Mr and Mrs Queen

Summary: Oliver leaves Smallville with his new wife, who is hiding behind a different identity and pursuing her dreams in Star City.

Characters: Mainly Chloe, Oliver, Bruce

Rating: PG13

Part 6

The Watchtower security was the same as she remembered, and the cold feminine voice declaring that her password was verified almost seemed like a warm welcome home. Beside her was a stranger to the system, and Chloe entered the override code needed to keep them from being locked out. When Watchtower allowed access to her companion, Bruce grunted in a way that told her that he was impressed by the set up. After all, his glorious highly advanced Batcave boasted a security system that Chloe had disabled within seconds.

"Did you do this?"

And somehow the way his eyes shone, in that unmistakable admiration that she recognized only because of years of giving it to Clark Kent, made the somber situation just a little lighter, more acceptable, less tragic. "Yours truly," she said, taking pride in the work that was the product of years of solitude. "I had some help."

"In programming?"

"Before you ask for a referral, understand that the software was mine. The help I needed you obviously won't."

Bruce looked at the surrounding space of the elevator, which was almost ancient and commonplace in appearance, but had apparently been installed by those DNA detection lasers. "So," he said, putting it together so quickly even she was surprised, "Oliver Queen had been funding a vigilante justice team. No wonder there's a hole in this coffers that he just isn't interested in plugging." When she looked at him askance, Bruce shrugged his shoulders, "It's a well-known tidbit in the business. Queen's accountant can't find the source of the leak. But every now and then money is funneled out of Queen and credited back intermittently." He smirked. "I was beginning to suspect money laundering until Queen came out as Green Arrow. I wasn't about to make any noise. I know how much it takes to invest in a secret double identity."

The elevator doors opened and Chloe and Bruce stood at the end of the corridor. Bruce made a motion to step out, but Chloe grabbed his arm. He turned to her. "You've always said that you don't need a team. But I do, Bruce. This is your last chance to back away."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his mirth fading. "I told you in the plane that I was part of this mission. You want Queen back," he said firmly. "We'll get him back for you. Then I move on."

Move on.

Her eyes roamed over his face, reading him, or trying. Move on from the hero business, like he had claimed before, like he had planned to do once he took down his parents' murderers. Move on from this mission maybe, and pick up where he left off in Gotham City before he raced across the continent for the mysterious communications specialist who encouraged him to save the world. Move on…

Either way he told her the plan with that shuttered look that she hated. He had that look when he had a secret, when he was unwilling to share, when he did not trust. For the longest time she thought they had gone past that look.

"That's not how it works," she declared. Bruce blinked, for a split second his brows furrowed in confusion, a little spark of hope, until he put on that expressionless face again. "Inside that room is a team of heroes, and I'm not stupid enough to let you go in there half committed. If you go in there you will know who the team is, maybe find out their identities. If you go in there you're either an asset or a liability."

His set jaw ticked. "So it's a question of trust." His eyes narrowed. "You know me better than to have any concerns about that, Chloe."

It was apparent in his voice that he had taken great offense. Before it went any further she tightened her hold on his arm.

"Put yourself in my position and tell me you wouldn't take the same precautions."

For the longest moment he did not react. Chloe began to wonder if maybe she said the wrong thing, or maybe he did not hear her. Then curtly, ever so quickly Bruce nodded in acknowledgment.

She walked ahead of him, knowing he needed the time to think through his own reactions, seat aside his own objections. Whoever it was that represented the team inside the Watchtower, Chloe was sure was ready and waiting for her return, perplexed at the presence of a stranger. If anything only Clark would have some idea about who it was that tagged along. Chloe moved to push the door open, but Bruce stepped forward and muttered, "Let me in first."

"I trust these people," she replied, "and I'm less likely to be annihilated than you."

Her attempt at humor went largely ignored. Bruce gave her a small smile, then said, "Humor me."

Chloe shrugged. If he wanted to put himself in imminent danger—that only existed in his head—she would not deny his heroic tendencies to do so. "Go ahead."

His hand hovered over the pocket of the coat he wore. Chloe remained alert. There was no way she was going to let Bruce pull out a weapon against the team. New hero or not, Bruce was not going to endanger her team.

At their entrance, Tess pushed her chair back from behind the desk and stood. "Chloe," she greeted the long lost owner of the entire space, "come back to your tower." Chloe nodded somberly. "I knew from the day Oliver told me he suspected that he was marked by the darkness that you and I will be working together soon."

Chloe looked around the room, wondering who had come to the party. The strange emptiness rang inside her. No one had come. All these years the team gathered together when she or Oliver called. Whether they labeled it or not, they still had command of the team. Oliver was more than the deep pockets. She was more than the coordinator. Suddenly she was so very glad that at least she had Bruce Wayne at her side.

Bruce placed a hand on the small of her back, in that silent way he spoke to her. It was effective enough when her walls were down. Chloe glanced up and him and threw him a look of gratitude.

She turned to the new arrival. "And someone new." Tess threw back a questioning look towards Chloe.

Before Chloe could explain, Clark's voice echoed in the room. Chloe looked up to see Clark walking down the spiral steps, leafing through photographs in a folder. Her chest swelled with pride. She and Oliver were only months gone and the change in Clark was almost tangible. It was in the way he held himself, the strength in his voice. "So you're the latest project." He extended a hand. "The billionaire with all the gadgets."

Bruce took Clark's hand. Tess gasped. "I knew there was something familiar about you!" Tess exclaimed. "Tess Mercer."

Bruce answered Clark, "Billionaire with all the gadgets is what's on my birth certificate. Incidentally I prefer to be called Bruce Wayne."

"Clark—"

"The Blur," Chloe interrupted.

"Actually, I go by Superman now," Clark offered. When Chloe's brows shot up, he added, "I'll tell you about it later."

Chloe looked down the photographs in Clark's hand. The one at the very top caught her attention. Her heart raced. She snatched up the folder and looked at the picture, taken in the night. "Oliver," she said. She could only see the back of the blonde head but the way he stood she would know him anywhere. She turned to the next photograph, her eyes rapidly scanning the surroundings first looking for a marker she could recognize. Finally her focus landed on his face, blurry and faded due to the distance and the careless zoom. It was embarrassing really. Most of her relationship happened in the privacy of their bedroom, in their apartments only when they were alone. She was so unused to exposing herself in this manner, but Chloe could not help touching her thumb to Oliver's chin on that picture. Bruce's hand rested on her shoulder. Chloe looked up. "Where is he?"

"Right here in Metropolis," Clark answered. "You flew blindly but your destination was right."

"This was where it started," Chloe said. "This is where it's going to end."

"We only just informed the team before you arrived, because that was the only time we got visual confirmation," Tess offered. "Those were taken by Canary. We'd asked her to keep track of the agents of the darkness."

A gust of wind blew across the room. Chloe nodded at the appearance of Impulse. He pushed his hoodie back and grinned. "So I hear the Bossman's got himself into some trouble." He was about to pull off the shades until his eyes wandered to the tall dark head of the stranger beside Chloe. "Newbie!" he said. The name was too light and—fun—to ascribe to Bruce Wayne.

While Bruce and Bart made their introductions, Chloe walked over to the desk where Tess was working. "The rest of your team has called in. They will be here tomorrow at the earliest."

"Right now, Tess, where is he?"

Chloe spread the pictures on the desk. "I can't recognize these landmarks. This is the first time I'm lost in Metropolis," she said in frustration.

"Why don't you go and take some rest?" Clark suggested. "You're not going to be effective if you're falling on your feet."

"I slept on the plane," she told him in an offhand manner.

"We are not going to make a move until the entire team is here. Remember, it takes the entire team to take down one of us."

"Clark, we are not taking him down. I thought we had this conversation."

Bruce walked over to them and stood behind the computer tower. Chloe watched. She had already seen this from afar, expect the move. She looked at his face and was strangely relieved by the small, slight smirk he gave her. When Bruce placed his hand inside his pocket, he told her, "That suggestion isn't bad at all. I can book us at the hotel."

Chloe did not miss the very specific way Bart folded his arms across his chest. Chloe said instead, "I'll stay at the Clocktower."

"That's Oliver's place," Bart specified, all for this new man's benefit. "By now I suppose it's her place too."

"Bart," she said his name, and the other hero recognized the warning, backed away. "Why don't I drop you off at the hotel on my way to the Clocktower?" she suggested.

They rode in silence in the cab. Chloe gave instructions to the cab driver. She looked out the window and watched as they traveled past Metropolis' bright lights. The Watchtower was so easy to spot in the horizon. It reminded her of all the times that Oliver would send her a message while he was out on patrol, running from rooftop to rooftop chasing the various criminals he had pursued in the past.

"You don't see me but I see you, Tower, all lit up against the night sky." The smile on her face was reluctant, and she cursed herself now for the time she had lost denying herself.

But she saw him, a faint and blinking speck of light on her screen, hard to spot for anyone else except her. "You're right there, Arrow. Trust me. I can tell."

As they passed through the streets Chloe caught a glimpse of that old club that had since closed to the public. Despite the outward appearance she just knew it was not some empty abandoned building. Years with him had honed her senses, paranoia and suspicion were her best friends. And then she remembered that fuzzy light on one of the photographs, the combination of which she had already seen near there.

She changed the instructions to the cab driver. Bruce straightened in his seat and addressed her, "What do you have in mind, Anne?"

"I think I know where he is," she muttered.

When she got off the cab, Bruce quickly did the same thing. Chloe made her way to the front door. The door did not open until another man was about to leave. Upon seeing the strangers at the door, he looked at both. Bruce's face brought recognition, then a sheer sense of satisfaction. "It's Wayne. Let them through."

Their steps echoed in the dead silence of the corridor. Chloe focused on the red swinging doors at the very end. "Someone's in great demand," she commented when Bruce fell in step with her.

"I'm always good for business," was the easy, arrogant answer. "Even if that business is feeding some darkness, Wayne is the way to go."

But the statement fell off the moment she opened the door. The Ace of Clubs had turned from the club she once knew to a den of—everything she suspected Oliver had seen before but knew he had not touched since she saved him. Chloe's eyes took on the scantily clad women baring their flesh to the eyes and the hands of strangers. Rolling on the plush couches were couples and groups in various states of disarray; some unclothed sleeping off the night. In a corner there were a dozen men and women gambling and boozing.

She walked into hell, she thought. A hell on earth, a nexus to the Darkseid.

And then amidst those heads, Chloe spotted Oliver Queen making his way down the staircase, with a cold smile on his face. He reached the bottom step and caught a nameless woman , wrapped his arms around her waist. Chloe had seen that smile a thousand times before. Even in the distance she felt a chokehold cutting off her air. When Oliver's mouth slanted on the woman's Chloe pushed away from Bruce and sprinted towards where she knew the bathrooms were installed in the old club.

Made it halfway when she bent over and held on to the wall, emptied her stomach so violently tears poured from her eyes.

When finally she pulled herself up, she saw the handkerchief he held out. "I'd get you a glass of water but we don't know how sterile it is."

Chloe took the cloth from his hand and wiped her face dry. She gasped for breath, tried to calm herself as best she could. She took a glass of water from a passing server, then said to Bruce, "They won't risk the health of their converts with contaminated water. They didn't get all the way here to kill off people through cholera or hep C."

"Yu have a point," he said magnanimously. If this was how he argued on his board then there was no doubt why he was chief executive officer of his own company. "I was talking about drugs."

But Chloe took a deep swallow of the water. Her gaze was focused on her husband. "I need you to divert him. I need to talk to him."

Bruce had no questions. He gestured to the red doors and Chloe nodded curtly then made for the exit. She wondered if she should not call the team then, but Bruce and Oliver were already walking through the throng of people. She waited outside in the dark silent corridor.

Chloe's heart raced until the double doors opened and the two men stepped outside. At the sight of Oliver her heart jumped to her throat. "Ollie!" she gasped.

The sound of the name was the only thing that brought his brown gaze to hers. Chloe ignored the lack of recognition in his eyes. Instead she broke into a run and threw her arms around him. She almost sobbed out loud when his strong, familiar arms wrapped around her body, lifted her against his so they were pressed together so tightly, the same way he held her every day they were together.

And then slowly he released her. He was back. He was hers. She looked up at him with the same adoration she always held. Whatever he had done—was negligible.

"You're soft," were the first words that fell from his lips. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Bruce Wayne faded into the darkness of the corridor. Her heart fractured. She refused to back away. "You're coming with me."

The golden brows shot up and he turned with a slight grin to the other man. "Is this what you needed to show me?" Oliver turned to her. "I don't know what you took in there, but I don't make it a habit to leave with strangers." And then he continued, "On the other hand I have a room in here that I'd be happy to share for a couple of hours—"

She bit her lips. Chloe grasped the front of his shirt. "You need to remember."

"Why?"

A simple question, one word. But it hung in the air between them. Two seconds. Five.

"Because you love me."

He looked back at her, his eyes cold, remote. It was more painful than if he hated her. "So you say."

Chloe shook her head. Why was it so ridiculous to believe she could solve this? Maybe because he had promised so much, told her so many things, made her feel the way she felt. "You swore you would always know me." Her voice was soft; her tone accusatory.

Oliver lied.

And then Bruce Wayne's hand was warm on her am. "Let's go. He obviously can't remember. We'll come back."

"No," she whispered. Giving up was not an option. Oliver did not give up on her. Even when he stopped looking, he kept her close. She shook Bruce's hand from her arm. "You'd remember." Chloe took a step forward and pulled Oliver down, gave everything she had into that kiss. She closed her eyes and willed everything she felt to the surface. Whatever had taken him, he had to recognize what was between them. When she released his lips, she said, "You know who I am."

Slowly, Oliver brought up his hand and wiped his mouth. "That tasted like vomit."

And immediately she felt her heart fall. Chloe backed away, at once she could not wait to put some distance between them. Her hand fisted at the side, hesitating. She wanted to touch him, to try another time, but his eyes were cold on her face and she shook her head.

When she turned around she saw Bruce watching her with those dark eyes that almost seemed to her like he was made to watch the world go by in the night.

She passed by him, placed a hand on his chest. "Let's go," she said softly.

"Go ahead. I'll be right behind you," he assured her.

"You're spreading your legs for this guy?" she heard Oliver call to her. "Should have said so earlier. I don't make it a habit to hit on someone else's fuck."

The noise was an eruption of bone into flesh. The grunt and the hiss of pain made her turn around. Chloe saw Oliver on the floor, clutching his chin and glaring up at Bruce. Her heart skipped, for a second in gratitude. Bruce stood over Oliver, fisting and unfisting his hand.

Bruce turned around and faced her. "Now it's time to go."

Chloe stood still where she was. Reluctantly she turned to Oliver and asked, "Are you gonna be okay?"

Bruce stopped right beside her, hissed his demand, "That's not him. That isn't your husband, Chloe. Walk away."

Chloe stared at where Oliver had gathered himself up. She searched his face for the faintest trace of recognition. Found none.

Could not help one final plea.

"You have to remember. You swore, Ollie." His name. He always responded to his name on her lips. But this time his expression was stoic, unchanging. "You need to remember me."

And then the doors opened and Desaad stepped outside, stopped beside Oliver. She could feel Bruce's fury thrumming in his tense body. Setting aside her feelings Chloe turned around and walked out with Bruce, putting him as far away from the minion as possible, unwilling to risk him. Unwilling to risk his wrath that anyone could see. Unwilling to reveal the jealousy that neither of them named, but knew lay beneath the surface.

She was coming back. She would always come back for him.

tbc