Chlollie Fanfic: Beauty in the Breakdown - Reaching Out, Part 2

[babydee1]

 

Turn your Angstometer up to the maximum, guys, and have tissues at the ready.  This one’s gonna hurt. L

 

 

Title:              Beauty in the Breakdown: Reaching Out

Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlollie, 5,500 words

Rating:           NC-17.  New Series.

Warnings:     An expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior; bad language, angst

Timeline:      Season 9

Disclaimer:   All characters belong to the CW & DC comics. 

Series Summary:     With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.

Story Summary: Chloe and Oliver bond over some common ground

Feedback:      …Floats my Boat, Rocks my World and Makes me Squee! J

 

Written for sxymami0909, inspired by my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. J

 

Awesome banner by ellashy.

 

Reaching Out: Part 1

 

 

Beauty in the Breakdown III

Reaching Out – Part 2

 

 

Help me find a reason

And I’ll help you find a way

To get rid of all your pain

Little by little,

Day by day

 

 - Heaven (Little by Little), Theory of a Deadman

 

***

 

It was a simple enough question. “Why?” she persisted.

 

Oliver stared at her, holding her gaze for several seconds before finally answering. 

 

“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody, else,” he eventually replied. 

 

His words hit her like an icy blast of water on a bitterly cold afternoon.  She froze, staring at him in horrified shock. 

 

Everything he’d said about caring for her, just being there for her…a lie.  Apparently, he thought she was no better than a cheap hooker. 

 

At least a hooker would have gotten paid for services rendered, an inner voice taunted her.  You gave it away for free.  Floozy.

 

A chilling numbness settled within her chest, making her hands shake.  God, how could she have been so stupid?

 

She glared at Oliver, shame and rage building within her.  He returned her gaze with a questioning one of his own.  “Chloe?” he queried. 

 

That he could sit there so calmly after uttering those callous words infuriated her beyond breaking point.  Summoning all her pent-up energy, she lifted her right hand and landed the hardest, most stinging slap she’d ever delivered right across his cheek.

 

***

 

Oliver’s head snapped around in a ninety-degree arc under the force of the whallop she’d just given him.  “What the hell -?”

 

“Son of a bitch,” she growled, scrambling off his lap.  “How dare you?  How fucking dare you?!” 

 

He stared at her in stunned confusion, his hand on his rapidly reddening cheek.  “How dare I…what? I don’t understand…”   

“You think I’m some cheap slut?” she raged.  “’Oh, Chloe’s totally desperate right now, she’d fuck anything with a pulse…might as well lie in wait with a couple of jonnies in my pocket’?  Is that what you think of me?” 

 

His eyes widened as he realised she’d taken his words at face value.  “No – Chloe, you’ve got it all wrong-” 

 

“Well congratulations, you got another notch,” she continued through gritted teeth, not listening to him.  “Your bedpost must be so proud of you.  Now get out.” 

 

“You’ve taken my words completely the wrong way-”

 

“OUT!” she screamed.  “Now!” 

 

He gestured to himself.  “I can’t; I’m naked.” 

 

She glared at him in misery and shook her head.  “How could I have ever let you touch me?” she whispered brokenly.

 

“Chloe, please, let me explain…”

 

She’d heard enough.  Her vision blurred as tears threatened and she turned and fled, flying up the stairs at top speed to the sanctuary of the bathroom. 

 

“Chloe wait!” he said, following her at a hurried place, catching up to her just as she fled through the door.  “Please, don’t shut me-” 

 

She slammed the door in his face and turned the lock before leaning her full weight against it to further hammer her point home. 

 

“Chloe,” he called, knocking insistently.  She covered her ears and pressed her back against the door, feeling defeated as she slid down and ended up sitting on the floor, her head between her knees. 

 

God, she’d been such a fool, to think he’d cared even for a moment.  She’d let him put his hands all over her…

 

Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to hold back the choked sobs that rose in her throat, but without much success. 

 

“Chloe, please don’t cry,” he pleaded.  “I don’t want you getting upset again.” 

 

“Go away, Oliver - please,” she begged, her voice unsteady.  “You’ve got what you came here for.  Now please leave.” 

 

She felt his weight against the other side of the door, heard a resigned sigh as he no doubt slid to the floor on the other side of it.  She didn’t know why he was still here; he’d gotten what he’d wanted, and made it very clear that he was just in it for the jollies.

 

Her heart constricted painfully as she chalked up yet another failure on her ever expanding list.  She held her breath and buried her face in her hands, choking back her sobs, determined never to let him see her weakness again.

 

“When my parents died, I…I went through a very weird phase in my life,” she heard him say from beyond the door.  “I was 12 years old, and as I got back from school, there were three ominous looking cars parked on the grounds.” 

 

Slowly Chloe released the breath she’d been holding and lifted her head, her gaze shifting to the door.  Of course she couldn’t see him through it, but it seemed to connect her more directly to the conversation. 

 

Oliver had never really spoken about his parents, although she’d understood from Clark that finding out that Lionel had been behind their mysterious disappearance and deaths had been the catalyst that had sent him into a tailspin last year, culminating in his hitting rock bottom just before she’d staged her intervention.  If he was bringing them up now, then it was something serious he wanted to say. 

 

She cleared her throat and listened as he went on.

 

***

 

“There’s nothing worse than being told that someone you love is missing,” he said softly, casting his mind back to the day his life had changed forever.  “If you don’t know what’s really happened to them, if you can’t confirm that they’re dead, then in your mind they’re still living; just…temporarily unavailable.  That’s what happened to me.” 

 

He paused, noting with relief that her sniffling had stopped and she appeared to be listening to him. 

 

“I walked into the house and saw a handful of police officers, along with Lionel Luthor and Virgil Swann, and I just…started shaking,” he said.  Nonna, our housekeeper, she sat me down and said I had to be strong, and…well, as soon as I heard that, I knew it was bad.” 

 

He stared out the stained glass window as the memories seated themselves in his mind one by one.  It was playing out in his mind word for word, clear as if it were yesterday; etched into his memory like carvings on a stone.

 

 

“Oliver, you have to be strong, caro mio,” Nonna had said, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed from crying. 

 

“What’s going on?” he asked fearfully as he took in the sombre expressions on the faces of all the assembled people.  “Where’s my Mom and Dad?” 

 

“Oliver…” Lionel approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Son…you should sit down-”

 

“Where’s my Mom and Dad?” he repeated, the calm in his voice completely belying the storm raging within. 

 

Lionel sighed and clasped his hands.  “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible, terrible accident, Oliver.  Your parents’ plane came down somewhere over the harsh seas in the South Pacific, and-”

 

“What do you mean, ‘came down?’ Did they land, did they stop for supplies, were they sightseeing…” his voice was unnaturally high, and for a second it was as if he detached himself from his body and was watching the entire exchange like a casual observer.

 

“They crashed, son.  I’m afraid your parents…they’re gone.” 

 

“Gone?” There was that strange, high voice again.  “Gone where?  They can’t just go, I have a field trip next week, and my Dad has to sign off on-”

 

“They’re dead, Oliver,” Lionel said quietly.  “”They’re dead.” 

 

In that second, he died with them, his heart shattering into a million pieces.  A numbness stole over his entire being right before he felt cold, then hot, then frozen…

 

“No,” he whispered.  “No…” 

 

His legs wobbled and a chair was immediately pushed up behind him as his knees gave way.  His head was swimming, hearing all the horrifying information but rejecting it, refusing to process it…

 

“…recovered from the wreckage, but at present the cause of the crash is still unknown…”

 

“I want to see them,” he said in a daze, hearing Nonna sobbing quietly in a small portion of his brain. 

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr Queen,” one of the police officers said soberly.  “The strong currents and rocky underwater terrain would have surely…” he trailed off, but Oliver could complete the sentence in his head.  …bashed what was left of their bodies to pieces, if they hadn’t already been fragmented on impact…

 

“You said there was wreckage,” he said hoarsely, surprised his deductive reasoning was still functioning.  

 

“We were extremely fortunate to have located-” 

 

“If you can recover wreckage, you can recover a body.” 

 

The officer shook his head.  “It’s not the same…”

 

“If there’s no remains, then you can’t declare them dead,” he reasoned.  “They could easily be alive somewhere.” 

 

“That is highly unlikely, Mr Queen.” 

 

“But not impossible.”  He got to his feet.  “And Mr Queen is my father.  I’m Oliver.” 

 

“Oliver,” Lionel said, approaching him with sad eyes and squeezing his shoulder.  “I’m so sorry for your loss, son…”  

 

“And I am not your son,” he said angrily, shrugging off the older man’s hand.  “Save your endearments for your own offspring.” 

 

***

 

He told her at length about how his parents had had the foresight to remove Lionel as Trustee and Executor of their estate, and appoint Nonna and Virgil Swann instead, thus saving Queen Industries from Luthorcorp’s clutches.  Under Dr Swann’s watchful eye and Nonna’s keenly intuitive knack for sound investments, Queen Industries continued to thrive and prosper, thus securing Oliver’s financial future several times over.

 

“But I never truly grieved for the loss of my parents, because I couldn’t accept that they were gone,” he went on.  “As far as I was concerned, they were holed up on some island with no way to contact the outside world, and eventually they’d be rescued and would walk back through the doors, and everything would be okay again.

 

“But of course, that never happened, and I grew angry; with them, and with myself,” he continued.  “I stared doing all sorts of questionable things, things I knew would upset my parents and tarnish the family name, because if they got wind of it, they’d come and give me the proverbial kick up the ass to get my life back in order. 

 

“There wasn’t anything that was off limits.  Cigarettes, alcohol, even drugs…I did everything, making sure I got caught at it.  I became the school bully, and I was especially cruel to Lex because…well, his father had the resources to find mine, and I thought he’d at least do it to get me off his son’s back.  But my parents didn’t seem to be taking the bait.  Two years later, and they still weren’t back.” 

 

He sighed and swallowed before continuing. 

 

“Then one day Nonna got word that I’d skipped school and was spotted in Star City’s Red Light District.  She dropped everything she was doing and started combing the streets for me, finally finding me in a squalid room with a neon-pink lightbulb and garish interior decorating.”  He paused.  “I was on top of a prostitute.” 

 

***

 

 

Part 3…