Disclaimer: Yes. I'm a high class writer now. -flashes sunglasses- Now if you don't mind I'm gonna go buy a Louis Vuitton bag. ;)

A/N: Weeeeee. Weeeeee. I'm surviving school! xD I just presented my french autobiography today, and I don't mean to brag, but I rocked it. It wasn't that hard. I was talking about myself, so I just let things flow. :)

Chapter 6 - Duty

Oliver was still scowling as he stepped out into the bright, sunny street of Los Angeles.

He didn't expect all those memories to come back.

He sighed, jolting out of his reminiscing as his phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Hey Oliver, it's Jonathan. I'm going over some case files with Robby Ray - And he just remembered, Hannah or well.. 'Miley' has a rehearsal to get to. So, whatever it is you two are doing, get her there now."

Oliver grimaced. "We weren't doing anythin--"

CLICK

"Great," he muttered. He rolled his eyes. Jonathan was probably thinking of something, that Oliver didn't really want to think of him and Miley doing.

He sighed, turning back around, and bumping into a man, leaving the restaurant. The man dropped something hi-tech looking and swore loudly. He looked up, probably to curse at Oliver, who put on an apologetic face. To his surprise, the man jumped back, looking scared, suddenly.

"Hey, sorry," Oliver started, but the guy waved him off, looking alarmed. He whirled around, and stalked back into the cafe, fingering that hi-tech object.

Oliver raised his eyebrows, walking in after the man, but his thoughts were erased when he laid his eyes on Miley, who was sitting at the same table sipping her coffee with a constricted look in her face.

He sighed, walking up to her table.

He was so focused on her, and talking to her, that he didn't notice the strange man sitting by their table.

Oliver placed his hand over hers as it reached for the coffee cup again. She looked up startled, and blinked.

"You have a rehearsal to get to."

Miley looked confused for a split second, but then realization came across her features and she nodded.

"Oh. Right." She sighed, standing up. She opened her mouth, taking a breath, but then she seemed to think twice about it, and shook her head.

He looked at her questioningly. He was still frustrated and angry with her, but that didn't stop him caring about her. If something was up, he wanted to help.

She shrugged, smiling and shaking her head.

"Come on, let's go," she said softly.

-x-Duty-x-

The drive was silent, and Oliver felt a tiny jolt of guilt run through him - Maybe he shouldn't have been so harsh by walking out like that.

Miley was silent, as she dug around for something in her bag.

"Oh, shit," she swore under her breath as her eyes focused inside her bag.

"What?" he asked, chancing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I lost my cellphone," she mumbled, her eyebrows coming together in a worried frown.

"It's probably at home."

"You're probably right."

She sighed, and turned back to the window, leaving the car in silence once again.

When they managed to escape the horrible, tense atmosphere of the car, Miley rushed hurriedly into her change room, while people around her attempted to put make up on her and get her into her Hannah outfit.

Oliver's eyes scanned the backstage area, looking for anything that seemed out of place, but so far it seemed normal.

Miley now rushed part him, fumbling with her microphone as they rushed to rehearse a little, for the upcoming show tomorrow.

He realised how long it had been since he had actually been backstage with her, and this was quite reminiscent of the old days.

"1, 2, 3, 4!!"

--later--

Oliver jiggled his foot impatiently as he watched Miley perform a couple songs.

She still managed to be an amazing performer, he mused, as she ran around the stage, singing, dancing, and pausing every now and then as her and her crew clarified a few things.

BZZZT came the buzzing of his cellphone. It was a rather loud sound for what was supposed to be a buzz, and her stage manager shot him a dirty look as he hastily answered it.

"Oken," he answered quietly.

"Hey Oliver!"

"Lilly! Hey! What's up?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see how babysitting Hannah Montana's doing."

"It's fine."

"Really? Like you're okay seeing her again?"

"It's fine - Listen, can I call you back? I'm kinda 'working' here.."

THUD

There were shouts of surprise, and scrambling of feet as Oliver whirled around to see a crowd on the stage surrounding someone or something.

"Gotta go."

He hung up his phone, shoving it in his pocket, his hand automatically finding the holster of his gun.

He ran forwards, pushing past the muttering people. He cringed as he saw that Miley was on the ground, clutching her leg tightly. It didn't look broken, but he realised it was probably something to do with her ankle as she reached forward to grip it.

"Mil-- Ms. Montana! Are you alright?!"

She shook her head, lips pursed tight as she attempted to get up.

"Here, stay down - We'll get a doctor."

The doctor, surprisingly, was there quickly, and he immediately requested that they all leave her alone with him while assessed her.

Oliver blatantly refused. He knew, that he should never let his guard down.

"I don't know who you think you are - But I'm her bodyguard and I'm going to be by her side 100 percent."

The doctor huffed angrily, and Oliver could have sworn he saw a trace of disappointment rush across his face.

Suddenly, the door opened to the stage, and the stage manager spoke up, looking suddenly scared. Oliver didn't know why he looked so scared.

"The doctor's here."

Suddenly, Oliver knew.

So many things happened in the next 5 minutes.

The so-called 'doctor' stood up alarmed, knocking away Miley's foot, as she yelped in pain. Oliver almost went towards her, but his mind sent him towards the culprit who was attempting an escape.

He practically flew towards him, knocking him straight off his feet, pinning him on the ground.

He struggled, but Oliver subdued him, pushing his face to the side.

"Who are you?!"

The guy glared, but kept his mouth shut.

Oliver rolled his eyes, and felt around the guy's pockets, searching for any weapons. He extracted a small handgun, cellphone, and a syringe, filled with a questionable substance.

"What were you thinking of doing?!"

"Go to hell."

"Well, he's not going to talk - Take him away." Oliver stood up, shoving the perp towards his fellow officers, who dragged him off.

He turned to Miley.. Well - Hannah, who still looked shocked.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" Her mouth twitched nervously. "I just b-broke my ankle.. Or twisted it.." She groaned, clutching at her leg again.

"Here, let me look at it," he murmured, gently putting her leg in his lap.

"Ow."

"Does it hurt?" he asked, pressing his finger against the joint.

She gave him a look, but her tone was surprisingly mellow. "A little."

"It's just sprained," he said calmly. "Be more careful next time."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Oh and, Uh.." She was confused, wondering what his name was, but she figured she could find that out later. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"If you hadn't been there--"

Their eyes met, and in that moment, he felt like they were younger, when they both understood each other and had connected in that special way. As he tentatively hugged her close, he could feel her beating heart, and obviously they both knew the consequence of might have happened if he hadn't been there.

Omagosh. Phew. That's like a prelude to disaster. Miley and Oliver will get together soon, but she's gotta find out first. xD Review, please. :)