe looked back into the ball, then pushed the doors and stepped out into the balcony.
"Who?" he asked.
Chloe could hear him typing into his computer, and she was grateful that Oliver was such a slow researcher. Slow was too strong a word. But at least he couldn't compare to her. "It's—an acquaintance," she told him softly. "Stay there."
Chloe stayed a few feet away from him. Tom had told her about Floyd. She had eaten in a table with Floyd. Once or twice, Chloe even managed to nod at him as they passed by each other in mission intervals. Once or twice, she had heard his mumbled good mornings. Deadshot, Tom called him. And Floyd called Tom Nemesis. When once Flag had planned to send Chloe in a mission with him, her partner had staunchly refused.
Deadshot wanted to die, but he had always been too much of a coward to do anything about it himself. But Chloe was not going on a mission with a man who had a death wish.
But this was her mission. Deadshot had no place here.
"Evening," he said in greeting. Typical. And she did not know him at all.
Chloe's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in my deep cover, Floyd?"
Clearly he was not undercover either. The guns hanging on either side of his waist was a clear indication that no cover was needed. Deadshot cocked his head to the side. He glanced at the event behind her, then back at her. "Checking," was his usual curt answer.
"Waller doesn't trust me, even until now?" At least that impressed her a little. Her regard for the White Queen as a mastermind had fallen notches when the Squad took her in at her word. No leader worth her salt would have so easily trusted her. "She had to send you to spy on a spy?"
His answer was indirect when he told her, "I came to make sure you're doing what you're asked."
Exactly.
"Not for the White Queen," he qualified. "I wouldn't be caught dead in Wayne's ball," he said with disgust, "even for the White Queen."
"Then for who?" There were few people that Deadshot respected in the Squad. Chloe had seen him treat their teammates like the lowest beings for wanting to survive. "Your bosom buddy Flag," Chloe concluded.
"For Nemesis."
Chloe sucked in her breath. Deadshot and her partner had never been friends. Not as she remembered it.
"Everyone else in your tightly knit little group has gone off to rescue your partner. They seem to have forgotten about you."
He wanted something. There was no way he would come to check just because he was concerned. Acquaintances did not do that. Friends did not do that. If they did then Clark would have found out long ago where he was. No. It was her job to protect them all, not the other way around.
Chloe's hand rose to the ruffled silk of the cowl neckline. She searched for the mic and very carefully covered it so no sound would reach Oliver. This was not something he needed to hear.
"I can take care of this," she said quietly.
Deadshot smirked. It was arrogant, all-knowing, confident. It was precisely the type of expression that set him apart from the team. Then again, in the Squad, as long as you survived then you were successful. Deadshot had a different measure of success.
"Just remember. Your nice bracelet over there may look prettier than the ones that the team wears, but it's no less powerful." Chloe glanced at the finely crafted gift that Flag had given her on the day she joined. When she reached an agreement with Waller, that Oliver Queen would be left alone, Chloe had extended her own arm and allowed Flag to wrap the cool metal around her wrist. It was distinctively better than the tracking bracelets of every prisoner that started working for the Squad. Chloe liked to think she had the breakthrough fashion accessory, with the dainty loops and pretty studs surrounding it. "It's not going to just rip your entire arm out. You'd be lucky if a strand of your hair escapes undamaged."
She fingered the bracelet that Oliver had taunted her about. A gift from her partner, he thought.
When all this was over, when she ran, she hoped Oliver was as far away from her as he could possibly be.
"You've never been the comforting kind," Chloe said.
"That's because I don't need to be." Deadshot nodded towards the ball. "You do what you're asked to do—no more, no less." Chloe felt his eyes back on her, and her stomach sank. She could see it in his brow. He knew there was something else, something new, something hidden. "Whatever is in the dossier, that is what you do. You know what would happen if you stray outside the neat little outline they handed to you."
Suddenly the bracelet was heavy on her wrist.
There wasn't even Nemesis to keep her straight now, to make sure she was within the boundaries that Waller allowed.
"We've always been about the mission no matter the cost. I'm ready for it. Your partner is fine with it. You don't seem to be anywhere near ready for what missions cost."
Chloe took a deep breath. "I refuse to believe that you're here as a Good Samaritan, checking up on me while my partner is out of commission." Deadshot was a mercenary. Everyone else had a variety of reasons for joining. Deadshot was there for the money and a desire to die. He was there for something else.
"Queen. He's that Queen from Star City."
There it was. He was going for the billions that Oliver had at his disposal. Pity that Oliver was not likely going to give a dime to anyone blackmailing the woman who betrayed him.
"If he gets out," he started.
"When. When he gets out," she said, "what do you want from him?"
"I have a daughter in Star City," he told her. "Zoe. You tell him to keep her safe."
Chloe released the breath she held. She gave him a puzzled regard. He would check up on her in lieu of the team, and that was what he wanted in exchange. She could not speak. He made his way down the balcony with ease. She made her way to the loveseat at the corner and settled down. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
She heard the thump, and found herself lifted by her arms up to her feet. Chloe opened her eyes and found Oliver's frantic brown eyes blazing at her. He was panting. Chloe realized he had ziplined to the balcony, had not taken the time to change into his uniform. His black t-shirt was sweaty with exertion.
"Oliver?"
"You turned off the mic," he exclaimed.
"I needed privacy."
His breath was harsh. Chloe noticed the deep way his chest moved under the moist shirt. "You never turn off the mic!" he panted. "I thought you were—"
Maybe—maybe he did not hate her as much as she thought. Maybe it was not such a punishment to ask him to save her.
"I'm okay," she whispered.
His grip on her arms eased. Chloe looked down and saw the marks of his fingers on her skin. Oliver glanced down. She felt his thumbs brush over them. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
He slowly reached forward and fixed the black silk that she had been wearing when she walked out on him earlier. He was feeling for the mic, ensuring it was in place.
"Wayne is coming," he said quietly.
She did not ask how he knew. He could see into the lighted ball from his vantage point. She nodded.
"Don't turn it off. I need to be linked to you the entire time."
Sometimes, she thought, they always were.
He was gone just as quickly as he had arrived. Chloe raised her face up to the night air and felt the breeze blow coolly on her hot cheeks. This was how it was always going to be. Every moment between them she felt like she was going to explode, become some weakling who sobbed and clung to her hero, plead with him to keep her safe. Every time she was going to want to become selfish, to be placed above an entire world that needed them.
Every time she was going to cry just a little bit in release.
She dabbed at her cheeks with the back of her hands. Chloe drew a deep cleansing breath.
And then there was a crisp white handkerchief hanging in front of her. Chloe's gaze shot back to the man who had so quietly crept up on her.
He was as somber as he was in the dossier. He regarded her with some concern. Chloe realized he had moved so silently she had not had time to recover.
"Whoever he is, he's an asshole who won't be welcome to Gotham City anytime soon."
And he came close to being as charming as Oliver Queen. Chloe bit her lower lip, then gave him a reluctant smile.
"There it is."
"What?" she said softly. Chloe took the handkerchief he offered and dried her eyes.
When I saw you from across the room earlier tonight I thought to myself, that woman is going to have an earth-shattering smile." His lips curved. "And I was right. There it is."
"Mr Wayne, you have a fantastic way with words."
"And I am at a disadvantage. You have my name, and most likely a lot more than that. I don't know yours."
Chloe heard the almost indiscernible beep. Oliver was back online.
"Call me Chloe," she told him. There was no need for false names. Her digital traces had been removed from the internet. "And aside from the fact that you're Bruce Wayne, and a celebrity, all that matters is what I know tonight." She handed him back his handkerchief.
Chloe could hear Oliver's breathing in her ear.
Wayne took the handkerchief back and put it in his pants pocket. He returned, "And what is that, Chloe?"
"Tonight," she said, as honestly as she could, "you're my hero."
She allowed him to think it was for something as gentlemanly as offering a handkerchief to a lady in tears. It was nothing compared to the feat of zipping to her at the slightest indication of danger.
But Bruce Wayne was her hero tonight. He was the hero she was destined to save.
He extended a hand, and Chloe glanced down at the offer.
Oliver's voice was quiet. "Hesitate. Count to four." And she did. "Give him your hand. Just before you enter the ballroom, squeeze it lightly. It will make him feel like you need him. You want him to feel that you need him," he told her. "Heroes—men—they need to know you need them sometimes."
tbc