babydee1 | Chlollie Fanfic: Misdirection, Chapter 3

Hi peeps!

Sorry this is coming so late; my home internet service has gone bonkers, so I'm posting from a cybercafe. See how much I lurve you? :-)

Here you go. Enjoy! And I know things are slow going, but don't worry - there WILL be smut soon!

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Title:               Misdirection
Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlollie
Rating:           R (this chapter PG13)
Warnings:      Some sexual situations later on
Timeline:       Season 7 (Siren) with references to Season 6’s Justice
Disclaimer:    All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary:     Sparks begin to fly between our high-achieving couple. Sequel to Trajectory.
Feedback:      I like it. I want it. I need it. So gimme it. ~Please?~

Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.

Chapter 3

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Oliver asked. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

He heard a loud sigh, and guessed she must be rolling her eyes at him.

“For the million and oneth time, I’m sure,” she insisted. “I’m the one who insisted on carrying out this operation, aren’t I?”

“I should never have let you talk me into it,” he said gruffly.

“And why not – because I’m a girl?” she asked pointedly. “Why on earth do you feel the need to wrap me in cotton wool, Arrow?”

He sighed and adjusted his hood. “Just…do what you have to do, Watchtower, and get out of there, okay?”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” she joked.

He shook his head with a wry smile and pulled up his hood as he waited on the roof of the Clocktower. Contrary to the previous plan, Victor’s skills had been needed elsewhere, and so had those of the other team members, so Chloe only had him for cover. He’d briefly considered asking Clark for back-up, but knew that all that would get him was a lecture about on illegal data mining, and he just wasn’t in the mood to have his ear bent by a self-righteous prat. So he’d equipped both himself and Chloe with Bluetooth earpieces and proceeded with the mission.

Now she was currently seated at her desk, ostensibly finishing up an article, but running her stealth program in a hidden window.

“How far have you gone?” he asked.

“Almost done,” came her voice through the headpiece. “Five more minutes max.”

“Good. As soon as you get what you need -”

“…I’ll hang around for a nice cup of coffee and a donut, maybe pop upstairs for a quick chat, see if Lex is in,” she snarked. “Of course I’ll be out the door, what do you expect?”

“I just don’t want you getting into any trouble,” he explained lamely.

She snorted. “What are you, my mother? Thanks for the concern, but I can look after myself, so you needn’t fuss so much.”

He fell silent, her words making him feel even guiltier for letting her do the job in the first place. He’d visited Chloe’s mother a few days ago, as he did every week, and despite almost a year of intensive research and the best care available, there had been no change in her condition.

The first day he’d met her was the day Clark and Chloe had brought her in. She’d been lucid, thanks to some experimental drug developed by Luthorcorp, but the effects had worn off and Moira had slipped back into her catatonic state. Chloe had said a tearful goodbye to her and Clark had taken her home, but he’d stayed to make sure she was properly settled in.

Just as he’d taken a blanket to where she was seated, her hand had grabbed his and her sightless eyes had suddenly filled with life.

“Oliver. Oh my God, it’s you,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Mrs Sullivan, you’re back!” he exclaimed, overjoyed. “My God, this is a miracle.” He fished out his phone and started to dial Chloe’s number.

“Listen to me, Oliver -” she began.

“Just a minute, I need to call Chloe,” he cut in, but she shook her head vehemently.

“No time, no time! I don’t have long. Just - promise me…” she held his hand in both of hers and stared at him pleadingly.

He blinked, puzzled. “Mrs Sullivan, are you okay? Can I get you anything-?”

She ignored him. “Take care of my daughter,” she said, her voice breaking. “Protect her from danger at all costs.”

He frowned. “Mrs Sullivan, Chloe’s fine -”

“He’ll never stop trying to destroy her, Oliver,” she said desperately.

“Who?” he asked, baffled.

“Lex Luthor,” she answered. “He’ll never leave her alone. As long as he’s alive, she isn’t safe.”

“Mrs Sullivan, I -”

“Just promise me!” she urged. “Promise me you’ll look after Chloe. You saved her once, you protected her, so I know you can keep her safe. You’re the only one I can trust. Please!”

“Okay, Mrs Sullivan, I promise,” he said. “I swear, I’ll protect Chloe with my life. But what did you mean by -?”

She sighed deeply. “Thank you,” she murmured, a faraway smile on her face. And suddenly Moira’s hands had slackened and her eyes had misted over as catatonia set in once again.

It had all happened in less than a minute, but whatever residual drugs had been left in Moira’s system had all been used up, and she never came back again after that. Oliver didn’t have the heart to tell Chloe that her mother had recovered for just a split second before slipping back, so he’d kept quiet about it, but continued to search for a cure to what ailed her.

He’d had no success in the search for a cure, but Moira Sullivan’s desperate plea had remained with him, and he was determined not to fail her. Keeping Chloe safe from harm had inexplicably become his primary directive.

Several times he’d wondered what Moira had meant when she said he’d saved Chloe before, but the more he thought about it, the more his head hurt.

“Got it,” came her triumphant voice through his headset.

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, now get out of there, but not before you’ve completely erased all evidence of -”

“Of course I deleted my tracks,” she said with a touch of irritation. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this.”

“Sorry, I just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “I know I’m probably overreacting, and everything’s gonna be okay, but I just can’t shake the feeling that -”

Suddenly there was a loud thunk from the other end, followed quickly by Chloe’s voice. “Help!” she yelled.

The blood drained from his face and his heart froze as his greatest fear was realised.

Chloe was in trouble.

***

“Chloe?” he said, his voice filled with dread. “Chloe what’s going on? What’s happening?”

Her only answer was the sound of her footsteps and her breath coming in short puffs. She must be running, he thought frantically. Quickly he shot to his feet and fired a cabled arrow to the closest tall building.

Through his headpiece he heard another thunk, and an audible gasp.

“Chloe, talk to me, dammit!” he yelled as he swung through the air, completely forgetting to use her codename.

Suddenly his earpiece crackled and the signal got disconnected.

“Shit!” he swore furiously as he landed on the adjacent rooftop. Quickly he surmised that she must be in the elevator. At least he hoped that’s where she was and why they’d gotten disconnected. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

If anything happened to her…

Suddenly his earpiece hummed and crackled and he heard Chloe breathing heavily. “GA, you there?”

“Oh, thank God,” he said, relief flooding him. “Chloe, where are you?”

“The roof,” she panted.

He squinted at the spinning Daily Planet globe, and could just make out a tiny figure in a red coat out on the rooftop.

“I can see you,” he said. “I’ll be there in less than a minute.”

“A minute?” she shrieked. “I don’t have a minute! This is the part where you swoop in and save me!”

“And I will,” he promised, his voice level as he concentrated on aiming his wired arrow at the Daily Planet rooftop. “I’m one block away, Chloe. I’ll be there, I swear.”

***

Come on, Ollie, come on, she thought urgently.

“No pepper spray?” said a female voice behind her with mock sweetness.

Chloe swung around and came face to face with someone who looked like she took a wrong turn on the way home from a knife‑thrower’s costume party. She had spiky platinum-blonde hair, sported a bird-like painted-on mask, and was clad from head to hip in leather.

Chloe glanced down at the woman’s legs and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Fishnets?

She was about to be gutted by a woman in four-inch heels and fishnets?

Surely the gods were having a laugh.

“The city’s a dangerous place,” the woman went on, stealthily walking around her. “You should be prepared.”

Chloe swallowed nervously and backed away. Okay, maybe the situation wasn’t so funny, after all. There were some knives glinting in her fishnet-clad thigh-holsters that looked like they were itching for a good workout. Still…

“You can have my wallet,” she hedged nervously.

The spiky-haired, fish-netted blonde snorted and shook her head. “You know that’s not what I’m after,” she said blandly. In one quick move she whipped a wicked‑looking knife out of her thigh-holster and held it up to her eye level, the blade glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

Chloe gulped and took a step backward. Oliver, where the hell are you? She thought desperately as the woman advanced.

“Next time,” the woman said, brandishing the knife as she strode determinedly towards her, “maybe you’ll think twice before you steal what doesn’t belong to you.”

“Finder keepers,” boomed a deep voice from behind her.

Chloe spun around and breathed a sigh of relief.

Oliver.

There he was, perched on the side of the spinning globe, arrows at the ready.

And he’d never looked so good.

He grinned at her, and then fixed his gaze on the leather-clad would-be assassin. “I like the look,” he smirked, taking aim at her. “Italian?”

“Why?” she shot back. “You thinking of trading in your tights?”

Oliver, apparently tired of making small talk, fired an arrow directly at the woman’s shoulder. The arrow hit home, the force of the missile lifting her several inches off her feet and slamming her against the wall, pinning her to it.

Chloe gasped. Much as she hadn’t wanted to be shish-kebabed herself, she didn’t fancy the idea of Oliver turning this woman into a human pincushion.

But she needn’t have worried. The woman angrily shrugged out of her jacket, then quickly reached into her boot and pulled out a double-edged retractable blade. Oliver responded by yanking three arrows out of his quiver and firing them in her direction.

Then the strangest thing happened. The woman opened her mouth and screamed. Only it wasn’t exactly a scream, more like a strange, hollow, whale‑y sound that had the amazing effect of splintering Oliver’s approaching arrows into tiny toothpicks.

Chloe blinked. Whoever this woman was, she certainly had a few tricks in her bag.

Suddenly she heard a ripping sound and glanced down at her bag, which the woman had slashed with a knife. As the contents tumbled out of her purse, the woman expertly executed a leg-sweep that upended Chloe into the air, and she barely managed to brace her fall as she landed on the floor with an ungainly thump.

Quickly she scrambled to her feet, but it was too late; Bird-woman had snagged the disc and was heading for the edge of the building. Chloe expected Oliver to give chase, but to her surprise he dropped his bow and rushed to her side.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asked frantically, grabbing her arms.

Chloe, still stunned by the whole ordeal, stared at the edge of the rooftop where Bird-woman was perched. Oliver followed her gaze, and together they gaped as the assailant flashed them a victory smile and, very gracefully, swan‑dived off the roof.

Galvanised back into action, both she and Ollie scrambled to their feet and peered over the edge of the roof. The woman, assisted by some cabling, sailed to the bottom of the building and disappeared into the night.

Chloe blinked, and looked up at Ollie. Quietly he switched off his voice distorter, pulled down his hood and removed his dark glasses.

“We were barely introduced,” he said in a daze.

“I didn’t catch her name either,” she said with a wry grin. “But you should still be able to catch her up if you move fast.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “She can wait. You, on the other hand, are hurt,” he said, taking her face in his hands and studying her right cheek.

She shrugged. “It’s just a scrape, Ollie-”

His expression hardened as he clenched his jaw. “Son of a bitch, I knew I shouldn’t have let you do this.”

“Oliver, I’m fine, really!” she insisted.

“Fine?” he echoed, his voice rising. “Fine? You’re bleeding!”

“It looks worse than it really is,” she said lamely.

He ignored her and walked over to where her torn purse lay on the ground, and started gathering up her strewn items. “I knew I should have sent Victor in, but noooo, you had to go and be a darned spokesperson for women’s rights-”

“Ollie, I’m sorry!” she yelled, making him stop what he was doing and look up at her.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated quietly, looking down at the ground. “I failed you, and I’m so sorry…”

“Hey,” he said gently, rising and taking her by the shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Chloe.”

“But it’s my fault,” she said numbly. “I let her get away with the disc. If Victor had done it, he wouldn’t have needed a disc at all, and…”

“…and stop it,” he said firmly. “You’re beginning to sound freakishly like Clark.”

Despite the situation, his words made her giggle.

He continued with a serious expression on his face. “It was my decision to send you in, and that makes the outcome of the mission my responsibility. If anything, I failed you, Chloe. You got hurt on my watch.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Like I said, it’s just a scratch.”

“If I’d done my job properly, you wouldn’t have been ‘scratched’ at all,” he said grimly.

“Oh, put a sock in it, Ollie,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Now who’s beginning to sound like Clark?”

They locked gazes, and then burst into laughter, making an unspoken agreement not to indulge in any more self-recriminations regarding the foiled mission.

“We need to find out who that woman is,” Chloe said at last.

“We will, but not tonight.” He lifted a hand to her cheek and traced the edge of her injury. “Let’s go and get this cleaned up, okay?”

“Okay.” She turned and headed for the staircase, but he yanked on her hand and stopped her.

“Nuh-uh. Tonight, you travel Green Arrow Style.” He picked up her bag and scattered items and put them in her arms. “Shift all those into one hand, and hold on to me with the other.”

She did as he instructed, wrapping an arm around his neck. He put one arms around her waist and held her close to him, and with the other he held on to the handle hanging from the wire he’d used to swing in earlier.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded against his chest. “Ready.”

“Then let’s fly.” Holding her tight, he jumped of the roof and together they sailed towards the welcoming safety of the Clocktower.

***

Chapter 4…