Archiving fic: Silence Speaks Volumes by clarksmuse
Clarksmuse wrote a companion piece to chapter 2 of my fic Badlands. You can find my story here.
Her story is behind the cut. You can also find it here, at her live journal. Please to be going there and be leaving her feedback, because her story is quite wonderful!
Chloe reached for her glass of tea, took a sip, and shut her eyes momentarily. Her feet gently pushed the small front porch swing gently, a soothing motion in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. It had been a rough few days for all of them, and today was turning out to be no exception. She’d been listening to the various sounds of tools against metal for the last hour; didn’t take a psychic to know Dean was working on the Impala, just like he’d promised. She opened her eyes and glanced down at the large volume in her lap, though she was distracted by the noises a mere three or four yards away.
Dean was living up to his “ants in his pants” reputation, having done everything humanly possible - in his mind, at least - to the sundry of guns, knives, and rounds in their possession. And no amount of arguing was going to convince him to stay put on the couch where he belonged: healing was apparently not in the Winchester Dictionary. Chloe bit back a smile and kept her eyes glued to the book she’d stolen from Bobby’s library.
She grabbed her pen and jotted down a few notes in one of her notebooks. The wealth of information Bobby possessed - the massive library, the tracking notes, the stacks of journals he’d kept over the years, the stories she bet he could tell - would keep her deeply interested for years. Part of her leapt for joy over being here. Being on the road so much, she didn’t have as much time to devote to pure research, and she missed it more than she realized. Nothing seemed more important than building up her knowledge of the supernatural, and through that learning about her metahuman state. That was a must for both major aspects of her life. Two sides she had tried so hard to keep separated.
A light breeze fluttered across her skin, and she tucked back a stray strand of hair as her eyes shifted to another open notebook. She started scribbling more notes when a flash of light distracted her from her periphery, so she looked askance to find Dean regarding her intently. She quickly moved her eyes back to the page and attempted to finish her notes, but already her mind had begun to wander into the shaky, uncertain, almost forbidden subject: Dean Winchester.
She knew he was checking her out: the short top and shorts set she had donned was a deliberate act. Chloe knew he was getting the eyeful he had been waiting for since they met. While she was flattered by the attention, worry ate at her mind.
Did Dean still see her as just another quick conquest? Should she even bother taking a step closer and letting him into her life, her secrets? Surely he had gotten the message she’d conveyed when he laid bleeding and broken in the Impala’s passenger seat only a few days before, and yet, she knew the kind of man he was: strong, loyal to a fault, intelligent. And as promiscuous as they came. Chloe never thought she’d consciously use the term “man-whore”, but that phrase summed up Dean’s general attitude towards women. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Leave them before they got too close. Keep all the emotion out of the equation. Because what was messier than being vulnerable in his line of work?
Chloe already knew the answer when she heard the familiar purring of Oliver Queen’s black Ducati motorcycle drive down Bobby’s driveway. The secrets she and Dean kept from each other, she realized and looked up to find Oliver there, his face set in stony determination. How could she tell Dean what her “other” job entitled? As open-minded as he was, she knew she couldn’t tell him everything he wanted to know. Some things had to be kept secret. There was no way. Not possible. He and Sam would become a liability, wide open for attack from the prince of darkness himself.
And you can keep telling yourself that until the cows come home, Sullivan, she mentally chastised herself and ignored the pain tugging at her heart. The few kisses they had shared only announced their mutual attraction. Nothing more. Besides, now that they were all alive and relatively in one piece, Dean should have asked her by now.
She shoved those thoughts away, put her book and journals aside, and stood up. She walked down the steps and noticed that Dean had not only seen Oliver’s approach but was also headed their way, a large wrench in his hand. The only thing worse than that was the hard, angry look on his face. Great, she mused. Jealous Dean, Volume Two is being published. Why did that make her want to cry?
She felt Dean’s hand on her shoulder, a little possessive, and would have smirked in Oliver’s direction until the man behind her opened his mouth. “Are you following us, or something?”
Chloe elbowed him against his non-injured side to shut him up. She saw a twinkle in Oliver’s eyes and knew she would get a good ribbing about it the next time they spoke alone.
“Wish I could say it was a social call, Sidekick. But I actually needed you to take a look at this and tell me if you could make sense of it.” He pulled a couple of folders from his saddlebags. She cocked an eyebrow at him and felt her heart fall. She took the folders and opened them.
Chloe ignored Dean as she perused the folders, which contained printouts of names, addresses and airline ticket information. She flipped through the pages quickly, but halfway through the stack, she slowed. Her eyes widened a little at the obvious leads on how they could track down Lex’s clone-making mill. Impressive. She thumbed back three pages and then looked from Queen to the stack and back.
“Has Victor seen these?”
“He’s currently running down a lead with A.C. in Australia.”
“What, off the Great Barrier Reef?”
“Something like that.”
She looked at Oliver, her keen eyes sparkling with life suddenly. “So you saw this, and thought of me?” she asked and swore she heard Dean mutter obscenities under his breath.
“Because of the location, I thought of you.”
Chloe grinned. “I am so in.” She needed this, needed to find Lex. Needed to find some space between Dean and Sam and the mountain of spoken words among them.
“In what?” Dean said angrily from behind her. “What’s going on?”
Oliver gave Chloe a look she knew well. He didn’t want Dean in on this: it was categorized under that which shall never see the light of day in JLA-speak. She sighed, closed her eyes, and turned to look at Dean. His hazel sparked with frustration, anger, and something else she hadn’t expected: regret.
“Dean, I need to go for a couple of days,” Chloe said gently.
“What?”
“This paperwork.” She pointed to it, her gaze steady with his. “It’s a cross reference of plane tickets issued to military scientists and Luthorcorp employees. We may be able to use it to pinpoint Lex’s gene splicing mill. If I can call some kind of spotlight on that, maybe we can get it shut down.”
“Okay,” he said and shook his head. “Okay. But I’ll come with you.” His voice was low and serious.
She gave him an incredulous look. True to Winchester form, he was going to follow her despite the gaping, mortal wound in his side. “With thirty seven stitches? You’re supposed to be resting. Besides, I can take care of this, and then be back in plenty of time for you to re-cooperate.”
“Chloe--” Dean broke off and scowled at Queen.
Chloe looked from Dean’s scowl to the billionaire and back. She suddenly felt weary, despite the flush of awareness in the pit of her stomach. “You’re jealous,” she said flatly.
“Damn right I’m jealous,” Dean said. “Some random dude shows up and you’re just going to leave with him? How am I supposed to feel about that?”
Chloe shut her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She really wanted nothing more than to tell him, right there and then, who she was, why Oliver Queen - Billionaire Extraordinaire - had tracked her down. How this would help the metahuman population. Why it was so crucial to keep this information secret.
But she couldn’t. Not with Oliver standing there with that happy smirk she knew he was wearing.
“Really? Then what's it like?” Dean challenged.
“I can't tell you,” she whispered.
“More secrets. Great.”
She crossed her arms, and looked away quickly. Not the time for this argument.
“Look,” he sighed. “Give it a week. I promise. I’ll really rest the way you want me to. Once I’m one hundred percent, I’ll go with you.”
“And in the meantime, Luthorcorp could be experimenting on humans.”
“Chloe.”
“I was afraid of this,” she said and looked down. There was only one thing she could do to keep Dean from following her. She only hoped he would understand, though she very much doubted it. She finally looked up, unable to hide the resignation in her eyes, and looked over her shoulder at Queen. “Ollie, can you give us a minute?”
The billionaire's face was serious. He nodded and rolled his bike back down Bobby’s driveway.
She steeled herself and opened her mouth to speak. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve taught me, Dean.” Her words were formal and clipped. She inwardly winced at the flinch that crossed his eyes. “It’s been very instructional.”
His response was not wholly unexpected. “Just like that?” he asked softly. “You’re going?”
“I never planned on things getting personal with you guys,” she replied and shook her head. “I guess we’re to the point where we can’t keep up the partnership without honesty.”
“You’re more than a freelance consultant--” Dean said shrewdly.
She smiled faintly at him. “I never said that.” She glanced back to the house, blinking furiously. Letting him see her cry was out of the question. She sucked in several deep breaths before she spoke again. “Thank Bobby for letting me use his library. I’ll arrange to get my things in a few weeks.” She hated the slight tremble in her voice.
“Aren’t you worried we’d find your secrets on your laptop?” He asked bitterly. Fresh tears threatened to spring to her eyes, but she crushed them immediately. Dean had every right to be angry, because this thing between them - almost a relationship, but not - was probably going to pitter out and die if she left now.
But since she was needed elsewhere, Chloe didn’t have a choice. Instead, she put on the mantle of nonchalance and simply shrugged. “The really important secrets aren’t on a laptop,” she said. “Goodbye, Dean.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed towards Oliver, where he was impatiently waiting with a spare helmet.
Each step was more painful, and Chloe felt the tears prick her eyelids frantically. She said nothing to Oliver and grabbed the bike helmet from him, stuffing the folders back into the bike’s saddlebags angrily. Queen owed her for this, she thought. Big time.
And as she got on the bike behind Oliver and they shot out of the junkyard driveway, she wished for more than leaving Dean behind. She wanted him to stop her, to force the truth out of her. Sadly, he had obviously chosen to take the easy path. Silence. It spoke volumes, much like the book she had chosen to hide behind not too long ago. She rode off with a heavy heart. It was over. She’d probably never see Dean and Sam Winchester again.
Her story is behind the cut. You can also find it here, at her live journal. Please to be going there and be leaving her feedback, because her story is quite wonderful!
Chloe reached for her glass of tea, took a sip, and shut her eyes momentarily. Her feet gently pushed the small front porch swing gently, a soothing motion in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. It had been a rough few days for all of them, and today was turning out to be no exception. She’d been listening to the various sounds of tools against metal for the last hour; didn’t take a psychic to know Dean was working on the Impala, just like he’d promised. She opened her eyes and glanced down at the large volume in her lap, though she was distracted by the noises a mere three or four yards away.
Dean was living up to his “ants in his pants” reputation, having done everything humanly possible - in his mind, at least - to the sundry of guns, knives, and rounds in their possession. And no amount of arguing was going to convince him to stay put on the couch where he belonged: healing was apparently not in the Winchester Dictionary. Chloe bit back a smile and kept her eyes glued to the book she’d stolen from Bobby’s library.
She grabbed her pen and jotted down a few notes in one of her notebooks. The wealth of information Bobby possessed - the massive library, the tracking notes, the stacks of journals he’d kept over the years, the stories she bet he could tell - would keep her deeply interested for years. Part of her leapt for joy over being here. Being on the road so much, she didn’t have as much time to devote to pure research, and she missed it more than she realized. Nothing seemed more important than building up her knowledge of the supernatural, and through that learning about her metahuman state. That was a must for both major aspects of her life. Two sides she had tried so hard to keep separated.
A light breeze fluttered across her skin, and she tucked back a stray strand of hair as her eyes shifted to another open notebook. She started scribbling more notes when a flash of light distracted her from her periphery, so she looked askance to find Dean regarding her intently. She quickly moved her eyes back to the page and attempted to finish her notes, but already her mind had begun to wander into the shaky, uncertain, almost forbidden subject: Dean Winchester.
She knew he was checking her out: the short top and shorts set she had donned was a deliberate act. Chloe knew he was getting the eyeful he had been waiting for since they met. While she was flattered by the attention, worry ate at her mind.
Did Dean still see her as just another quick conquest? Should she even bother taking a step closer and letting him into her life, her secrets? Surely he had gotten the message she’d conveyed when he laid bleeding and broken in the Impala’s passenger seat only a few days before, and yet, she knew the kind of man he was: strong, loyal to a fault, intelligent. And as promiscuous as they came. Chloe never thought she’d consciously use the term “man-whore”, but that phrase summed up Dean’s general attitude towards women. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Leave them before they got too close. Keep all the emotion out of the equation. Because what was messier than being vulnerable in his line of work?
Chloe already knew the answer when she heard the familiar purring of Oliver Queen’s black Ducati motorcycle drive down Bobby’s driveway. The secrets she and Dean kept from each other, she realized and looked up to find Oliver there, his face set in stony determination. How could she tell Dean what her “other” job entitled? As open-minded as he was, she knew she couldn’t tell him everything he wanted to know. Some things had to be kept secret. There was no way. Not possible. He and Sam would become a liability, wide open for attack from the prince of darkness himself.
And you can keep telling yourself that until the cows come home, Sullivan, she mentally chastised herself and ignored the pain tugging at her heart. The few kisses they had shared only announced their mutual attraction. Nothing more. Besides, now that they were all alive and relatively in one piece, Dean should have asked her by now.
She shoved those thoughts away, put her book and journals aside, and stood up. She walked down the steps and noticed that Dean had not only seen Oliver’s approach but was also headed their way, a large wrench in his hand. The only thing worse than that was the hard, angry look on his face. Great, she mused. Jealous Dean, Volume Two is being published. Why did that make her want to cry?
She felt Dean’s hand on her shoulder, a little possessive, and would have smirked in Oliver’s direction until the man behind her opened his mouth. “Are you following us, or something?”
Chloe elbowed him against his non-injured side to shut him up. She saw a twinkle in Oliver’s eyes and knew she would get a good ribbing about it the next time they spoke alone.
“Wish I could say it was a social call, Sidekick. But I actually needed you to take a look at this and tell me if you could make sense of it.” He pulled a couple of folders from his saddlebags. She cocked an eyebrow at him and felt her heart fall. She took the folders and opened them.
Chloe ignored Dean as she perused the folders, which contained printouts of names, addresses and airline ticket information. She flipped through the pages quickly, but halfway through the stack, she slowed. Her eyes widened a little at the obvious leads on how they could track down Lex’s clone-making mill. Impressive. She thumbed back three pages and then looked from Queen to the stack and back.
“Has Victor seen these?”
“He’s currently running down a lead with A.C. in Australia.”
“What, off the Great Barrier Reef?”
“Something like that.”
She looked at Oliver, her keen eyes sparkling with life suddenly. “So you saw this, and thought of me?” she asked and swore she heard Dean mutter obscenities under his breath.
“Because of the location, I thought of you.”
Chloe grinned. “I am so in.” She needed this, needed to find Lex. Needed to find some space between Dean and Sam and the mountain of spoken words among them.
“In what?” Dean said angrily from behind her. “What’s going on?”
Oliver gave Chloe a look she knew well. He didn’t want Dean in on this: it was categorized under that which shall never see the light of day in JLA-speak. She sighed, closed her eyes, and turned to look at Dean. His hazel sparked with frustration, anger, and something else she hadn’t expected: regret.
“Dean, I need to go for a couple of days,” Chloe said gently.
“What?”
“This paperwork.” She pointed to it, her gaze steady with his. “It’s a cross reference of plane tickets issued to military scientists and Luthorcorp employees. We may be able to use it to pinpoint Lex’s gene splicing mill. If I can call some kind of spotlight on that, maybe we can get it shut down.”
“Okay,” he said and shook his head. “Okay. But I’ll come with you.” His voice was low and serious.
She gave him an incredulous look. True to Winchester form, he was going to follow her despite the gaping, mortal wound in his side. “With thirty seven stitches? You’re supposed to be resting. Besides, I can take care of this, and then be back in plenty of time for you to re-cooperate.”
“Chloe--” Dean broke off and scowled at Queen.
Chloe looked from Dean’s scowl to the billionaire and back. She suddenly felt weary, despite the flush of awareness in the pit of her stomach. “You’re jealous,” she said flatly.
“Damn right I’m jealous,” Dean said. “Some random dude shows up and you’re just going to leave with him? How am I supposed to feel about that?”
Chloe shut her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She really wanted nothing more than to tell him, right there and then, who she was, why Oliver Queen - Billionaire Extraordinaire - had tracked her down. How this would help the metahuman population. Why it was so crucial to keep this information secret.
But she couldn’t. Not with Oliver standing there with that happy smirk she knew he was wearing.
“Really? Then what's it like?” Dean challenged.
“I can't tell you,” she whispered.
“More secrets. Great.”
She crossed her arms, and looked away quickly. Not the time for this argument.
“Look,” he sighed. “Give it a week. I promise. I’ll really rest the way you want me to. Once I’m one hundred percent, I’ll go with you.”
“And in the meantime, Luthorcorp could be experimenting on humans.”
“Chloe.”
“I was afraid of this,” she said and looked down. There was only one thing she could do to keep Dean from following her. She only hoped he would understand, though she very much doubted it. She finally looked up, unable to hide the resignation in her eyes, and looked over her shoulder at Queen. “Ollie, can you give us a minute?”
The billionaire's face was serious. He nodded and rolled his bike back down Bobby’s driveway.
She steeled herself and opened her mouth to speak. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve taught me, Dean.” Her words were formal and clipped. She inwardly winced at the flinch that crossed his eyes. “It’s been very instructional.”
His response was not wholly unexpected. “Just like that?” he asked softly. “You’re going?”
“I never planned on things getting personal with you guys,” she replied and shook her head. “I guess we’re to the point where we can’t keep up the partnership without honesty.”
“You’re more than a freelance consultant--” Dean said shrewdly.
She smiled faintly at him. “I never said that.” She glanced back to the house, blinking furiously. Letting him see her cry was out of the question. She sucked in several deep breaths before she spoke again. “Thank Bobby for letting me use his library. I’ll arrange to get my things in a few weeks.” She hated the slight tremble in her voice.
“Aren’t you worried we’d find your secrets on your laptop?” He asked bitterly. Fresh tears threatened to spring to her eyes, but she crushed them immediately. Dean had every right to be angry, because this thing between them - almost a relationship, but not - was probably going to pitter out and die if she left now.
But since she was needed elsewhere, Chloe didn’t have a choice. Instead, she put on the mantle of nonchalance and simply shrugged. “The really important secrets aren’t on a laptop,” she said. “Goodbye, Dean.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and headed towards Oliver, where he was impatiently waiting with a spare helmet.
Each step was more painful, and Chloe felt the tears prick her eyelids frantically. She said nothing to Oliver and grabbed the bike helmet from him, stuffing the folders back into the bike’s saddlebags angrily. Queen owed her for this, she thought. Big time.
And as she got on the bike behind Oliver and they shot out of the junkyard driveway, she wished for more than leaving Dean behind. She wanted him to stop her, to force the truth out of her. Sadly, he had obviously chosen to take the easy path. Silence. It spoke volumes, much like the book she had chosen to hide behind not too long ago. She rode off with a heavy heart. It was over. She’d probably never see Dean and Sam Winchester again.