Another homage to the wonderful stories you can read here and on AO3. Other characters make an appearance. Happy reading!
(No Beta, all mistakes are my own)
It is said some lives are linked across time. Connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages. Destiny. (Prince of Persia)
Oliver sank into the couch with a heavy sigh. One eye opened to find the flyers for take-out on the coffee table. The glossy covers mocked him, daring him to come and get them. He closed his eyes again. His stomach protested loudly against his decision. Oliver decided to ignore it. He was just too tired to move.
After two months going back and forth between four continents and God new how many cities—he'd lost count somewhere in Asia, between Singapour and Tokyo, or was it Hokkaido?— he wasn't even sure if it was time for breakfast or diner anyway. All he knew was that he was back in Metropolis for the time being and his board could go to Hell and stay there, he wasn't going anywhere else any time soon. He was going to unpack—tomorrow— and maybe do something as crazy as take the weekend off. Not even done the leather. Forget about the successful businessman with too much money, forget the Green Arrow, just breathe and be Ollie for 48h. Reconnect with the friends who still remembered him, if there were any.
The ding of the elevator reaching the penthouse yanked Oliver out of his daze. He grunted, gearing up to gather the strength to push to his feet and tell whoever it was to come back next week. Or the week after that. And the best was he could do that without even moving. He was a billionaire after all. Power trips came with the bank account. Then the doors slid open to reveal Chloe Sullivan, with her fists clenched and her eyes blazing.
"Oliver!"
Oliver dropped his head back on the headrest. "Whatever I did or forgot to do, I am deeply, deeply sorry and I promise it won't happen again. Please don't hit me. Or yell. I have a headache."
Her voice squeaked and died. "Please don't cry. If you start crying, I'll have to kick someone's ass and I really, really don't want to move…"
She didn't volley back. Oliver lifted his head just enough to take a good look at her. Her hands clutched her purse so hard her shoulders were tense from the effort. He almost rolled his to return. Chloe stepped out of the elevator and closer to the couch, still holding the bag for dear life. "Sidekick?"
He didn't ask if she was okay. Even with his brain turned to mush he could see that she looked about to crumble right here on his carpet. The gleam in her eyes sang a song full of anguish. Nervous exhaustion shadowed the delicate skin under them.
Oliver forgot exhaustion in a heartbeat and straightened up fully. "Hey… What's wrong?"
Whatever had her in this state in his apartment had to be bad. Why did she come to him, when she lived with Lois, or—
"Is it Clark? Do I have to suit up?"
He'd do it, for her.
"What? No… No, Clark's fine. Lois too," she added in a rush.
Chloe shook her head and released the death grip she had on the strap of her purse. "It's… It's me."
Oliver lost the encouraging smile he'd tried for. He was on his feet before she could add, "I… I need a huge favor."
Whatever you want.
Oliver busied himself with the sash of her coat, only aware the gesture was too intimate for casual friends when she took a step away from his greedy hands to shrug the garment off. Oliver forced himself to breathe, backed away and down too.
"You'll tell me over diner, I was about to order. What do you want?"
She blinked.
"Chloe, I'm starting to worry here. Come seat."
The petite blonde obeyed like an automaton. Worry was way past the starting point. The increasing weight in the pit of his stomach twisted the hunger into something excruciating. Oliver selected a menu on the table at random and pressed it into her hand. Her fingers trembled under his.
"Here, you choose, I'm good with anything."
His free hand brushed over the nape of her neck. Then, when she didn't bolt, he started to rub her back up and down, pulling her slightly closer. She bit her bottom lip, and he sighed softly. Oliver reached out without thinking to free the tortured flesh from her teeth. The touch startled them both. He tapped his thumb against her mouth once, then dropped his hand.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"I have to… I have to find someone named Carter Hall." Her voice firmed as she said the name. Oliver squeezed her fingers in encouragement. "He's in Turkey. I have to go there."
"Okay. When do you want to leave?"
"Really?" The green eyes she turned on him vibrated with hope. His palm itched. He rubbed it against his thigh. If she started crying… "But you just came back…"
Ah.
The angel on his left shoulder tsked. The one of his right reminded him he just decided he needed a vacation. He'd thought about relaxing in Metropolis, but with her trouble-magnet tendency, there was no way he was letting her go on the other side of the world by herself to find a man he'd never heard about before anyway. No way in Hell. If he stayed behind, Lois would kill him anyway. Or Clark. Why didn't she ask Clark to woosh her there?
Never look a gift horse in the mouth…
Oliver rolled his shoulders then smiled pleasantly. "I was thinking about taking the weekend off. Turkey's nice this time of the year."
"It might take more than a couple of days…"
Chloe bit her lip again. Damned it. Didn't she know what it looked like when she sank her teeth into the plump flesh, then licked the sting away?
"Then it'll take longer. I don't care." He concentrated on their new mission. "Who's that guy, Chlo?"
"He's an archeologist." Oliver stared as her lungs played catch and release with oxygen until he realized where he was looking and snatched his head up. "I… I think he's my father."
A pearl wet her long lashes. Damned it. She was crying. God bless her, she blinked it away. Oliver plucked the pamphlet for Giana's from her hands and stood to put some distance between them.
"You better start at the beginning. Wine, beer, or scotch?"
"Coffee?"
Oliver gave her a pointed look. The longer he stared, the wider her sheepish smile grew, until at last the lid of despair she suffocated under lifted. Her inner light shone through and he breathed a little easier.
"You can't have coffee" He really needed to steel himself against her pouts. "because you need sleep." Starting tomorrow. "And you can have alcohol, because I have five rooms with excellent beds to choose from."
The gaze that had started to drift away from him toward the terrace snapped back to his face. Oliver decided to overlook the fact he'd included his own bedroom in the count. Fatigue and the threatening waterfalls impaired his faculty to think clearly. Yeah, he'd go with that. "So, what's your poison?"
Chloe sighed, resigned. "Scotch, I guess…"
He poured two fingers of single malt in crystal glasses then angled his chin toward the balcony. Chloe curled her legs under her on the corner of the couch with a shake of her head to indicate she preferred staying inside after all.
"All right. What do you want to eat?"
"I am not really hungry."
"Soup for you then. I'll have the chicken alfredo and we can share."
He placed their order quickly, adding cannoli and a salad to it then walked back to seat on the opposite side of the sofa. Chloe sampled her drink while he locked both hands around his glass to warm it.
"I'm sorry…"
"What for?" Oliver swallowed a mouthful. The smooth fire of alcohol untangled the knots looking at her tied inside him.
"You're exhausted and I am dropping all this on your lap."
"Is that a convolute way to tell me I don't look as good as usual, Sullivan?"
The quip had the desired effect when Chloe finally glanced his way. Her cheeks pinked but she held his gaze nonetheless, not one to back from a challenge. So he liked strong women. Sue him. "Yes, you do look terrible."
"Thanks, Chloe."
She answered the wry smile with a lift of her glass in salute and a sip of alcohol.
Oliver swallowed some scotch before he balanced his glass on his knee. "All right then. Tell me more."
Chloe's gaze fell back on her drink, their light moment over. She brought it to her lips then put it away without drinking, arranging the tumbler carefully on the coffee table.
"I don't think you ever met my dad, Gabe Sullivan?"
Oliver shook his head. He remembered Lois telling him how he'd been a collateral victim of Lionel's feud with Chloe and Lex. The brunette insisted he had to know all about her family tree even if they had called it quit after only three dates. That was Lois Lane for you. Big mouth, big heart, and everything in between. At some point she'd decided that he and her baby cousin suited. And she made no secret of trying to set them up, to his—and Chloe— everlasting dismay. He did notice that his Watchtower filled her skirts and demure blouses extremely well. And how they had the same drive, looked at the world the same way. It didn't mean he was going to act on the occasional sidelong look the beautiful blonde sent his way. So whenever Lois started on the next round of her Chlollie Campaign, he just smiled, refilled her glass and waited out the storm.
Chloe was watching the moving shadows the sunset painted on the wall. Oliver concentrated on her words rather that the way her lips moved around them.
"I was… I was sorting through papers last week while I was looking for… I don't even remember what I was looking for. There were letters. Between Dad, I mean Gabe, and my mom. They…" Her voice dipped so low he had to strain his ear to hear her speak. "They were going through a rough patch in their marriage, had separated for a while. The letter said she was going to Egypt. She planned to spend the fall there with that man." Oliver watched her smooth a wrinkle on the cushion beside her to her. He wished he could unsee the way they trembled. "She had an affair the fall before I was born, Oliver."
She was born late in May. It wasn't hard to do the math.
"Chloe…"
"They, my parents, they worked through it obviously, but after she left… Do you think he believed she left us for him?"
He wanted to say no. But he knew what he would have thought so in her father's place. Oliver squeezed her hand. "You know that's not the reason."
"Yes, I know. I know now. But he died before we—you found her. And it doesn't change the fact that I have green eyes."
Green eyes that were glistering again as they returned to him. This time, he didn't resist their call and dragged her to him for a hug. Chloe took his comfort for a minute before she moved out of reach. "My dad… Sullivans have brown eyes."
He knew enough about genetics—thank you Lionel— to remember clear eyes color was a recess gene. Chloe was doing a very Chloe's thing, checking facts and exposing them with a somewhat clinical detachment, so that she kept the problem—and her feelings— at arm length. The least he could do was help with that, until she was ready to deal with them. Maybe if he did, she would stop looking so lost.
"You could do a paternity test. I'm pretty sure Gabe's DNA is on a database somewhere."
Chloe rested her chin on her knees. "It is. I tried."
Oliver frowned. "What do you mean tried?"
"The result was unconclusive. Emil said my meteor infection makes me some kind of human chimera. I have additional genetic material in my cells and it perturbs the profiling. Makes it unreliable."
He decided against asking what the result was. "The extra chromosomes are what allows you to heal?"
"Yes."
Oliver polished his drink. "So we'll find that guy and demand some answers. This Carter Hall, you said he's an archeologist?"
"Yes. He's attached to the Ancient Studies department at MetU. I am not sure he teaches, though. He seems to travel a lot, generally to the Mediterranean. Egypt, Italy, Greece, Croatia, you name it."
"And now he's in Turkey."
"Yes. He was mandated as consultant for an exhibit about Isis at the Pergamon Museum in Bergama. Classical mythology and lore are his specialty, apparently." Chloe closed her eyes again, her voice just above a whisper.
"Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans."
Her head lifted and she met his eyes with a quizzical expression on her beautiful face. He felt a little silly to recite the Iliad's opening line as if he was an actor on the world' stage. Oliver winked as he pushed to his feet at the same time the buzzer signaled the arrival of their food. "The benefits of a classical education."
The roll of eyes and one of her signature smiles made showing off worth it.
He fished a bill in his wallet to tip the deliverer. Chloe looked lost in thoughts once more. "Hey, Chloe?"
"Hum?"
"That guy might have contribute to your Gene pool, it only makes him a father. The one who read you bedtimes stories and grounded you for getting in trouble with Lois, that one was your dad."
