The Bottom of the Glass--1/13

[bluesuedeshoes]

Author:  BlueSuede
Title:  The Bottom of the Glass
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama
Pairings:  Chloe/Oliver
Summary: Chloe's meteor powers return with reinforcements. Instead of talking to anyone about it, even Oliver, she finds a different refuge.
Warnings: mild OOC on Chloe's part

>>>>3rd Place for Best Angst Fic by Chlollie Awards

Next (Chapter 2)

Author's Comment: Written in response to a prompt from Chlollie. Thanks for the idea. As a warning, I may not adhere directly to the plot you gave me, but we'll see how it turns out.

BlueSuedeShoes

---

-1-

You are born. You live. One day you die.

That's the natural order, the way things are meant to be. Chloe once thought that her ability to heal had been a gift, she had defended it until she was blue in the face, but it didn't stop her from lying awake wondering if she was messing with something mere mortals should have no control over. Had she been playing God?

The concern vanished along with her powers. She told herself that it was for the best, and over time, she came to believe it, however difficult it was to see friends and loved ones get hurt and know that she could do nothing about it.

More time passed and she found herself forgetting about the power to heal. Life brought in new concerns, new puzzles. Sometimes new joys. The Kandorians, the Justice League, Checkmate-they all provided distraction...or maybe it was focus? Either way, she had more than enough on her hands to drive out all thought of a former meteor mutation that had either gone dormant or simply left her system.

She wasn't sure what made her think of it as she lay there one night, wide awake as Oliver slept soundly beside her. It was strange. She hadn't thought about it in such a long time, hadn't wanted to think about it. Life had simply moved along and taken her with-however bumpy the ride may have been.

She sighed, shaking the thoughts from her exhausted mind. She rolled over, snuggling into Oliver. He'd stayed the night again, she noted. It had begun happening more and more frequently lately. Not that she minded, she supposed. It was nice having him there, comforting.

She sighed a weary sigh, willing sleep to find her, which it eventually did.

Little did she know it would be the most sleep she got for a long while.

---

The next day began ordinarily. She had a muffin for breakfast, bickered with Clark on the phone, then bickered with Lois on the phone. She sent the league on their assignments, everyone but Oliver, who had a business meeting in Star City.

"I don't want to go," he said to her childishly as she attempted to shove him out the door.

"You have to," she said, failing to repress a grin.

"Why?"

"Because you're a big boy now."

"Mmm, true," he said, kissing her. "But I feel that being all grown up means that now more than ever is the time to slough off responsibilities."

"How do you figure?"

"I'm am ebbing closer and closer to that time of life where I will have a mid-life crisis, meaning I should enjoy my prime as much as possible."

Chloe rolled her eyes and straightened his tie. "Go. We're acting like a married couple and if you don't get out of here it's just going to get more absurd."

"Aw, why, wifey? Don't you love me anymore?"

"Get your butt out that door before I file for a divorce," she threatened.

"All right, all right. I'm going!" He raised his hands in surrender, but instead of leaving he bent over to kiss her again, this time more suggestively. Chloe had to excessively very hard to keep her knees from going weak. "That," he said as he pulled away, "is for you to think about while I'm gone."

Fighting a smile she finally succeeded in shoving him out the door.

The rest of the day was uneventful. She monitored a possible smuggling ring forming, but otherwise had little to do. At five o'clock in the evening, she put on her coat and decided to get herself some coffee.

It was as she rounded the bend that it happened.

She wasn't prepared for the sound of a cry for help, let alone for the sound of a gun shot. She pulled out her own hand gun and rounded the corner where the noise had come from, preparing to call the police or fire: whichever one was most necessary.

She found no criminal, though, only a young girl, lying on the ground, quickly bleeding to death.

Chloe rushed to her side, pulling off her jacket and using it to put pressure on the wound. "Stay with me, honey. We're going to get you some help. It will all be fine," she reassured her, removing one hand to reach for her cell phone to call an ambulance. Before she could do any such thing, though, the alley was filled with a bright light. Chloe found her hand, which had slid onto the woman's bare arm, felt as if it had been welded in place.

Her body felt as though a rush of wind that had originated inside of her was coursing through her body and then pain shot through her, a bullet wound identical to the one that had injured the girl in front of her formed in her body and then, just as swiftly, healed over.

Chloe fell forward a moment, gasping for air. She saw the surprised look on the young girl's face and everything was confirmed as both their eyes turned to her now perfectly mended skin. Chloe stood up, backing away from her.

"Oh my God." Neither of them was sure who said it.

"Please don't tell anyone," Chloe said. "You'll be fine."

The girl, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, stared at Chloe in disbelief. "Who would believe me?"

Chloe shook her head, her thoughts spinning out of control to the point that she thought they might physically break free from her body, each one puncturing holes in her skull as it left.

Without another word, she ran. Straight back to Watchtower. There she slammed all doors and turned on all alarms before leaning against the door, clutching her heart in her hand as she began to hyperventilate. She shook herself.

"Get a grip, Chloe," she told herself firmly.

But her body was still shaking uncontrollably with shock. She pushed herself away from the door and walked over to the liquor cabinet for the bottle of bourbon. She poured herself more than was strictly a good idea and drank it, grimacing when she removed the glass from her lips, but at least her body steadied itself. With a firm hand she dropped the glass to the counter and took in a long, ragged breath of air before finally voicing the question aloud:

"Why aren't I dead?"

She didn't have the strength to wonder how and why her ability had suddenly returned. That was too much for her. So she turned to a more significant issue: the fact that she should be lying dead in that alley, should have remained that way for several hours. That was how it had always worked. Whenever she had healed a fatal wound it had taken hours upon hours for her body to rejuvenate and return her to the land of the living. This time it had healed in a matter of seconds, barely long enough for more than a couple of drops of blood to seep into her blouse, she noted. She went to remove it, trying to decide whether to try washing it or to just have the evidence burned. Wearily she stuffed it in the bottom of a hamper of dirty clothes.

She walked over to the mirror and examined herself, feeling the clean skin where the bullet wound had been. No scar, no trace remained except a light streak of dried blood. She quickly rubbed it away.

Her body was perfectly mended and she didn't even feel a slight ache as though a bruise might have formed.

She wondered if she should be grateful. She could be lying dead in an alley at that moment, or worse, in a morgue being prepped for autopsy. And she'd saved that girl's life. That was good, wasn't it?

Or was she playing God again?

Who had decided it was right for her to have this power, anyway? What was she supposed to do with it? How was she supposed to control it?

She shook herself. She pulled a warm sweater from her drawer and threw it on over her head before walking back to the bottle of bourbon. She poured herself another glass.

Then she picked up her cell phone and deliberated the numbers on her speed dial.

1. Lois

2. Oliver

3. Clark

She shook her head in dismay and hit the fourth.

"Hello?" came the male voice at the other end after a couple of rings.

"Hi, Dr. Hamilton."

"Miss Sullivan? What can I do for you?"

"I need to see you...as soon as possible."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's sort of an emergency."

"Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm in Haiti."

"Yes. That's fine. Let me know as soon as you have time to see me."

"Are you sure you're all right? You sound distraught."

"I'll be fine. It's-I'll explain everything in person. Have a safe trip, doctor."

"Thank you. Take care, Miss Sullivan. I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Chloe hit the button to end the call and dropped the phone carelessly on the counter.

"Oh, God," she said softly. "God help me."

She reached for the bourbon again, but this time she didn't pour another glass, instead lifting it directly to her lips.

Next (Chapter 2)

Comments

[greenteam4ever.livejournal.com]

Yay!One of my favourite!=)