Disclaimer: DC content not mine. Not making $
Spoilers through Season 8. Alternate Universe. Set Post Season 7. Features some Original Characters. No Clark. Lex knows.
Cover Art: http : / /lyxanderblue .deviantart .com/gallery/#/d38wuyl
SOMEONE TO BELIEVE IN
"You hold the future of the entire planet in your hands; I'm here to take it back. I loved you like a brother, Clark, but it has to end this way."
- Lex Luthor, on the day Clark Kent died.
SIX
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LUTHOR MANSION
.
Morning sun glinted through the stain glass windows of the Luthor mansion. Bathed in the light, Tess sat in the ergonomic chair behind the desk once used by Lex for so many years; she had taken up residence there months earlier at his behest. She was poised with her legs crossed at the knee and her chin rest on her fist. She held a leather-bound book, worn and full of hand written entries, and was completely engrossed in it. Dressed smartly in a navy pencil skirt and an ivory, silk blouse, her ruddy curls billowed loosely around her.
There was a knock and then the heavy, wooden double-doors creaked open. Eva Greer, Kat's replacement as her executive assistant, entered. She stood silent and waited for Tess to look up. Tess liked that about her. She was less forward and impudent than her predecessor.
Tess looked up.
"Ms. Mercer?" Eva said, "Your ten o'clock is here. A Dr. Edward Groll."
Tess went back to her book and nodded.
She heard Groll enter a few minutes later and approach the desk, his cheap shoes squeaking on the marble floor. She turned a page.
"I was expecting Lex," Groll said when she didn't acknowledge him.
"You're late."
"Smallville isn't exactly on the way...to anywhere. I had to rearrange my entire week for this."
"You must be a busy man," she said patronizingly, turning another page. This wasn't Tess's normal tactics, but she'd had to change up game recently. Respect was becoming scarcer by the minute. "Which is why I wanted you. And why we're paying unconscionable amounts of money."
"Luthor's money."
"Mmm."
"Speaking of Lex...will he be joining us?" Groll asked.
Tess closed her book and set it down gently on the table. She uncrossed her legs, planting them on the floor, and folded her hands on the glass top. "I'm handling Mr. Luthor's affairs now. And I'm the one who hired you," Tess replied firmly, focusing on him squarely.
"And what can I do for you?" he asked, his haughtiness diminishing.
"You've worked with Lex before. You're privy to some of his more fanciful pursuits and you've stayed in his sphere for last few years. What do you know about a legend he was investigating, relics that would point the way to a storehouse of knowledge?"
Groll crossed his arms and shook his head.
"Oh now, don't be coy. You work for me, and I work for Lex. We're all in the know here."
"Of course we are," he said tersely and regarded her, no doubt weighing his options. He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. "Three stones of power that when combined create a storehouse of knowledge that would put the Library of Alexandria to shame."
"I think I've read that somewhere before," she said patting the leather-bound journal.
"It's all nonsense. Legends and myths. Just like those caves. The Katwatche Indian folktales. It's all nonsense. The Luthors were obsessed with this stuff and you know what happened to them; you'd be wise to avoid it."
"Lex Luthor is alive and well. And he doesn't waste his time with frivolities, Doctor. You'd do well to remember both." Tess shot back stormily.
Groll cleared his throat.
She slid a box across the table and pulled back the lid. Inside was the diamond-esque crystal, its illumination seeping out.
"Oh."
"You mind clearing your schedule now?"
Groll shook his head.
"You'll work from here and under my supervision. This," Tess told him, "doesn't leave my presence."
"I'll have to gather a few things. Equipment, research, some...uh—"
"I won't waste your time, Doctor," Tess said with a saccharinely false smile, holding up a hand, "by demanding a description of the details."
"Right. Of course, of course."
"Ms. Greer will show you out. Thank you, Doctor."
Tess picked up her book. On cue, the doors opened and Eva appeared.
"Oh...um..." Groll stammered and left.
Tess heard the door close and then reopen.
"Forget something, Doctor?"
Tess started when a newspaper was thrust under her nose and dropped on the desk. Oliver Queen's picture was sprawled across the front along with the words "Bachelor Billionaire Binge." He was seen with a drink in each hand and an unflattering, squinting expression. "Really?"
It was Oliver Queen in flesh; he stood opposite her desk with crossed arms and his billion dollar smile peeking from beneath a bemused an incredulous expression.
"Whatever happened to the party boy hanging up his beer bong so that he could do good for the world?" Tess asked wryly; she was both please and embittered.
"While I am the guy in that picture: I was holding some else's drinks and had a flash go off in my face. But I'm not the guy in that article anymore."
"Of course not," Tess mocked scathingly. "You're Oliver Queen: world famous Samaritan. And I was his first save."
Tess saw Oliver eye the open box and the crystal; she stood as she shut it.
"Excuse me, you um..." Oliver said. His voice changed and he moved into her personal space, taking her arm gently. "You were much more than that."
He stopped and looked at the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It had been a gift from Tess to her friend Megan, but belonged to Tess once more. She knew Oliver recognized it from the day he rescued her on that island so many years ago, the day Megan was murdered.
"Heard Marcos came to town looking for revenge. Showed up in the hospital last night and was dumped in the slammer this morning." Oliver said quietly. "Did he find you?"
He came looking alright, but I'm not that same helpless girl. Tess thought for a moment and then shook her head. "You?"
Oliver paused, a look of question dusting his face like a passing shadow; his casual nonchalance returned and he answered. "No."
"I'm glad you're okay, Oliver," Tess told him; the warmth and honesty was the most genuine and vulnerable she'd been in a very long time. She pulled away and went to Lex's collection of fine spirits and poured herself a scotch. "After all, I need the chief of Queen Industries alive and well if LuthorCorp is going to keep its competitive edge."
"Happy to help..." Oliver said sarcastically. He roamed the space for a moment, admiring the grandiose space she had taken up. She watched him carefully. "This is great, a few pay grades up from your days studying jellyfish and protesting whaler ships, huh?"
"You're not the first person to wonder how I ended up at the helm of the Luthor dynasty."
"Well, what's to wonder?" Oliver shot back. "You play to win. I found out how ruthless you were a long time ago."
He was unbelievable. And incorrigible.
"After what you did to me, did you really just expect me to sit around and eat ice cream?"
"No. You'd rather work for my greatest enemy, and then just when I think the knife can't twist any farther, you take up the reigns of his entire company, sitting side by side with the devil himself."
"Ooh, so that's what you do when you're not writing checks and grinning for the camera? You sit around pondering ways that I've dedicated my life to your downfall. I'm sorry to break it you Oliver, but everything I did, I did it for me."
"I bet you did. I bet you just love playing house here at chez Luthor. And just where is dear old Lex? Hmm." Oliver's word had turned sharp and as deriding as her own. "You think once he's back in action he's gonna keep you here at his side, Tess? Laud you and sing your praises for how you kept his company afloat and brought him home? Lex is gonna discard you like old software. You were a stop gap measure, nothing more. He's using you, Tess. Can't you see?"
"You don't know Lex at all, Oliver." Tess refuted in a hushed but piercing tone. "He is a good man. He is a man of integrity who stands for truth and justice."
"You are so transparent," he said simply, shaking his head. "And so naïve. This is not worth it, Tess. Revenge really isn't a good color on you."
"One of the most important things that Lex taught me is that you can't afford to live in the past."
"Did professor Luthor also teach you a thing or two about deception? Or how about obsession. I hear his class on murder is an easy A." Oliver clipped scornfully.
"He's done more for this world than you ever will, Oliver," Tess shot back. "He dedicated his life to making it a safer place."
"You know it seems to me that Lex might have been a little more than a mentor," Oliver whispered with a suggestive raise of the eyebrow.
Tess scowled.
"I wasn't sure before, Tess, but now I know. I guess our past is behind us."
"It has been since the day you said goodbye, Oliver. Oh wait...you never actually did. Did you?"
"Is that why you called me here?" He snapped. "Cause it's on the tip of my tongue."
"No." Tess said less harshly. She was pensive as she picked up a folder. "Whatever your delusions of me—and of Lex—are, is your concern. I called you to give you this. I realize that Lionel Luthor is dead and buried, but maybe this will help you sleep at night."
Tess knew that the documents would undoubtedly upset Oliver, circumstantial as they may be. It was the right thing to do, to give him peace of mind about long unanswered questions. She did have an ulterior motive. Lex's feelings about his father weren't a secret, justified as they may be. Giving them a common enemy might be just what they all needed for civility. Or war. The status quo would not remain. Either way it was going to give Lex the leg up he needed.
.
ISIS FOUNDATION
.
Chloe stood in the front room of the Isis foundation with hand on hip and papers in hand, the late morning light streaming through the windows; her empty coffee cup was perched on the sill. She was reading through several patient files, memorizing details and looking for connections. Why there weren't digital copies, she'd never understand. Nonetheless, her enhancements made it easy to absorb and retain data at startling speeds.
Perhaps she'd invest in a high tech scanner to eliminate the paper trail, she thought, maybe Oliver would make a donation to the foundation. It would certainly increase her efficiency, which would benefit him in the long run. Of course, then Oliver would want to know why trading the hard copies for soft ones would be so useful to her, which would lead to more questions.
Chloe had been able to evade his suspicion thus far about her abilities, but it wouldn't last long. Her overambitious multitasking the night before had shut down the entire Watchtower setup. While the glitch no doubt helped hide her super hacking skills from Oliver, it was completely unacceptable for her to be offline during a mission. She'd requisitioned a vast assortment of new tech to beef up the system—courtesy of Queen Industries—so that something like that wouldn't happen again. She expected the first shipment that afternoon and prayed she had done her due diligence in covering her tracks.
Her too-rapidly firing synapses instant-replayed her evening in perfect clarity.
...
The acrid smell of burnt wires and plastic permeated the niche as a popping sparks told Chloe something was awry. Her multi-screen display read "system failure." She didn't have to wonder any longer about the limits of the small but powerful facility Lana had created. The unit of tandem processors was fried, smoking and a little melted. They'd need replacing—and with something more powerful that could withstand the punishment she dealt out with every growing dexterous speed.
Chloe sighed in disgust and acquiesced to taking the evening off. As she locked the Isis doors, she thought about calling Jimmy, but saw the clock was pushing eleven. After the long drive, weeks of fatigue won out as she dragged into the Talon. Ready to pass out from exhaustion, she was startled by a voice as she was about to ascend the staircase.
"Good evening, Miss Sullivan." Chloe jerked around in surprise and saw Tess Mercer emerge from shadows. "I am sorry for the cloak-and-dagger routine, but I didn't have time to schedule this little meet and greet. My name is—"
"You can save the introduction," Chloe cut her off tersely, not in the mood to deal. "I know who you are, and I don't care to talk with anyone connected to Lex Luthor."
"It is no secret that you and Lex have your differences. But I'm sure that you are far too fair a person to fault me for his mistakes," Tess said with calm diplomacy. She was both seasoned and skilled. But so was Chloe.
Huh, she thought and said nothing.
"See, I really need your help," Tess Mercer continued. "I know that you have cracked into some of the most complex and protected computer systems in the world. And I'd like to hire you to do the same for me."
"I guess Lex's lackeys didn't tell you that he actually dropped the dime on me for being a techno wiz. I was locked up. It wasn't pretty," Chloe shot back. Whatever Tess's angle was, Chloe wanted nothing to do with it.
"Well, no laws will be broken. You'll be trying to hack a very unique supercomputer."
"Sorry, my plate's full."
"Yeah, I'm so sure not planning a wedding and starting up the Isis foundation can keep you pretty busy. Not to mention searching the globe for that missing friend of yours. What's his name? Clark something?"
Chloe's heart skipped a beat. Whatever knowledge Tess had of Clark would be dangerous, and with her working for Lex there was no telling how much she know. "How did you know all of that?" she demanded.
"I had unrestricted access to all of Lex's records when he was missing. I did a lot digging when searching for him. And I know everything about you, Chloe. Which is why I know you're the only person that can help me. So, I'm hoping you'll reconsider."
Tess was smug and appeared self-satisfied; it was clear to Chloe she thought she had gotten the upper hand.
"You learned well from Lex," Chloe said, matching Tess' quiet, smooth tone bathed in biting hostility. "When you don't get your way, you just threaten. This isn't my first tour of duty on the Luthor battlefield. So you're gonna have to come at me with a lot more firepower."
Tess raised an eyebrow.
Chloe turned, finished with the conversation and headed for the stairs, but paused when Tess called to her.
"I could help you find Clark."
Chloe's breath caught and then she replied, without looking back, "Stay away from me and my friends."
"What is it about this farm boy that gets everyone so riled up?" Tess wondered aloud, though something told Chloe it was more than just an honest question. "Lex was obsessed with him for years—And Lionel, too. Lana left Lex for him. And you...well, it must be so hard to be so loyal to someone who never reciprocated that kind of...devotion. And from what I understand, you are blindly committed to this guy, you're willing to do anything to protect him. And what is it that a simple Kansas farm boy would need such ardent protection from, I wonder?
"See, I've been trying to understand a few things, and maybe you could clear it up for me. The last person that saw Lex before his disappearance was Clark Kent, and then he magically disappeared too at the same time. Where would he have gone, I wonder? Why? And why would a college drop-out who still lives on his parents' farm be in the midst of so much intrigue? His name pops up in news articles, and police reports, and investigations of all kinds. There's a mystique that surrounds him. And the fact that you and everyone else in his life are always so quick to convince everyone else how normal and innocent he is tells me how far that is from the truth. I believe Lex had good reason to believe there was more than meets the eye to Clark Kent."
"Lex is toxic," Chloe said pointedly. "Everything Lex touches is poisoned. Maybe Clark just wanted to escape Lex's wake of destroyed lives while he still could. You'd be wise to strategically remove yourself while you still have a fighting chance before he crushes you, because, believe me, he will. Wherever Lex is, tell him forget about Clark and leave us all the hell alone."
Chloe, disturbed and unsettled, ended the conversation there and left.
She awoke the next morning with an unexpected new vigor and decided to spend the morning and afternoon taking care of some neglected areas of her life. Unfortunately, it seemed life was not as she had left it. Inklings of a plan of breakfast with Lois fizzled when their shared Talon apartment proved empty; her cousin was already gone or never came home— the latter was more likely. As she scrounged for a petit-déjeuner of burnt toast and coffee, it struck her that the Talon apartment wasn't really feeling like home anymore. She thought about turning some of the spare rooms at Isis into an apartment.
Chloe's morning commute turned into a drive down memory lane. As she drove past by her old house, where another family now lived, she thought about stopping but it proved to be too unsettling for anything more than a quick tap of the brakes. She somehow found her way out to the Kent farm, desolate and run down. It was eerie and her heart hurt as she wondered where Clark was and how full of love and life the little house once was.
Chloe had a key, like so many others, but she didn't go inside. It didn't feel right somehow. It was an arduous hike for her up the stairs of the barn into Clark's first fortress of solitude. Memories threatened to overwhelm her as she stood frozen in the center of the quaint, homey space, quiet tears running down her cheeks.
The stairs creaked.
"Clark?" she called, spinning on her heel.
There was nothing. She ran to the banister and saw Shelby—the Kent's dog—playing with a bone. Chloe sighed and went to the golden retriever, petting his head.
"Hey, boy. I thought Lois was coming to pick you up?"
Chloe loaded up the dog into her car and decided she would drop him off at the Planet for Lois. It seemed appropriate given her cousin had completely neglected a dog she was supposedly so fond of.
As Chloe came to the intersection of the country highways—one leading to Metropolis, the other out to the Luthor Mansion—Chloe saw the flash of an orange and green sports car. The license plate told her it definitely belonged to Oliver, though he was driving so fast, she was sure he didn't see her. She was also sure of his destination, given there wasn't much else out that way, but wondered what business he had with Tess Mercer.
The more she thought about that, the more it bothered her, and the long ride in gave her highly efficient neurons lots of time to process. With her PDA poised on the steering wheel, she researched as she drove. She felt safe surfing while driving, given her enhanced multi-tasking skills. The Tess Mercer thing was eating at her.
What did she want? What did Oliver want with her?
Chloe had the not so pleasant distinction of meeting Lois's new partner when she dropped by the Planet to hand off Shelby. Vanderbilt was as brazen and mouthy as her off-chasing-a-lead-cousin. A few offhanded comments told Chloe that there had been talk and she had been the subject. Chloe left quickly and found herself in a park with Shelby.
It was the first time she had allowed herself to be still in a long time. Still was relative. While watching Shelby run and play, Chloe's mind was a veritable super-processor. She was cross-referencing previously absorbed data at an astounding speed, coming up with new theories, and eliminating old leads. It was barely an effort, almost involuntary. Like breathing.
Meanwhile, at the forefront of her mind were her worries about Jimmy, and Clark, and Lana, and this Christopher Hawke and her ragged ragtag team of heroes. And Davis. Apparently, 'forefront of her mind' had taken on a new, multifaceted meaning. She worried a little more about what that meant. Something was happening and it was accelerating.
...
Chloe surprised herself. Again. She had all but relived the past sixteen hours while tackling a day's worth of Isis paperwork in a matter of an hour. She sighed as she filed the papers and closed the cabinets.
Chloe didn't mind caretaking for Lana; it was a much needed filler since she'd lost her job at the Planet. Really, though, Isis was little more than a cover for her to devote her every waking moment to finding Clark and foiling Lex. While she had had every intention of getting the clinic up and running again, it simply hadn't happened.
There was a knock at the door.
What in the...No one knocks anymore. Everyone just barges in here uninvited.
Dually annoyed and curious, Chloe cautiously open the door. It swung open unexpectedly, pushing her aside. A uniformed man pushing a loaded up handcart shoved in followed by two more. Christopher Hawke brought up the rear.
"Those go over there in that back room," Christopher order, pointing towards the Watchtower setup. Chloe was glad the doors were shut. "These and these go out here. And...I'll take this one."
Christopher grabbed a box off the top and held it in both arms, smiling at Chloe.
"What are you doing here?"
"Didn't Oliver Queen speak to you about me?" Christopher asked, a shadow of confusion brushing over his face.
"He may have mentioned something in a text briefly," Chloe shrugged, not budging.
She wondered what exactly Oliver had told Christopher and she wondered what else Oliver hadn't told her. First Tess, now this.
"And?"
"And...he told me to trust you. To let you do what you came to do. Doesn't mean I'm gonna. Oliver Queen doesn't own Isis."
Christopher paused as the delivery men finished. He shifted the box, retrieved some cash and tipped each one generously.
"Thanks guys," he said as they left. Then to Chloe, "What's gonna take, huh? You need me."
Chloe raised her eyebrows at him defiantly, unconvinced. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.
He set the box down on the reception desk and then turned around, crossing his arms, and regarded her.
"I've got a busy week planned that hinges on this afternoon, so can we just skip all the rook to queen bishop four and get on with it?"
"There's the door," Chloe said simply, her hand flourishing towards the exit.
Christopher didn't move. They eyed one another carefully, not speaking, daring the other to call a bluff. Finally, Christopher reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved an envelope. He handed it to Chloe.
"The Lana-letter, huh?" Chloe asked, pursing her lips and barely glancing at it. "Is that your Queen's Gambit or your Troitzky line?"
The young, mysterious newcomer didn't answer; only smiled. He wasn't arrogant, so his level of self-assuredness made her believe that he could be telling the truth. She'd also met some very good liars in her lifetime. The letter was the part of her brief conversation with Oliver that had intrigued her the most. The handwriting on the cover was undoubtedly Lana's and it even smelled like her. Chloe still wasn't completely convinced, even if she was a little swayed.
"This doesn't prove anything," Chloe told him.
"I mean, we could just call Ms. Lang and clear this whole thing up. But, Chloe, I'm guessing you're familiar with how difficult it can be to get in touch with her lately."
"Extremely familiar," Chloe admitted. She mulled over his story, trying to punch holes in it. She stalled while she thought by asking, "So, what's with the Ms. Lang? Is that her new M.O with all her hired boys? Wouldn't she prefer you call me Ms. Sullivan?"
"Well, I don't work for you."
Chloe laughed despite the sudden tension in their tête-à-tête.
"Anyway, why didn't you just use Watchtower to look me up? Surely, that would have told you everything you needed to know."
Chloe jaw dropped slightly; she was more amused than worried or surprised, even if it caught her off guard.
So, he's on the level. Or he's been well groomed; keep your enemies closer...
"Look, Chloe," Christopher said, his demeanor softening. "I'm not really one for the verbal sparring matches, but I do it when necessary. Believe me, I do understand how important it is for you to glean truth from deception. I'm on your side. I don't work for Luthor. I don't work for Mercer. I don't work for the DDS. I'm one of the good guys. I'm here to handle things while you focus on...more urgent matters." He paused and looked her square in the eye, his words heavy with meaning. "Nothing is more important to Ms. Lang than what you're working on. Nothing."
"Clark." Chloe said softly.
Christopher nodded.
"She's just as committed to finding your friend as you are. She hasn't given up."
Chloe went to the window. Her thoughts dovetailed continuously and she had myriad questions, but she remained silent for some time. She didn't trust him, but her gut was telling her she could. She supposed if he was a mole, it would be best to find out his game rather than force his hand.
"Okay," Chloe resigned, "we'll give it shot. At least until I've had a better chance to dig up some better dirt on you."
"I'd expect nothing less," he said, flashing a toothy smile.
"You should know, I don't abide by business hours and I have a severe caffeine addiction. Bystanders beware."
"Well, then we have two more things in common," Christopher said, "Don't worry, I've got this covered. You do you your thing; I'll do mine. Ms. Lang thinks having Isis up and running with a functional public face is paramount for...our more...covert operations."
Chloe whole-heartedly agreed with the logic. She shook her head at him, her earrings tinkling, and smiled despite herself.
"Alright," Chloe said gesturing at their surroundings. "You win...for now. You've passed your first round of interviews, but don't think you're getting off easy, bucko. I may not be a reporter at a world renowned paper anymore, but my journalistic instinct is intact. There are still questions to be answered."
"Fair enough."
"She's all yours; try not burn the place down on your first day. I've got errands to run."
He grinned again and offered his hand once more. She took it this time.
Chloe went to a back room, one she was seriously considering converting to an apartment, and retrieved Shelby. He happily greeted her and followed her out, barely fighting the leash. Until he saw Christopher.
"Hey there, fella," the newcomer said excitedly, bending down to pet Shelby. "Aren't you gorgeous? Yes, good dog."
If Shelby trusted him, maybe Chloe could too.
"He's Clark's," Chloe stated plainly. Christopher nodded, standing up. He gave her a warm smile and went back to work. She left him to work. She paused at the door, and looked back at him. He was busily and cheerfully rummaging through his boxes; he was cute, like watching a little kid, and she liked him despite herself and her reservations.
"How do you take your coffee?" Chloe called to him.
"Black. Four sugars," he called back without looking up. She could see the barely concealed pleased look of accomplishment, and she appreciated that he didn't make a big deal about winning her over. What he didn't know, she reminded herself, is that he hadn't. Not yet. If Christopher was hiding something, he'd be more likely to slip if he felt comfortable around her. She'd let the facts decide for her.
"Four?" she asked with a bit of playful disdain, "Slip into a diabetic sugar comma much?"
"Not as long as I keep the intake steadily streaming in," he said without skipping a beat. "You'd better hurry back. I can already feel my insulin levels fluctuating."
At least the banter will be halfway decent, she mused. Intelligent conversations were becoming harder and harder to come by with her increasing IQ.
"Try not to die while I'm gone. I'd hate to have a dead body on my hands. They're so much trouble to clean up."
"Ah, that's sweet," Christopher cooed mockingly. "You're already getting attached."
Chloe rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her without responding. She put her phone to her ear as she entered the elevator.
"Hey, Lo. I have your dog, so I'm calling in a favor. I need the low down on a Christopher Hawke."
.
LATER THAT NIGHT: OLIVERs LOFT, QUEEN TOWER
.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew Tess Mercer?"
Chloe stood in what passed for a doorway in the open floor plan of Oliver's loft. Except for the unnatural, electric backlighting that seeped from behind bookcases and tiny, modern artsy fixtures, only the moonlight streaming through tall penthouse windows illuminated the elevation behind Oliver's office. Her features washed in the pale light, Chloe's glower was hardly concealed as she hoisted her purse up on her shoulder and strutted a few more feet into the room, which was rife with the stench of alcohol.
Oliver's prone shirtless form was sunk deep the wrong way into a wide leather arm chair that had been haphazardly shoved up against a metal banister. Empty—or mostly empty—bottles were strewn about and a large, square glass bottle was nested in the crook of his arm and under his chin. His eyes snapped open at her words; his cheeks were flushed an unhealthy red and he blinked in bewilderment. He jerked up in the chair as coherence made a partial appearance.
"Chloe," he managed in a hoarse voice. "What're you doing here?"
She repeated herself.
"What no playful banter?" It was dark, but she could tell he was struggling back into his pants that had been lying across the arm of the chair.
She repeated herself a second time.
"Was in the past," Oliver grunted as he arduously hauled himself to his feet. "Wasn't exactly proud of the way things ended."
"You didn't think it was important to mention that you were friendly with the redheaded seat-warmer of the Luthor throne?"
"I didn't realize my love-life was any of your business, Chlo," Oliver spat, his tone biting on her name. "I think you have enough of your own problems in that department without worrying about mine."
"Lex knows Clark's secret, Oliver," Chloe stated coolly, side-stepping his jibe. "When Lady Luthor literally shows up on my doorstep wanting the inside scoop on our missing farmboy and then you start making house calls the next morning, it is my business."
"Looks like your round-the-clock lock-in as Watchtower has made you quite the voyeur." Chloe crossed her arms and let out a breath, mostly unfazed by him.
"Lois left out the part where the party boy turns into the drunk with a mean streak. I'm gonna let you sober up before you burn through all your social collateral." Chloe told him, finished with the conversation, and turned to leave. "The troops are rallying in the morning. I don't know what this is, Oliver—"
"Lionel Luthor killed my parents," Oliver spat, spinning on his heel and thrusting a file into her face.
"You got that from some flight records," Chloe stated with a hint of one part disdain one part incredulity once she'd glanced through the papers.
"According to that there were LuthorCorp employees on the maintenance log," he informed her. "Clark was the son Lionel never had. The guy knew everything about him. So don't just stand there and tell me you and Clark didn't know a few of his dirty little secrets."
Chloe was silent for a moment. She had been privy to this information, but not for very long. She'd have to tread carefully. Oliver was upset, understandably, and volatile unstable given the amount of alcohol he'd ingested. She try not to implicate herself just yet.
"Maybe he was afraid you'd do something you'd regret," Chloe said quietly.
"Something I'd regret?" Oliver exclaimed, "Like what, Clark?...Chloe."
She raised an eyebrow at his slurred correction.
"You thought I was gonna kill him? Is that it? I wouldn'ta done that, Chloe. I wouldn'ta killed him. I survived on an island for two years by myself, Chloe. When it wasn't pouring rain, it was blistering sun. There were mosquitos that ate me alive.
"'S'okay. Cause you know what? It made me strong. Clark thought he was invincible...and so did we. I think we were wrong, Chloe. But you know what Clark wasn't? Fearless. He was afraid to trust his friends, to trust me. And he was always afraid to face who he was really meant to be. He was afraid of everything! Maybe he just hadn't been put to the test yet like I have. Maybe this is his island."
Chloe crossed her arms and regarded him carefully.
"Ya done?"
Oliver shrugged, deflated, and rolled his eyes taking another drink.
"So, how long you been waiting to give that little speech of yours to Clark?"
Oliver pushed past her back into the loft.
"You don't know what you're talking about Chloe."
"Oh, come on, Ollie. What happened to your parents was a terrible thing, but let's not pretend that's what this is about. I think the real question is 'how long has your true secret identity been the Green-Eyed Monster?'"
"You think I'm jealous of Clark? You're one to talk. When it comes to envy, Chloe. You wrote the book."
"You've done enough projecting, reflecting, and deflecting for one night, Oliver. Why don't we just shoot straight, Arrow?" Chloe countered. "You've been jealous of Clark's abilities from day one. You never thought he was living up to his full potential. And it doesn't take a gumshoe sleuth to pick up on the not-so-subtle hints you been dropping about how differently you'd do things if you were the one packing super skills. Not to mention the constant inferiority complex you've been toting around because we haven't found him yet."
Oliver grinned mirthlessly, biting back words. He looked ready to deliver another smarmy barb, but then fire went out of his eyes. He shrugged, emptied his drink, and plopped back into the chair.
"You can wallow up here in your ivory tower and drink yourself into early liver failure, but I'm going to find my friend—with or without your help."
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STREETS Of METROPOLIS
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Marcos, a sour look on his face and his shoulder in a sling, climbed into the back of a cab.
"Take me to the airport."
A deep, painful scratch suddenly appeared on his hand.
"What the hell?" He exclaimed gruffly.
The face of Tess Mercer appeared in his window. She leaned in, sneering ominously.
"Who do you think paid your bail?" she whispered venomously.
Marcos blinked and swayed, his equilibrium failing; his head dipped and then he dropped into the floor of the cab, unconscious.
"I think he's having a heart attack," Tess informed the cab driver passively. "You might wanna take him to the hospital."
"What am I? An ambulance?"
"They'll know what to do with him."
As the cab drove away, an exotic pink flower dropped from Tess's hand. It landed on the gritty asphalt and was run over by a passing car. A silver Porsche Cayenne with the license plate "NO MERCY" sped away into the night.
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A\N Sorry it's been so long since I last posted. Hope you enjoy and hope to post again soon.
Thanks for reading. Reviews welcome.
Chapters FOUR, FIVE, and SIX started out as one chapter so if you want to consider them that way, that's fine. FOURa FOURb FOURc ...whatever