--11--

"Stop it."

"What?" Oliver looked up.

"Stop it, Oliver. Just stop."

"What are you talking about?"

It had been six months since Harry's funeral and Chloe couldn't take it anymore. Mary Jane and Peter had at least moved forward with their lives. They'd forgiven each other and were back together and they were more or less working on forgiving themselves. Chloe wasn't worried about them.

Oliver, on the other hand...

She shook her head at him. "This has got to stop, Ollie."

"Would you mind telling me what you're talking about?" he asked irritably.

"You avoiding me. You not taking my calls. You sulking. You not talking to me unless it's work related. Take your pick!"

He looked away from her. They were in Watchtower, and he'd been expecting a group meeting, but Chloe had called him in alone.

"Oliver you've got to get past this. It wasn't your fault."

He grimaced at her.

"Really, Oliver," she said, concern touching her voice. "Stop beating yourself up. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. I'm not angry with you, so why should you be angry with yourself?"

Oliver looked at her heatedly. "I'm not having this conversation. Call me if I'm needed," he said, moving for the door.

Chloe intercepted him. "Oliver, you owe me this."

He looked at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"Please," she said.

He turned curtly and walked over to the couch, dropping himself onto it with an air of resignation.

"Oliver, why don't you at least talk to me about it? I mean, we can talk to each other about everything."

He looked into her eyes, for a moment making Chloe want to draw back a step, but she held her ground. "I can't."

She shook her head. "This is stupid! If there was ever a time to talk to me, this would be it! Don't you think I feel ten times as much pain over this than you do?"

He looked out the window, unable to respond.

"Oh, Oliver," Chloe said with a sigh. She sat down next to him. "This sounds really high school, but you're my best friend. Why won't you at least let me know what's going through your head?"


Oliver cringed as she sat down beside him, huddling against him and sadly resting her cheek on his shoulder.

The guilt was unbearable.

It was his fault Harry Osborn was dead, and to make matters worse, he was still in love with Chloe. It was possibly the lowest, most sacrilegious thing he'd ever experienced.

You didn't just send a man to his death and then go after his girl. That was sick.

But his attempts to stay away from Chloe, to get over her, to give her space, they weren't working. He still wanted her, and she was getting hurt by it.

"Chloe," he said quietly, pushing her away from him and refusing to look at the pained expression he knew was on her face. He stood up.

"Please, Oliver. Just tell me what's going on," she pleaded. "I hate that you've been making me go through this alone."

Oliver felt like she'd stuck a knife in his gut, and the sound of her voice catching, betraying the fact that she was on the edge of tears, that was like having it violently twisted.

"I can't," he said for the second time.

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong, Chloe. This is wrong. I brought this on you. I jinxed your relationship with him from the start and because of me, Harry Osborn is dead."

He became silent, bracing himself for her reaction. He got nothing. Slowly he turned to find her standing before him. She drew her hand back and before he realized what she was doing, she slapped him right across the face.

He swore, hand rising instinctively to his stinging face.

"You earned that, you know," Chloe said bitingly to him, tears in her voice. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He didn't answer. He deserved whatever she had to say.

"Good God, Oliver! You mean to tell me you've been avoiding me, making this whole thing a million times more difficult for me all because you think it's your fault? God, you idiot!"

He looked up, confused. She was pacing back and forth angrily, making wild hand gestures as she spoke.

"I mean, of all the absurd--and here I thought Peter and MJ were bad enough! It wasn't your fault, Oliver! It wasn't Peter's fault! It wasn't Mary Jane's fault! It wasn't my fault! If you really want to pin it on anyone you might as well say it's his father's fault, but it really wasn't! It was Mr. Osborn's fault that Harry went off his rocker in the end, but no matter what had happened where that was concerned, Harry would have been up on that scaffolding regardless, helping his friends! He would have made the same damn decision, you idiots! I would have thought you and Peter of all people would understand that! You risk your lives for the people you care about on a daily basis! What the hell, Oliver?" she demanded, rounding on him.

Oliver's mouth was open, confused. "You don't understand!" he said finally, anger and frustration with himself rising up inside of him.

"Oh for the love of--" Chloe's voice was rising. "Don't understand what, Ollie? What exactly am I missing here?" she yelled. "Turn around and face me, you coward!" she ordered.

He turned to look at her and she took an involuntary step back.

"Oliver," she said more quietly. "What's going on. What's so different?"

"Because it's about you, Chloe," he said with a sigh. "If this had been anyone else, if I hadn't tried to push you away from someone you were in love with, if it hadn't been you on that rooftop crying your lungs out in front of me, it would be different."

Chloe expression turned to one of sadness. "Oh, Oliver," she said softly. She walked over to him and put her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

Oliver wrapped his arms around her against his better judgement, holding her as tightly as he could and dropping his face to her hair. She still didn't understand, not really, but he couldn't tell her the truth. It wasn't right, and even if it was, it was too soon.

"Chloe," he whispered, pain searing at his throat as he spoke.

"Shut up, Oliver," she said, not lifting her head from his chest. "You can be so stupid, sometimes, you know that? You can't protect me from everything," she heaved a sigh, finally looking up at him. "You can't. And you can't save everyone and you can't do everything. You're not God. Sometimes things are just meant to be a certain way."

"I'd like it better if you hated me," Oliver said dismally.

She laughed wearily. "No you wouldn't. Oliver, I don't want you to blame yourself, okay? Because this is so far from being your fault...it's ridiculous. You want to make it up to me? Why don't you try being there for me? I miss what we used to have. Before Harry and MJ and Peter came into our lives. Everything between us was good. What happened?"

Oliver wanted the floor to swallow him whole. How was he supposed to answer that.

"Can't we go back to that?"

Could they? He had no idea. He had a strong, annoying suspicion that he couldn't. Damn enlightenment. Damn MJ for putting him in touch with his feelings. This was stupid.

He just shook his head. "I don't know."

"I miss you," she said.

"I miss you, too."

"So stop being a jerk," she said, a smile playing at her lips. "I'm doing okay, you know. I mean, I won't pretend it wasn't hard, but I'm okay. You don't have to beat yourself up because you think I'm miserable because I'm really not."

He sighed, kissing the top of her head and letting her go.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm going to go call MJ."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"Because girls suck and I need an opinion on something."

"O--kay?" she said slowly. "Are you coming back?"

He stopped with his hand on the door, then looked back at her, a hint of a smile back on his face. "Of course. Pizza?"

She nodded happily. "Yes please."


"MJ?" the voice demanded frustratedly in her ear.

"Oliver?" MJ asked, confused. Why would he be calling her of all people?

"This is your fault."

"Wait...what is?" she frowned. Peter looked at her questioningly and she shrugged.

"You had to tell me I was in love with Chloe, didn't you?"

MJ's expression turned to one of amusement. "Ah."

"Yes 'ah,' " he said sarcastically. "What exactly am I supposed to do about it?"

"Oliver..."

"I mean, I can't just tell her how I feel. That's sick."

"It's been six months, dear."

"Yeah, since her boyfriend died. That's sick!"

"Yes, but Oliver, it's not like you're assaulting her or something. Maybe you should just tell her for the sake of having it on the table, has that occurred to you? You don't actually have to do anything about it, you know."

There was silence.

"Oliver?"

"I hate women," he said irritably.

"Good luck, Oliver."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, about to hang up. "Oh, yeah. You with Spidey right now?"

"Mmhmm," she said, grinning up at Peter.

"Right, well congratulations," he said sheepishly.

"What?" MJ asked, confused, but he'd already hung up.

"What did Oliver have to say?" Peter asked as a waiter brought them champagne.

"Oh, he just needed a little advice, I think. But he said the weirdest thing before he hung up." She shrugged, brushing it off.

Peter looked nervous. He was so ridiculous. Even after all this time, he still got anxious when they went on a date together.

"Yeah, I was talking to Oliver just the other day," he said, filling the silence as she lifted her glass.

"Oh?" she asked.

"Uh huh. Nice guy, really. He and Chloe are good people."

MJ stopped, staring at the champagne flute, eyes wide as a small gold object sparkled at her from behind the crystal.

Peter swallowed tightly.

"YES!" she yelled.


"Chloe?" Oliver knocked on her door, pizza box in hand.

She opened the door for him, grinning. "Oh good, I was just starting to get hungry." She took the box from him and set it on the counter.

He looked at her back uncomfortably. All things considered, he'd done things far more difficult than this. Still...he cleared his throat.

"Hey, Chloe?"

"Uh huh?" she asked, not looking up as she pursued paper plates in her cupboards. She pulled them out triumphantly. She start rummaging for napkins.

"Chloe?" he repeated, wishing she'd stop.

She did, looking up.

"I--uh--forgot you prefer extra cheese."

She smiled confusedly at him. "It's cool. I'm sure this is fine."

He groaned inwardly.

"Actually, there was something else," he said finally, walking over to take the plate from her hands, forcing her to look at him directly for a moment.

"Yes?"

"I--look, this is really unfair to say to you, and I want you to know I don't expect anything I just wanted to...have it on the table or whatever, so, I just wanted to say," he gulped. "I'm in love with you. That's why this whole thing has been so hard for me, and it's why I've been avoiding you. I didn't really know how to handle it."

Chloe stared at him wordlessly for a moment, as though she were making sure he wasn't joking or something.

Then she sighed. "Well thank God."

"What?"

She took her pizza from him and sat down on the couch. She looked up at him with a grin. "Well, Ollie, it's been six months. I've had a lot of time to think over what happened, particularly what's happened with us, and I came up with a few explanations. You being in love with me was my preference."

He gave her a confused expression, not sure he was hearing correctly.

"Well, alternative two was that you were starting to PMS worse than a chick. Option three was that you were gay. So yes, option one was the most logical, and again preferable."

"So..." he said slowly, too anxious to laugh at the idea of him being gay.

"So I have no idea how I feel about you, but I'm willing to find out," she said seriously and took a bite of pizza. "But we have to take it slowly," she added, glancing up at him. He was standing frozen. She giggled.

"Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"Just so you can understand where I'm coming from: of all the different ways I saw this going in my head, this was definitely not an option. Best case scenario involved you hating me forever."

"Worst case?" she asked.

"Also involved you hating me forever, but only after you'd murdered me."

Chloe laughed, rising again. She went over to Oliver and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's okay, Oliver," she said. "I don't plan to spend my life wearing black." She intertwined her fingers with his. "I need time, but I'm not going to run away, either."

Oliver felt almost dizzy with success. This couldn't possibly be going this well. She couldn't possibly be handling this as well as she was.

"Just so we're clear," he said cautiously, still not believing his senses. "I told you I'm in love with you, and you said--"

"That I'm glad and that we'll give it a shot," she finished for him, amused.

"And I'm not--"

"Imagining things? No."

"'kay."

She made a tsking sound. "You really are absurd, you know." She stood on her toes to press a soft kiss on his lips.

The phone rang and she left him in his daze to answer it.

"I'M GETTING MARRIED!" he heard a voice shout from the other end.

Chloe smiled into the phone. "Congratulations, MJ." She paused, listening. "Yeah, he's here." She listened again. "Yeah, he manned up. Finally." She looked up at Oliver with a grin.

"Tell her it's all her fault," Oliver said, grabbing a slice of pizza and walking over to the couch, hardly able to believe his luck.

"He says it's all your fault. Yeah, I told him I wasn't going to kill him. No, I haven't told him I love him, too."

Oliver's head whipped in her direction, nearly causing a crick in his neck.

"Why not?" Chloe repeated, eyes dancing as she looked at him. "I don't think he could handle it right now."


Author's Comment: One of these days I shall give a shot at a story that ends more pleasantly for Harry, I promise. This one kind of ran away with itself, and someone how it couldn't have ended otherwise. I hope you enjoyed it!

BlueSuedeShoes