Sheep's Clothing - Chapter Five
So, last chapter, Oliver had met up with a hitman and a little girl...
Chapter Five
Oliver walked down the hospital hallway drawing a variety of curious stares. He was back in his street clothes, but he was carrying Tammy, held close against his chest, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder. That, when tied to the news reports of Chloe's death, which they all knew to be a lie, made him even more interesting than he had been before.
On the outside, Oliver was cool as a cucumber. He had the little girl safe and sound. With her chest pressed to his, he could feel her heart beating against his own, reassuring him that even if he hadn't been able to keep Chloe from harm, he had at least saved a child. Keeping her calm and unaware of the danger she had been in required that he remain completely calm himself.
Inside, however, he was so furious he could barely think straight. He was a seething cauldron of rage that demanded vengeance for what had happened, both to Chloe and to an innocent family who had been drawn into his world. He was especially furious now that he knew what had caused the situation.
Oliver jammed his heel down into the hitman's breastbone. "Who sent you?"
"Screw you, buddy. I got nothin' to say."
"Really?" Oliver pulled out his cell phone and used the built-in camera to snap a picture of the man's butt-ugly bulldog face. Within seconds, Watchtower had used Chloe's facial recognition software to give him a copy of the thug's driver's license and a rap sheet. "So… Doug 'Morty' Mortimer."
At the sound of his name, the thug began to struggle, but Oliver cocked his crossbow, pointing it straight at the guy's nose and he settled right back down.
"You live at 1781 Blossom Rd, apartment 12." Oliver chuckled, the voice modulator making it a little creepier than it would have been otherwise. "Blossom? Really. Kinda cutesy for such a tough guy."
"You gonna kill me or just talk me to death," the man snarled.
"Pretty sure I'm the one callin' the shots here, Doug. So let's start with why you tried to kill Oliver Queen."
"That prissy little rich guy?"
"That prissy little rich guy will pay me a fortune to skin you alive," Oliver growled.
"Whatever. I still got nothing to say to you."
Oliver looked at the driver's license again. "Says here you live in Gotham."
"So what," he spat.
"So a guy like me? I got friends in the same line of work."
"What work? Freaks on parade?"
Oliver gave him a definite smirk. "Let's just say I have a buddy on speed dial who doesn't like guys like you working in his town. Maybe you've heard of him… Bat… something or other."
For the first time, the hitman looked genuinely afraid. "You wouldn't."
"Let's see… there's a punk hitman in my town kidnapping little girls and shooting CEO's. I can either get the information I need and warn him never to come back, or," Oliver drug the word out, "he can keep stonewalling and I give a head's up to my winged friend who will ensure said hitman never hurts anyone again." Oliver didn't bother to mention that Batman was going to get a head's up either way. He needed to know about this guy. Oliver, however, was more interested in who'd paid the bill. He held up his cell phone. "Now which number was he on my speed dial? Was he one or two… I can never remember."
"Ok!" the man shouted. "Ok. My job's hard enough without you telling that freak about me."
"My heart bleeds for you," Oliver replied snidely. "Now who paid you to shoot Oliver Queen?"
"Nobody."
Oliver had to grit his teeth. That was exactly what he was afraid of. "Who paid you to shoot Chloe Sullivan?"
That was apparently the right question and the hitman paused, visibly rethinking whether he wanted to spill his guts.
"You know what? I don't actually have to turn you over to Batman." Oliver moved his crossbow so that it was aimed directly at the man's heart. "I bet I've got more experience than you at dumping bodies."
"I don't know, ok!" the hitman snapped.
"You don't know?"
"I never saw 'em, I never got a name, and the voice was disguised. They paid me half up front and I get the rest when the job's done."
"Well," Oliver said, his voice full of menace, "that's just not good enough."
Oliver continued down the hospital hallway toward Chloe's room, ignoring all of the open stares. He was more concerned about the exhausted little girl in his arms and getting her back to her mother. Oliver knew exactly what it was like to be abruptly pulled away from a parent without actually understanding why or what had happened.
Once he was done with the hitman, Oliver had hurried back to the old office, already pulling his hood and sunglasses back off so he wouldn't scare the child. Tammy had been sitting exactly where he'd left her, tears streaming down her face, clearly terrified.
Oliver knelt in front of the little girl, who drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face. She was such a tiny little thing, and it amazed him that anyone had been able to even contemplate harming such an innocent.
"Tammy?" The little girl shook her head, still hiding her face, refusing to speak to him. "Tammy, it's ok."
"I want my mommy," she said pitifully.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm here then, because we're gonna go see her right now."
She poked her head up, her eyes just visible over her knobby little knees. "Promise?"
Oliver gave her a wide, reassuring smile. "I told you your mommy sent me to get you, didn't I?" He waited for her to nod. "Good. You ready to go?" She nodded again, and then surprised him by holding her arms out, expecting to be picked up. Oliver, playboy extraordinaire, wasn't exactly experienced with this sort of thing. Tammy waggled her fingers at him impatiently and he had no choice but to comply. Apparently, damsels in distress came in all ages and sizes.
Oliver's return to the hospital was far slower and more careful than his frantic, headlong rush to get to the warehouse. He'd put his hood back up and his glasses on, but he was carrying precious cargo that could not be jostled. As he moved along, he kept up a running commentary, trying to keep the child at ease. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly think of anything else to say that was appropriate for a little girl's ears, her head began to bob, exhaustion winning out after the day's events. He gently pressed her head to his shoulder and in moments she was asleep. He had to put her down long enough to change out of his Green Arrow gear back into his street clothes, but she barely even roused when he picked her back up to carry her into the hospital.
Oliver opened the door to Chloe's hospital room and went in. Tammy's mother was pacing back and forth, but she stopped abruptly and turned red-rimmed eyes toward him. Her hand flew to cover her mouth and she let out a sob that tore at Oliver's hardened heart.
"Tammy?" Oliver pulled the child away from his shoulder and she frowned even in her sleep. "Honey, your mommy's here. Don't you want to see her?"
"Mommy?" The little girl rubbed at her eyes, then what Oliver had said finally dawned on her and she began twisting in his arms. Oliver's side had been letting him know just how much it didn't appreciate the exercise it was getting, especially while carrying Tammy back, and the now gyrating three year old instantly made it worse. "Mommy!"
The nurse was in front of him in a heartbeat pulling her daughter into her arms. She squeezed the little girl within an inch of her life, crying and laughing at the same time.
"Baby?" Angela said, holding the child slightly away from her so she could see her. "Baby, are you all right?"
"She's fine," Oliver assured her.
Tammy nodded and Oliver saw that the woman didn't trust his word or the little girl's. She looked like she wanted to strip the kid and see for herself that there wasn't a single bruise or mark on her child. Oliver had a feeling that if she found one, there would be hell to pay.
"Did… did anyone hurt you?" she asked, scared of the answer.
"Ollie made that other man go away," she whispered seriously. "I didn't like him."
"Ollie?" the woman asked, surprised.
Oliver gave the woman a wave and a sheepish grin. "Ollie" wasn't exactly the imposing, powerful CEO persona he'd been presenting for the past several days at the hospital. Mostly he'd been growling and scaring the nurses and threatening the doctors if they didn't have Chloe fixed up and soon.
"This man…" Angela started.
"He'll never bother you or your daughter again," Oliver stated solemnly.
"But why? Why did he do this?"
"Tell me something," Oliver asked the hitman. "Why didn't you just kill the kid?"
The man's face turned up in a derisive snarl. "I woulda if I had my way, but I got another call and they were pissed that I clipped the Queen guy. They said if I hurt the kid I don't get my money."
"A real humanitarian," Oliver scoffed.
"Whatever. I got a job to do like everybody else."
"So the news says Miss Sullivan is dead. You are going to call the person who paid you and arrange to get your money." After punching several buttons to set up what he needed, Oliver held out his cell phone. It would automatically compare the voice pattern of the caller to Watchtower's database, cross-reference the location, if possible find the credit card that had paid for the phone, etc. In short, if all went well, it would take him only a few seconds to know who he was after.
The hitman snatched the phone from Oliver, who was still pointing his crossbow at the guy's chest. "I do this you let me go?" he asked.
"The longer you stall, the twitchier my trigger finger gets," Oliver warned. "And this little baby has a hair trigger."
Suddenly motivated, the man punched the number into the phone and held it to his ear. After several rings, someone must have picked up. "It's done. I want my money." There was a pause while the person on the other end answered. "Yeah, the kid's turned over and the broad's dead."
The callous statement almost had Oliver pulling the trigger anyway. Chloe was his whole world and this piece of trash could have taken her from him without a second thought.
"I want the money in my account now," Doug ordered. Whatever he heard must have been acceptable, because he nodded. "Fine."
The hitman disconnected and threw the phone back at Oliver who caught it one handed right before it smashed into his nose. "That wasn't very nice," Oliver said, a smirk curling his mouth on one side. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to hurt me."
"Whatever," the man snarled. "Why don't you just prance your little green ass outta here and we'll both get on with our lives."
"One, my ass is in top condition. Two," Oliver brought his boot down on the guy's face with a satisfying crunch, "try not to piss off the guy who's got you dead to rights, moron." He shook his head, looking at the bloodied, unconscious hitman. "Bad guys. No sense of self preservation."
Oliver's cell phone beeped. He looked at the screen and saw that Watchtower had a location on the person who'd called the hitman, although the system was still working on a name. It had, however, compensated for the voice distortion the person had used, so he could hear the caller's real voice.
Oliver held the phone to his ear. Five seconds later, the blood drained from his face and he felt suddenly lightheaded with shock. He recognized the voice. All of this pain and suffering, all for something so petty. All because of him.
"Why did he do this?" the nurse asked again. "I don't understand."
Oliver's gaze traveled to the bed where Chloe was still resting peacefully. "You just got caught in the line of fire," he murmured.
The nurse followed his line of sight. "I'm so sorry," she said, fresh tears falling. "I almost… I could have…" She looked at Chloe out of the corner of her eye, clearly ashamed at what she'd almost done to protect her family. "And even after what I did you still saved my little girl."
Oliver waved her words away. Although it made his blood run cold how close she'd come to hurting Chloe again, he couldn't hold it against the woman. Oliver knew all about the desperate need to protect loved ones and the stupid decisions that could result.
"Mommy, I wanna go home," Tammy said tiredly. Her head was already leaning against her mother's shoulder and Oliver knew she was fading fast. In truth, he envied her. He wished he too could curl up and sleep until his troubles went away.
"We're going home right now, baby." Angela hugged the girl tightly again. "Right now." The nurse hurried forward and stood on her toes to kiss Oliver's cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Queen."
"My pleasure," he responded automatically before leaning down and placing a light kiss on Tammy's forehead.
The child's eyelids fluttered back open. "Bye bye, Ollie."
Angela hurried out the door, no doubt anxious to be well away from the scene of the crime. Oliver couldn't really blame her. He was feeling guilty enough himself about what had happened. A little girl had been placed in harm's way because of him. She was like too many others who had stepped into his orbit and suffered because of it. Not unlike the other lady in his life, now currently residing in a hospital bed.
"That was so adorable I think I might just spontaneously combust."
Oliver's head snapped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Chloe?"
"I mean big, bad, corporate titan, Oliver Queen… jaded, world-weary playboy, Oliver Queen, putty in the chubby little hands of a three year old girl."
Oliver was at Chloe's side in an instant. He was kissing her the next, carefully, gently. Finally, he pulled back, overjoyed to see her beautiful eyes finally open again.
"Hey, you," she said, her voice rusty from disuse.
Oliver reached to the bedside and poured water from a waiting pitcher into a cup with a straw which he held for Chloe to drink from. "That's all I get?" he asked. "You take another ten years off my life and that's it? General mockery and a 'hey, you'?"
She smiled, a tired, pale version of her normal, exuberant grin. "If you get to be all mushy with a little girl, then I get to be cynical and aloof."
Oliver noticed she was having to work a little harder than normal to speak. The drug had sped up the healing process, but the damage to her lung was still evident.
"You ok?" he asked, no longer in the mood for light banter.
"Yes. You?"
"Just a scratch."
"Don't believe you," she said sleepily.
"Well, I'm the one who's mobile, so what does that tell you?"
"Tells me you're too stupid or too proud to sit still." Her eyelids fluttered closed. "Probably badgered poor Emil into turning you loose, too."
Oliver smiled and placed a whisper of a kiss on each closed eyelid. "Probably," he admitted. "Now as happy as I am to see you awake, you should probably go back to sleep."
"'Kay," she murmured, already halfway there.
Oliver kissed her lips one last time. He had somewhere he needed to be.
Chapter Six