Part 7
"How much did you hear?" Clark asked warily.
"A lot. Not enough. Maybe too much." Lois shook her head. Her hair was matted in the back and there was a dark wet spot on the front of her shirt. She saw where his gaze fell and tugged up the blanket. "I don't drool," she hissed.
He didn't know what to say to that, so he changed the subject. "You should know that Chloe is safe," he said, hoping to reassure her.
She nodded and waved her hand dismissively. "Right, she went to take a shower."
Clark winced. "You were awake that whole time and didn't say anything?"
"The ones who noticed me didn't seem to care and for once staying quiet seemed like the best way to get answers. Be careful what you wish for, right?" An awkward silence hung between. "You were dead," she finally accused.
He nodded.
"She saved you." Lois wasn't asking a question but Clark answered anyway.
"Yes." He shuffled closer. "And I wanted thank you too. Chloe said she couldn't have gotten my…me through the caves without your help."
She scoffed. "I think we both know that's not true. I'm the one who tried to talk her out of going. I couldn't." She sounded a little bitter about that.
"So about the rest that you heard…," he began, changing the subject again.
"You mean where a computer swapped your feelings for different cousins and left you acting like a jerk? Yeah I heard." Agitated, she flipped back the blanket lying over her legs, swung them around, stood up and began searching around for her shoes.
"I guess that means the speech I prepared," Lois began, "on the off chance you didn't stay dead and I got the opportunity to kill you," she paused and wiggled her feet into the pumps lined up at the end of the couch, "for lying to me about the very essence of who you are," she turned around until she saw the coffee maker and then zeroed in on it, "while actively making me think you were planning our future is kind of pointless now," she gave him a saccharine smile. "What with us only dating because you got tricked into thinking I was Chloe." She glared at him. Clark didn't have any trouble interpreting her feelings now.
"I'm sorry." He didn't have much more he could say. He couldn't promise to make it up to her. He couldn't tell her she was wrong.
"Save it." She grabbed a mug and then traded it for a blue enamel travel cup. "For a while I thought I must have loved you, but not only do I not know you at all, now I don't even remember why I thought I wanted who I thought you were." She filled the carafe with coffee and replaced the pot back on the burner.
Lois shook her head as if she was confused. "You were Chloe's crush, not mine." She fitted the cover on her cup and as she picked it up, her eyebrows lifted. "You know, looking at my life, I'm not sure I even know who I am. Am I living my life or did I just pick up on what Chloe wanted?"
She paused to take a slug of her coffee, grimaced and spit it out. She stared at the cup in astonished horror. "I don't think I even like coffee!" She dumped the contents of the travel cup in the sink and leaned forward, bracing herself with two hands.
Clark glanced up toward the bathroom, wondering if he was going to need backup as Lois spiraled down in her freak out.
"You know," Lois confessed, "I used to be kind of jealous of how Chloe had it all together. She seemed to have always known what she wanted in life but for the last six months, I'm the one that had everything she wanted and now I don't know if I want any of it."
"I wanted to live in exotic locations, not in a landlocked city like Metropolis let alone Smallville, USA. If I hadn't quit my job with Martha, at least I'd be wheeling and dealing in Washington with the people who make the real changes or should be making the real changes. That's not the point. The point is I'm at my best when I can make something happen. Journalism is all about sitting around and waiting for someone else to make something happen and then parrot it back to an uninterested public."
"Lois I don't think that's true," he began to protest, but she wasn't listening to him.
"I hate deadlines. I hate typing. I hate proofreading. I hate checking sources. I hate all the boring stories in between the big headlines. I hate the smell of newsprint." She made a sour face and waved a hand. "The whole basement at the Daily Planet reeks of it. I never had a favorite journalism teacher, just that old bag that technically was in charge at the Torch who watched me like I was going to steal the silver and yet somehow that's my life now, it's all I have."
"Lois…"
"No, it's true. I've put everything into my career, a career that alternatively bores me to death or just about kills me. H ell, I guess I will use that ticket to Africa." Clark stood a little straighter. Lois going to Africa was probably good for them both, but he stayed silent. She didn't really seem to want anything from him. She'd heard enough.
She turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. "Maybe it's my chance to start over, see if I'm doing this for me or if I just was seduced by the promise of fame and fortune." She grabbed a towel, patted her face dry and glanced around the room. "I can't believe this place. I see Chloe all over. Your mom's throws, Jimmy's picture, the couches, the colors, and I'm pretty sure that is the same kind of coffee maker we have in the apartment, the one she can't live without."
Lois walked to the center of the room. "I feel so stupid. All this year I thought you and Chloe just drifted apart, the best friend thing finally burning out, but she was involved behind the scenes with everything important in your life even when some computer hidden in the arctic hypnotized you into not returning her calls." She pivoted around and caught his questioning glance. "Yeah, we lived together, I knew how hard it was for you to dial her number." She shook her head. "You know, there was a part of me that was even kind of flattered that this time I was the one getting your attention. How awful is that? And now, I don't even know why I cared. All of this is insane. This high tech headquarters is hers and when I got here it was filled to the brim with a bunch of masked vigilantes not wearing their masks."
"About that."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I still believe in the good the Blur can do for Metropolis even if his alter ego is a complete fraud. Not to mention that apparently Chloe is way too caught up in this world to ever risk her exposure."
"Thank you," Clark told her solemnly. Neither one of them mentioned the other option she overheard involving her forgetting any of this ever happened.
"Well, then, there's just one last thing." She crossed her arms and nodded her head once, "Well, go on," she urged.
Clark tilted his head. "Go on with what?"
"Oh, please, it should be so obvious."
"Do you have some questions, is that it? I suppose you deserve…"
Lois blanched. "No, god no. I don't want any more details. Your life is way too complicated for me" She mock shuddered. "When it was just the Blur, everything was simple. A hero, all alone, facing off against injustice, but that's not the Blur at all. If you ever seemed lonely, it was because you wanted it that way." Lois raised her hand, forestalling any protests. "Ok, granted, this last year you might have been tricked into thinking you wanted it that way, but long before that happened you and Chloe have had this weird part time co-dependency, part time symbiotic like relationship. Her side I got. Chloe is beyond loyal, but you? The wishy-washy way you kept going back to Lana whenever she showed up willing while keeping Chloe at your beck and call?" she shook her head. "It's no wonder Chloe doesn't believe you really want her."
"But I do. I was an idiot before. I'll make it up to her so she never wonders again."
Lois held up a hand again. "Easy big boy, I said Chloe doesn't believe you. Me, I don't doubt what you feel." Her mouth twisted wistfully to the side. "If you could only see your face when you talk about Chloe." She shook her head. "That doesn't mean you are getting off without doing this right."
"Fine, just tell me what I'm supposed to say to her."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. When it comes to convincing her, you're on your own. Right now you should be thinking what to say to me."
Clark frowned. "You already said you believed me about Chloe."
She rolled her eyes. "And to think at one point I tried to convince myself your cluelessness could be charming. Pay attention. As Chloe's closest relative, if your intentions toward her are really honorable, than you should be asking for my permission."
"Permission to love Chloe?" His clenched his jaw and clenched his fists. "I'm not asking permission from anyone."
"Touchy. Ok, fine not permission, how about blessing then?"
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Just like that?"
"On one condition." Now it was Lois's turn to get serious. Her expression turned fierce and she poked him in the chest. "Don't you dare hurt her again. Only two things she's ever wanted, to be a reporter for the Daily Planet and to have the boy she loved love her in return. The way I look at it, it's your fault she doesn't have either. So either make it right or stay the h ell away. If her final answer is no, you need to let her go and give her the chance to make a new life. You owe her that much for all the crap you've put her through."
After stepping out of the shower, Chloe wrapped up in a thick white towel. She picked up the bottle of aspirin somebody left out by the sink and put it away in the medicine cabinet. She shut the panel and then used her palm to wipe the moisture off the mirror. Almost immediately, the fog began reforming. She paused and watched the steam creep back over the glass until her reflection blurred and then vanished. Was that symbolic of her life? Despite the sauna like temperature in the bathroom, goose bumps broke out along her forearms. Was the self-clarity she felt in the arctic the real thing or had it been just the illusory remnant of a life already fading and on the verge of permanently disappearing? She shivered.
A short pair of knocks rapped against the door at the same time somebody tried to turn the knob. When the privacy lock kept the somebody out, she heard another set of knocks along with Oliver's voice. "Chloe, let me in."
Still mesmerized by the obscured silvery shadow she made in the mirror, she answered without moving. "I'm not dressed yet."
The door handle rattled again. Chloe heard a pop and then a cool draft snaked around her legs. In the mirror, she could just make out the shape of another figure standing behind her. Were two unfocused objects better than one? She crossed her arms, and tried to throw off the strange feeling. "That wasn't an invitation," she informed her intruder.
"It would have been yesterday." Oliver replied and closed the door.
She closed her eyes and scrunched up her forehead. He was probably right, but the chasm between then and now couldn't be bridged and when he came up behind her and grasped her bare shoulders, she flinched and shrank away. He let her slip out of his grasp.
She liked Oliver. She genuinely enjoyed the time they'd carved out for fun. She'd never before learned the art of taking your pleasure where you could find it, but Oliver had been an astute teacher. She relished his zest and his blatant appreciation for what she had to offer. It had been emboldening and by keeping their relationship light, they'd both found a convenient solution to the loneliness that came from hiding their true self from the world.
At times when she was with Oliver, she felt like a different person. He didn't truly know the person she'd been in the past so pretending that life hadn't mattered was easier. The Chloe Sullivan Oliver saw hadn't buried every dream and hope, because the Chloe Sullivan he saw was learning to skim across the surface of life. She had her scars, but they sealed off the real pain. That Chloe Sullivan worked hard to appear carefree and relaxed outside of work because, really, the alternative was too depressing.
Their relationship quickly moved beyond friends with benefits to finding real companionship. Maybe if she'd never been forced to rip open her old scars…who knows what they might have meant to each other, but that road was closed to her. She might not like what her treacherous heart told her, but she was finished lying to herself. She had to end this. It wasn't fair to Oliver.
She braced herself and turned to face him. His gaze moved over her from head to toe. The same warm look that once made her feel wanted and appreciated now made her uncomfortably squirm.
She nervously smoothed back her water slicked hair, forced a faint smile and a quick apology. "Sorry, but maybe you could just give me a minute to change and then we can talk."
He looked away and laughed. Her chest hurt at the brittle sound. "Don't drag this out. Just say it. Say the words that end us.
She shook her head sadly. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Then don't." He dropped any pretense at coolness or control. Heat flared in his eyes and he backed her against the sink, cupped the sides of her face and dived in to remind her of what they had together. He ground his mouth against hers, waiting for her usual passionate response. Even when it didn't come, he couldn't stop the pleas that fell from his lips. "Pick me, pick us," he begged breathlessly. "Don't throw away what we have now or what I know we could have in the future." She firmly pushed him away, shaking her head. He let go and stepped back, but he didn't want to give up. "You don't even believe Clark really loves you. Give me one good reason why we won't work."
She lifted her sad hazel eyes to meet his gaze. "Because I'm in love with Clark." She awkwardly shrugged. "Doesn't matter if Clark doesn't feel the same about me. As long as he's in my life, I can't love you back." She dropped her head back and wiped at her eyes.
"And there it is." Oliver took another step back, pushed his hands deep in his pockets and slowly blew out his breath, forcing a transformation back into the carefree playboy. "I knew this was happening." A wry smile played on his lips. "I walked in here knowing, but apparently there was still a sliver of hope that needed to be pulverized."
A wave of compassion passed over her face and she took an instinctive step toward him. "Oliver…"
He held up his hand, "No. Sympathy might just do me in right now." He stared at her again, this time as if he was memorizing her face. He finally asked. "So where do you go from here?"
Chloe tugged her towel up an inch. "Away. I don't know where, just some place to pick up the pieces and rebuild from the scratch."
He frowned. "What about Watchtower? What about everything you've started?"
"I'm proud of this place, but I can't stay. Even if I could, this isn't all I want in life and as long as I'm the only one playing big brother, it will consume all my energy. J'onn and Victor can take care of the computer systems," she further explained. "Hopefully the team will take turns playing Watchtower for each other. I think maybe all that power is better shared than left in one set of hands."
Besides, she thought to herself, Clark was right. Watchtower wasn't her dream. She should have been putting her life back together once they'd removed Brainiac from her head and she'd gone through the Jimmy break up, but then she'd gotten an up close look at the duo of Lane and Kent. Without realizing it, her feelings for Clark tangled up with her desire to be a journalist and suddenly there didn't seem a place for her in that life. Wherever she went, she wanted at least a shot at that part of her dreams. Damm Clark for being right. Damm him for knowing something she'd only figured out in the dark moments in the arctic when she thought it was too late.
"There's another option. You could turn over Watchtower but still stay in Metropolis," Oliver suggested. "You adore Metropolis. Me, I'm thinking it's time I spent more time in Star City. Metropolis attracts more than its share of messes, but until the next big thing hits the fan, I think it's time the Green Arrow picks a hometown. Who knows, maybe he'll start attracting fan clubs like the Blur instead of angry mobs like Hawkman."
She reached out and touched his forearm. "I know wherever you go, you will do good things."
"So you'll stay in town?"
She shook her head. "You're not the reason I'm leaving. I can't stay." She pressed her lips together and blinked rapidly. "The city needs Clark and I can't pretend I don't need more from him than what he can give me and I won't drive myself crazy trying to make Clark feel something he really doesn't."
Oliver ran his hand back through his hair and sighed. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but how do you know he doesn't?"
"He doesn't," she insisted flatly, wrapping her arms tightly around her middle. "I would know it."
Oliver pursed his lips, then shook his head and started to walk away. He stopped with his hand on the door and turned back. "Look, I told you tonight before you ever walked in to Watchtower that I knew we would be saying goodbye."
She glanced up. He had her attention.
"It's not that you were willing to sacrifice your life to save Clark, I'd like to believe that any one of us would have done the same, but I had to face some differences." He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "You blindly threw yourself into saving him without weighing the odds, without making any back up plan, but even more than that, tonight I understood maybe for the first time that you would have done the same thing even if you were ninety-nine percent sure you couldn't save him. I'm not sure a hundred percent hopeless would have stopped you from trying.
She stubbornly raised her chin. "So I'm not as bright as you thought. What about it?"
A quick edgy smile flashed over his mouth. "It's just funny I guess. You'll die for Clark without a thought, but life," he shook his head, "that terrifies you." Chloe froze. "Can you really be so certain of what he feels when you can't get past your own fears?" She didn't know what to say and Oliver had nothing left he could say, so he slipped quietly out the door.
Chloe stood there, biting her lower lip. Of course she was afraid. She kept one arm still wrapped around her middle but brought her other arm up until her knuckles pressed against her mouth. Getting hurt was a certainty, the only question was the source of the pain.