Not Safe

CONTENT:

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Drama

Language: no

Violence: no

Nudity: none

Sex: none

Other: none

Spoilers: Season Two, first half

Author's Note:

Yes, I was supposed to be working on other stuff, but... Moira had something to say to Diggle. Man... don't ever make that woman mad. :X

There will be ONE more chapter after this short interlude. Just one. And I mean it this time!


Not Safe

===#===

Starling General Hospital

"Mr. Diggle."

Moira Queen was not a woman who raised her voice. She wielded power with the ease and grace of someone born to it, like royalty. She did not raise her voice now, but Diggle heard the distinctly icy tone in it.

"Ma'am?" He turned to her, putting on his soldier's face. He knew this was going to be one mother of a chewing-out, and he wasn't wrong.

She strode across the hall to him. "Mr. Diggle, I hired you to do one thing - one thing." He tried not to back away from the hard glitter of anger in her eyes. "To protect my son!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"You're sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself? My son is crippled, because you failed to do your job."

"But Oliver-"

"I do not want to hear your excuses!" John bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. He let her rail at him. "You should be used to his penchant for ditching you by now. You know how difficult he can be - you should have learned all his tricks and paid better attention to your job."

"Yes, ma'am," he said contritely, wishing she could see how much the attack on Oliver had truly hurt him. "I am sor-"

She cut him off with one finger raised like a sword. "I said I don't want to hear it. Mr. Diggle, you are fired. Not only that, but you can expect Damocles Security Agency to receive a call tomorrow morning, and I am going to tell them exactly what I think of your job performance."

John hung his head. It wasn't his fault, but she didn't know that; she couldn't know that, so he had to stand here and take this.

"I do not want to see you anywhere near my family again."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand perfectly, Mrs. Queen."

She fixed him with one last scathing glare, then dismissed his existence from her life. She returned to Oliver's hospital room.

Feeling awkward, John stood in the hall. He knew Oliver would want him close by, but there was no way he could go in there with Moira Queen in the room. As it was, he was going to have to check the next time he was in the bathroom, to make sure everything was still intact.

===#===

Oliver lay in the bed with his upper body elevated. He knew there was nothing the doctor's could do, he just wished he could skip this part and go home. Thea clung to his hand, her face crumpled in misery.

"Hey, come on, Speedy. It'll be okay." He tried to cheer her up, even though he knew it was all a lie. Merlyn was coming for his family. Oliver had to protect them.

"Don't call me that," Thea said, her voice breaking as tears spilled from her eyes. "I can't run around after you any more. This is all so... God, Ollie! Why did this happen to you?"

He clasped her hand between both of his. He squeezed to show her how strong he still was. "We'll get through this. I promise." She snuffled like a little child, and he tried to find some humor to stem her tears. "Come on, I'll get one of those motorized racing chair things... then you will have a lot of running to do to keep up."

She laughed, though it was partly choked by sobbing, and hugged him, burying her face against his chest. He stroked her back, her hair, trying to calm her. Thea's long ringlets fell across his neck and shoulder. They had always joked about her being the black sheep in the family, among the golden-haired Queen clan. But now it dredged up a fragment of Oliver's memory. Why had Merlyn called Thea his half-sister?

Moira entered the room with Dr. Lamb. It was time for the final prognosis, then. "Mr. Queen," the doctor said, nodding greetings to him and to Thea. "Your injuries are not serious - save, of course, the wound to your spine. There was no bone damage, and it didn't require any stitches. The skin should heal nicely." He shot a nervous glance towards Moira.

"What about restoring my son's mobility?" she asked him. Her voice was strong, demanding, but Oliver could hear a thickening of her words from suppressed emotion. "Is there any medical procedure, no matter how new, how complicated? We will try anything."

"I'm sorry," Dr. Lamb said half to her, and half to Oliver. "But there is no way to repair nerve damage of this kind."

"Well someone must know a way, a theory, a new breakthrough," Moira insisted. "Even if we have to go to Sweden-"

"Mom," Oliver said gently to spare the doctor the force of her desperation.

She looked at him, and the strength drained from her face. Her eyes flooded. "Oh, Oliver."

He reached out, and she came to embrace him.

"We'll get through this," she told him.

"I know," he lied. "I know we will."

===#===

Hasty preparations were made, interim solutions. The hospital rented them a standard wheelchair, and a private ambulance conveyed Oliver home. The servants had been busy moving a bed into one of the downstairs rooms. The nurses wheeled him through the front doors. The foyer never looked so tall, the staircases so steep. They got Oliver situated in his bed. Everything else could wait until tomorrow, just a few hours away.

Moira came to make sure he was settled before she turned in. Oliver had been thinking, long and hard. Merlyn had said to tell his mother or not, as if it didn't matter to him either way. He suspected that telling her, even part of it, would hurt his mother badly, and that's what Merlyn wanted. But he couldn't leave her in the dark. She had to know, she had to take steps to protect their family.

"Mom, I have to tell you something," he said. She turned from fussing over the items on his bedstand to focus her attention on him. "This wasn't a random attack," he explained slowly. "It was Malco-"

With a look of alarm, Moira put her fingertips on his mouth, stilling him. She gave a slight shake of her head and mouthed something to him. He frowned, confused, not understanding. She said it silently again, more slowly, enunciating the words so he could read her lips. It's not safe. She took her fingers from his lips and brushed his cheek. "We'll talk in the morning," she said. She bent to kiss his forehead, then smoothed the covers up over his chest. "Get some rest."

Oliver stared after her, dread settling in his stomach. It's not safe. What did that mean?

===X===