The Bottom of the Glass--2/13
Apr. 21st, 2011 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluesuedeshoesTitle: 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
-2-
When Chloe woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing the next morning she groaned, sleep bogging down her mind.
She looked around her. She'd fallen asleep on the couch. Closing her eyes, she moaned again. She drunken herself into oblivion the previous night, anything to prevent herself from thinking to much. She looked at her phone and saw that it was Oliver calling her.
She pushed herself up from the couch, cringing as she did so, and bit her lip, holding the phone in her hand anxiously. Then, with sudden determination, she muted the volume and let it go on ringing. She didn't have the slightest idea how to deal with Oliver at that moment. All she wanted was aspirin.
Shortly after she'd managed to get her hands on some, her phone rang again. This time it was Dr. Hamilton.
"Hello?" she asked immediately.
"It's me. I need you to let me in."
"Of course. Just a moment."
She hung up quickly to disarm the security for him.
When he came up he gave her a questioning look. "You changed the password?"
She nodded. "Yesterday. Sorry. I'll e-mail you the new one. Just be sure t-"
"Delete the e-mail afterwards," he finished, smiling slightly. He looked her up and down. "Are you quite all right?" he asked, taking in her disheveled appearance.
Chloe's hand automatically flew to hair, trying to tame it, but it didn't make a difference when her face was pale, there were circles under her eyes, and her clothes were wrinkled beyond hope. "Sorry, I-it was a rough night."
"Well," he said, business seeping into his tone as he set his briefcase on her counter, "I came straight here. What's the emergency?"
"It's back," she whispered.
He raised a wary eyebrow. "With your history, you're going to have to be a lot more specific than that. What is back?"
"My meteor power."
He was momentarily stunned. "How do you know?"
"Last night, I-there was a girl, and she was shot. I think someone stole her purse or something. I don't know but I touched her and all of a sudden it just...happened."
Emil thought carefully before speaking. "You said she was shot...just how badly w-"
"Right through the lung. She was bleeding to death."
"And you...oh God, I hope you didn't wake up in another morgue?" he said with sudden concern.
Chloe shook her head fervently and he raised an eyebrow at her. "I didn't die. As a matter of fact I healed almost instantly. I have no idea how."
He studied her calmly, the only sign he was shocked being his slightly lifted eyebrow. "I see. Well," he went for his briefcase, which always contained a few medical supplies. He withdrew a syringe. "I'll take a sample for you and see what I can find out. It shouldn't take long. I can call you within a couple of hours."
Chloe nodded as she pushed up her sleeve for him. He cleaned it with an alcohol pad before sticking her and drawing blood.
As he carefully stored four vials of her blood a few minutes later, he glanced up at her. "Like I said, a couple of hours. Why don't you have some coffee and take a shower in the mean time. No offense, but you wreak of alcohol."
Chloe nodded contritely. "Thank you."
He was on his way out the door when she stopped him.
"One more thing. Don't-" she breathed in heavily, "don't tell anyone about this. No one else knows."
He looked at her skeptically. "What about Oliver?"
She shook her head, though. "No one."
He looked as though he wanted to argue with her but seemed to think better of it. He shrugged and left.
Chloe sighed a breath of relief. At least now she could get some answers. She decided he was right and headed for the shower to help pass the time.
For an hour she stayed under the water, letting it beat down on her and scald her skin. Slowly the water grew cooler and she was forced to get out and face the sunlight streaming in through her stained glass windows. She noticed on her phone that Oliver had called again and left her a message.
"Hey, beautiful. It's me. Just wanted to say good morning. I guess you're probably working since I know you never sleep in. Call me back when you get a chance. Miss you."
Chloe sighed. She started to dial his number, but half way through she stopped herself and threw the phone away form her. She rubbed her temples. Part of her wanted to go for the bourbon again, but she resisted, knowing it was far to early to drink.
Instead she started brewing some coffee, eventually sitting down with a large mug of it, black and untainted, to wait for Emil's call.
At length it came, and she nearly spilled what was left of her coffee it made her jump so badly.
"Hello?" she asked, after scrambling for the phone.
"Hi, Chloe. Here's what I've got for you: You're definitely right. The meteor infection is back. The thing is that it's a higher concentration of Kryptonite than it was before."
"What does that mean? And how did it happen?"
"I would say it has to do with all the time you've been spending around kryptonite lately, but I don't think that's it. Now, I have a theory, but that's all it is."
"What's the theory?"
"The infection was never gone. It was dormant. I think your body had undergone so much stress when you were locked up in 33.1 and then for the next year that stress and anxiety only got worse. Stress seriously affects the way the body functions. It can be unpredictable. I think what's happened in your case is that the stress suppressed the mutation and as a result it has been altering, evolving even, to become stronger. There's only so many times you can die before it kills you-excuse the paradox-and the mutation doesn't want to kill you. It's worked with your body to make you stronger. After you went through all that stress, your body knew you couldn't handle the physical trauma, so the mutation went dormant until it could adapt."
"So what you're saying is-"
"You can't die...at least not from healing someone. An ordinary injury, on the other hand, seems to be an entirely different matter."
"How so?"
"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but you were hung over this morning, weren't you?"
"Yes," she answered sheepishly.
"And further correct me if you don't have a small bruise on your arm from where I drew blood."
Chloe checked. Sure enough, a small blue mark was forming where the needle had pierced her skin. "I do."
She could almost hear him nodding as he responded. "As I suspected. For some reason, the mutation works only to heal wounds inflicted by healing someone. Outside of that, you're just as mortal as the rest of us."
Chloe was silent for a long time, registering this.
"Chloe? You should talk to Oliver about this. Or maybe Clark."
"I'll deal with that as I see fit. Thank you, Emil," she told him before hanging up.
She set the phone down and looked around her at the room she was in, a room where two men she had cared about had once killed each other. And she had watched them both die.
Why now? Why did it ever have to come back at all? To taunt her with the fact that she had been unable to save either of them?
Chloe dropped to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"What am I going to do?" she whispered to no one.
In Star City, Oliver glanced at his phone for the fifth time. Still no word from Chloe. It was odd, her not answering her phone. Stranger still, she hadn't called back in all this time. It was all very...un-Chloe-like.
With a sigh, he decided to call her a third time, leave another voice mail, and if he hadn't heard back from her in an hour, send someone to check that she was all right. It was difficult, with Chloe, to know whether he was being melodramatic or reasonable about her safety. Something just wasn't sitting right with him, though.
An hour and a half later, Bart was knocking on Chloe's door. Warily, she opened it.
"Hi, Bart," she said tiredly.
"Hey, 'licious," he said, sauntering in and examining her carefully. "You all right? Boss man says he's been trying to get a hold of you all day."
Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm-feeling a bit ill, actually. Slept through most of the morning," she lied.
She blinked and he was hugging her. "I'm sorry, mamacita. You need anything?"
Chloe shook her head, praying that he would leave soon.
"Sure?" he asked, pulling away. "I can get anything you want or need in a matter of seconds," he tempted her in a sing-song voice.
"I'm fine, Bart. I just need to sleep. Tell Oliver...tell him I'll call him tomorrow."
Bart nodded sympathetically. "Okay, 'licious. Whatever you say. But call me if you need anything, got it?"
Chloe nodded. "Got it. Thanks."
And Bart was gone.
"Great, now I'm lying to people?" she scolded herself. She couldn't explain why she hadn't told anyone. Maybe she just wanted to avoid all the panic and anxiety she'd have to endure on their faces. It was hard to think that twenty-four hours ago she'd been living a normal life.
"...well, relatively normal," she admitted bitterly as she checked the clock and saw that it was now noon. She brought out a bottle of beer from the fridge.
Next (Chapter 3)
