Breakable

Chapter Three

Summary: Chloe and Oliver are friends. When certain unforeseen events unravel in both their lives, the two make a pact that can either prove that theirs is a friendship that could break and remain broken or break into something more. Chlollie.

Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Superman or Batman


It was 2 a.m. of a never-ending night and a blonde couple was sharing a drink at a bar in Star City. Carl, the bar-tender having known Oliver Queen as soon as it became legal to sell alcoholic stimulants to Star City's most prominent son, mutters a soft tut-tut in his head as the woman beside him stands in worst wear than the billionaire who seems to be knocking back scotch as if it were nothing but water with no apparent effects.

"What dush-a-Clark" the woman gesturing to herself at this, "hafta do for a Chloe to luv'im? First there was Lana, then Alicia, Then Lana again and then this thing with Simone and now Lois. Why? How-long-must-I-wait? Am-I-that-unsalvageable?" The words were coming out in an unintelligible slur.

Oliver, his eyes sober, cursed his genes that he couldn't even drown his sorrow and forget it in liquor. "I really don't know Chlo."

Chloe suddenly remembering something funny, jumped to her feet and chuckled out loud, "Hey weren't you going to propose to my cousin Lois?" Unstable, she nearly toppled onto him and for the 3rd time in the last 24 hours, Oliver Queen saved Chloe from falling flat on her face. Divesting her off the glass, he sat her down on the stool once again and ordered for coffee from Carl. "Easy there Watchtower. I think that's your limit for tonight."

Angry, Chloe pokes Oliver in the chest at each word, "Hey! Watcha do that for bud? It's your fault you know, if you have never left her, she and Clark would never had…and Clark and I would have…" not knowing how to finish that statement she stops mid-sentence.

Catching her wrist in his hand, his cruel sarcastic side begging to be unleashed, and "Even if I did Watchtower, you'd be wrong on all counts."

Sad at this and his words breaking through the haze, Chloe nods as fresh tears well up in her eyes, "I guess you're right. I'll always be alone."

Guilty for taking out his hurt on her, he apologizes, "Look. I'm sorry. I did not mean it."

Swiping at her eyes with the palm of her hand, Chloe tries to put on a brave front and smiles, "No. You're right. I was just too stubborn to accept it. But you…you'll find someone, Ollie. I wish that you would. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Lois had to hurt you like that."

"Clark is an idiot."

"No. Don't say that. He's my friend. You know, I've always wished that he finds his happiness and if he does that with Lois, it would take me forever to get over it but he deserves to be happy with someone. I just wish that in doing so he didn't have to trample all over my heart," smiling sheepishly at her lame attempt at levity.

Oliver looked at her tonight not for the first time with the kind of pity of someone who knows what it feels like to love and to be not loved back. For once cognizant of everything she must endure, Oliver staggered under the weight of what she must have undergone and experienced since eight grade if her story tonight was any indication. Chloe, at that precise moment, looked desolate and beaten down with despair. He didn't like it one bit. He'd rather have the hurt drunk and angry Chloe than the quiet, stoic and resigned Chloe who was starting to sweep her feelings under the rug. Watching him as he contemplated on her experience, Chloe mistakes his silence, "I meant what I said this morning Ollie. You deserve to be happy."

"So do you Chloe. Tell you what, what if by the time you reach 40 and I'm 43 and we haven't found anyone we cared two figs for, why don't we get married?"

"What the hell? Sure, why not?!" They clink their glass together and Oliver fishes in his pocket for the engagement ring that was supposedly for Lois. Opening it, he traces its pattern, deep in thought and takes it out of the box. As Chloe tries to steal Oliver's drink, Ollie catches her hand and puts the ring on her finger.

"It's official then, Chloe Anne Sullivan. You cannot back out of our arrangement."

Chloe stops short at the sight of the simple but elegant bauble on her ring finger. The enormity of this promise she knows she will regret in the morning but for now she thinks nothing of it. "Okay but since we still have some years to go," she pulls off the ring and takes her necklace off so that she could hang the ring like a pendant around her neck, "in the meantime, I'd rather wear this my way for now. No use scaring off anyone when they are repulsed by me just as I am. And on that note, you have to excuse me Oliver; I am going to go to the little girls' room because I'm going to be sick any time soon." With this pronouncement, Chloe stumbles towards the ladies room before Oliver could have a chance to stop her and ask if she needed help.

Oliver finishes off his drink and sets his gold AMEX on the counter giving an instruction to ring up his tab while he follows Chloe to the restroom. Carl the bar-tender overhears and witnesses the exchange shakes his head disapprovingly and intends to have a chat with his regular client. The blonde woman, Oliver Queen calls Chloe reminds him of his sister and so trying to do right, he stops long enough from cleaning the glasses. Oliver Queen was the typical rich guy who frequents his bar but unlike most rich guys, he was raised a gentleman and despite the difference in their stature, Carl and Oliver were friends in the way a bar-tender is anybody's friend, that is if that anybody is nursing a broken heart. "Hi Mr. Queen. Looks like a rough night."

Stopping to address Carl, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose, "Yes it was."

"Young lady seems like a decent good kid who has had it tough. Just be careful, you hear."

"Thanks for the reminder Carl."

"Mean no disrespect Mr. Queen."

"None taken. I have to go after Chloe and see how she's feeling. Night Carl."

"Night to you too Mr. Queen"