Story: Never Say Goodbye
Pairing/Characters: Collie, Lollie, Chlimmy, Lexana, mentions of past Clana
Disclaimer: don’t own anything
Warning: slash, mentions of m/m sex
Spoilers: season 6, starts at 6x04, Arrow
Summary: That night at the penthouse was not the first time Clark met Oliver Queen. He has met him before but he just doesn’t remember where or when. But as the memories return, Clark finds out that his fateful summer in Metropolis is not as long gone as he thought it was.
Duncan was alive. Nothing could have prepared Clark for the revelation Lionel finally made to him when he visited him. At first he was reluctant to talk and tried to stall but when Clark made it clear how serious the situation was, he confessed.
Not only had Lionel lied to everyone when Duncan was pronounced dead, Duncan had been residing in a Luthorcorp lab for the past ten years, where a team of scientists were constantly running tests to see if they could reverse the damage to his brain.
But what if one of those tests had worked? After he learned the truth, the question dawned on him and upon bringing it up, Lionel seemed to be horrified of the implications that may bring. Immediately he gave him the address where Duncan was, knowing Clark would easily be able to get in.
Which brought him to his current location. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hands and walked down the hallway, looking for the matching room number.
“Smallville?” a voice came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and inwardly cringed as he saw Lois.
“Lois, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“I'm following a lead,” Lois answered, catching up to him. “I checked out Duncan's mother.”
“She’s dead,” Clark told her.
“I know that, Sherlock,” Lois responded. “On a hunch, I dug up all her old phone records. And every day while she was still kicking, she placed a call to this facility.”
“She was checking on her son,” Clark said.
“Duncan?” Lois asked, stunned. “I thought he was dead.”
“Yeah, so did everyone else,” Clark said wryly. “I think he's in this room.” He gestured to the piece of paper in his hand.
“How do you know all this?” Lois questioned.
“You’re not the only one with hunches,” he said, intentionally remaining vague.
“Nice work,” Lois said, snatching the paper from his hand. She continued down the hallway and he stopped in front of the room.
“Lois?” Clark said. When she turned around, he looked pointedly at the door.
He was about to open it when she slightly pushed him out of the way. “Unh-unh. It's my story. I don't share bylines.” She cleared her throat when she found she couldn’t open the door. “It's locked. You stay here. I'm gonna flirt us up a set of keys, all right?”
Watching her walk away, he turned the handle, breaking the lock.
“Lois,” he said, getting her attention. “It was just . . . stuck.”
She nodded and then smirked. “Well, ladies first.” He glared at her but entered the room. She took a quick look around to make sure they were alone and followed him in.
Clark’s heart went out to the man he saw lying in the chair. What kind of life was this? Did he even recognize what was going on? He had been so young when the accident happened and his last memories consisted of betrayal and pain.
This was no place to be. Clark knew that if anything like that happened to him, he would just want to be let go of. He felt for Duncan’s mother, who held on to the hope that her son would someday come out of this state.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he realized that they still had a case to solve, before more people died. He searched the room for clues and found the pad containing Duncan’s medical information.
“I'm not a doctor, but I've seen enough Discovery Channel to know you don't get the squiggly lines when you're in a vegetative state,” Lois was saying.
“Guess the new treatments are working,” Clark commented, flipping through the pages.
Lois made her way back to his side. “What new treatments?”
“Something called 12B . . . it’s experimental,” Clark read. He paused and frowned lightly. “It’s derived from refined meteor rocks.” Meteor rocks . . . of course.
“Clark, they started giving him this stuff two days ago,” Lois said. “Look at the injection times.”
“They coincide with the attacks,” Clark realized.
“Maybe we just found our killer,” Lois said.
Clark wasn’t convinced. “No, wait a minute . . . these treatments, they might stimulate brain activity, but he's still in a wheelchair.”
“His body is, yeah, but look at his charts,” Lois argued. “His new cocktail is whipping up a hell of an electrical storm. Now, I read this article in the Inquisitor about brain waves and astral projection . . .”
“Astral projection?” Clark repeated, his tone full of doubt.
“Do you have a better explanation?” Lois demanded. “No. When was his last injection?”
“20 minutes ago,” Clark said.
Rapid beeping interrupted their conversation.
“Oh my god,” Lois said, “It’s happening again.”
She turned. “Smallville, I . . .” But it was too late. Clark was already gone.
On instinct alone, he headed toward Oliver’s penthouse. He reasoned with himself that it was closer and if Duncan was going to attack anyone, it would be Oliver first. It seemed logical that he would save Lex for last.
However, when he arrived, he found both Oliver and Lex there. Lex was lying on the ground, unconscious and Oliver was pinned to the wall with one of his own arrows.
There was no time for questions though. Not when there was another arrow heading at full speed toward Oliver. Using his superspeed, Clark ran, placing himself between the arrow and its target.
The arrow hit him and bounced off, setting off the electric charge and causing the room to be bathed in pulse. Clark watched as an image of a young boy formed and then disappeared. Everything was suddenly silent.
Remembering Oliver, he helped the other man off the wall and made sure he was all right. But he didn’t stay, knowing Lois would get suspicious if he was gone too long. Once Oliver assured him he was okay and would take care of Lex, Clark took off.
He arrived in time to see Lois standing outside Duncan’s room, as orderlies wheeled out his sheet-draped body.
“Hey,” he said, “What happened?”
“You went AWOL while things heated up, as usual,” Lois responded.
“I went to find a phone to warn Oliver and Lex,” Clark explained.
“Did you get a hold of them?” Lois asked, her tone turning concerned, “Are they all right?”
“A little worse for wear,” he said, lying smoothly, “Oliver said whatever happened just suddenly stopped.”
“Well, Duncan went flatline, like he blew a fuse or something,” Lois said. “I wonder what caused it.”
He looked at her. “You need that for your article?”
“Well, it would be good if I were still going to write one,” Lois admitted.
“But you’re not?” Clark asked, surprised.
“It would make a juicy story for the Inquisitor,” Lois said, “But considering the outcome . . . an exploitation piece on a catatonic patient astral-projecting his way to revenge might be in bad taste.”
“Would you still feel the same way if Oliver wasn't involved?” Clark asked cautiously.
“We've all done things we're not proud of,” Lois said, shrugging. “I just wish that Oliver didn't feel like he had to hide it from me.”
“You know,” Clark said slowly, “Sometimes in order to protect the people we love, we keep secrets.”
“That is,” Lois replied, “totally retarded.” She shook her head and Clark watched her walk away, chuckling to himself.
Lois was a woman of many surprises . . . just when he thought he had her figured out, she did something completely out of the blue. As for Oliver, well, he already had experience with what Oliver could do.
He purposefully arrived at the club late. His curiosity beat his pride and he had to go see this club. Not to mention a part of him wanted to see Oliver again. There was something about that blonde that intrigued him, that drew him in.
The club was nice, that much he had to admit. Back in Smallville, he had always drifted off into the shadows, with girls preferring the Whitneys of the world. But in Metropolis, he got attention and he was liking it.
His first stop was at the bar . . . alcohol didn’t do much for him but it was always a good place to start. Gradually, he’d make his way to the dance floor. Just not yet.
Ordering a drink, he situated himself on one of the stools. He observed the dance floor silently, his eyes automatically searching out a certain blonde.
When he saw him, he frowned. Oliver was there and he looked good . . . and he was currently dancing between two very voluptuous women. Two women, who were currently all over him and he had no problem with that.
Clark’s throat tightened and he felt a surge of jealousy run through his veins. Which was ridiculous, because it’s not like he was interested in Oliver. Sure he was attractive but a person would have to be blind to not realize that.
It was nothing more than that though. That’s why the jealousy was completely misplaced. Focusing his attention away from Oliver and back onto his drink, which had recently arrived, Clark mused over the past couple of days.
“What’s a gorgeous guy like you sitting here all by your lonesome?” a voice came from behind him. He looked over as a beautiful blonde made her way towards him. Bright blue eyes, curvaceous figure . . . Clark should be interested. But thoughts of Oliver had already consumed him.
He gave her a smile. “Just getting used to the place.”
“How about I get you used to the place from the dance floor?” she offered.
Then again, he wasn’t with Oliver and this woman just might the be the cure to his Oliver fixation. At least temporarily.
“Lead the way,” he said, standing up. Minutes later, they were on the dance floor, dancing to the fast music.
Thoughts of Oliver was out of his head until a voice interrupted their dance.
“May I cut in?” It was Oliver. Did the man have nothing better to do than ruin his fun?
“Well,” the woman said coyly, looking him over, “I’m kind of with someone here.”
Oliver gave her a stiff smile. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Clark’s mouth dropped at the implications.
Eyes narrowed, she pressed herself even closer to Clark. “We’re not done.”
“Actually we are,” Clark said. He was curious to see what Oliver wanted.
Looking disgusted, the woman backed off. Her gaze darted between him and Oliver and she rolled her eyes.
“Figures,” she muttered and stormed off.
Oliver was quick to take her place and Clark didn’t know exactly what to do but managed to move to the music.
“Now what did she mean by that?” Oliver asked, with a teasing grin. “I saw you here- I’m glad you showed up.”
“Figured I’d check it out,” Clark told him. He was enjoying the closeness of their bodies too much.
“I was though,” he added, “a bit surprised by your . . . offer. I didn’t know you wanted to dance with me that badly.”
“You never gave me a chance before,” Oliver pointed out. So, did Oliver Queen play for both teams? This was a good time to find out.
“Didn’t think you batted for the other team,” Clark said.
Oliver pressed their bodies closer together. “I don’t like to limit myself.”
“I bet you don’t,” Clark murmured.
Oliver gave him a smirk. “What about you?”
“I’m finding the other team is looking a lot better every moment,” Clark said.
“It’s very good,” Oliver assured him.
“I’ll need proof though,” Clark said.
“Oh, trust me,” Oliver said, lust evident in his tone, “I can give you all the proof you need.” The tension between them was building.
“Is it me,” Oliver asked, his tone husky, “or is the dance floor getting a little crowded?”
“What are you suggesting?” Clark asked.
“Come with me,” Oliver said, taking his hand. He dragged him upstairs to the VIP section of the club, where Oliver got in easily.
The place was pretty empty, on the count of it being a weekday but Clark found that to be better.
They found an empty couch, where they could watch what was going on downstairs and yet were not too visible themselves.
“So, blondie,” Clark asked, “What evil plans are you concocting?”
“No evil plans,” Oliver said, closing the distance between them.
“Shame,” Clark replied, tracing a finger down his chest, “I would’ve been interested.” He knew he was taking their flirting to another level but he couldn’t help it.
“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Oliver said. Then no words were spoken because Oliver had moved in and kissed him.
Clark had been expecting it yet it still took him aback. He responded to the kiss, which grew passionate quickly. Clark wrapped his arms around Oliver’s waist.
He was the one to break the kiss though and when he took a look at Oliver, he was stunned to see the burning desire in Oliver’s eyes. Those brown eyes were now almost black and Clark had to swallow hard.
“I could use a drink,” Clark said.
“I’ll get us some,” Oliver said, standing up. “Be right back.” Clark watched Oliver go and the minute his back was turned, Clark took off.
He was running a lot lately but everything was happening too quickly. This situation was too weird. He needed to get out. So he did.
And he didn’t look back, not even when heard Oliver return and call out his name in surprise. It was time to cut the strings . . . no more playing with Oliver Queen. ‘Sorry blondie,’ he thought.
Now that he was gone, he could get back to the partying. It wasn’t as if he actually cared for the blonde. And maybe if he repeated that enough times, he would actually believe it.
He wasn’t all that surprised to see Oliver again. Oliver would be looking for an explanation for what happened with Duncan. In his barn, while doing chores, Clark told him what he found out about Duncan.
“So, that thing that attacked us, Duncan's astral body or whatever you want to call it,” Oliver concluded, “must have been some form of electrical manifestation.”
“And it got fried by your electromagnetic arrow,” Clark replied, as he moved bales of hay across the barn. “Along with what was left of Duncan's brain.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Oliver agreed. He was sitting on the steps, seeming not the least bit inclined to leave.
Clark turned around and looked at the man before him. “You know, making the wrong choices and living with the consequences . . . it's not easy, is it?”
Oliver looked up and gave me a wry smile. “Speaking from experience, huh?”
“More than I’d like,” Clark admitted.
Oliver stood up and gave him a smile. “You know, we all make bad choices, Clark. All we can do is hope to make the right ones in the future, right?”
Clark nodded but before he could reply, a new voice came from the entrance.
“Clark.” It was Chloe. Noticing Oliver, she smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Chloe, Oliver Queen,” he said introducing them.
Chloe smiled. “Oh, hi. I feel like I know you already. Lois talks about you all the time.”
Oliver smiled back. “I was actually just gonna go see Lois right now. Maybe it's time I did some talking. Well, look, I'm looking forward to your article on Dark Thursday. I hope my satellite images helped.”
Chloe nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Oliver replied. “It was nice to meet you.” He turned toward Clark. “Clark.” They both watched as he exited the barn.
“Wow,” Chloe breathed, “In person he’s really . . . wow.”
Clark laughed. “Chloe,” he said, getting her attention, “Were you able to pull anything off the satellites?”
“Oh, yeah, well, I'm still sifting through the images, but I already found a handful of craters that match the one you made when you busted out of the Phantom Zone,” Chloe told him.
“Which means more Zoners on Earth,” Clark sighed, “Did you find the one in India?”
“That was just a smoking hole, but I did find another one in Australia that I thought you might want to take a look at,” Chloe responded, handing him the images.
“Is there someone in the crater?” Clark asked, squinting at the pictures.
“I blew it up the best I could and it’s not very clear but . . . ,” Chloe explained but stopped speaking when she saw his expression. “What is it?”
Clark looked at the largest picture and looked at the familiar figure lying in the crater and he could only speak one word.