Cure: Chapter Two (2/?)
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Summary: Chloe is trying to find a doctor to help her with her meteor infection and a playboy-like Oliver Queen is trying to find a a physician for his Green Arrow wounds. They begin a sexual relationship, which becomes a problem once Ollie's softer side develops.
Chapter Two
He hadn't realized just how busy doctors were. Oliver had done his due diligence on research and was able to narrow down the list of possible doctors down to one Emil Hamilton. He had a good reputation, excellent credentials, had a very interesting list of medical research projects that he was in the middle of, and a prestigious medical background. Most importantly, on paper, the man seemed like he would be able to keep a secret.
Dr. Hamilton had his own practice and a hand-picked surgical team consisting of the best and brightest. Metropolis General Hospital was on Oliver's patrol route, and the doctor looked very promising. But he wasn't in the mood to talk.
Oliver donated a very generous sum of money for his research projects and hadn't gotten any more than a regulation thank you letter from the hospital. He tried to set up an appointment with the man, but he was booked for the next three months, and that wasn't good enough- Oliver needed to be able to depend on the man as early as today if needed.
Oliver had intended on randomly dropping by the hospital to speak with the man for the past couple of days, but his own work had kept him busy. On the third day, he became so tired of walking around, terrified that his stitches would break and he would be bleeding profusely through his pant leg at work that he took a long lunch, ignored the never ending piles of paper on his desk, and started for Metropolis General Hospital.
He sat in the waiting room, watching the busy doctors run in and out, trying to find Dr. Hamilton- he hoped that he had seen enough pictures of the man to be able to recognize him if he saw him. He waited for twenty minutes until a man walked in with a couple of files in his hand, exchanging them for more with the receptionist at the front and walking back out.
Oliver sprang up from his seat and moved to follow him when the woman stopped him. "You can't go in there without an appointment."
He turned around and looked over at the desk. There was a very large woman at the front, and a cute, innocent redhead behind her. He walked over to the desk, and smiled at the large woman. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I need to talk to Dr. Hamilton, and I thought that was him."
"It was. You can't go back there. Do you have an appointment?"
"I just need to talk to him for five minutes. I'm Oliver Queen, I made a donation for a couple of his projects, and I wanted to talk to him."
"The hospital thanks you. Unless you have an appointment, you can't see him." She reached for a piece of paper and handed it to him. He saw the redhead light up at the knowledge of his name. "Lunch menu's right here. Can't guarantee that a bribe's going to work, though. No sushi, no salad." She said before turning back to her work.
He grabbed the paper. Fantastic. He looked over at the redhead who gave him an apologetic smile. He smiled at her. That was his way in.
The next day, he stopped by with lunch just for the woman in the front, and waited for her to finish eating the bribe only to get a "Better luck next time, he's not in today."
He looked over to see the redhead trying not to watch the two of them. Her jealousy was going to get him what he needed. For the next week, he continued to bring the woman in the front lunch until one day, he reached in his briefcase and pulled out a bouquet of flowers. He looked over to see the redhead more than slightly put off until he reached for another bouquet of flowers, and said "Looks like there's one in here for you too! Look at that!"
She rushed over to him to grab the flowers, giggling. Typical. They were always giggling. Always. "I think he's in his office right now. Let me page him", the redhead said, a wide smile plastered on her face.
He leaned over the counter, and smiled at her. "Thank you so much, you don't have to do that."
She giggled again before picking up the phone and talking to the doctor. When she hung up, she got up from the chair. "Right this way."
He followed the girl over to an office and knocked on the door. "Dr. Hamilton, you have a visitor."
"Come in", a voice answered.
"Thank you", he whispered to the receptionist as she walked away.
He opened the door and saw files everywhere, the doctor appeared to be literally buried underneath all of the paperwork. He moved a couple of files from the seat of the chair across from him and placed them on the floor. "Dr. Hamilton, my name is Oliver Queen."
"Let me guess, you made a donation for my research and now you think that you can manipulate me into doing whatever the hell you want", he said, signing a file before closing it and putting it to the side. "It's not going to happen."
"I think you have the wrong idea."
Hamilton looked up for a second and crossed his arms. "Of course I do. I have the wrong idea, you're the exception to the rules, I've heard it all before", he said before reaching for another file. "The truth of the matter is that you billionaires are all the same. You think that you can use everybody else in society, pay them off to achieve your means. If you think I have time to listen to every billionaire that walks through these doors, then you should take a look around. I have work to do."
He examined the man. The dark circles, frustration in his voice, he recognized the signs from his own love/hate relationship with his job over the years. Dr. Hamilton had probably been cooped up in this office all day, and had probably been in the building for longer than that. And a glance at the clock told Oliver that he needed to get back to Queen Industries soon.
"How long have you been in here?"
Emil let out a laugh. "What day is it?"
"Thursday. Look, you obviously need to get out of here, and I need to get back to Queen Industries. I'd like to actually be your friend, Doctor Hamilton. At the very least to show you that there are actually a couple of exceptions out there. Let's grab some coffee."
Hamilton let out a sigh. "I guess I have been cooped up here for a while." He let his eyes stray to a nearby stack of files.
"They'll be there when you come back. I just need to be in the building in case someone needs to get a hold of my person. We'll just go to the lobby. If you get a page, it's only a couple of minutes walk away." Oliver got up, and reached for his briefcase. "Shall we, Doctor?"
Emil grabbed his wallet and cell phone, and the two of them headed out the door. On their way out, Oliver walked around the front desk and leaned over to speak to the redhead. "Dr. Hamilton will be out for the next hour. I think he would appreciate it if you would hold his phone calls. Or better yet, just forward them over to his office's voicemail. But don't hesitate to page him if it's an emergency."
He reached in his pocket and slid over his business card. "And you can always call me too. Cell number's on the back." He winked and the two men left.
"So, looks like the newspapers have the playboy part right."
Oliver shrugged. "I'm a guy. Have yet to find a woman to pin me down, that's all. What about you? I'm sure some of the nurses or receptionists here would die to be with the big badass head doctor."
Emil chuckled. "I haven't had a personal life since my wife died a couple of years ago."
Oliver nodded in understanding. "Extremes, I get it."
"What do you mean?"
"My parents died when I was a kid. It was a long time ago, but I never really got over it", Oliver explained, leaving out the details of both the accident and the pain.
"So your personal life is forced, and my lack of one is too."
"I wouldn't say forced", he said as he checked out a passing brunette before ordering two coffees from a coffee cart outside of Queen Industries and passing Dr. Hamilton one. "Just very different."
"Hey, don't judge me for my lack of a personal life, and I won't judge you for your active one." Emil said as the doorman pulled open a door and he stepped inside.
"Thanks, Frank", Oliver said, smiling, slipping the man a crisp hundred dollar bill. The two of them sat down on a bench in the lobby.
"Good to the help", Emil said, surprised.
"You really don't have good experiences with billionaires, do you? Who was it?"
"Lionel Luthor."
Oliver grimaced. He knew about the 33.1 facilities. Those projects didn't agree with him. But he had no idea if Emil knew about them or not. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
"An associate of mine, a brilliant man, gave up his career because of him. Years ago, Lionel brought his son into the hospital because something was wrong. Next thing he knew, his team is being forced to give him electric shock therapy for no reason. When Lex Luthor was released from the hospital, he couldn't remember anything from the previous day."
"You think Lionel did it on purpose. That he wanted Lex to forget something."
Emil nodded his head. "It's more than that. My associate- he knew that there was something off about the procedure. He felt responsible, like he knew he had tortured Lex Luthor. A day after Lex is released, his projects were given a handsome check, signed by Lionel himself. My associate told me how dirty it felt, Mr. Queen. I'm not interested in feeling it too."
"I'm not interested in delivering the dirt", Oliver said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I sent a check to put my name out there."
"You fund a lot of charities. Your name is out there."
"Yeah, but it's not enough. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how dangerous this city can be. Funding a charity or two isn't going to fix that."
"You're only human. There's only so much you can do. The charities are more than what most people bother with."
"What if I told you that there was a bit more that I could do to make a difference, but that for whatever reason, it put me in some dangerous situations?"
Emil raised an eyebrow. "Define dangerous situations. You're not connected to the mob, are you?"
"No, none of that. I just met you, and it's a bit difficult to explain. All I can tell you right now is that I had to stitch my own leg back together last week, and I really don't want to do that again. I need a private physician, someone who won't blab to the papers."
"You stitched your own leg back together? Do you have any medical training?"
Oliver shook his head. "If you don't include Youtube, then no."
Emil scoffed. "Of course I don't include Youtube. Can I see the sutures? How long is it? You may have done it incorrectly."
"I didn't do it wrong", Oliver insisted. "I've practiced on lemons before."
"Yes, and I've practiced on human flesh. Let me see it."
He looked around at the busy Queen Industries employees walking around the lobby. "I don't think that's a good idea here."
"Right. Come into the office tomorrow, I'll have a look at that leg, and you can see what I do. See if I'm good enough for what you're looking for."
Thank goodness. He really didn't want to show his stitches in front of employees. Speaking of employees, there was a particularly good looking one heading for the elevator. "Hi, Sara", he called out.
The woman looked confused as she turned around, looking his way before continuing her trek towards the elevators.
"You know, judging by her reaction, I don't think her name is Sara", Emil pointed out.
Exactly. "Oh, I know. But if every day, I say, 'Hi, Sara', she'll eventually come up to me and say, 'My name's not Sara, it's Jennifer, or whatever. And I'll do a big apology, and I'll say 'I thought you were the Sara that was mad at me for not calling.' And from then on, Jennifer, or whatever her name is? Will think that I dated a girl who looked just like her. Who I rejected. I make a lot of money, and she'll start to think that she has a chance at that money. She'll develop this unconscious need to win my approval, and from then on, it's cake."
Emil looked at the elevator doors that closed shortly after the woman took a second glance at Oliver. "Damn. You're good."