'Murderer kills all on Harper's Island, unknown number of dead.'

The first thing that comes to mind, the moment the ink smudges my finger tips (and starts to smear with my tear drops), when it hits me is 'oh god, not again, goddamn, not again.'

But yes it was happening all again (without me there to see the death in his face), number three who has said with a smile 'I love you' only to perish faster then I can say it back.

('Call me after the wedding rehearsal, babe, love you.' 'Love you too, Chlo, and can't wait to come home.')

-

"Oh, Chloe, I'm so sorry."

It doesn't take long from him to find me (the one who has arms that are my towers), the face of a friend that I haven't seen in months because he's 'dead', and turn into the best friend.

(even if he dropped that role like it meant nothing to him)

"No, Clark, just leave. Leave me the hell alone, the moment you stopped being human, being alive, you stopped being both Clark Kent and my friend. And I don't need you here."

Every part of me wanted to pull him in, bring him back from the edge he's been standing on, but I knew that he needs this more then I need his comforting arms.

(he's only one step away from being his true self and I won't get in the way of that)

-

"You loved him, didn't you?"

Now instead of letting a familiar face comfort me (the one that has been there from the start), a new one finds me, one that I didn't expect at all, Oliver, Green Arrow, Queen.

"I was almost there, Ollie, I was almost healed and this had to happen. I should have expected it; after all I do have a track record."

I let these new arms, the ones that hold me tighter then the other ones ever did (pulling me closer then we had ever been), enclose me until I didn't have any more tears to give.

(give to the dead, I ran out of those after the first two)

"Shh, Chloe. You're our watchtower, you have to be strong for your team and we'll be strong for you."

And from that day on he replaced Clark (which is a hard task to do) and somehow he fit better then Clark ever did softer words, wider smiles, and even more open arms.

"Thank you, Oliver, thank you so damn much."

I should have feared that he would be number four (and the blood on my hands would become a deeper red) on the never ending list of dead lovers but right now all I cared about were his warm arms.