Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Smallville and Arrow both belong to DC Comics/CW Network.

Timeline: Several years after season 10 for Smallville and Season 2 for Arrow.

A/N: As I have absolutely no knowledge in treating gunshot wounds, most of the dialogue in the first paragraph is borrowed from Castle - the first episode of season 4 where Kate Beckett is shot at Montgomery's funeral.

"27-year-old female, GSW to the left chest. Crashed on the way in," the paramedic informed Dr. Lee as they rushed the young woman into the Trauma room. Tearing his gaze away from the doctor for a moment he spotted the young boy he had been looking for, standing next to one of the nurses at the hospital, tears silently running down his cheeks.

Nodding towards said boy he continued, "we found him at the scene. From what we could ascertain the blood on his clothes isn't his, but somebody should probably check him out anyway."

Nodding his thanks to the paramedic Dr. Lee gave the nurse standing beside the boy a encouraging nod before turning his focus back on his patient.

"Okay, stop compressions."

Quickly slipping on his gloves the doctor pressed his fingers to her throat and sighed in relief. "We have a rhythm but her breathing is shallow. Let's get her on the table."

"One, two, three."

"We need a chest tube."

"BP's 86 over 60." One of the nurses announced.

"Bleeding in the left chest."

"SATs are 88."

"Tension pneumo's relieved, but she's still decreased." Dr. Lee looked up from his work, "set up for intubation."

"BP's 80 over 60. "

"78 over 56. "

"There's too much blood," came the frustrated exclamation from the nurse, Patterson, who stood next to Dr. Lee. "Where the hell is she bleeding from?"

The Asian doctor could only shake his head in equal puzzlement. "Pulmonary vein. Clamp." After a few moments, "I got it."

"Blood pressure's still dropping. SATs are falling as well."

"She must be bleeding somewhere else..." Dr. Lee announced only to be interrupted by Patterson. "Where? There's no blood."

"Her pericardium's distended," came the answer from Dr. Lee as he finally figured it out, "she's bleeding into it. That's why there's no blood. It's compressing her heart."

"Scissors."

"BP's dropping. 65 over 45."

"She's going into V-Fib. Paddles."

"Charge to 10."

"Charging."

"Clear."

"Still fibrillating. Charge to 20."

"Charging."

"Clear."

"Sweetie, can you tell me your name?"

After arriving in one of the examination room, Emma Collins had quickly set to work and fortunately discovered that the paramedic had been right in his earlier assessment. None of the blood on the boy had been his own.

When the young nurse had first seen the small boy in the hospital she had immediately rushed to his side. He had been brought in alongside the gunshot victim, his mother her brain had quickly made the connection, but seemingly been forgotten in the sudden chaos that the ER had interrupted into.

The boy hadn't spoken a single word since.

"I'm here to help you. You know that, right?" Emma asked gently.

Sad brown eyes looked at her in uncertainty for a moment before he once more cast his gaze to the floor. Emma frowned slightly before understanding finally lit her eyes.

"You won't get in trouble. I promise." She told him gently.

"Connor." He said softly. "My name is Connor."

"And do you remember your mother's name. Or your father's," she asked hopefully.

She knew that the police would eventually arrive, they always did when gunshot wounds were reported, and she was hoping to get as much information from the kid as she could before then. Not to say that she didn't trust the police, but a lot of the police officers in the city had a tendency to ask questions without showing much empathy and she somehow she doubted that the intimidating presence of an police officer would be the best environment for a child as young as Connor to be in.

The boy seemed hesitant to answer her question and she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Chloe. Aunt Lois calls Mommy Chloe." Connor said quietly, tears filling his eyes once more.

"Oh Sweetie, it's gonna be alright." Emma hurriedly made her way to the boys side and wrapped her arms around his little trembling frame. "It's gonna be alright."

Connor's head, which had been buried against Emma's chest lifted slightly to look at her with pleading eyes. "Really?"

"Really." Emma give an eternal wince. The boy's mother had been in a terribly state when she had been brought in and only time would tell if the doctors operating on her would be successful. But starring down into the teary but hopeful eyes of Connor, a boy who couldn't have been more than six years old, she couldn't help reassuring him. She really hoped that his mother would be fine.

"What about your father. Do you know where he is?"

Connor shook his head in the negative before whispering. "The bad men took him."

"The bad men?" Emma asked with dread. She really hoped this wasn't going the way she thought.

The boy nodded. "They wanted the Green Arrow, so they took Daddy."

The Vigilante? Emma thought with a frown before shaking her head and asking. "And what happened then?"

Connor shook his head anxiously, pressing his lips together tightly, refusing to answer.

"Did they hurt your mother, Connor?"

Connor just shook his head, mouth still firmly shut.

"Sweetie, it's okay. They can't hurt you anymore. But I need to know what happened, so the police can find your father, okay?" Emma tried again, but the boy just ignored her, his face as pale as if he had seen a ghost.

That was when she saw the little silver bracelet on his left hand. She hadn't noticed it before, to busy making sure that Connor was all right, but now as she saw it she felt a shimmer of hope go through her. Could it really be one of those ICOE bracelets?

Gently taking his hand in hers she turned it over, making it possible to see what was written on it:

Connor Sullivan Queen

In case of emergency please contact ...

Emma could only stare at the little boy in front of her in utter shock as her mind made the only logical explanation.

Oliver Queen had a son?

If one had been looking closely at the discharged clothes of Connor's, they would have discovered a hole in the bloodied t-shirt he had been wearing. A hole the size of a bullet.

Right above his heart.

In the end it hadn't mattered that Dr. Lee had managed to stop the bleeding. They had been unable to get the patient's heart beating again after the cardiac arrest, and ultimately he had had to call the time of death.

Looking out through the window into the early morning light, he took a moment to compose himself. It was always hard losing a patient and even though he had had his fair share in the twenty-odd years he had been a doctor, it wasn't something to get used to.

When they had still been together, his wife had accused him of caring too much. Had said that he took the deaths to close to heart. But how could he not? He had, if not on purpose, failed every one of them and he would remember them, even if that had to be at his own expense. That much he owed them.

His wife hadn't agreed.

Sighing, Dr. Lee ran a trembling hand though his short black hair. He couldn't postpone it any more. Slowly turning around he made his way back the way he had come a few minutes earlier.

He still needed to talk to the police.

On an early Friday morning at 5:32 AM, Chloe Sullivan Queen died.