Chapter Fourteen: My Knight in Green Leather

It was the heat that Oliver was aware of first – a scorching, all pervasive heat, which seemed to envelope him like a shroud. The ground on which he lay felt like a bed of hot coals, but the air all around was even worse; as he breathed he could feel his lungs filling with the acrid smoke and fumes which now swirled around the tiny cabin.

He choked, for a moment coughing uncontrollably as his body sought to reject the impurities from which there appeared to be no escape. It was a cough that saved his life, bringing him back to consciousness; a few moments more and the poisons in the smoke would have overwhelmed him, and made certain that he never woke again. For a few seconds he lay still, memories of his confrontation with Jimmy tumbling all too vividly into his mind. He remembered the young photographer's anger as he attacked him, the insanity of his rage writ large on his face as he beat him again and again. And then... what? He recalled the smell that had filled his nostrils as he had entered the cabin, the heavy, sickly sweet smell of gasoline...

His eyes snapped open. Instinctively he knew what would greet him, but despite this the sight of flames licking across the ceiling above him made his heart miss a beat. So he'd done it – in his madness Jimmy had set light to the cabin! Quickly Oliver looked to his left and right, his training kicking in; he needed to assess the situation, size up the danger, identify potential escape routes. The fire had taken hold quickly, engulfing the walls of the cabin and now stretching its flames across the ceiling above him. Debris was starting to fall from the beams, red hot cinders floating down and scorching his skin. The cabin was made almost entirely of wood, and the addition of the gasoline meant that it was going up like a tinder box. He knew he didn't have much time – if he had any time at all...

He leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain from the cuts and bruises from Jimmy's attack just moments earlier. His safety didn't matter at that moment – all that mattered was to get to Chloe, to get her to safety before the cabin was engulfed by the growing inferno. He turned towards the bed. The sight that greeted him was like something from a horror movie. Chloe lay absolutely still, her face serene as the flames rose high all around her. To her side was Jimmy, staring intently at her unmoving form and seemingly immune to the terrifying scene that was unfolding all around. For the bed was like an island in a sea of flame, the trail of gasoline that Jimmy had spread forming what looked like an impenetrable ring all around them. It was like some ancient sacrifice, the product of some movie director's fevered imagination. But this was no piece of fiction. This was happening – now, right in front of him.

Oliver could see that he had only moments to save Chloe before Jimmy's terrible fantasy became reality. Without thinking he pulled up his hood and leapt forward, throwing himself over the flames which now rose five or six feet in the air. It was a desperate act, but there was no alternative; he could hear the beams above him beginning to creak and groan, a sign that their collapse was imminent. Never before had he been so glad of his costume, the leathers protecting him from the searing heat of the flames; nonetheless, he could still feel the flesh on his arms burn as he dashed to Chloe's side. He leaned down to pick her up, only to find Jimmy reaching out and trying to grab hold of her. The eyes of the two men met, one filled with hate and desperation, the other with steely resolve. The moment lasted less than a second, before Oliver's fist connected with Jimmy's jaw and sent him sprawling across the bed, unconscious. Oliver did not pause; he wrapped Chloe as best he could in the bedclothes, taking care not to leave any skin exposed, before he scooped her up in his arms and turned once more to face the flames. Still she did not stir, and as he paused to look down at her face, now illuminated by the flames which roared all around them, he thought that perhaps he was too late; that in spite of all he had done, he would fail to save her after all.

"Stay with me, Chloe – please, stay with me," he whispered, leaning down and gently kissing her on her forehead. He didn't know if she was still alive; all he could do was to get her out of there, and hope – hope and pray like he'd never hoped and prayed before – that the power of their love would grant them one last miracle of deliverance.

He turned. The flames now reached from floor to ceiling, creating a terrifying wall to block his path. He did not flinch; hugging Chloe as close as he could to his chest, he buried his head in the blankets that covered her and leapt forward into the inferno. He passed through the flames in an instant, the skin on his arms peeling away under the intensity of the heat. He could feel his flesh burning, but he pushed himself forward; if this really was to be the end, he wanted to die fighting for the life of the one person in the whole world he truly loved. The sound of the fire filled his ears, a hellish symphony of snapping, crackling and groaning that seemed to emanate from the very depths of the earth. And the heat - the heat was unbearable! Burning into the flesh of his arms, scorching his cheeks and nose. He had to get out – he had to get out, to save them both. He staggered forward blindly, hoping to find the door which he knew must lay somewhere ahead of him. He dared not look up, for fear that to do so would burn the very flesh from his eyes and blind him forever. The door had to be there – it just had to be...

And then, suddenly and without warning, he was out. Where once there was heat and noise, now there was coolness and air that was fresh and breathable. At last Oliver dared to look up, in time to stop himself stumbling head first down the steps of the cabin. He checked himself, before carefully making his way down to the ground, all the time watching the still form of Chloe who lay in his arms. He jogged forwards, determined to get clear of the cabin; only once he was convinced he was at a safe distance did he stop, before gently laying his precious cargo to the ground.

He stared at her for a moment. She appeared so peaceful, her fragile, porcelain features at one with the calm stillness of the morning air. Tears began to well up in his eyes, as the strain of the last few minutes and hours at last found their release. Was he too late? It would be so simple to find out – just a tender touch to discover a pulse, or an ear placed close to her face to detect any sign of breathing, however shallow. It would be easy to know the truth, but something within him held him back. What if he really was too late? What if, after all they had endured together, they were to be cheated now, despite everything? He didn't know whether he would be able to cope with that – the idea of a life without this beautiful, precious woman who had transformed his life so completely. A future without Chloe was too terrible to even contemplate – and yet here he was, just moments away from either discovering that the future they dreamed of sharing would still come true, or whether, after all, the barren desolation of loss was all that he could look forward to in the months and years ahead.

Whatever fears that he might have been entertaining at that point, his need to know would not be denied. Saying a silent prayer to himself, he leaned down, placing his ear next to her face and hoping, hoping against all hope...

Breathing. She was breathing!

A surge of relief flooded through him as he felt the tiniest rush of air against his cheek, the sign that his fears were not to be realised after all. She was still with him, she was still alive...and at that moment Oliver Queen considered himself to be the most blessed man on the face of the planet.

The sound of crashing timbers caused him to turn. Behind him, the cabin was fully ablaze now, flames leaping high into the air as they broke through the roof. Oliver looked back at Chloe, and then stood up. Jimmy was still in there, and he knew what he had to do. Whatever had happened, however much harm and suffering he had caused, Jimmy was still a human being, and that was enough for Oliver. If the leathers he wore meant anything, they meant that he would always seek to preserve human life, whatever crimes that individual may have committed. That was what being a hero was all about, and Oliver knew that if Chloe were conscious she would understand that he had to return, he had to try and save Jimmy. He was the Green Arrow – he could do nothing else.

He ran back towards the cabin, calculating as he did so Jimmy's location in the burning building, and how best to get him out. Then, without warning, a huge explosion ripped through the cabin, the blast throwing Oliver to the ground. He shielded his face as debris began to fall all around him, momentarily shocked by what had happened. Something had exploded with a force strong enough to blow the cabin apart – a gas canister perhaps, or maybe another can of gasoline. Whatever it was, as Oliver looked in front of him at the mangled, blazing remains of what was once Jimmy's childhood vacation retreat, he knew that it was over; nothing could have survived that blast.

Jimmy Olsen was gone.

"How is she?"

Clark stood by Oliver's side, staring down at Chloe, who lay motionless in the hospital bed. The silence of the room stood in stark contrast to the sound and fury of the events at the cabin, the gentle, constant hum of the monitors rigged up beside the bed providing the only sounds to disturb the peace. Hours had passed since Oliver had brought her here, a few calls triggering the best care that the Queen fortune could provide. She'd needed surgery to extract the bullet, but it had gone well; the doctors had reassured Oliver that she was out danger. However, still he maintained his vigil by her bedside, determined to be there when at last she woke up. Physically he was exhausted, but something within him kept him going, forcing back the waves of tiredness that at intervals swept over him.

"She's going to be okay, Clark – she's going to be okay," replied Oliver, not taking his eyes from Chloe.

"And are you okay?" asked Clark, looking at the bandages that covered parts of Oliver's arms; it was clear that in saving Chloe the young hero had not escaped without injury.

"I'm fine – just some surface burns. Nothing that time can't heal."

"And Jimmy? I heard..."

"He didn't make it, Clark. I tried to get him out, but..." Oliver's voice tailed off, but he did not need to complete the sentence; his meaning was all too clear.

A period of silence followed. Both men knew what the other was thinking, recalling the accusations that had passed between them as Jimmy's plan had pushed their friendship to the very edge of the precipice.

"Oliver," began Clark, his voice hesitant as he felt his way towards the right words. "When I said those things, I didn't... Jimmy lied to me, Oliver, and ..."

"You thought I was using again?"

Clark paused, sensing the edge of anger in his friend's voice.

"I didn't know, Oliver. Jimmy fooled us all...I guess I should have..."

"It's okay, Clark – really," said Oliver, at last turning to face him. "Like you say, Jimmy fooled us all. Hell, if I was you I wouldn't have believed me either."

"I'm sorry," replied Clark, searching the other man's face for some sort of acceptance.

"I'm sorry, too, Clark – sorry that I thought you were trying to break me and Chloe apart."

The two men stared at each other for an instant. Both knew that they had been the victims of Jimmy's deceit, and that he had manipulated them like pawns on a chess board. But they also knew that the young photographer had played on deeper tensions in their friendship, jealousy over Chloe, and over their work together as heroes. They had both said things that had been better left unsaid, raw feelings that normally lay deep beneath the surface. They were ready to bury those feelings once more, but as they looked at each other they both knew that those tensions would never entirely go away.

"Oliver...?" Chloe's voice, frail and almost inaudible, broke the silence. Both men turned back towards the figure lying on the bed. As they watched her eyelids flickered open, and she turned her head almost imperceptibly in their direction.

"Hey! It's okay, Chloe – you're going to be okay," said Oliver, trying to contain the excitement in his voice. He gently took her hand, lifting it up and kissing it. "You're going to be okay, yeah? It's over – it's all over."

Chloe smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was enough; like some longed for sign, it seemed to signal to the two men who stood watch over her that everything really was going to be alright.

"So my knight in green leather saved me once again," she whispered, staring deep into his eyes."You know every girl should have their very own hero – you guys really do always come through, don't you?"

Oliver clasped her hand a little tighter, the relief he felt at that moment writ large on his face.

"I love you, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with certainty. "I love you so much, Chloe Sullivan."

"I love you too, Oliver Queen."

At that moment a nurse bustled into the room, apparently oblivious to the moment.

"Miss Sullivan needs her rest, Mr Queen," she said, her voice businesslike. "I'm afraid I must ask you and your friend to leave now."

Oliver did not take his eyes from Chloe's, unwilling to acknowledge that, for now at least, his reunion with his lover must end.

"You'd better go," she said. "I don't want you to get into any trouble."

"When I own this hospital? I don't think so."

She smiled. "Go!" she said, gently pulling her hand away from his.

Reluctantly Oliver got up from his seat.

"I'll be just outside," he said, before turning and following Clark from the room.

The two men did not speak as they stepped into the corridor, each lost in their own feelings of relief and thankfulness. It was a third voice, familiar but unexpected, that interrupted their thoughts.

"Guys!"

The two men turned, to find AC striding down the corridor towards them.

"AC! But how did you...?" began Oliver; he didn't think any of his team knew about the events of the previous hours, let alone know enough to turn up here at the hospital.

"I didn't," replied the young man. He looked serious, as if something was weighing on his mind. "I only found out about Chloe when I got into town an hour ago. Man, what the hell happened to Jimmy? I always thought he was a straight kinda guy."

"He lost it," said Clark, saving Oliver the pain of having to recount what had happened.

"Unreal, man – just unreal," said AC, shaking his head. "But that's not why I'm here. I've got news – news from Bateman."

Clark and Oliver exchanged glances. Bateman was the top secret Queen Industries facility where Oliver housed many of the villains he and the Justice League had swept from the streets over the past year, criminals that the normal processes of justice could not deal with. It was also the place where Oliver had imprisoned his most deadly opponent, the man who had so nearly succeeded in destroying him and all he loved just a few months earlier...

"It's Lex," said AC, an edge of tension in his voice. "Something's happened to Lex."

The End

That's it! My fifth story finished. I hope you liked how it ended - Jimmy dead (and he is dead, I promise - how long have some of you waited for this moment!), and Chloe safe, saved by Oliver in an act of pure heroism. I enjoyed writing about Green Arrow saving the day - seemed right to end it with a scene which reminds us what a great hero he really is!

And as for the last line...

Well, it is the setup for my next story, which will pick up exactly where this one leaves off. That is, if I write it - I have it all mapped out in my mind, but it will be a big commitment and I'm still not 100% sure I'm ready to take it on. I'll leave it up to you - if you tell me you want another story, I'll write it - if no one says anything, I'll leave it stored away in my imagination.