Carter held the dagger on his lap. He hadn't moved since Oliver had handed him the weapon, saved for the silent gasp when his fingers had closed around the hilt.
Oliver watched hurt and anger flickered in the pale gaze fixed upon the metal. He got why the man was angry. If he were to lose Chloe, only to discover years later that the means to save her had been within reach all along, he'd been beyond pissed, too. The grief, he also understood. All too well.
He glimpsed at the blonde on his left. Chloe, normally so tolerant with the man, was all but bristling. Oliver ran one hand down her back before she snapped.
Carter lifted his head at the movement. "I…"
The older man suddenly pushed to his feet without finishing his sentence. His wings seemed to vibrate in the light of the living room. He was still clutching the dagger and for a brief instant, Oliver wondered if he was going to give it back, or just flew out with it. Finally, Carter seemed to reach a decision and stepped forward. His hand shook when he knelt before Chloe, and placed the dagger gently between her hands. Then he stepped out on the balcony without another word.
Chloe called after him. "Eleven thirty at Benedictin tomorrow."
Hawkman gave her a minimal nod. He put his mask on then took flight in a tee-sharing rustle of features.
Oliver turned to her. "Aren't we meeting Lois there at eleven tomorrow?"
The smile he got back was devilish. "Yes, we do."
She gripped the hilt tight with one hand, the other supporting the blade on her opened palm. Oliver leaned back, rolling his head over his shoulders. "What's with the attitude, Professor? Nice trick with the pressure point, by the way."
Chloe turned the dagger to stare at it. "I don't like being manhandled."
"Yeah, I'm getting that. I was thinking about giving you some training, but you seem to do just fine on your own."
It stung to realize she didn't really depend on him for her safety after all.
Chloe shrugged, her gaze narrowed on the opened double doors leading to the terrasse. Oliver gently ran a finger on her arm over the shadow on her biceps. Capable or not, he was going to have a word with Carter about manners. Or he could let Lois loose and enjoy the carnage.
"So just to be clear, you're pissed at Carter so you're pawing him off to your cousin. Do I want to know what you'll do to me if I act up?" Oliver teased.
"Carter deserves it. We'll see if she can scare him into being a little more forthcoming."
Her pout was as firm as it was adorable. Oliver grinned then had to stifle a yawn. "As you wish. I'll put this back in the safe, then I'll hop in the shower."
He gently pried her fingers open to take the dagger from her. The light from the side lamp reflected on the metal with a greyish glow. He ran one finger along the flat part of the blade, mesmerized. He'd never seen anything like it, except maybe in movies, when special effect tricked you into thinking fire coursed in the hero's—or the villain— magical sword.
"Ollie? Did you say that you were going to shower?"
Oliver shook himself out of his trance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going. It's late."
He wrapped the relic into its velvet cocoon once again.
His eyes followed her as she worked on buckles of his breast-plate then straightened the strap of his quiver for the second time. Her dark-blonde curls hid her eyes, but he could still see the small tremors at the corner of her mouth she tried to suppress.
"I have to go back, A rúnsearc."
Her hands stilled on the belt holding his scabbard and the sword he rarely used, preferring his long bow. "I know."
"You will be safe here, you and the little one…"
He touched the small swell of her belly. Their first born had her doe eyes. Would that one look like her too? "I love you."
"Come back to me."
"Always. Soon."
On and on the war raged. He missed her, the ache more present with each passing day. The nights were worse, when he was alone on his cot with the pitiful moans of the wounded and the howls of wolves for company. The first letup in battle the Norsemen allowed, he'd managed to return to Fianna Dún, had stayed long enough to maybe sire another child. It'd been weeks ago, before harvest. Samhain was far behind them now. The sour weather bearing hard on his mind as he debated the possibility to take his leave for the winter' months.
At last he summoned his hounds, and rode south again. The woods around him were unfamiliar, full of birch and hazel trees. He longed for home, longed to kiss his wife and lay with her in their bed. The cairn was nowhere to be seen. His dogs barked and wailed in the wind. Was it her who was running toward the forest? She mustn't. If she put one foot all the Fianna Land…
He dismounted in a hurry, tried to get past the thick branches which held him back. The shadow loomed, grew, transformed into the hatred form of their enemy…
Oliver's eyes shot open. He stayed immobile in the dark, all too aware of the panicked hammering in his chest. Chloe stirred against him, her body pressed against him, warm and soft. For once, the temptation failed to elicit an automatic answer on his part. He cradled the back of her head and brought her flush into his embrace.
His heart agreed to slow down when he felt her body curl into his, protected.
Oliver pressed a kiss on her forehead to lull her back to sleep.
His sisters and in-laws hated her for being able to conceive so easily when they struggled, for being spared the hardship of pregnancy. She glowed, her belly round with their second child, the first sleeping soundly in its crib. The most beautiful woman of the known world, and his. Beautiful, despite the hard line she forced on her delicate lips now, her bright eyes full of tears and determination.
"The Greeks won't stop until Troy has fallen. Your suffering is my fault. I should have resisted my heart and stayed in Sparta."
"You being here is just a pretext. Agamemnon has been waiting for years to plunder our shores and enslave our people. Giving yourself up won't change the outcome."
"There's one thing Agamemnon wants more than riches. I'll go to him and offer him what he coverts."
"No! No, I won't allow it, I—"
The enemy would put her in chains, humiliate her or worse. His greed knew no bound, no mercy. He devoured and hurt, unending and timeless…
Oliver jerked upright, panting. His lungs refused to function, squeezed in a grip of ice that tightened with every breath he took. Like before, his heart pounded hard enough to crack ribs. He switched the bedside lamp on with a yank hard enough to break the cord.
"Ollie?"
Chloe's petite hand moved away from his side and he latched to it like a madman, only aware that she was there. She ran her thumb against the back of his hand in reassurance while he crushed her fingers, her cheek coming to rest against his shoulder. "It's okay… You had a nightmare… I'm right here."
"I…"
He sucked in as much air as he could against the pain, gasps turning to hisses as he fought to breathe.
"Shhhh…"
Her image blurred. He blinked furiously to clear his vision, unwilling to close his eyes, too scared that she was the dream and his nightmare the reality. The shadows clawed at him, buzzing angry threats from the dark corners in the room, leaving him parched and in dear need of a drink.
Oliver forced himself to scout to the edge of the bed, away from her arms. His entire body shook.
"Ollie?"
"Thirsty. I'll be right back."
He continued to stare at the floor between his feet, unable to stand. The thought to let her alone in the bed scared him to death. Part of him wanted to grab her and pull her with him to the bathroom. Oliver satisfied the urge with another kiss, lingering against her lips before he got up and padded to the bathroom.
He filled a glass and drained it, keeping the water on to splash cold water on his face. Shutting down the faucet, Oliver turned to watch the blonde beauty curled in their bed. She'd brought her knees to her chest, the duvet pooling around her like a cloud while she was solid and as real as the tension still coiled in his stomach.
Calmer, he walked back to the bed and sat.
The blonde head turned, a mess of curls and shiny eyes that cleared as they searched his face, asking without words.
"Strange dreams woke me up is all. I'm fine…"
Chloe wrapped her arm around his midsection as she snuggled into him once more, forcing him to lie back. Oliver breathed into her hair. The sweet smell of her shampoo eased his heartbeat into a more sedated pace.
"Tell me about it?"
He changed his grip on her shoulders to tuck her into his side. "It was the same both times. Savage got you…" His fingers flexed involuntarily in her flesh at the memory of the warning stuck in his throat when she vanished right before his eyes. "We had a baby boy and you were pregnant again."
He spoke very softly, almost too low for her to hear yet she did. Chloe stilled then her released breath ghosted over his throat. It still took a couple of minutes before he tried to shift away. "I'm calling Clark."
Chloe dropped her hand from his back. "It's the middle of the night, Oliver. What can't wait until morning?"
Her tone suggested she already knew what he was thinking. Oliver swallowed.
"I want… I need to make sure he keeps an ear out for you. And if it comes to that, he'll take you away from the heat of things and protect you. He's susceptible to magic, he can't be around Savage anyway."
"Oliver, you know I can't agree to that," she said firmly.
"I'm an orphan and I refuse that our kids go through that!"
Her eyes widened, two fathomless pools of green. "And I know how it feels to grow up with only one, how can you—" she inhaled sharply to stop her voice from shaking further. Oliver refused to meet her gaze. He'd give her the world to stop her crying.
"I'm not taking that chance."
"It's not your decision to make Oliver. We're a team. You can't base your decision on a nightmare and the off possibility of me being with child. I'm not!"
"Are you sure?"
Chloe started. He wasn't sure what pushed him to ask. She was on the pill, but those were not full proof. Oliver curled his fingers around her wrists. "What if our link and your power are interfering with your contraceptive and you are pregnant?"
She was staring at him, her beautiful eyes full of wonder and confusion.
"I…" She hesitated. "We said we would wait…"
"I know. But we haven't exactly been careful. If…"
Oliver trailed off, unsure how to voice his thoughts. Suddenly he wanted it. Even if it was too soon and completely unreasonable, everything between them too new, the situation too complicated. He wanted to see her body to change and mature around a new life they had created together. His second chance at a family. He'd do anything to keep her—them— safe and away from Savage. Anything.
"We can ask Emil to run some tests. He's likely to, anyway."
She was right of course. The voice of reason in his chaos. Oliver wiped one hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do that. I'm sorry. I'm not thinking straight. The nightmares spooked me."
Chloe cupped his cheek, her thumb pressed into the cleft on his chin. "I refuse to worry about what ifs for now. And you are not calling Clark at four in the morning to demand that he whisks me away to Australia or wherever."
His lips twitched despite the ice still lodged in the pit of his stomach. "I was thinking Star City but Australia works…"
Chloe drilled one finger into his shoulder. "I am not going anywhere. And if you force the issue, I'll call Bart and ask him for a ride back. He's faster than Clark, and will be more than happy to oblige."
Oliver grunted in annoyance. She wrapped both arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Come on. Close your eyes… It's still early. We should sleep."
Chloe snuggled into him once more, her face buried between the pillow and his shoulder to ward off the light he kept burning.
