Chapter Nine: Behind You!

Jimmy felt a mixture of nervous excitement and curiosity as he stepped once more into the elevator that would take him to the Queen penthouse. When he'd left Oliver's apartment five hours earlier he'd not imagined he would be returning quite so soon, but events had taken an unexpected turn; a call from Chloe asking him to meet up for a coffee, an hour's heart-to heart over a latte, and here he was, about to return to the scene of his crime. His heart beat a little faster as the grille closed and Chloe pressed the button that would take them to the top of the building, and he had to admit he was feeling a little uneasy. What if something had gone wrong? What if Oliver hadn't taken the pills, but was instead waiting for them, ready to expose his attempt to poison him? It was nonsense, of course, and he dismissed the thought almost as soon as it entered his head. He'd covered his tracks carefully, and there was nothing to connect him with the drugs that he'd planted in place of Oliver's medication. No, he could enter the penthouse confident that he would be free of suspicion – and what would they find there? Jimmy could barely contain his curiosity. Had Oliver already taken one of the pills? How would he have reacted? And how would Chloe react? This last question seemed even more important after what she had told him over their coffees just a half an hour earlier.

Oliver and Chloe had had their first argument! As the elevator ascended he recalled the thrill he'd felt when Chloe had told him how the two of them had fallen out over Clark. As Chloe poured her heart out to him it became clear to Jimmy that whilst Oliver might have escaped from the trap that he'd help to set up, he'd not got away unscathed. All of the young hero's insecurities, already raw after what he had been through as Lex's prisoner, had bubbled to the surface, and – fool that he was – he'd taken them out on Chloe. The halo of Mr Perfect had slipped at last – Jimmy had been so pleased he'd wanted to laugh out loud. He'd not, of course – that wouldn't have fitted with the image he needed to cultivate, the image of the loyal, devoted friend, always there in a crisis. So as she'd relived her falling out with Oliver, her pent-up anxieties causing the tears to well up in her eyes, he'd been the very model of sympathetic understanding. Hell, he'd even found himself defending Oliver, trying to explain and rationalise his behaviour to the woman he desperately wanted to make his own. Who'd have thought that – Jimmy Olsen defending his rival, the man he wanted out of Chloe's life for good! Perhaps it would have been surprising a few weeks ago, but Jimmy was a different man now – he was a man who planned, who calculated. He was playing a long game, where the steps along the road to success were sometimes small. But he was convinced he was on the road to success, and that, sooner or later, Chloe would his. And as the elevator came to a halt at the entrance to Oliver's penthouse, he had a feeling that he was about to take yet another of those small steps towards success.

Chloe's thoughts as the elevator ascended smoothly towards Oliver's apartment were very different to those of the man who accompanied her. She felt a mixture of relief and regret at the events of the previous twenty-four hours; relief that Oliver was safe, and regret that she had allowed her emotions to show when Oliver had challenged her over Clark. What he'd said had hurt, and after the stresses of the previous month she understood why she'd been unable to hide her emotions. But the passage of time, and the calming words of Jimmy, had given her a sense of perspective. She could not hope to ever truly understand what Oliver had been through at the hands of Lex, and recovery would inevitably be slow; she could not expect him to always judge the moment correctly. Even Oliver Queen was fallible, after all, but she had to work through those times when he got it wrong; he needed her, and that was all that mattered. However, it was a fragile Chloe who stepped from the elevator into the apartment, a Chloe whose grip on her emotions was only wafer thin...

"Oliver!" she gasped, seeing the body of the young hero sprawled across the long couch in the center of the room. She moved swiftly to his side, fearful that he had had some kind of relapse as a result of his injuries; she could not understand why he lay there, and was not tucked up safely in his bed as the doctor had ordered. She knelt by his side, placing the palm of her hand on his forehead – he was so hot! His whole upper body was drenched with sweat, the moisture glistening on his well sculpted muscles and running down in rivulets towards his boxers.

"Oliver, what's wrong? What's happened?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent. There was no response, Oliver continuing to lay unmoving on the couch.

"Jimmy, something's wrong. Why won't he answer me?" she asked, turning her head as she spoke. It was then that she saw the glass lying on its side on the floor, a small pool of liquid standing on the wooden floorboards nearby. Perplexed, she paused, before the faint aroma of alcohol filled her nostrils. She was beginning to understand now, a well of emotion building inside her as her mind adjusted to this new and unexpected reality; the bottle of whiskey on the nearby table only confirmed her fears.

Oliver was drunk!

The tears which were never far away once again filled her eyes, before slipping silently down her cheeks. Why did it have to be this! She could have taken anything else – another argument, the silent treatment, anything. But this! This was too much to bear – not after he'd promised her, given her his word that he wouldn't go near the bottle again. He'd broken that promise, and in an instant the fragile calm that she had created for herself over the previous few hours collapsed like a house of cards.

"Oh, Oliver, why? Why, when you gave me your word?" she whispered, as she gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. Her tears were flowing freely now, dropping silently onto his naked torso and mixing with the sweat that formed a golden sheen over his skin. It was all too much – after everything, all that they'd been through together, this felt like the final straw. She was suddenly seized with an overwhelming need to escape – to get some air, to clear her head of the trauma, all the pain, all the anxiety. She needed to go – it didn't matter where, she just needed to go....

"Jimmy, stay with him, will you? I need to go out for a bit," she said, standing and brushing the tears from her eyes.

"Chloe, I'm sure Oliver can explain. I really don't think..."

"Please – Jimmy – just do this for me, will you? I need some time – some time to figure things out, okay?" She didn't wait for a response, but practically ran to the elevator, so desperate was she to make her escape. As she pulled down the grille and pressed the button to descend she caught one last glimpse of Oliver, apparently still sleeping like a child on the couch.

Why was this happening to them? It wasn't fair – it just wasn't fair!

As the elevator began to descend Jimmy turned back towards where Oliver lay on the couch. He could barely believe his luck – Chloe believed that Oliver was drunk! It was too delicious for words, and for a moment he did not move, but simply stared at his adversary. For so long Chloe's relationship with Oliver had seemed almost dreamlike in its perfection, and her devotion to her hero had eaten away at Jimmy like a disease. Now, in the space of a single day, the two of them had not only argued, but she had fled from his side, believing him to have gone back on the sacred promise he had given her to stay away from the bottle. Could it be that at long last Jimmy's luck was turning? He hardly dared to hope that it might indeed be the case. Part of him felt sorry for Chloe – it hurt him to see her hurting, and he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, to tell her it would be alright. But all such feelings of compassion were as nothing when compared with the pleasure he felt at seeing the all-conquering force that was Oliver Queen at last come off the rails. And he had engineered it! Jimmy had not felt such joy in many a long day.

He walked slowly over to the couch, until he stood over the helpless hero. He looked so serene, so innocent – Jimmy's lip curled in contempt for the man whose very existence denied him the one thing in the world he wanted more than anything else – the love of Chloe Sullivan. Casually he kicked Oliver's leg, curious to see whether or not Oliver really was out for the count. There was no reaction, and, his lips twisting into a smile, Jimmy squatted down next to Oliver, so that his face was just inches from the other man's head.

"So, Oliver Queen, who's been a bad boy then?" he began, speaking quietly into the ear of the unconscious hero. "Making Chloe all upset – is that what being a hero is all about these days? The Green Arrow a drunk – not the sort of behaviour we expect from our golden boy, now is it? Still, we both know the truth – you've popped one of those pills, and even now you're....well, where are you, Oliver? Is your first trip as bad as it is for some people? I do hope so – I really do. Because I hate you, Oliver – I hate you so much. You have everything, but still you're not satisfied – still you want more. Why Chloe? Why her? You could have anyone, but no, you choose the one woman I love more than anything else in the world. Well, you can't have her, do you hear? She's mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to win her. I will get you out of Chloe's life, Oliver – and that's a promise."

Giving vent to his emotions had a cathartic effect on Jimmy, and he felt empowered as he stood back up. He reached down and picked up the bottle of whiskey, before taking a swig from it, an act of childish defiance in the home of the man whose life he was intent on ruining. Then, almost on the spur of the moment, he held the bottle out in front of him; he paused for a split second, glancing down at the sleeping figure of Oliver, before he poured its contents onto the young man's face.

"Sweet dreams, Oliver!" he said out loud, barely suppressing a giggle as the remaining contents of the bottle splashed over Oliver's face and chest, soaking his hair and the cushion on which his head rested. When it was finished he gently threw the empty bottle into the man's lap, so that it came to rest between Oliver's left arm and the back of the couch. Satisfied with his work, Jimmy then turned and made his way to the elevator, wondering as he did so what Oliver would make of his predicament when at last he came to.


Chloe almost fell out of the elevator when at last it reached the Basement Parking Area where she had left her car earlier in the day, such was her need to get away. A tumble of confused emotions swirled around in her mind as she walked quickly towards her car – anger, regret, sadness, desperation, and a dozen more. Perhaps most surprisingly of all, she felt guilt; guilt that in some way she had failed the man she loved. Yes, he had broken his word, and that hurt her deeply, but she also could not help but feel in some way responsible. Why had he felt the need to turn to the bottle once more? Why couldn't he talk to her? What was she doing wrong, that he could not open up? Try as she might, she could not help but in part blame herself for Oliver's predicament, and no amount of reasoning was going to dissuade her of that view in the state she was in.

Only one thing was clear to her as she wiped away the fresh tears that had welled up in her eyes; she needed to get away. It didn't matter where, but she needed to escape, to find some space in which she could figure things out. It was with relief, therefore, that she finally made it to her car, fumbling in her handbag to find her keys.

It was as she was about to unlock the car that she spotted something placed on the front window. She took a step to the side, eager to get rid of whatever it was so that she could get out onto the road as soon as possible. What greeted her stopped her dead in her tracks, for there, propped up against the glass, was what appeared to be a doll. She reached out and picked it up, as she did so realising that the clothes it was dressed in were remarkably similar to the outfit she had worn just the day before. But this realisation was as nothing compared to the shock she received when she looked at its face; there, staring back at her, was a picture of herself, smiling broadly. She instantly recognised the photo; it had been taken by a society photographer when Oliver had first taken her out as his fiancé.

For a split second Chloe simply stared at the doll, not quite sure what to make of it. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when it eyes lit up and its mouth opened.

"Behind you!" it said, its voice sounding like something from a cartoon.

Chloe frowned in puzzlement. What was this all about? What did it mean, "behind you?"

Too late she sensed something was wrong. She whirled round, only to be met by the sharp prod of something hard and metallic against her chest; there was the crackle of an electric charge, and Chloe fell to the ground.

Opening her eyes, she realised she must have blacked out for a second. Realising she had been attacked, she panicked, and tried to move; to her horror, she found she could not. Every one of her muscles appeared to have shut down, and all she could do was lay there and stare helplessly into the air, awaiting her fate.

She didn't have to wait long. Her eyes widened as a large man loomed over her, a huge grin on his face. Chloe just had time to register his odd clothes and the lank greasy hair that hung from his head before he spoke.

"Don't worry, Miss Sullivan! The electric shock will only disable you temporarily – just long enough for me to sedate you," he said breathlessly, his excitement barely contained. "I'm afraid your fiancé won't be coming to save you – but then you know that, don't you? But don't worry about Mr Queen – you've both got such important parts to play in my little game!"

Chloe tried to open her mouth to speak, but could not; her paralysis was total. All she could do was watch as the man pulled a large rag from his pocket, before pressing it down on her mouth and nostrils. The pungent aroma of chloroform filled her senses; she thought of Oliver, and what the man might have meant by what he said, and then everything went black.


Toyman strikes! What does he have in store - lots of angst for our Chlollie, that's what! Hope you enjoyed this chapter - I enjoyed writing it. I know all of you want Jimmy to get what's coming to him, but it's such fun to write about a villain on the inside, spreading mayhem at every opportunity - it will be hard to get rid of him! I suppose I will eventually, or maybe not - who knows, maybe eventually he'll get what he wants, and get rid of Oliver for good! Just joking - I think....

Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers - you know your feedback is like gold dust to me. Please, please do keep the reviews coming - every one really does make my day.