"Run that one by me again?"

"We need to acquire a fresh sample of the drug. Emil said he needs it to properly identify some of the components."

"And by "we", you mean me, right?"

Oliver smirked from the other side of the desk. It was late at night. He'd finished his patrol, showered, and was lounging in the chair he'd parked in front of her workstation. Chloe ignored the question. He'd been hammering on the "you must be careful" nail one way or the other since the previous weekend. Frankly, the song was getting old. She'd already accepted to move back to Queen Tower, officially as Queen Industries' seventy-five anniversary book ghostwriter, whose benefits included the use of Executive Suite No. 42—namely, Watchtower. She had gone through another physical with Emil—on the one condition he took a full check-up himself. What was next? Checking in with him when she set a foot out the door? A GPS chip implant to match the one she'd added to his Green Arrow belt?

"Of course not. I plan to call your Russian friend and ask him to sell me some because we had so much fun with the stuff."

Oliver's mood darkened at once. That reaction was harder to swallow than the two feet of space he kept between them at all times. He teased and flirted with her like he'd always done. But the first time she'd touched him applying iodine to a scratch, he'd flinched so bad half the bottle content had spilled on his lap. He'd taken care of first aid after that.

Chloe sighed, "Yes, Oliver, I mean you. I just need to figure out where to send you for some. And no, it doesn't include you calling in a favor from Evgeni Nabokov."

"It's not a bad idea, per se. Could be our plan B."

She glowered. Oliver raised both hands in a peace offering. "Just saying. It's getting late. We should head to bed."

In their respective rooms. She wished she could talk to Tess, get some female perspective.

"I need to wrap some things up here first, if that's okay."

Oliver fell silent again, lost in thoughts with his eyes fixed somewhere above her shoulder. Their silences were no longer comfortable.

"You don't have to wait, Oliver.

"Sure. Right. Good night, then."

"Night."

Chloe offered as gentle a smile as she could muster while he pushed away from the desk and walked away. She released that pent-up breath she seemed to be holding all the time around him now. She wished his attitude didn't hurt that bad. He'd kissed her in the garden before the… rest happened. If even that meant nothing, why did he act as if he committed some terrible crime? It was not as if she'd said "no". Clearly it hadn't meant the same to him. He probably even regretted the whole thing. Now, half the time he gave her the dazzling bright smile and guarded eyes he displayed for People magazines. The other half, he wouldn't meet her gaze.

Shaking her head, she called the diagram she was working on before Oliver's arrival. She remembered a little too well what Kryptonite mixed with steroids did to ignore the accumulating clues in front of her. The aggression, the strength boost, the loss of inhibitions, it all fit a little too well. What she didn't understand what were the diamonds fit into the grand scheme of things. Or how Zlythe, if he was the one responsible for the drug, had put his hands on some meteor rocks.

"Don't put your cart before the horse, Chlo. Maybe it's not what you think it is…"

If only the Torch' computers hadn't been destroyed, she would have gone into her old database for the cocktail formula the old coach had put together. Without that, she had no choice but to go to the source. She'd always avoided hacking in anything related to Luthorcorp, out of respect for Lex and to avoid tipping Lionel, in case. Chloe typed quickly, one eye on the clock, the other on her screen. She was confident that if she could break in and leave in less than three minutes, no one would be the wiser.

"Chloe?"

Ah, shit. Of course he would check on her not five minutes after she sent him away.

"Busy."

One minute forty seconds left. Dang, she'd hit another firewall. Chloe shot another line of code.

"What are you doing?"

She muttered to herself rather than answer Oliver's question. "Where are your archives…" Fifty seconds. "No! Frack frack frack."

She jumped out of the system, destroying every trace her Trojan horse might have made in Luthorcorp database. Then she quickly whipped out Watchtower system clean and shut it down for good measures.

Oliver stood next to her, frowning at the screens.

"What the fuck was that? You're hacking into Luthorcorp? Are you nuts?"

He invaded her space, crowding her for the first time in days. The proximity was both pleasant and disconcerting. Chloe met him glare for glare. "I am checking out a theory."

"Regarding what?"

She hesitated, pinned into place by a boring gaze and his larger frame.

"You made me promise to share my plans with you. Trust is a two-ways road, Chloe."

Chloe. Not Sidekick. She didn't know she would miss the stupid nickname that much.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?"

His eyes clouded. Apparently, pleading eyes still worked…

"I don't think so. Spill."

Or not.

"It's kind of a long story, and probably an even longer shot…"

Oliver straightened up to lean a hip against the desk, still too close for comfort considering their new status quo. His position effectively blocked her way out, too. "I've got time."

Chloe brought her feet up onto the chair, so she could rest her chin on her knees, both arms wrapped around her legs. "Short version, Coach Arnold, the football coach at Smallville High, wanted to win at all costs. So he injected his players with something. I outed them, even landed a byline in the Ledger for it."

She remembered the pride in her father's eyes so well… It hadn't prevented him to ground her for a week after he'd discovered the risks she'd taken to get her scoop though. Chloe smiled wistfully. "The effects are so similar to what we are seeing with this drug, I wanted to compare the two. I looked for the formula everywhere, but I can't find it. Luthorcorp is referred as the lab which undertook the analysis on the police record, so I thought I would find it there."

"You hacked Grandville's police database."

Oliver ran a tired hand over his face.

"I had to."

"Why? Emil identified the steroids from my blood tests, there was nothing else. He needs more to figure out an antidote but otherwise, that's not worth the risk to—."

"Oliver, I think there's more to it than just testosterone. Smallville… Smallville has a history with meteoritic rocks. The rocks…" Chloe struggled to find the right word. "They change people."

She prayed Oliver would accept that, and not push for a deeper explanation. He still trusted her, but for how long? Unease settled in to match the ache in her womb. Fortunately, he latched on the matter at hand instead. "And your coach used those rocks in his cocktail?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll ask Lex to search his own archives, rather than risk exposing Watchtower to Lionel."

"You believe me?"

"Of course I do. What made you think I wouldn't?"

Did he have to ask? Why was he playing with her emotions like that? Was he that cruel? Her eyes welled up despite herself. Chloe blamed the late night and too many hours seating before a screen. "I…" She licked her dry lips. "It's a very far-fetched theory."

Oliver's dark gaze softened for the first time in days. His smile warmed, as if she needed another reminder of what they used to have. "It kind of makes sense, actually. What do you need to reduce something really hard into powder?"

"A grinding mill?"

He looked at her expectantly… Then she got it. "The diamonds! It could be why they need diamonds!"

"Yeap…"

Chloe answered his proud smile with a million-watt beam. The connection smoothed the oppressing tension between them. She hoped against all hope they could get back on track, friends, accomplices, whatever they'd been before. Then Oliver pushed away from the desk to give her space to stand, his face a blank mask once more. "I'll give a call Lex tomorrow. Thanksgiving wishes and all that… Come on. It's late."

Tess replied her text message with a phone call.

"Thank God for small favors. I needed a break from the pumpkin versus pecan tarts debate. Remind me to not to come here for Christmas. My family is insane."

"I vote for apple pies."

"Shut up. How are things with you? Settling in all right?"

"How do you know… Hal."

She pictured Tess's unruffled shrug. There was a silent, then her friend asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Chloe sighed heavily. "I… I am not sure where to start…"

"I'll give you the beginning then. Hal mentioned that Oliver browbeated you into moving back with him."

"Sort of? We… We went for a ride last Saturday, and… We were… mugged?"

She prayed Tess would not catch on her hesitancy before she chose the last word.

"You mean you were assaulted." Here's to hoping. "Are you all right? Who did this? How come I hear about this only now? What did the police say?"

Chloe avoided the question about the police. Obviously they hadn't called SCPD. "I'm fine. We're both fine. But afterward… Well, things kind of… derailed."

"By derailed, you mean…"

"I slept with him."

"Oh."

And now he's keeping me at arm length… Chloe swallowed, unsure how to express her fear they'd ruined their friendship and whatever else was there. Tess filled in the blanks. "If you tell me Oliver's reputation is hyped-up, I'm going to be very disappointed."

"I… It's kind of difficult to enjoy it the first time, isn't it?"

There was another silence on the line. "Chloe, were you a virgin?"

"Yes." Her voice was so small she barely heard herself.

"And you didn't tell him beforehand?"

"No."

All that came through the phone was a heavy sigh. "I take it he's not happy."

"How would I know? Tess, he can barely stand the sight of me…"

She wanted to cry all over again. She'd teared up more in the six weeks she'd known Oliver than the past four years.

"Chloe, talk to him, not to me."

"Right, that'll go well. Sorry I gave your playboy reputation a blow, do you want to try again?"

Tess laughed. "Maybe tamper down the sarcasm a notch. His ego is probably not the problem here."

"I… I know you're right. But… I don't know what to say, how do I…"

"Maybe ask him how he feels? Or tell how you feel. Whatever you do, don't begin with "we need to talk" or any of its variations. That's never a good start."

The blonde chuckled. She played with a lock of hair. "I'm going to miss you, living here."

"As if I wasn't going to visit as often as possible."

"With a certain Mister Jordan?"

"Depends. He might be too busy visiting his favorite strip club."

"Oliver forced him to be his wingman, you know."

"Somehow, I doubt it was a hard sale. Anyway. I should go back before my mom starts yelling no one is helping her in the kitchen. Even if all I do is seat there and drink lukewarm lemonade while she works. Talk to you soon?"

"Of course. Enjoy your family, Tess. Happy Thanksgiving."

"You too. Oh, and Chloe…"

"Yes?"

"Makeup sex is always a blast. Ciao!"