The Shooting
CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Drama
Language: no
Violence: some
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none
Author's Note:
Sorry if you got a notice there was a new chapter, and there was no new chapter. I went and posted the next chapter, THEN saw I had notes that this stuff happened before that. OOPS! Sorry! Luckily, the in-between bits were already written. I just had to type them in. And the NEXT chapter is done, too!
Bloodsong's lousy title: "Diggle's Bad Day." :X
The Shooting
==#==
Tommy was visiting the Queen Mansion. Oliver had been quiet the past few days, subdued. He didn't want to go out, so Tommy spent some time with him, vegging on the couch, watching TV. Thea came home from school and joined them.
Moira arrived a while later, and came in to greet them. Then she frowned at the television. "Do they have to keep talking about that awful man?"
Tommy looked to the screen, where a live newsbite was showing a group of people protesting the death penalty outside of Iron Heights prison.
"Yeah," said Thea, "they should just fry him already."
"Thea!" Moira frowned at her daughter.
"What? I'm just agreeing with you." Tommy couldn't tell if Thea was serious, or just being a brat towards her mother again.
Then Oliver frowned at the screen. "Who is this guy?"
"Peter Declan," his friend told him. "Supposedly killed his wife."
"Stabbed her like twenty times," Thea added, with exaggerated ennui. "In front of their kid, I think."
Oliver looked at Tommy. "You don't think so?"
He shrugged. "The evidence wasn't conclusive."
"What?" said Thea, leaning forward. "The dead body and the bloody knife with his fingerprints all over it?"
"It's all circumstantial. It was his kitchen knife, after all. Laurel says it isn't enough for the death penalty."
"Laurel told you this?" Oliver asked.
"We talked about it, yeah. It was on the news."
"You didn't mention it to me."
"Look, I know she bro- I mean, I know you two are not... liking each other. So, no, I don't talk about her to you, or vice versa." Tommy fidgeted. Oliver was looking at him like... like what? It was intense, and terribly uncomfortable.
Thea interrupted. "Look, it's your buddy."
Both men turned to the TV screen, where that sketch of 'the Hood Guy' was being shown yet again. The newscaster was going over his body count with a glint in his eye. Oliver froze up, his face going pale.
Tommy said, "He's not my buddy."
"Yeah, but you seen him kill people, right?" Thea prodded. "That makes you like the only eye witness."
"Thea, that's enough," Moira snapped. "Go get cleaned up and start your homework!"
"Yeah, yeah," the teen griped, as she rose and stomped out of the room. Moira huffed in exasperation and followed.
Tommy glanced at Oliver. "You okay there, buddy?"
"You saw him...?"
"Barely," Tommy admitted. "When we were kidnapped, remember? He saved us."
"I don't like him." Oliver shivered.
"Hey, there's nothing to be scared of." He reached a hand to Oliver, who flinched away.
"Don't touch me."
"Easy, man. I'm so-"
Oliver got up abruptly and left.
==#==
Diggle didnt expect to be shot at today. Despite the occasional spoiled rich playboy pranks and thinly-veiled derogatory remarks, the Queen assignment was basically a babysitting job. Most of the time, Oliver Queen was a meek mouse, jumping at the slightest noise, freaking out at the lightest touch. Diggle suspected the man formerly had a mean streak, and that his other playboy friend brought out the worst in him.
Today was more of the former. Diggle drove Mr. Queen downtown to meet his mother for lunch. They'd just crossed the street when a motorcycle roared up behind them. Mr. Queen startled, and Diggle moved to reassure him. As he did, he caught sight of the rider zooming past them, one arm out.
"Gun!" Diggle yelled, too late, as shots cracked out.
There were a few screams, Oliver's the loudest. He rabbited, but Diggle's eyes were on Moira Queen and the man next to her. He'd seen a bullet splinter a sapling right next to them, saw them both drop down to the pavement.
He ran over. "Call the medics!" he yelled, to break people out of their shock and panic. He had a phone, but his first concern was checking on Mrs. Queen.
She struggled to sit up. "I'm fine," she insisted, shakily pushing his soliciting hands away. "Where's Oliver? Go find Oliver!"
Oliver Queen was his charge... but Diggle couldn't just up and leave wounded people. He shifted over to Mrs. Queen's business associate, caught sight of a patch of crimson on his sleeve. He pulled the man's suit jacket open; he'd been hit, upper right abdomen.
Diggle pulled off his own jacket, balled it up and pressed it down on the entrance wound. The man cried out, but Diggle kept up the pressure. "Hang on, man. Help is on the way." Sirens wailed in the distance.
Moira Queen got to her knees. "You have to find my son!" she insisted. "Your job is to protect Oliver!"
Instead of wasting time arguing with her, he grabbed her hand and shoved it down on the makeshift bandage. If she wanted him to leave, she could very well stand in as a first responder. "Keep the pressure steady on there," he commanded. Then he stood and took off in the last direction he'd seen Oliver Queen bolt.
==#==
When he didn't find Oliver within ten minutes, he began to worry. He didn't think a panicked PTSD victim had the wherewithal to flee and hide with such proficiency. What if the potshots had just been a distraction to facilitate kidnapping Oliver again?
Diggle began to sweat, and really wished he had his squad here to help run a search grid. In the end, he had four police officers fanning out around the plaza. He circled outward, an three hours later found Oliver huddled between two dumpsters five blocks away.
"Mr. Queen?" He approached, a hand out.
Oliver shrank back, trying to wedge himself into the furthest corner. His eyes had that crazed wild look from one of his flashback episodes.
"It's all right." Diggle switched into his soothing mode. "It's okay; you're safe now. Come on out."
Queen lowered his brows, regarded him darkly. "I don't know you," he growled.
"Mr. Queen, it's John Diggle."
"How do you know my name?" he snapped. "Did Fyers send you?"
Diggle shook his head. "Oliver, your mother hired me to protect you."
"Mommy?" His entire demeanor instantly changed. Diggle found it more than a little freaky, but rolled with it.
"That's right, now come on out and I can take you to her." He extended his hand again, but Oliver shrank back.
"I'm not s'posed to go with strangers."
"All right." He backed up. He was no shrink, how was he supposed to deal with this?
In the end, Diggle waved over one of the police officers. The badge and uniform helped and, Diggle supposed bitterly, the fact he was a white guy probably did, too.
==#==
Mr. Queen settled more into his usual self on the ride to the hospital, but he had no idea what had happened. He freaked out a little - a normal-level freak out - when he saw his mother in the hospital bed. "Mom? Mom!" He rushed to her side.
"I'm all right; I'm okay," she reassured him, taking him in her arms. "I'm fine, I'm not hurt."
Thea Queen got up from the corner chair and came to the other side of the bed. "Where were you?" she demanded of her brother.
"Thea," Mrs Queen protested.
The young woman didn't relent. "You ran off and left Mom bleeding in the street!"
Oliver stepped back, shell-shocked. "I-I... I didn't... I don't know."
Diggle said, "Ms. Queen, your brother suffered a traumatic shock, and doesn't remember anything about the incident."
This earned Oliver a reprieve from his sister, but Moira Queen shot Diggle a look indicating her mountain of disapproval for losing Oliver.
Some days, this job just sucked.
==#==
They tromped through the forest of Lian Yu. Oliver tried to remember the way to the Japanese cave from the fuselage. It wasn't on the other side of the island, was it? He could be turned around. No, he'd never been to the other side of the island.
Then he heard voices up ahead.
"...and you're sure?"
"Mom?" Oliver turned off the path, crested a short rise.
"Robert cannot be allowed to return," a cultured male voice said.
He caught sight of his mother, and behind that tree... Walter!
"And he will never know about my involvement?"
"You have my word, Moira."
They were plotting to kill his father! And get married! Oliver began to lunge forward, but was suddenly yanked back.
Slade dragged him to the path.
"Where were you going?" Shado scolded. "There's mines everywhere."
"I- Didn't you see...?" No, of course not. His mother and Walter couldn't be here on the island. He shook his head and pushed on.
"Are you sure you know where we're going, kid?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm-" Oliver stumbled.
Around the bend, just off to the side of the path. stood Laurel. She as deep in conversation with... her sister. "I don't want to see him ever again."
"I'll make sure of it," Sara said. "If the sea doesn't take him, I'll finish the job."
"Sara?" Oliver called.
This time, Shado grabbed his arm. "Oliver, snap out of it." She shot a worried glance at Slade. "He's getting worse. He must be sicker than we thought."
"No!" Oliver turned on her, ripped his arm out of her grasp. "I was there! This is all a dream! I have to get back!" He looked around frantically. There had to be a... a door. A gateway? Something! A crazy idea entered his head, and he took off running through the forest.
"Oliver!"
"Don't do it, kid! What if you're wrong?"
What if you're wrong? The thought filled Oliver's mind with doubt as he was in midair, a split second before his foot touched own on - there! - A land mine! He landed on it, momentum carrying him forward; there was a deafening roar, a blinding flash.
Then nothing.
Silence.
Blackness.
==X==
