Sheep's Clothing

Summary: For Oliver, danger comes in all shapes and sizes… Late Season 9.

Allrighty then, let's see what kind of trouble we can get up to...

Chapter Two

Oliver strolled through the doors into Watchtower's inner sanctum. "Please tell me the coffee is hot and there's an even hotter woman standing next to my mug." Oliver carelessly threw his hi-tech sunglasses onto the desk and looked around, wondering where Chloe was hiding. "Clothing is completely optional."

She appeared from behind a bank of equipment and came toward him, a wide, mischievous smile on her face, eyes twinkling. She really was beautiful, and way too smart for him.

"The coffee's cold, which is what your bed will be if you don't stop making lewd remarks on the comms while we're on a mission. AC was blushing like a sailor."

"Lewd?" Oliver stepped closer, pulling off his gloves. He wanted to be able to touch her without anything hindering the experience. "I don't even know what that means."

"Suggestive," she gave him a mock-frown, ruining it because she was trying not to laugh, "with a side of dirty."

"Hmm… that does sound like me." He reached her and Chloe allowed him to pull her close, so close his nose brushed hers. "What did I say that was lewd?"

"You can't tell me you weren't enjoying talking about access panels and switches far too much."

Oliver smiled, all innocence. "Was there not an access panel for the elevator system?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"And a switch that was just a bit hard to find?"

"Yes."

"And I had to flick the switch at just the right time. Not to mention that reaching it was a very... tight... fit."

She looked heavenward, as if asking for patience. "Yes."

"And are you not the person best equipped to walk me through all sorts of... mechanical issues?" Even he was having trouble not laughing and Chloe too, despite her lovely blush, was close to giving in. He could see it in the purse of her lips, turning to actually biting her lower lip, which had him suddenly thinking of exactly what he wanted to do to that mouth.

Oliver never had been one to deny himself. He leaned into her, closing the last bit of distance between them, kissing her, not relenting until she was breathless and clinging to him.

Oliver pulled back. "Now," he cleared his throat, "what was that about coffee?"

Chloe blinked, taking an extra moment to return from her dazed state. "Tease."

Oliver grinned impishly. "I think that's why we get along so well, isn't it?"

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "I'm re-thinking that at this very minute."

Oliver laughed and shook his head. "Well, while you're re-thinking it, I'm going to shower and change. I promised a certain someone I would take her to breakfast to make up for two-timing her last night."

Chloe was already turning away toward her screens, going back to processing the info they'd gathered at the docks. "It better be one magnificent breakfast, Queen!" she called just as Oliver closed the door behind him.

Chloe pushed her plate back and patted her stomach in satisfaction. It was one of Oliver's constant concerns that Chloe didn't take care of herself. If he didn't watch her, she would live on nothing but coffee and she'd never sleep again.

He hadn't worried about her welfare before they got together, which really bothered him when he stopped long enough to think. Sure, he'd worried about security and making sure she wasn't killed or kidnapped, but there hadn't been anyone to care if she had a decent meal or the occasional eight hours. Oliver was fairly certain that he had thoughtlessly demanded that she put her own needs last over and over again.

"Good?" he asked as she finished the last of her juice.

"I'm so full I could explode," she answered with a satisfied sigh. "You trying to make sure I'm fat to match the sassy?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure asking for barefoot and pregnant is a no-no these days..."

She shot him a definite I am woman, hear me roar glare. "How very forward-thinking of you."

"That's me." Oliver grinned. "All the best of modern masculinity."

Chloe shook her head, although she was grinning as well. "Humble, too."

"Very." He nodded in agreement. "My humility knows no bounds."

"On that note," she pushed her chair back from the table, "I should get back to work before your humility suffocates everyone else in this restaurant."

Oliver held out a hand to help her rise. "My humility would never do such a thing. It's very well trained."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You only bring it out on special occasions?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, his brow furrowed in mock-concentration. "It's been so long since I've seen it..."

Chloe finally gave in and giggled, which was the whole purpose of his continued banter. He had a self-set goal of making her giggle at least once a day. Most of the time, he failed. Their lives were too dangerous, too serious, with disaster after disaster weighing on them. But there were times, like today, when they had a moment to just... be.

"Come on," he nodded toward the door. "I'll walk you back."

Oliver threw several bills down on the table, then shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from taking Chloe's hand again. Things were better between them, they were closer since the mess with the banshee, and the kidnappings by Checkmate, but there were still limits in their relationship. Wandering around downtown in broad daylight while holding hands wasn't in the cards.

The moment they stepped outside the restaurant Oliver knew something was wrong. Worse, Chloe had been around him long enough that she immediately noticed the difference.

"What is it?"

"Not sure," he murmured, his eyes darting from place to place, trying to zero in on the source of his discomfort. "Could by anything." In their world, anything could truly be anything, from a psychotic meteor-infected stalker to a photographer who didn't know when to say when.

Oliver continued to scan the area around them, all the while pushing Chloe back toward the building using his own body to shield hers. He had very purposely chosen a little out of the way spot for their breakfast. Much to Chloe's embarrassment, a picture of them together had made it into one of the celebrity magazines. They'd been drinking coffee in a little sidewalk cafe, going over plans for an upcoming mission no less, but the camera had caught them both in a lighter moment, with Chloe obviously laughing and Oliver wearing a knowing smile from ear to ear. The same day it hit the stands, Chloe had practically thrown him at Portia and ordered him to take her someplace with lots of cameras.

Since then, they'd been a lot more careful, and there was no reason for anyone to have found them now. Paparazzi looked for him outside his apartment building or the offices or any number of nightclubs. They didn't look for him at a greasy spoon well off the beaten path.

Since a wandering photographer seemed unlikely, that only left someone even more dangerous to follow them.

The problem was that he couldn't see anything out of place and he was freaking out his girlfriend, who was pretty hard to freak out given her history. Hazard of the job, he supposed.

"Maybe you're being paranoid," Chloe said, giving voice to what he was already thinking.

"Maybe," he hedged. He hadn't lived as long as he had by ignoring his instincts.

"Do you think we could at least move out of the open, here, Ollie?" Her voice had a slight tremor in it, letting him know just how nervous he was making her, maybe unnecessarily.

Oliver saw the movement a second before he saw the muzzle flash. Heat tore through his side, the force of the shot turning him, knocking him into Chloe who in turn crashed into the building behind them. Concrete exploded in a shower around them as two more shots slammed into the building, frighteningly close to their heads.

Oliver grabbed Chloe and began dragging her along with him, running for cover. She stumbled, but he managed to right her and pull her into the closest alley. She immediately leaned back against the wall, bent over at the waist, bracing her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

Oliver headed back to the mouth of the alley, and carefully peeked out. The window where he'd seen the muzzle flash was now empty and the shots had stopped as soon as they were out of the person's line of sight.

"I think…" He was breathing hard and Oliver's chest reminded him sharply of his injury. "I think they're gone," he said, looking down at his side. He frowned at the sight of the blood on his shirt. He ripped the hole a bit wider so that he could see what damage had been done. There was a ragged track across his ribs where the bullet had cut a furrow, digging through muscle just below the surface. "Never say I'm a boring date."

Oliver turned back toward Chloe. "You all right?" When there was no answer, he looked up. "Chloe?" As he watched, she began to slide down the wall she was leaning against. "Chloe!"

All at once, he realized what had happened. She'd been directly behind him when the shot was taken. He'd been shielding her as best he could, but the bullet hadn't stopped when it hit him. Oliver sprinted back toward her, sliding in the muck of the alley floor as he came to a halt, catching her just before she fell to the ground.

"Chloe, are you hit?" Oliver fumbled in a nearly blind tunnel-vision sort of way, trying to untie the belt of her jacket and shove the material out of the way. "Where are you hit?"

"Ollie?"

That one word, the uncertainty in it, nearly stopped his heart cold. Chloe never sounded like that. She was his Watchtower, the stronghold he and all the others turned to when they needed strength and guidance.

It took every amount of self-discipline Oliver had not to show any reaction when he got Chloe's jacket open. The bullet had hit him midway on his ribs which meant it had hit higher on Chloe's body, although the trajectory would have been at a downward angle, depending on how much striking him first had changed the bullet's path. Thanks to Vortigen, Oliver knew exactly where and how to hit a target to cause the desired amount of damage and now his brain was telling him everything he wished he didn't know about the harm the shot could have caused. He was certain one of her lungs was damaged. It looked like it had missed her heart, however, it was all of the veins and arteries surrounding her heart that truly worried him.

"S'it bad?" Chloe asked, and Oliver realized she was barely holding onto consciousness.

"Just a scratch," he said blithely, hoping she didn't hear the underlying fear in his voice. "We'll have you fixed up in no time."

Oliver pressed one hand over the wound in her chest to try to slow the bleeding, although there was precious little of it and he knew most of the damage was where he couldn't see it. With his other hand he pulled out his cell phone and immediately dialed Bart, whose phone went straight to voice mail. He tried Clark next with the same result.

Thanks to his second job, Oliver knew the response time in this neighborhood for both the police and ambulances, and neither was good. He kept a car parked near Watchtower just in case. If he got her to it, he could take her to a hospital faster than an ambulance could get to where they were.

Oliver didn't waste any more time making his decision. "Chloe? You stay with me, all right? I'm gonna get you to help."

"'Kay," was all she answered, and her blind trust was a fresh burden that he knew he had to shoulder. This was not one of the times that failure was even close to being an option.

Oliver gathered her up in his arms and lifted. Immediately he felt a stabbing, tearing pain in his injured side and was almost forced to put her back down. Instead, he leaned back against the wall nearly in a crouch using his legs to rest Chloe on. It was either that or drop her. After several seconds to allow the black spots to fade from his vision, he summoned up his strength and stood again, although still leaning back against the alley wall for support. Once he was sure he could move without falling, he straightened completely and pushed away from the wall.

"Ya know," he panted, "I probably shouldn't'a fed you before this happened. That fat and sassy thing is gonna be the death of me."

She mumbled something against his chest that Oliver couldn't catch, certainly not above the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. "Yeah, I know. Not fat. Just sassy."

Chloe suddenly went completely slack in his arms, her head falling to bob back and forth as he moved.

"Chloe, stay with me," Oliver ordered sternly. She was starting to wheeze, and thanks to her damaged lung there was a hint of a gurgle to it.

Oliver rounded the end of the alley, momentarily terrified that he was walking right back out into the open. One more well-aimed shot and he would be down, but there was no sign of the shooter. Resettling his precious burden, he set his eyes on the goal in front of him. He was more than nine blocks from Watchtower and another two from his car.

Oliver ignored the gasp of a woman he passed, not caring whether it was the blood on him or the sight of Chloe that had so disconcerted her. He simply kept going, truly more afraid that his body would give out before he could get to the car than anything else. As he hurried past, he could hear voices close to him, a couple of which sounded like they were on their cell phones calling 911. Oliver knew just how little good that would do. An ambulance was still a good ten minutes from them and each step he took got them closer to his car.

Someone stepped in front of him, and Oliver, acting completely on instinct, lashed out. He wasn't exactly sure, but he may or may not have kicked the guy in the knee to get him out of the way. He figured once they realized who he was there would be a lawsuit pending and a front page spread in the tabloids and he really didn't care.

After that, people seemed to get the idea to stay out of his way. He passed Watchtower and fixed his eyes on the lot where he kept the car parked. He paid a small fortune to keep a very sedate looking Beamer parked there just in case he ever needed a car that wouldn't draw too much attention.

When he got to the lot, he wanted to crow in triumph and he would have if he thought he wouldn't keel over. As it was, he stumbled into the side of the car, fumbling badly as he tried to hold onto Chloe and find the hidden key to open the door. After a few precious seconds wasted, he finally got the door open. Lifting Chloe into the car had him seeing stars, his side screaming in agony as he shifted her inside and strapped her in. Her head lolled to the side, and it spurred him back into action. He blinked back the stars, slammed the door shut and hurried to the driver's side.

Oliver didn't remember much of the drive. It was possible he clipped any number of cars along the way or he may have been driving on the sidewalk for all he cared, but he stopped for absolutely nothing. All that mattered was getting Chloe to help.

When the car screeched to a halt in the ambulance bay, Oliver threw open the door. He stumbled out and had to use the car to keep himself upright as he moved around, already yelling for help. A nurse and an orderly appeared through a set of sliding doors.

"She's been shot," Oliver said breathlessly.

"Sir, are you hurt?" the nurse asked him.

"I'm fine." He held his hands up to try to keep her back and on task. "Please, just take care of her."

"Sir, you're bleeding," she pressed.

"It's not mine! It's hers!" He nearly bellowed the lie. "Just help her!" Finally, that seemed to spur them into motion. The nurse headed for the car along with the orderly, while two more people appeared through the doors with a gurney.

Oliver fumbled his phone back out of his pocket. It took several blinks for him to focus on the screen, but he managed to scroll through the contact list to find Emil. Just when he thought no one was going to answer, his on-staff doctor finally picked up. "I need you at Met Gen," Oliver said without preamble. "Chloe's been shot."

"I'm already at the hospital," was the immediate answer, and Oliver could have sobbed in relief that something at least had worked out in their favor.

"Get down to the ER," he demanded. Oliver had nothing left in him to be polite. They had Chloe out of the car and were wheeling her into the building.

One of the orderlies pointed to his car. "Sir, you can't leave your vehicle here."

"Tow it, or move it." Oliver threw the key at him. "I don't care which, but I'm not leaving her." He headed for the door, and followed Chloe's retreating form, ignoring the sputtered exclamations behind him.

Oliver looked down the hall to see Emil hurrying toward them, but the nurse who'd stopped him outside, stopped him once again. "Sir, you'll have to stay in the waiting room."

"But-"

There wasn't any pity or flexibility in her. She was in charge of this domain and she didn't care who he was. "The waiting room is that way," she pointed, her tone saying she would brook no opposition. "We'll do the best we can for her," she added, her tone softening only slightly.

Oliver nodded, abruptly exhausted almost beyond bearing now that his goal had been attained. He managed to stagger in the direction of the waiting room. His vision was graying and he fell into the seat closest to the entrance.

There was a woman sitting across from him. She looked to be about seventy years old. Her hair was silvery white, and she had her cardigan wrapped tightly around her almost protectively. Exhaustion, strain and worry were plain on her face and Oliver wondered vaguely if that was what he looked like.

Suddenly, the woman was bending down in front of him. "Honey, are you all right?"

He blinked, his eyes heavy. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

He was pretty sure he was supposed to answer her, but about that time, the floor came up to meet him.

If y'all want another chapter before Christmas, speak now or forever hold your peace...