Nothing Remained But Your Eyes
Rating: PG13
Characters: Chloe, Oliver, Zatanna, John Zatara, Lex Luthor, Lionel Luthor, Clark, Lois
Pairing: Chlollie
Summary: At the end of his life Oliver Queen asked the most powerful sorceress in the universe to grant him one wish. Now he's living a new chance to retrieve what he once lost.
AN: One of my favorite poets is Neruda, and many of the stories I have written are anchored on lines from Neruda's poems. Every part of this story that I want to tell is anchored on Sonnet XC of the Hundred Love Sonnets.
Part 3
The diaphanous house that we built for a lifetime together—
All ceased to exist, till nothing remained but your eyes.
She dreamed the night before, and in her dream she mattered. There were touches, strong hands, capable arms that held her like she something precious. In those dreams there was a universe of kisses that surrounded her, and her skies seemed lit with a thousand smiles that spoke to her as if she were the most valuable being in the world.
Her dreams were different, dizzying and strange. When she woke from her dreams she hung in a state where her heart slowly sank. It was a fleeting sort of feeling. After all, she lived a life that mattered. And yet she could not help but wish to grasp at the tails of that lost moment.
Above and beyond everything else, Chloe Sullivan wanted to matter. She wanted to matter so much she had thrown everything that she was to every simple thing she did.
All her life Chloe had been rather confident of her own overwhelming talent at research and writing. She was a sophomore when she knew she was going to beat out the junior and the seniors at the post of editor in chief at her high school newspaper. She had been a junior when Lionel Luthor offered her a column at the Daily Planet. In fact, she was just a junior when she was accepted into the Met U journalism college.
No. Chloe Sullivan had not lacked for much confidence in her life. To many of those who read her words she mattered, and still she could not help but feel it was an empty way she mattered, and that to someone else, she could become so much more.
With the confidence in her own talents came the good sense to understand her own shortcomings. She recognized them for what they were and accepted them as fact. Not everyone could appear as angelic as her high school friend Lana or as long-legged and curvaceous as Lois. But Chloe owned her features and knew immediately that it would be a struggle to fit into the clothes that she would be able to borrow from Lois. She had only just told Lex that there was an available wardrobe so he would get her the invitation she wanted.
Chloe figured she could go shopping like a mad woman with her cousin when the invitations were ready. Lois knew the best places to shop for costumes. She probably had a valued customer card by now.
"You have got to be kidding me. I have a closet full of stuff!" Lois exclaimed when Chloe broached the subject. They gray dreariness of her surroundings turned to color at the sound of Lois' voice. "What is it for?" came her question.
Not an hour after Chloe shared with Lois that she was going to the Isis Exhibit in Metropolis, Lois had come running to her with several dresses to choose from.
It was a sight that made her chuckle, and even more endeared her cousin to her. "Who else in the entire world would have four different Egyptian costumes hanging in their closet?" she asked, raising a short dress with crisscrossing straps at the back. The cups at the front immediately sent the dress back down on the bed. "Obviously that's not going to fit me."
"Then I'll wear it!" Lois proclaimed.
"You're coming?"
"I'll have my boss change my assignment," spilled the words from Lois' mouth. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."
Chloe looked at her cousin askance. This was not such a big deal for Lois to reschedule her work assignment. But one look at Lois' face at the mention of Queen's Isis Exhibit and she had been beyond herself.
"An ancient Egyptian exhibit in a museum is not breaking news," Chloe reminded Lois.
"It will change the world," was Lois' response. "Trust me." There was a huff of impatience, and finally, Lois exclaimed, "Here. Take this one." Lois took a dress at the bottom and handed it to her. "I got this for you a few months ago."
Why her cousin would ever buy her a costume Chloe would never know. How Lois knew enough to buy a dress that would incidentally enough suit the Isis Exhibit was an even bigger puzzle. But she took the cream halter dress and put it on, then turned around in front of Lois. "It fits!"
"It does," Lois murmured with a smile on her lips and full eyes.
Lois made arrangements for a car service to take the two of them, with Clark, to the museum gala. One look at the sleek towncar and Chloe's eyebrows rose. "Look who's a high roller now," she commented as the car rolled to a stop before her.
"We'll spare no expense tonight," Lois declared.
Something was special about tonight. At least it was special to Lois. Chloe threw a surreptitious glance at Clark and saw her friend pull at the neck of the suit he wore. Chloe's eyes widened.
It was so apparent how nervous Clark was in the car. The frown that marred his face was familiar, but Chloe had not seen it for some time—not since she introduced him to her cousin. It was true what they said, she realized. All the worries of the world fell from your shoulders the moment you met that person meant to spend a lifetime with you. Since Lana walked away and his father died, Clark had become the personification of gloom.
Lois had brought back the light in his eyes.
"You don't know how happy I am that nothing ever happened between the two of us," she told him once. And it was true. How she would ever face her cousin knowing Lois was his soulmate if Clark managed to get anywhere past a kiss Chloe would never know.
And having been nowhere past Clark's lips, Chloe could easily jump to the next conclusion in her head.
"You look like it's your wedding day," Chloe murmured, baiting Clark with a hint towards what she suspected was so special about that night. There was excitement and fear enough on her cousin's face that Chloe thought she suspected the exact same thing.
Lois looked at her wide-eyed. She looked towards Clark, and Chloe wondered at the panic in those eyes. She gave a small smile, and thought at once that Chloe looked devastated, so ill-suited to what she thought she would appear if Chloe was even half right. "I would love nothing more than for you to be my maid of honor if I ever do marry Clark," she said softly.
There was a trace of regret in those words. Chloe narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "I'd never miss your wedding day, Lois."
"Lois," Clark said, his deep voice rumbling in the car.
The car stopped. Chloe turned to the sight outside, at the flashing lights and the gathered crowd. She drew a deep breath. "Who would have thought that a museum gala to unveil Egyptian artifacts is going to draw this large of an opening night?" And then she remembered Lex's reference to the sponsor and knew at once that half of the crowd was there for Oliver Queen more than they were for Isis and Osiris. She was certainly there to see firsthand the treasures that Queen had marketed quite intriguingly as the oldest proof of eternal love. Chloe pushed the door open and turned when she felt the urgent grasp on her arm. "What is it?" she asked Lois.
When she noted Lois' brimming eyes, she turned quickly to Clark in confusion, but her best friend had already gotten off the car and was walking to Lois' door. Chloe looked back at Lois and placed a hand over her cousin's hand.
"You're acting really weird, Lo," she said slowly.
But then Lois whispered, "I just wanted to check on your makeup." Lois shook her head. "And then I realized it doesn't really matter. You look beautiful, Chlo." She sighed. Lois' door opened. "Come on. Let's go."
Her cousin had a secret. It was a secret that Clark knew. That was unfair, but then again Chloe did not want to know everything about the two of them.
The dress was simple enough. Lois knew her well, and did not select a garment for her that sparkled, or that fluffed, or that was so short that everyone would know half of her secrets by the time their gaze fell to the hem. But even in its sheer simplicity, the moment that Chloe walked into the large room it was like walking in a dream.
She walked towards a glass-encased artifact and studied the necklace that Lois would term as gaudy. Her eyes fell to the lit text that explained where the necklace had been found, and the supporting evidence that it was indeed Isis'—a god's gift to a goddess.
"I can't help but see you admire that necklace, Miss Sullivan."
Her gaze flickered up, and images of a sandy desert and a handsome prince disintegrated like so much sand from a shattered hourglass. When the grains dissipated it was Lex's gray blue eyes she saw. "Not at all concerned that someone could take a picture of us together, Mr Luthor?" she returned, knowing full well that any stolen photograph could be explained away easily if Lionel should ever wonder.
"I swallowed my pride to call Queen for your invitation. I should at least enjoy the benefit of seeing you in here," Lex informed her. He nodded at the necklace. "I wouldn't think that was your style."
"It's the sentiment I admire," she told him. "It's such a personal gift."
Chloe turned and noticed her cousin in a passionate discussion with Clark, and when Lois turned to look at her, Chloe's heart jumped to her throat. It was an expression so haunted, desperate, and another of her many shortcomings surfaced. She waved Lex off then stepped forward towards the two.
His hands closed around her shoulders, and Chloe heard him caution, "It's a private conversation."
"I can't stay in the sidelines," she answered.
Lex released her, and as she walked across the myriad artifacts that spoke about Isis and Osiris, and screamed volumes about a billionaire's unhealthy obsession to a timeless story, Chloe felt a warm prickle at her nape. Her heart slowed to strong, uneven pumps. She looked back behind her and saw that Lex had moved on to another conversation. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on every sound, every breath, every feeling that surrounded her.
He was here.
She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head.
Up above. It came from above.
The lights right below the platforms cast shadows above that rendered her blind. It was nothing but pitch darkness there, but Chloe knew somewhere above them all was the threat, that presence from her nightmares, that man that watched her die. For a second she debated going to Lex. Instead she turned back towards where she had last seen her cousin and where Lois had been arguing with Clark.
Now Lois stood alone. Her steps slowed, and the world outside of the two of them faded away. Chloe approached Lois and noted the deep frown that marred her face. At the sight of her, Lois broke into a gentle smile.
"I saw you arguing with Clark. What did he do now?" Chloe asked quietly. The server passed and Chloe took two flutes of champagne from his tray and handed one to Lois.
Lois' fake grin grew into a sincere small smile. "You always assume it's his fault," Lois protested.
"Because it almost always is!" Chloe parried. "And he knows it." And then she shrugged, because it did not really matter whose fault it was to anyone but her. "Besides, us cousins need to stick together."
At the statement Lois' eyes widened. She took a deep swallow of the champagne. "We're moving, Chloe."
She had been punched in the gut. Metaphorically, but no less real. Moving. Away.
"Move where?" she managed to choke out.
"You know, even I'm not so sure. But I'll make sure to let you know once we get there. They say it's gorgeous there."
Ridiculous. And utterly out of character. When she walked into the gala it was like walking into a dream, and suddenly it turned into some twilight zone where words spilled out of her cousin's mouth thoughtlessly, unbelievably, incredibly.
"Who moves without knowing where?" Chloe exclaimed.
"Chloe, Clark and I have been planning to do this for a long time," Lois told her gently.
If they were, she had heard nothing about it, and suddenly she was angry. Secrets. Damned secrets. Secrets that were revealed on the day when it seemed like nothing else could be done about them. She hated secrets. "If this is a long time coming, then what stopped you?"
"I really just wanted to make sure you're okay." And Chloe absolutely hated that her cousin sounded like she believed it was true. Lois and Clark were the two people she had left.
And God, Chloe wished so much she mattered more.
And then she saw it. It was a brief moment, but her keen observation caught the split second. Lois looked up over Chloe's head, right in the direction of the cast shadows, right where Chloe knew her nightmares stood watching. "Now you're here tonight and I know you will be." An imperceptible nod, perhaps acceptance. Lois met her eyes and said, "You'll be better than you ever were."
When Lois believed so fervently, it was hard to be angry.
"We lived together for a long time, Lois. You could have said something, talked to me. Why tonight, Lo?"
Tonight when she knew her nightmares were coming alive.
But Lois wrapped her in a tight embrace. Chloe felt her cousin's lips touch her cheek, and inexplicably tears rose in her eyes. Almost like this was an embrace that she had missed, that she should have had but never did. It was stupid, because they were more affectionate than many cousins she had seen before.
"You'll know soon enough. Remember, Chloe, I love you so much." And there was a hitch in her throat when she said. "I missed you."
Her head was whirling and the world was spinning still. Too much champagne, not enough rest.
Maybe.
But there was that feeling at the back of her neck, and those brown eyes, wherever they were, watched her like the darkness looming over her head.
And then Lois shook her head and she chuckled softly. "What am I saying? I mean, I'll miss you." Lois pulled away but held her hands. "There are times when you may not hear from me, or times when you might feel like I've forgotten about you but trust me, you're always in my mind every day."
Her cousin was so sentimental. She never knew how much.
Chloe wondered how Lois would live her life without her, if this was how she broke news of moving away.
"You're my sister," Lois said.
Overdramatic Lois. She was acting like one of them was dying.
"Lois, oh my God!" she finally exclaimed. "I can't believe you're talking like this. Do you want me to cry? We're in public!"
"No, no," Lois said quickly. "I'm sorry. Just—I know you're going to be just fine. And I'm so grateful I got to spend the last few years rooming with you, cuz."
And Chloe watched as Lois walked in search of Clark. She glanced behind her, half expecting a stranger with deep brown eyes to be standing there, watching her. A server came and retrieved Lois' empty champagne glass from the mantle. She nodded in acknowledgment, then glanced back at the shadows above her, locking her jaw.
Daring him to come.
After all, no matter the threat of that nightmare, Lois said she would be alright.
Chloe returned to the display cases, studied the thirteen golden jars inscribed with hieroglyphics that made little sense, but haunted her nonetheless as the symbols floated in her head. Isis would gather every piece of Osiris, Lex told her, and brave greater gods, the afterlife and all hell.
Everything to bring back the love of her life.
What kind of love, she wondered, made humans into gods capable of lengths as great as the ones that Isis took for Osiris?
The lights dimmed in the grand presentation room. Chloe looked up at the large screens that lined the walls. The words were simple enough, and a quick glance at the program packet told her that the video feed of the excavation would play for the next half hour. She started at the presence beside her. She looked up and saw the lights play on Lex's face as he watched the video beside her.
"A tale of eternal love," he read out loud. He looked down at her with a half-smirk.
"You think you're capable of that, Lex?" she asked softly, watching the grainy pictures document endless months of dirt and discovery. For a brief moment she caught a glimpse of who Lex indicated was Oliver Queen, hands on, head bowed low, as he poured over a leather-bound gold-crested book from an unearthed chest.
"You of all people know exactly what I'm cable of," he answered. After all, she was the only one in the entire world who knew that every action, every word, every thought—Lex's entire purpose in life was to reclaim himself and bring down his father.
It was a silent understanding. For that one goal the rest of the world would pale in comparison.
And she returned to the screen, watched the journey that documented the ancient mythology of Isis' descent into the darkness, her storied quest to bring back her lover.
The video drew to a close, and Chloe was haunted by images of Oliver Queen standing with his back to the camera, looking up at the ruined relics of Isis and Osiris standing tall and looking within the darkened pyramids that teemed with treasures. The excavation team knelt and worked feverishly to catalogue the treasures and the man who funded the entire adventure grasped in his hand a single lamp, throwing a light in the deteriorating monuments of the god and goddess that had until then been lost in time.
And the quiet question came as expected. "Do you think you're capable of all that, Chloe?"
What to her was unexpected was the answer that had been nonexistent until she saw the sweat-stained shirt and the cuts on the forearms of the billionaire who had descended from his skyscrapers to dig deep into ancient burial grounds for a tale that was nearly forgotten.
Above everything else in the world, Chloe Sullivan wanted to matter.
If she mattered to anyone even half as much as this story mattered to Oliver Queen—
If anyone mattered to her a fraction of the value that he had placed in Isis and Osiris—
"If I love someone enough," she answered truthfully.
He turned to her, and the quiet acceptance spoke volumes louder than the speakers that told the story of the discoveries. Lex nodded, then looked down at his wrist where the diamond-studded watch winked under the lights. "I'm about to meet my father in an hour. Should I wait for you?"
It was such an easy out, and Chloe was flustered for a moment. And then she looked back towards Lois. She shook her head.
~o~o~
So long as we live, or as long as a lifetime's vexation,
Love is a breaker thrown high on the breakers' successions;
Death. Resurrection. Rebirth.
It could have well been the tagline of the gala; it could have been the tagline of his life.
Shadowcrest boasted little of the luxuries that made the Queen manor the estate that it was, but there was one thing about Shadowcrest that reversed Oliver's decision about offloading it. In the dark of the night when Oliver assessed the property for a possible resale, Oliver Queen stumbled across a grand library of tomes and histories, of legends that turned real, of myths that were truly men. The Zatara's library was a treasure trove, he discovered. It was a haven fi to get lost in when nothing the world held his interest beyond one night.
Above everything in the world, Oliver Queen wanted to have a purpose.
For far too long he had been a ship without a sail, courseless as the current took him forward or back, to one direction of the other, snug and warm in a cabin that blocked out the rest of the world.
"What do you want, Oliver?"
For every occasion he was asked, Oliver could name not a single thing he wanted. It was the simplest, most complicated question of all. There was no gift. Gifts were inappropriate. What would a man ask for, when he had the means to get everything he wanted in life?
Above it all, Oliver wanted a purpose. But it could not be wrapped in fancy paper, not topped off with a curly ribbon to be presented on a special day.
The discovery of the ancient Egyptian mythology book, lined at the borders with scribbles from Giovanni Zatara, Zatanna's father, enraptured Oliver. He drowned himself in assumptions, in the notations that told him what black magic was afoot. But Oliver grew more and more obsessed when the story dove into enumerating the sacrifices that Isis had done for the man she loved. And then he realized of the great story that it was, the anecdotes that stood out the most before his discovery, the facts that his less educated mind knew beforehand, was a phallus made of gold and the fact that there was incest. And during the discovery of the tale he recognized there was so much more than the world needed to know.
Then Oliver Queen had a purpose. He would bring light to Isis and Osiris and ensure that the world would remember what eternal love was.
At the opening of the gala, it seemed to him that his purpose was achieved. He had even Lex Luthor, as cynical as the man was that he remembered, calling for invitations for someone he knew was intrigued by the concept. His purpose was served, as Metropolis had been abuzz at the amazing discovery, at the success of the project. So Oliver walked up to the loft section and looked down at the gala half full of those who were curious about the artifacts and half full of those who were curious about Oliver Queen.
Months gone and at his return it was almost like Metropolis never changed.
And then he heard them.
It was odd. Strange. Impossible. But Oliver swore he heard. There was a shift in the air, a movement of the earth, and for a split second he thought that time stood still.
The deafening murmurs quieted and even breaths seemed to stop between a beats of a heart. Oliver swore he heard footsteps of a soul just arrived, thought he felt heartbeat thrum in the air, close enough that he could hear her from a distance. His gaze focused on the crowd, searching madly for something that appeared out of place.
He grasped the railing and he watched as a golden head moved through the displays, reading each and every one of the text entries, drinking in the sight of each artifact like she was a scholar of Isis. But the woman interacted with reporters he had met a time or twice, spoke with Luthor until Oliver realized this was the guest who had been curious about the story.
And then Oliver noted how the woman slipped away from the crowd and walked towards the cordoned area and pushed open the door marked restricted for excavation project staff, who had long gone home after the gala proved to be a success. Oliver raced down the steps, following the woman to the restricted section of the museum.
When he made his way to the room where the excavation team had placed the other unlabeled artifacts in shelves, Oliver saw the blonde up high on a ladder looking through a box. Luthor was right. His guest was enamored of the tale. So enamored that she was probably breaking enough rules to get her banned from the museum for life.
"Hey!" he barked out to get attention.
The woman released the box and spun quickly in surprise, and Oliver's eyes widened when he saw the ladder teeter and wobble. The lights shut around them and Oliver heard the door slam shut behind him. The room was pitched into blackness and he heard a muffled squeal and a loud crash.
The groan that followed assured him that the woman was alive. He pushed at the door. Locked. The blackout had locked them inside. At least he knew the discoveries were safe because the security worked well.
He walked over to her and hesitated a mere split second. She had raised a lighted phone. "There's no signal, but it's a second-rate flashlight," she said breathlessly. And then she hissed. Oliver knelt in front of her. He quickly moved to check on her ankle and pressed. Oliver's hands hit the floor at the sudden barrage of images in his head, and he sucked in his breath.
The room was burning. There was not enough air. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and drew in a deep breath.
The world slowly righted itself. They were stuck in the inventory room, but they were fine.
"Oliver Queen, right?" she said tentatively.
"That's right," he answered.
"I'm Chloe," she told him, and he thought that was the most beautiful name he'd ever heard.
"Sorry about surprising you. I'm not supposed to admit liability in case you sue."
"But I'm not exactly allowed in here," Chloe answered, "so I think you're covered." She groaned when he pressed at her ankle. "It's not broken, is it?"
With the dim light of their combined cellphones, Oliver inspected the damage. "It feels like you just bruised it a bit. You'll be fine." He stood up and assisted her to test her weight on the ankle, and then he whispered, "I've got you."
She held on to him as she placed her weight back on her ankle. "It hurts a bit, but nothing broken," she told him. And then she held onto him as he helped her sit back down. Oliver pulled a box over for her to sit. "I hope I'm not sitting on some ancient Egyptian footstool." She made a face. "Or a jar of mummified organs."
Oliver grabbed the phone and peered at the label. "Those are broken bricks."
So she sat down and Oliver could her smile in the dim light.
"What is it?"
"I didn't think I was going to have the chance to actually interact with Oliver Queen," she said. "But here we are."
And there they were.
Oliver swallowed. He needed water. His heart was racing. His heart did not nearly react so much when Zatanna approached him at the bar and here he was with a woman whose face he barely saw, and all he could imagine was a universe of kisses. So he focused instead on pressing his thumb on a swell of blood in her ankle, from the accident he himself caused.
"I knew you'd be busy with all your guests, and now I can say I spent more than five minutes with Oliver Queen," Chloe told him. "I didn't expect a chat, least of all that tonight I could call you my hero."
At the word, Oliver's gaze flew from the ankle to the darkened face above him. The word was—
"I'm no hero," he rasped.
She leaned back against the shelves. "I beg to differ. I watched an entire documentary and saw you work for something you believe in. I know what you've done to put all this together. Someone told me about your reputation in Star City, but now I feel like I know you," she told him. Her fingers brushed his arm. Oliver thought there was a spark of electricity running from her fingertip through his veins.
Oliver released her foot, then looked back at her. His heart thundered in his ears. She may as well have been faceless.
He wished the lights would come on so he could see her. Just for a split second. That would be enough to burn her face in his brain.
"You made me believe in love," she confessed. "And if that doesn't make a hero, then at least helping a stranger who could have broken her ankle through her own fault makes you one."
She was talking about the exhibit, he reminded himself. The entire excavation had always been to prove that a love like Isis' and Osiris' truly existed—that it was not fiction, or a dream, or a lie.
But even then, Oliver waded through the haze she brought with her nearness. He placed his hands on either edges of the box where she sat and moved closer to her in the darkness. His eyes drifted closed and he laid his lips on hers. "Maybe I'm a hero only to you." And this time, it was more than enough. Her lips parted underneath his, and Oliver kissed her.
And before he realized it, his hands rose to cup her cheeks and he felt the tears on his thumbs.
"Why are you crying?" he asked softly.
"I don't know," she answered. And then her arms went around his back and she held on to him tightly.
His arms closed around hers and tightened with an embrace. The deafening noise in his ears slowly faded.
I'd know her wherever, whenever I wake up.
"Chloe," the name flew from his lips. The name made sense the way names did not.
She won't know you.
His thumbs brushed over her face in the darkness. The memories were fuzzy, but bits of pieces floated in his mind and he knew this was exactly what he needed. She was why he was here.
His purpose. His sole purpose in this life.
And then he heard the long alarm of the security release. He closed his lips over hers. The door groaned, then slid open and threw a light into the inventory room. Their mouths parted and when he lifted his head to drink in the sight of her face, her eyes fluttered open and she gazed back at him.
Her eyes grew wide with surprise, with fear.
"Your eyes," she murmured. "I remember your eyes."
And then she struggled to her feet, pushed away frantically and made her way to the door. Oliver called her name, then ran after her. But she was gone, and so was Lex Luthor. He gasped for breath. Oliver looked around him and saw the entire museum, the displays, the artifacts, the uninhibited proclamation of the immortal tale.
Loose threads of memories teased the edges of his brain.
tbc