Categories > TV > Smallville > Dragonfly Wishes and Butterfly Kisses
Title: Dragonfly Wishes and Butterfly Kisses 5
Author: Jude
Rating: R for language used in some chapters
Category: AU
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Summary: Donations come in all forms.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Distribution: Chlollie on LJ, FF.net, and where else I choose to post it!
Notes: This chapter is for Dreamer cos she's fabtastic! A massive thank you to Al, Solo, and Strom for telling me where I was going wrong.
Dragonfly 5...
Robert Queen settled himself against the edge of his desk, his brown eyes full of understanding as he stared at his son who was currantly looking down at a seal white envelope.
"Are you going to open it, son?" He asked, his voice warm and kindly encouraging. Though after seeing the photos his wife had shown him, he hadn't actually needed to see he results, but they were needed in more ways than one.
Laura put her hand on her son's knee. "It's okay, Oliver Jonas."
God, her mother's voice made him want to cry. "How the hell is it going to be okay, mom?" Oliver finally lowered his hands and couldn't help but glare at the woman to his right. "There might be more of them out there."
"Then we'll deal with that if and when we have too, alright?"
"Mom..."
She raised her tone. "Alright?"
Oliver turned his glare to the floor and the envelope that sat by his feet. He went to do it, to pick it up and open it and see, but he couldn't. He honestly didn't want to know if the kid was his or not.
Seriously, what was he gonna do with a kid?
He kept his bitter smirk to himself.
Apart from give it bone marrow, of course.
"Oliver," his dad spoke again and this time, the tone was firmer and meant business.
Though a gentleman, Robert Queen didn't get to where he was without knowing how to be ruthless when it counted.
Oliver looked to his mother for help, but she merely pulled away from him and shook her head, ignoring every maternal instinct that screamed for her to protect her baby boy from anything.
Robert watched his son's reaction as he turned to his mom and he was taken back to when Oliver was about five or six, and had stolen apples from the gardener's private grounds. He'd been made to apologise and give the apples back, but Laura had cushioned the blow with hugs and kisses, saying all little boys did silly things like that.
Robert remembered looking down at his son and seeing tear streaks on the boy's dirty face, and he'd caved. Just because the boy was a Queen didn't mean he had to forgo all boyish things to do, but now...
Now he wondered if Laura and himself had been to relaxed with Oliver as he was growing up.
Robert glanced at his wife and saw how she was responding, and made a decision. "Honey? Can you give us some privacy, please? I'd like to talk to Oliver alone."
Laura frowned and was ready to decline, but another look at her son had her nodded. "Of course, darling. I have some errands to run, so..."
Before standing, she leaned over and kissed Oliver on the cheek. "Listen to what your father says, son. I love you."
Oliver gave a brief nod. "You too, mom," and smiled slightly. "I hear grapes are a good thing to take. I mean, that's where you're going, right? To see her?"
Robert chuckled as his wife coughed.
"And just how do you know where I'm going, hm?" She mock demanded.
"Because you're a mom," he replied simply. "A mom that can't stand to see a kid suffer, even if it's not yours."
"No, son," Laura said with a proud smile. If only Miss. Sullivan could see he wasn't such a bad man to have as her daughter's father. "I can't."
Oliver nodded. "Then I better make sure she's mine before you get too involved."
He snatched the envelope off the floor, ignoring the hot rush of nervousness that made his palms sweaty, and closed his eyes as he tore it open. A count of three past before he got the courage to look down at the DNA results and his stomach dropped.
Laura was on the edge of her seat while Robert held his breath. "Well?"
"97.9 percent match," Oliver gripped the paper as he ignored the urge to run far, far away and pretend this wasn't happening. "She's mine, mom. She's my daughter."
When not one of his parents said anything, he looked at first his father and then his mother, who were both watching him. "Aren't you gonna say something?" He asked, hating how he sounded.
Oliver didn't want to be the father of that harpy's kid.
Hell, he didn't want to be the father to anyone's kid.
There was a part of Laura that wanted to say she knew from the second she saw the photographs, but had a feeling that would only cause her son to withdraw. Looking at her husband, she deferred to his expertise in the matter.
After all, Robert Queen once found out he was a father.
"Yes," she eventually stated, unable to keep the little smile off her lips. "I'll inform Miss. Sullivan of the news in case her copy hasn't arrived." Or if the woman had thrown it away.
Oliver sneered at the name. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled at the news."
Robert's eyes hardened somewhat. "I'm sure she will, son. It means there's a chance her daughter can be saved."
"Whoa, whoa," his son brought up his hands. "Who said anything about that?"
"What?" Laura muffled her gasp with her hands. "Oliver..." Surely he didn't mean he wasn't going to...
"No, no," he said, wide eyed and determined to be heard before they jumped to conclusions. "We don't even know if her story is true, right? What if mom goes to the hospital and finds there's no Sullivan, huh? Even if there is, what the hell is bone marrow, anyway? I don't know a damn thing about what the kid has."
His mother used a voice he'd never heard. "Molly," she replied as she stood. "Your daughter's name is Molly. Bob, sweetheart, I'll leave you to it."
She couldn't sit there anymore and listen to her son be so callous, and justify it with ignorance. "I'll see you later, Oliver Jonas."
Without another word, Laura left her husband's study and quietly closed the door behind her.
"Drink?" Robert offered.
XOXOXO
As she drove towards the hospital, Laura considered everything from the clothes she wore and car she drove to her greeting and how to ask if she could meet her granddaughter. She hadn't wanted to appear too rich in case Miss. Sullivan thought she was trying too hard to flash the family wealth in order to get what she wanted.
So, she'd opted for a simple pale lavendar cashmere sweater with an equally simple pair of black pants that she'd gotten in a sale two years ago. The car was actually her own and was a plain old Volvo.
Personally, she never could understand why her husband and son insisted on owning cars like Ferraris and Porsches and Lotuses. Every car conversation those two had sounded like gobbledegook to her.
She understood as much about cars as she did about quantum physics, which was less than nothing.
The hospital came into sight and Laura made the turn, her mind swiftly shifting from cars to what she was going too say to Miss. Sullivan.
She honestly wasn't looking forward to delivering the news that her son was Molly's father. All she could hear was Miss. Sullivan the very thought of that made her sick.
The very idea of you being her father makes me sick.
Those words would live in her memory for a long, long time, and though Laura couldn't justify her son's attitude, she could understand his hesitation. What she couldn't grasp was how her son came to be the person he was.
She knew how he was and what he did, but she couldn't say anything because he was an adult and as an adult, he had to make his own choices. She couldn't force him to do anything and as much as she wished, she couldn't be a parent to him now.
Her boy was all grown up and it was sad to see a 33 year old living the life of a teenager.
Laura sighed as she slowed down to make the turn into the hospital parking lot, her mind still on how she could explain her presence to Miss. Sullivan. She couldn't just go in there and ask to see her granddaughter, because Miss. Sullivan might not have gotten the results today and if she did, there was nothing to say those results hadn't been thrown away.
Miss. Sullivan could quite easily lie about her daughter's parentage and Laura couldn't quite bring herself to place blame.
She shook her thoughts away and got herself together.
Molly Sullivan was her granddaughter and there was nothing else to it.
XOXOXO
Robert poured poured two healthy amounts of his best scotch into his best glasses and handed one of them to his son, who looked well and truly wrung out. "Get this down you, son," he said. "It'll give the system a boost."
Oliver chuckled quietly and took the glass, sniffing the liquid before wrinkling his nose. The stuff was vile. "I hate scotch."
"No," his father smirked. "You hate the scotch you drink, not the scotch us old folks drink." He didn't know how the youth of today could stand the rubbish bought in clubs.
His boy arched his brows in surprise. "This is your good stuff?"
"Single malt, smoky, smooth..." Robert's eyes closed as he took a nice, slow sip, then let out an ahhh of appreciation. "That, Oliver Jonas, that is whisky. Not the paint stripper you kids buy."
Oliver rolled his eyes and sucked it up before taking a good drink.
Oh. God.
It was smooth alright.
For about five seconds before the heat started to melt his oesophagus and caused him to choke while his eyes started to water. He whacked his chest, glaring up at the man who was stood there thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
"How can you drink this?" Oliver wheezed. "It's gross!"
It was Robert who rolled his eyes this time. "This is a connissuers drink of choice."
"It's the drink of choice for those with no taste buds."
His father shook his head. "Your great-grandfather would be ashamed of you," he tutted. "He worked with his father in the Scottish..."
Not this story again. "I know, dad," Oliver grunted. "Believe me."
Robert stared at his son. "Maybe you don't know, Oliver. Your great-grandfather worked his fingers to the bone to give a better life to his son, my father carried on that hard work to give me a better life and I've done the same for you."
Seeing his boy look away, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I can't tell you how to live your life. Heaven knows you're old enough now to make your own choices, but..."
"The clinic said my donation would be discarded..." Oliver strongly defended.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about your behaviour, son. Out for all hours of the night and showing up late for work. You're 33 and acting 20, and it has to stop. If not for your sake, then for the sake of your mom."
"Sure I turn up late, but I do my job," his son stated, his tone clipped. "You know I do my job."
Robert sipped his scotch and thought about what he would say in response. "You do it well, Oliver, but if you weren't my son, I'd have fired you years ago." He let that confession sink in before continuing. "You are my son and I'm confident you'll pull your socks up on your own."
"Duly noted," Oliver dryly replied and grinned at the irritated expression on his dad's face. Unfortunately, his dad didn't appear to share his humour and he sighed. "I'll do better, dad. I promise," and he would do better.
His father shook his head. "I don't want promises, son. Your mother and I just want to see you proud of yourself. We want you to be the man we know you are under it all."
It didn't take a genius to figure out what his dad meant by all. The clothes, the shoes, the family name and money, his looks...
Oliver was the first to say he wasn't proud of how he lived, but it hurt hearing it from his father, a man he respected and admired with his entire being. Then there was his mother.
He'd been a mommy's boy and it was a royal kick in the teeth to know she felt the same as his dad. He had to be a better person for his parents and he knew that, but he didn't know how.
He didn't get a chance to say anything when Robert again waved his free hand. "So," he said at length and sat next to his son, easing into His Seat. "You have a daughter."
"I was waiting for this."
"I'm not judging you, Oliver Jonas. I know you're mostly a victim in this situation, but you also have to remember Miss. Sullivan didn't ask to have you as the father. It would be a different matter if she had," Robert admitted. "Yet she didn't."
"As far as we know," Oliver muttered and wisely took a sip this time, feeling the warming sensation comfort and sooth.
"I personally looked into and there was an employee who was fired for negligence. What your Miss. Sullivan said was true." His father paused. "Though I still don't understand why Bart didn't just ask for financial help."
The kid had worked his ass off to get the PR job at Queen Industries and he should have known he could have for help. Yet like all young men, his son included, Bart Allen had his pride.
His son gave a snort of laughter. "Who knows why Bart does anything. He's looking into night-time cooking classes."
Robert was about to take a sip when his boy's words hit home and he turned, horrified. "That is a joke, right?"
"Nope," Oliver smirked. "Something to do with someone called Henrietta?" Or was it Harriet?
"Harriet Ellis?"
"That's the one."
"She's my secretary's sister and your mother's co-president for the Wishing Star charity."
Oliver's jaw dropped. "She's 42!"
Robert gave his son a pat of sympathy and mocked the young Mr. Allen. "Age is just a number, dude, I mean Mr. Q. Once the lady get a taste of the Bart Man, she ain't ever lookin back."
Oliver openly cringed. "Okay, first? Don't ever do that again. Seriously, dad. Not ever. Second? Bart got her details after he stole my address book."
His father nodded. "I'll warn her."
Bart Allen might be one of the best PR's in the country, but he was an absolute disaster with women. The guy seemed to think that more was definitely better and often ended up with a hand print rather than a lip print.
Silence fell between the two men and went on for a good few minutes as they both simply sat there, staring across the study and waiting for the other to speak.
Having had enough, Oliver graced his dad with a sly look. "Say it, dad."
"Say what?" Robert was all innocence.
"Say what you think I should do."
"About what?"
"Her, the kid, everything."
Robert sighed. This was Oliver's downfall and it always would be if he didn't learn to trust himself and the decisions he made. "I can't do that, son."
Oliver let his head hit the back of the sofa. "I was expecting a booty call, dad. Mom tell you that? Then there was this..." and there was no other word for Miss. Sullivan. "Harpy..."
Robert couldn't help it and literally burst out laughing. A full, hearty, belly aching laugh that earned him a glare. "Harpy? Your mother was quite taken with her."
"Can't see why," his son grit out. "She just stood there, on the doorstep, with a sweet little smile and said I am indeed Miss. Sullivan and I think you fathered my daughter. God, dad, she made me so angry."
"I suppose you made her so happy," he father said easily. "From what your mother told me, Miss. Sullivan mentioned how the thought of you being the father made her sick," and he was pleased to see the reminder shut his son up pretty quick. "Sounds like you both got off on the wrong foot."
"There's no right foot with that woman," Oliver grumbled, not willing to say how much those words of hers stung. "Honestly, dad. I'm lost here. I don't know what the kid has or what bone marrow has to do with it or anything."
"There's only one way to find out, son," Robert drank the rest of his scotch. "And while I can't tell you what to do, I will help you in anyway I can. We all will."
XOXOXO
Laura was expecting certain rules and guildlines for visiting a child in the Oncology ward, but not to this standard. Then again, she hadn't thought of how swine flu might have affected the health and safety of hospitals in general.
She was given a green sticker to show she'd been cleared for visitation after being given a face mask and had her hands thoroughly sanitized. Anyone under the age of twelve was not allowed and neither was anyone with a cough or a sniffle, and it was a little bit daunting if she was honest.
Though not daunting enough to make her turn away from seeing her granddaughter.
She walked down the corridor, trying not to look into the private rooms that held children like Molly. It was not only an extremely rude thing to do, but she also wasn't yet ready to be faced with the reality of the fate her very own granddaughter may have.
Laura paused long enough to get herself under control.
Being a mother was both a blessing and a curse at times like this, and she wanted to weep, something she outright refused to do. The private rooms she'd walked past had contained laughter and story-telling and games, and she refused to give pity where it was not wanted.
She resumed the walk down the corridor and only stopped when she heard Miss. Sullivan's voice.
"You put that back, Molly Anne."
"Nuh-uh."
"Yuh-huh."
"Finders, keepers."
"Cheaters, losers."
"I didn't cheat, mom. Cross my heart."
"You stole money out of the bank! I'm gonna call the cops!"
Laura moved as quietly as she could towards the little room at the corner and peered in, and nothing on this Earth could have prepared her for seeing her granddaughter in the flesh.
The little girl was dwarfed by a dark blue robe that contrasted terribly with her pale skin, she was bald as a newborn and bearly bigger than a younger child. Her cheekbones were overly prominent, a sign of illness and poor appetite, and despite it all, she was giggling like she hadn't a care in the world.
Then the girl looked up and Laura found herself looking at a pair of large brown eyes and a mouth and chin that was pure Queen.
Those eyes blinked and the little girl immediately went quiet.
Chloe instantly noticed her daughter's reaction and turned her head, expecting either her uncle Sam or one of her friends, but it wasn't so.
The deal had visitation rights and access would be dealt with if, and only if, Oliver Queen was her daughter's father. Since Mrs. Queen stood there, it could only mean one thing.
Chloe cringed inside.
Anyone but him.
Laura read the expression on the young mother's face and sighed, those hateful words coming back to her. "Oliver isn't a..."
Chloe cut the woman's sentence short when she turned back to her daughter. She didn't want want anything to be said that could be upsetting or stressful. "Sweetheart?"
Molly spoke hesitantly. "Yeah?"
Chloe arched a brow and the little girl's shoulders dropped as she corrected herself. "Yes?"
"I just need too talk to the nice lady for a little bit. I'll be right down the hall and you know to press the button if you don't feel very well, okay?"
Molly glanced at the strange lady. "Why?"
"Because it's important, sweetie."
"But... Why?"
Laura was thankful the face mask muffled her chuckling when Miss. Sullivan's eyes rolled.
"Because I said so."
"Why, though?"
This time, Mrs. Queen simply couldn't help herself and laughed a laugh that even the mask couldn't hide. That girl was exactly how her son had been. Full of curiosity and wanting to know about everything and anything he could.
She looked at Miss. Sullivan. "Do you mind?"
Chloe spoke through thinned lips. "Of course I don't mind."
Laura knew sarcasm when she heard it. "Thank you," she murmured as she walked further into the room, her gaze softening with every step. "You must be Molly," she said and took the seat recently vacated.
The little girl eyed her, but remained silent.
Chloe bit back a smirk. Her daughter would never speak to strangers. "It's okay, honey. She's a friend. You can speak to her."
Laura blinked when Molly spoke. "Stranger danger."
Chloe herself laughed and addressed Mrs. Queen. "You have a green sticker, so you can take that off," and gestured to the face mask.
Mrs. Queen looked unsure, unable to keep from glancing at Molly.
Chloe tried not to feel insulted at the mistrust. After all, it wasn't the woman's fault she didn't know what she was asking to be involved with. Still, she had to say something. "I'm not in the habit of putting my daughter at risk, Mrs. Queen. I wouldn't say it was okay if it wasn't. Believe me."
Laura swallowed back the urge to respond.
Miss. Sullivan was clearly trying to be nice and in face of who was her daughter's father, she was doing quite well with her attempt.
"I'm not wearing one," Molly's voice drew the elder woman's attention. "See?"
Chloe smothered chuckle. "You heard the woman."
Laura slipped the mask off and made an exaggerated expression of relief, feeling quite proud when her granddaughter giggled. She'd forgotten how wonderful a little girl's giggle could be. "That's better," she said through a smile.
"Would you like something to drink, Mrs. Queen?" Chloe immediately caught the expression on Molly's face and rolled her eyes at the blatant want. "Chocolate?"
Laura chuckled when the child's face split into a smile that flashed all her teeth, then she watched mother stare expectantly at daughter.
Molly's smile dropped a little as she scowled. "Please may I have some chocolate, mommy?"
Laura remembered the time she had when trying to teach Oliver the very same manners and he never liked it, either. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Miss. Sullivan."
If Chloe had been anyone else, she wouldn't have picked up on the subtlte emphasis on her name. Laura Queen was a clever one. "Please," she replied with a smile that said she caught on. "Call me Chloe."
"Only if you call me Laura."
"Deal and it's no trouble. I was going to make some for myself. Would you be able to help me carry them back?" Chloe asked and waved her hands. "Only have two hands."
Laura inwardly smirked.
Chloe was a very smart young woman.
XOXOXO
"And you..." Robert laughed loudly. "You were sat there, in the middle of the Wishing Star annual ball, in nothing but your Scooby Doo pants, letting Benji the guard dog lick the cake off your face."
Oliver scowled. It was never fun when his baby stories and photos came out to play. "I know, dad. I was there," and so had half the Star City press population.
His father was still chucking when he topped up their glasses. "Benji was a good dog." A good dog that had been debilitated by artheritis and so had to be put down. The whole family had been upset while Laura had paid for a nice memorial headstone that sat beautifully in the orchard.
"Yep," the younger man sighed fondly and raised his whisky. "To Benji."
"To Benji," and crystal kissed crystal.
Robert looked up at the ceiling, wondering how long it had been since he'd actually sat down with his son and just talked. The news he was a grandfather had him keenly feeling his years and he wondered where the time went.
One minute, he'd been holding a screaming baby and the next, he was pouring that same baby whisky.
"You were such a gorgeous baby, son," he stated, then grinned. "What happened?"
Oliver shot his dad a look that said the sarcasm was not impressive. "Your humour is as about as good as your dancing."
Robert's eyebrows shot up. "I can dance just fine, Oliver Jonas. Your mother enjoys it."
"That's cos mom thinks the sun shines out of your nostrils."
"You mean it doesn't?"
"I truly worry about you, dad."
Robert offered his boy a cigar before getting one for himself. He bit the end off and turned it round, but not before waving it under his nose. "Cubans, boy. Cubans and proper Scottish whisky. Single malt scotch, of course."
Oliver raised his glass again. "To Cubans and single malt."
"I'll drink to that, boy," and once again, crystal kissed crystal.
Oliver took a big sip and let out a small ahhh as the warmth hit him some more. "This..." he shook his glass. "This is really good stuff. Where'd ya get it?"
"From Scotland," Robert replied in a tone that implied it was a stupid question. "Where else do you get good scotch?"
"You know what you are, dad?" Oliver let his head flop to the side so he could look at his father without much effort. "You're a snob. A Scottish scotch whisky snob."
Robert opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but thought better of it. "Yes, I am. Your great-grandfather worked..."
"His hands to the bone," Oliver finished with a smile. "I know."
"Boy, you don't have the slightest idea," Robert murmured around his cigar.
The younger Queen paused as he thought about it and winced. "Ouch. Guess Robin Hood wasn't your bedtime story."
"Of course it was," his dad said. "It just happened that Robin Hood worked for a distillery where everything was done by hand."
Oliver chuckled. "And the bows and arrows were what? Bottles and fumes?"
"Of course not," Robert looked entirely serious. "They were fists and foreheads. Boy, these modern day bar brawls are what the women did in those days."
"Have you ever seen a bar brawl, dad?"
"Seen em? Oliver Jonas, I started em. When I was at Oxford, the fights we had with Cambridge were..." Robert giggled like a little kid. "There was bloodshed and violence."
Oliver arched a brow.
This was a side of his dad he'd never heard about. "Spill the gossip, dad."
"Well, this one time, I flicked a chess piece at my opponent and it hit him in the lip." Robert's smile increased in size. "I was what you young'uns call a badass. Hear that, son. Your old dad is a badass."
"Yeah," Oliver replied dryly. "You're a real badass."
"I'll have you know I can throw a punch or two!"
"Is that before or after the punches throw you?"
Robert laughed out loud. "I could take you."
Oliver choked on his scotch. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, boy. I could, how you kids say, kick your ass." Yeah, Robert thought, he was cool and hip with his son's lingo.
Oliver had a horrifying image of his dad showing up at Hannah's club, ready to take on the world while wearing his slippers and tube socks. "I believe you, dad," he said, hoping to save everyone from that. "You'd make me look like a pussy."
"Damn straight I would," Robert curled his arm up. "Look at this 24 inch python."
"You know when I said for you not to do stuff? Impersonating the Hulkster is one of them."
The word Hulkster had both men looking at each other for a moment before they both let out loud, gruff grrr's and puffed up their chests. "Hulkamania!"
"Dude," Oliver grinned as he slapped his dad's hand in a high-five. "That match with Quake was so good."
Robert paused. "Fixed?"
His son nodded. "Totally fixed. That bodyslam? No-one could lift that mother."
"You mom had a thing for Lex Luger..." Robert confessed. "Then I introduced her and she slapped him for touching her ass." He paused again. "That was a fun sight."
"Then what?" Oliver asked, his cheeks aching from stopping his laughter. The wrestler got off lightly if his mom had merely slapped him. "You took him outside and showed him your 24 inch pythons?"
"Of course I didn't," his dad managed to appear offended. "I left the press to make him look like a moron. Your mom is your mom, but she's my wife..." He paused again. "Though I did leave her alone with Steve Tyler for an hour. You were conceived a week later..."
Oliver really did choke on his scotch. "What?"
Robert kept a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at his boy's outrage. "Your mom was already pregnant, son. Though she did confess to having a grope, but I can't complain. I groped Tawny Kitane."
Oliver had to chuckle. "Did you get a slap?"
"Nope!" Robert's smile was everything smug. "I got her husband's car and guitar. Your mom, though son... Your mom is always the belle. The Tawnys, the Cindy Crawfords... Your mom is the one, son. She's so smart."
Oliver was quick to stop his dad before it reached the point where he needed therapy, so he brought up the one thing they'd both avoided all afternoon. "I'm a dad, dad."
Robert kept his smile to himself. "Yes, son. You are." He didn't mention the child's ill health in case Oliver closed up.
"What am I gonna do with a kid?" His distraction technique for his dad became all too real. "What can I offer it?"
His father remained silent. "I've got money, so I can give child support, but that isn't what the mother wants, is it? The mother only wants me for bone marrow. How can I give bone marrow to a stranger's kid?"
Seeing his dad open his mouth to speak, Oliver hastily continued. "I don't know either of them, I don't know how to give bone marrow, I don't know what ALL is..."
Robert focused on doing the perfect inhalation from the perfect cigar, giving his boy the time to really open up.
"I'm just your kid, dad," Oliver said, his gaze now on the amber liquid remaining in his glass. "Everything I could do to make things better, you and mom have already done. Charity funds? Done. Investments? Done. Inventors? Funded. I'm just Oliver, the rich kid who works for his father and doesn't turn up on time."
He knocked back the rest of his scotch. "Not to mention I make women sick if they think I'm the father. So you tell me, dad. What can I do apart from live in the shadow of great-grandfather, grandfather, and you?"
Oliver shrugged. "I'm not really anything, am I dad? I'm just the son of Robert Queen. I've never really done anything to make my mark, you know? I'm not great-granddad or granddad or you. I don't know how to do anything."
Robert looked at his son, really looked, and saw something in his son's face that he'd missed. "Oliver Jonas," he said, shocked at how little his son thought of himself.
"It's fine, dad," Oliver gave another shrug. "I'm used to it."
XOXOXO
How Laura managed to keep from crying, she didn't know. Maybe it was the fact she didn't want Molly to see or maybe she didn't want Chloe to see, or maybe it was because tears and pity were not what was needed.
She walked beside Chloe as she pushed Molly's wheelchair carefully towards a nearby seat outside the hospital. She looked at the tired little girl sitting quietly and enjoying the simple fact of being outside. She thought about her son and cursed the way he seemed to take everything for granted.
She took a deep breath and spoke to Molly, not over her. "Do you like to be outside?" It was only after asking that she realised what a stupid, horrible question that was.
Her granddaughter nodded and familar brown eyes blinked at her. "I'm not allowed out lot," and her voice was muffled by her face mask.
"That's cos you're a menace," Chloe stated fondly as she put the brakes on. "You scare people."
Laura choked back her response when Molly put a hand on her hip and graced her mother with a familair haughty expression. "That's you."
"Say what?"
Then Mrs. Queen realised Chloe was getting her daughter strong enough to fight for herself if and when the time came. "You're quite right, Molly," Laura whispered with a kind smile. "Your mommy scares me and even scared my son."
Molly looked to her mother, her eyes wide. "You scared a boy?"
Chloe arched a brow at Laura's subtle yet daring attempt to bring Oliver into the conversation. "He was even taller than me."
"You should pick on people your own size," Molly said, the gleam in those brown eyes was pure Queen.
Laura took a seat next to Chloe and despite having a child of her own, she honestly wasn't sure what to say. Molly Sullivan was a little wise beyond her years and she guessed it was caused by her circumstances.
Reading Mrs. Queen's expression, Chloe started. "Sweetheart, why don't you tell Mrs. Queen about your drawing?"
Face mask or no, both women saw Molly's face light up. "I came second in a competition. I drawed..." and corrected herself when her mother coughed loudly. "I drew a picture of my doctor with funny glasses and a potato nose."
Laura smiled at her enthusiasm. "That's wonderful, Molly. I'd love to see it one day."
"Mommy has it at home."
"Mommy did until aunt Lois stopped by and stole it."
Off Mrs' Queen's quizzical expression, "She's my cousin," Chloe explained. "But we're very close."
"Ahh," Laura understood. "Maybe you can draw another picture just like it for your mom?"
Molly considered it, then shook her head. "I want draw something pretty next time and my doctor isn't pretty."
Mrs. Queen laughed. Oh, she had quite the cheek on her. "And what do you think is pretty?"
The little girl looked exactly like her son when he was deep in thought. Head tilted to one side, wrinkles at the corners of the eyes, and a frown on her forehead. "Gizmo," she answered eventually. "Gizmo is very pretty."
Laura looked at Chloe just in time to see an eye roll. "Gizmo?" She asked.
Molly nodded. "My friend gave me his Gizmo when he got to go home."
"Maybe your friend can come visit and he can help you with your drawing?"
Then she noticed something.
Chloe was twisting her hands together and subtly shaking her head before looking to the ground. It took a moment or two for Laura to realise the implications.
Molly shook her head. "Ben said he was going home to sleep proper. Maybe we can ask his mommy if he can come after he's woken up? Can we mommy?"
Chloe went to say something, but was going say was cut off by a yawn. "Mommy, can we go back inside now?"
"Of course we can, sweetheart. Tell you what," she said. "How about we stop by the shop for some more cocoa?"
Laura had never known a child to turn down cocoa and especially not a child who'd silently pleaded for chocolate mile two hours ago.. Molly shook her head. "Not today, mommy. I'm a sleepy head."
"Well then," Chloe took the brakes off and stood. "Let's get you to bed, slugger."
Laura walked quietly beside them for a short time before speaking in a voice too low for Molly to hear. "Chloe, what did her friend have?"
"Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia," was the clipped response. "Ben's mom couldn't find a donor."
Laura felt her heart drop. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to see a child die of the very same thing her child had. She'd known the illness was serious, but just not how serious.
Laura felt her heart drop. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to see another child die of the very same thing her child had and it hit her hard.
If her son wasn't going to help, then she might be able too. "Being Oliver's mother, maybe I could..."
Chloe shook her head. "You're too old, remember?" she reminded quietly. "My dad and uncle already tried, but they were told the same thing. My cousins aren't a match and Molly is an only child who isn't at the top of the register..."
The elder woman gave a nod of understanding. "That's why you found my son."
"No offense, Mrs. Queen. I will get my daughter's bone marrow if I have to strap him down and suck it out of him with a straw!"
For the second time that day, Laura Queen laughed out loud.
How she wished Oliver had met this woman before that vicious viper known as Tess Mercer. "Chloe, I believe I'd help you."
It didn't take long to reach the Oncology ward and by then, Molly had fallen asleep in her wheelchair. Laura stroked her head and there was no baby soft wisps of hair. It made her want to weep.
Right then, Mrs. Queen made a decision to talk to Oliver and make him see that if he didn't help, the child he never knew would die.
Author: Jude
Rating: R for language used in some chapters
Category: AU
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Summary: Donations come in all forms.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Distribution: Chlollie on LJ, FF.net, and where else I choose to post it!
Notes: This chapter is for Dreamer cos she's fabtastic! A massive thank you to Al, Solo, and Strom for telling me where I was going wrong.
Dragonfly 5...
Robert Queen settled himself against the edge of his desk, his brown eyes full of understanding as he stared at his son who was currantly looking down at a seal white envelope.
"Are you going to open it, son?" He asked, his voice warm and kindly encouraging. Though after seeing the photos his wife had shown him, he hadn't actually needed to see he results, but they were needed in more ways than one.
Laura put her hand on her son's knee. "It's okay, Oliver Jonas."
God, her mother's voice made him want to cry. "How the hell is it going to be okay, mom?" Oliver finally lowered his hands and couldn't help but glare at the woman to his right. "There might be more of them out there."
"Then we'll deal with that if and when we have too, alright?"
"Mom..."
She raised her tone. "Alright?"
Oliver turned his glare to the floor and the envelope that sat by his feet. He went to do it, to pick it up and open it and see, but he couldn't. He honestly didn't want to know if the kid was his or not.
Seriously, what was he gonna do with a kid?
He kept his bitter smirk to himself.
Apart from give it bone marrow, of course.
"Oliver," his dad spoke again and this time, the tone was firmer and meant business.
Though a gentleman, Robert Queen didn't get to where he was without knowing how to be ruthless when it counted.
Oliver looked to his mother for help, but she merely pulled away from him and shook her head, ignoring every maternal instinct that screamed for her to protect her baby boy from anything.
Robert watched his son's reaction as he turned to his mom and he was taken back to when Oliver was about five or six, and had stolen apples from the gardener's private grounds. He'd been made to apologise and give the apples back, but Laura had cushioned the blow with hugs and kisses, saying all little boys did silly things like that.
Robert remembered looking down at his son and seeing tear streaks on the boy's dirty face, and he'd caved. Just because the boy was a Queen didn't mean he had to forgo all boyish things to do, but now...
Now he wondered if Laura and himself had been to relaxed with Oliver as he was growing up.
Robert glanced at his wife and saw how she was responding, and made a decision. "Honey? Can you give us some privacy, please? I'd like to talk to Oliver alone."
Laura frowned and was ready to decline, but another look at her son had her nodded. "Of course, darling. I have some errands to run, so..."
Before standing, she leaned over and kissed Oliver on the cheek. "Listen to what your father says, son. I love you."
Oliver gave a brief nod. "You too, mom," and smiled slightly. "I hear grapes are a good thing to take. I mean, that's where you're going, right? To see her?"
Robert chuckled as his wife coughed.
"And just how do you know where I'm going, hm?" She mock demanded.
"Because you're a mom," he replied simply. "A mom that can't stand to see a kid suffer, even if it's not yours."
"No, son," Laura said with a proud smile. If only Miss. Sullivan could see he wasn't such a bad man to have as her daughter's father. "I can't."
Oliver nodded. "Then I better make sure she's mine before you get too involved."
He snatched the envelope off the floor, ignoring the hot rush of nervousness that made his palms sweaty, and closed his eyes as he tore it open. A count of three past before he got the courage to look down at the DNA results and his stomach dropped.
Laura was on the edge of her seat while Robert held his breath. "Well?"
"97.9 percent match," Oliver gripped the paper as he ignored the urge to run far, far away and pretend this wasn't happening. "She's mine, mom. She's my daughter."
When not one of his parents said anything, he looked at first his father and then his mother, who were both watching him. "Aren't you gonna say something?" He asked, hating how he sounded.
Oliver didn't want to be the father of that harpy's kid.
Hell, he didn't want to be the father to anyone's kid.
There was a part of Laura that wanted to say she knew from the second she saw the photographs, but had a feeling that would only cause her son to withdraw. Looking at her husband, she deferred to his expertise in the matter.
After all, Robert Queen once found out he was a father.
"Yes," she eventually stated, unable to keep the little smile off her lips. "I'll inform Miss. Sullivan of the news in case her copy hasn't arrived." Or if the woman had thrown it away.
Oliver sneered at the name. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled at the news."
Robert's eyes hardened somewhat. "I'm sure she will, son. It means there's a chance her daughter can be saved."
"Whoa, whoa," his son brought up his hands. "Who said anything about that?"
"What?" Laura muffled her gasp with her hands. "Oliver..." Surely he didn't mean he wasn't going to...
"No, no," he said, wide eyed and determined to be heard before they jumped to conclusions. "We don't even know if her story is true, right? What if mom goes to the hospital and finds there's no Sullivan, huh? Even if there is, what the hell is bone marrow, anyway? I don't know a damn thing about what the kid has."
His mother used a voice he'd never heard. "Molly," she replied as she stood. "Your daughter's name is Molly. Bob, sweetheart, I'll leave you to it."
She couldn't sit there anymore and listen to her son be so callous, and justify it with ignorance. "I'll see you later, Oliver Jonas."
Without another word, Laura left her husband's study and quietly closed the door behind her.
"Drink?" Robert offered.
XOXOXO
As she drove towards the hospital, Laura considered everything from the clothes she wore and car she drove to her greeting and how to ask if she could meet her granddaughter. She hadn't wanted to appear too rich in case Miss. Sullivan thought she was trying too hard to flash the family wealth in order to get what she wanted.
So, she'd opted for a simple pale lavendar cashmere sweater with an equally simple pair of black pants that she'd gotten in a sale two years ago. The car was actually her own and was a plain old Volvo.
Personally, she never could understand why her husband and son insisted on owning cars like Ferraris and Porsches and Lotuses. Every car conversation those two had sounded like gobbledegook to her.
She understood as much about cars as she did about quantum physics, which was less than nothing.
The hospital came into sight and Laura made the turn, her mind swiftly shifting from cars to what she was going too say to Miss. Sullivan.
She honestly wasn't looking forward to delivering the news that her son was Molly's father. All she could hear was Miss. Sullivan the very thought of that made her sick.
The very idea of you being her father makes me sick.
Those words would live in her memory for a long, long time, and though Laura couldn't justify her son's attitude, she could understand his hesitation. What she couldn't grasp was how her son came to be the person he was.
She knew how he was and what he did, but she couldn't say anything because he was an adult and as an adult, he had to make his own choices. She couldn't force him to do anything and as much as she wished, she couldn't be a parent to him now.
Her boy was all grown up and it was sad to see a 33 year old living the life of a teenager.
Laura sighed as she slowed down to make the turn into the hospital parking lot, her mind still on how she could explain her presence to Miss. Sullivan. She couldn't just go in there and ask to see her granddaughter, because Miss. Sullivan might not have gotten the results today and if she did, there was nothing to say those results hadn't been thrown away.
Miss. Sullivan could quite easily lie about her daughter's parentage and Laura couldn't quite bring herself to place blame.
She shook her thoughts away and got herself together.
Molly Sullivan was her granddaughter and there was nothing else to it.
XOXOXO
Robert poured poured two healthy amounts of his best scotch into his best glasses and handed one of them to his son, who looked well and truly wrung out. "Get this down you, son," he said. "It'll give the system a boost."
Oliver chuckled quietly and took the glass, sniffing the liquid before wrinkling his nose. The stuff was vile. "I hate scotch."
"No," his father smirked. "You hate the scotch you drink, not the scotch us old folks drink." He didn't know how the youth of today could stand the rubbish bought in clubs.
His boy arched his brows in surprise. "This is your good stuff?"
"Single malt, smoky, smooth..." Robert's eyes closed as he took a nice, slow sip, then let out an ahhh of appreciation. "That, Oliver Jonas, that is whisky. Not the paint stripper you kids buy."
Oliver rolled his eyes and sucked it up before taking a good drink.
Oh. God.
It was smooth alright.
For about five seconds before the heat started to melt his oesophagus and caused him to choke while his eyes started to water. He whacked his chest, glaring up at the man who was stood there thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
"How can you drink this?" Oliver wheezed. "It's gross!"
It was Robert who rolled his eyes this time. "This is a connissuers drink of choice."
"It's the drink of choice for those with no taste buds."
His father shook his head. "Your great-grandfather would be ashamed of you," he tutted. "He worked with his father in the Scottish..."
Not this story again. "I know, dad," Oliver grunted. "Believe me."
Robert stared at his son. "Maybe you don't know, Oliver. Your great-grandfather worked his fingers to the bone to give a better life to his son, my father carried on that hard work to give me a better life and I've done the same for you."
Seeing his boy look away, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I can't tell you how to live your life. Heaven knows you're old enough now to make your own choices, but..."
"The clinic said my donation would be discarded..." Oliver strongly defended.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about your behaviour, son. Out for all hours of the night and showing up late for work. You're 33 and acting 20, and it has to stop. If not for your sake, then for the sake of your mom."
"Sure I turn up late, but I do my job," his son stated, his tone clipped. "You know I do my job."
Robert sipped his scotch and thought about what he would say in response. "You do it well, Oliver, but if you weren't my son, I'd have fired you years ago." He let that confession sink in before continuing. "You are my son and I'm confident you'll pull your socks up on your own."
"Duly noted," Oliver dryly replied and grinned at the irritated expression on his dad's face. Unfortunately, his dad didn't appear to share his humour and he sighed. "I'll do better, dad. I promise," and he would do better.
His father shook his head. "I don't want promises, son. Your mother and I just want to see you proud of yourself. We want you to be the man we know you are under it all."
It didn't take a genius to figure out what his dad meant by all. The clothes, the shoes, the family name and money, his looks...
Oliver was the first to say he wasn't proud of how he lived, but it hurt hearing it from his father, a man he respected and admired with his entire being. Then there was his mother.
He'd been a mommy's boy and it was a royal kick in the teeth to know she felt the same as his dad. He had to be a better person for his parents and he knew that, but he didn't know how.
He didn't get a chance to say anything when Robert again waved his free hand. "So," he said at length and sat next to his son, easing into His Seat. "You have a daughter."
"I was waiting for this."
"I'm not judging you, Oliver Jonas. I know you're mostly a victim in this situation, but you also have to remember Miss. Sullivan didn't ask to have you as the father. It would be a different matter if she had," Robert admitted. "Yet she didn't."
"As far as we know," Oliver muttered and wisely took a sip this time, feeling the warming sensation comfort and sooth.
"I personally looked into and there was an employee who was fired for negligence. What your Miss. Sullivan said was true." His father paused. "Though I still don't understand why Bart didn't just ask for financial help."
The kid had worked his ass off to get the PR job at Queen Industries and he should have known he could have for help. Yet like all young men, his son included, Bart Allen had his pride.
His son gave a snort of laughter. "Who knows why Bart does anything. He's looking into night-time cooking classes."
Robert was about to take a sip when his boy's words hit home and he turned, horrified. "That is a joke, right?"
"Nope," Oliver smirked. "Something to do with someone called Henrietta?" Or was it Harriet?
"Harriet Ellis?"
"That's the one."
"She's my secretary's sister and your mother's co-president for the Wishing Star charity."
Oliver's jaw dropped. "She's 42!"
Robert gave his son a pat of sympathy and mocked the young Mr. Allen. "Age is just a number, dude, I mean Mr. Q. Once the lady get a taste of the Bart Man, she ain't ever lookin back."
Oliver openly cringed. "Okay, first? Don't ever do that again. Seriously, dad. Not ever. Second? Bart got her details after he stole my address book."
His father nodded. "I'll warn her."
Bart Allen might be one of the best PR's in the country, but he was an absolute disaster with women. The guy seemed to think that more was definitely better and often ended up with a hand print rather than a lip print.
Silence fell between the two men and went on for a good few minutes as they both simply sat there, staring across the study and waiting for the other to speak.
Having had enough, Oliver graced his dad with a sly look. "Say it, dad."
"Say what?" Robert was all innocence.
"Say what you think I should do."
"About what?"
"Her, the kid, everything."
Robert sighed. This was Oliver's downfall and it always would be if he didn't learn to trust himself and the decisions he made. "I can't do that, son."
Oliver let his head hit the back of the sofa. "I was expecting a booty call, dad. Mom tell you that? Then there was this..." and there was no other word for Miss. Sullivan. "Harpy..."
Robert couldn't help it and literally burst out laughing. A full, hearty, belly aching laugh that earned him a glare. "Harpy? Your mother was quite taken with her."
"Can't see why," his son grit out. "She just stood there, on the doorstep, with a sweet little smile and said I am indeed Miss. Sullivan and I think you fathered my daughter. God, dad, she made me so angry."
"I suppose you made her so happy," he father said easily. "From what your mother told me, Miss. Sullivan mentioned how the thought of you being the father made her sick," and he was pleased to see the reminder shut his son up pretty quick. "Sounds like you both got off on the wrong foot."
"There's no right foot with that woman," Oliver grumbled, not willing to say how much those words of hers stung. "Honestly, dad. I'm lost here. I don't know what the kid has or what bone marrow has to do with it or anything."
"There's only one way to find out, son," Robert drank the rest of his scotch. "And while I can't tell you what to do, I will help you in anyway I can. We all will."
XOXOXO
Laura was expecting certain rules and guildlines for visiting a child in the Oncology ward, but not to this standard. Then again, she hadn't thought of how swine flu might have affected the health and safety of hospitals in general.
She was given a green sticker to show she'd been cleared for visitation after being given a face mask and had her hands thoroughly sanitized. Anyone under the age of twelve was not allowed and neither was anyone with a cough or a sniffle, and it was a little bit daunting if she was honest.
Though not daunting enough to make her turn away from seeing her granddaughter.
She walked down the corridor, trying not to look into the private rooms that held children like Molly. It was not only an extremely rude thing to do, but she also wasn't yet ready to be faced with the reality of the fate her very own granddaughter may have.
Laura paused long enough to get herself under control.
Being a mother was both a blessing and a curse at times like this, and she wanted to weep, something she outright refused to do. The private rooms she'd walked past had contained laughter and story-telling and games, and she refused to give pity where it was not wanted.
She resumed the walk down the corridor and only stopped when she heard Miss. Sullivan's voice.
"You put that back, Molly Anne."
"Nuh-uh."
"Yuh-huh."
"Finders, keepers."
"Cheaters, losers."
"I didn't cheat, mom. Cross my heart."
"You stole money out of the bank! I'm gonna call the cops!"
Laura moved as quietly as she could towards the little room at the corner and peered in, and nothing on this Earth could have prepared her for seeing her granddaughter in the flesh.
The little girl was dwarfed by a dark blue robe that contrasted terribly with her pale skin, she was bald as a newborn and bearly bigger than a younger child. Her cheekbones were overly prominent, a sign of illness and poor appetite, and despite it all, she was giggling like she hadn't a care in the world.
Then the girl looked up and Laura found herself looking at a pair of large brown eyes and a mouth and chin that was pure Queen.
Those eyes blinked and the little girl immediately went quiet.
Chloe instantly noticed her daughter's reaction and turned her head, expecting either her uncle Sam or one of her friends, but it wasn't so.
The deal had visitation rights and access would be dealt with if, and only if, Oliver Queen was her daughter's father. Since Mrs. Queen stood there, it could only mean one thing.
Chloe cringed inside.
Anyone but him.
Laura read the expression on the young mother's face and sighed, those hateful words coming back to her. "Oliver isn't a..."
Chloe cut the woman's sentence short when she turned back to her daughter. She didn't want want anything to be said that could be upsetting or stressful. "Sweetheart?"
Molly spoke hesitantly. "Yeah?"
Chloe arched a brow and the little girl's shoulders dropped as she corrected herself. "Yes?"
"I just need too talk to the nice lady for a little bit. I'll be right down the hall and you know to press the button if you don't feel very well, okay?"
Molly glanced at the strange lady. "Why?"
"Because it's important, sweetie."
"But... Why?"
Laura was thankful the face mask muffled her chuckling when Miss. Sullivan's eyes rolled.
"Because I said so."
"Why, though?"
This time, Mrs. Queen simply couldn't help herself and laughed a laugh that even the mask couldn't hide. That girl was exactly how her son had been. Full of curiosity and wanting to know about everything and anything he could.
She looked at Miss. Sullivan. "Do you mind?"
Chloe spoke through thinned lips. "Of course I don't mind."
Laura knew sarcasm when she heard it. "Thank you," she murmured as she walked further into the room, her gaze softening with every step. "You must be Molly," she said and took the seat recently vacated.
The little girl eyed her, but remained silent.
Chloe bit back a smirk. Her daughter would never speak to strangers. "It's okay, honey. She's a friend. You can speak to her."
Laura blinked when Molly spoke. "Stranger danger."
Chloe herself laughed and addressed Mrs. Queen. "You have a green sticker, so you can take that off," and gestured to the face mask.
Mrs. Queen looked unsure, unable to keep from glancing at Molly.
Chloe tried not to feel insulted at the mistrust. After all, it wasn't the woman's fault she didn't know what she was asking to be involved with. Still, she had to say something. "I'm not in the habit of putting my daughter at risk, Mrs. Queen. I wouldn't say it was okay if it wasn't. Believe me."
Laura swallowed back the urge to respond.
Miss. Sullivan was clearly trying to be nice and in face of who was her daughter's father, she was doing quite well with her attempt.
"I'm not wearing one," Molly's voice drew the elder woman's attention. "See?"
Chloe smothered chuckle. "You heard the woman."
Laura slipped the mask off and made an exaggerated expression of relief, feeling quite proud when her granddaughter giggled. She'd forgotten how wonderful a little girl's giggle could be. "That's better," she said through a smile.
"Would you like something to drink, Mrs. Queen?" Chloe immediately caught the expression on Molly's face and rolled her eyes at the blatant want. "Chocolate?"
Laura chuckled when the child's face split into a smile that flashed all her teeth, then she watched mother stare expectantly at daughter.
Molly's smile dropped a little as she scowled. "Please may I have some chocolate, mommy?"
Laura remembered the time she had when trying to teach Oliver the very same manners and he never liked it, either. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Miss. Sullivan."
If Chloe had been anyone else, she wouldn't have picked up on the subtlte emphasis on her name. Laura Queen was a clever one. "Please," she replied with a smile that said she caught on. "Call me Chloe."
"Only if you call me Laura."
"Deal and it's no trouble. I was going to make some for myself. Would you be able to help me carry them back?" Chloe asked and waved her hands. "Only have two hands."
Laura inwardly smirked.
Chloe was a very smart young woman.
XOXOXO
"And you..." Robert laughed loudly. "You were sat there, in the middle of the Wishing Star annual ball, in nothing but your Scooby Doo pants, letting Benji the guard dog lick the cake off your face."
Oliver scowled. It was never fun when his baby stories and photos came out to play. "I know, dad. I was there," and so had half the Star City press population.
His father was still chucking when he topped up their glasses. "Benji was a good dog." A good dog that had been debilitated by artheritis and so had to be put down. The whole family had been upset while Laura had paid for a nice memorial headstone that sat beautifully in the orchard.
"Yep," the younger man sighed fondly and raised his whisky. "To Benji."
"To Benji," and crystal kissed crystal.
Robert looked up at the ceiling, wondering how long it had been since he'd actually sat down with his son and just talked. The news he was a grandfather had him keenly feeling his years and he wondered where the time went.
One minute, he'd been holding a screaming baby and the next, he was pouring that same baby whisky.
"You were such a gorgeous baby, son," he stated, then grinned. "What happened?"
Oliver shot his dad a look that said the sarcasm was not impressive. "Your humour is as about as good as your dancing."
Robert's eyebrows shot up. "I can dance just fine, Oliver Jonas. Your mother enjoys it."
"That's cos mom thinks the sun shines out of your nostrils."
"You mean it doesn't?"
"I truly worry about you, dad."
Robert offered his boy a cigar before getting one for himself. He bit the end off and turned it round, but not before waving it under his nose. "Cubans, boy. Cubans and proper Scottish whisky. Single malt scotch, of course."
Oliver raised his glass again. "To Cubans and single malt."
"I'll drink to that, boy," and once again, crystal kissed crystal.
Oliver took a big sip and let out a small ahhh as the warmth hit him some more. "This..." he shook his glass. "This is really good stuff. Where'd ya get it?"
"From Scotland," Robert replied in a tone that implied it was a stupid question. "Where else do you get good scotch?"
"You know what you are, dad?" Oliver let his head flop to the side so he could look at his father without much effort. "You're a snob. A Scottish scotch whisky snob."
Robert opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but thought better of it. "Yes, I am. Your great-grandfather worked..."
"His hands to the bone," Oliver finished with a smile. "I know."
"Boy, you don't have the slightest idea," Robert murmured around his cigar.
The younger Queen paused as he thought about it and winced. "Ouch. Guess Robin Hood wasn't your bedtime story."
"Of course it was," his dad said. "It just happened that Robin Hood worked for a distillery where everything was done by hand."
Oliver chuckled. "And the bows and arrows were what? Bottles and fumes?"
"Of course not," Robert looked entirely serious. "They were fists and foreheads. Boy, these modern day bar brawls are what the women did in those days."
"Have you ever seen a bar brawl, dad?"
"Seen em? Oliver Jonas, I started em. When I was at Oxford, the fights we had with Cambridge were..." Robert giggled like a little kid. "There was bloodshed and violence."
Oliver arched a brow.
This was a side of his dad he'd never heard about. "Spill the gossip, dad."
"Well, this one time, I flicked a chess piece at my opponent and it hit him in the lip." Robert's smile increased in size. "I was what you young'uns call a badass. Hear that, son. Your old dad is a badass."
"Yeah," Oliver replied dryly. "You're a real badass."
"I'll have you know I can throw a punch or two!"
"Is that before or after the punches throw you?"
Robert laughed out loud. "I could take you."
Oliver choked on his scotch. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, boy. I could, how you kids say, kick your ass." Yeah, Robert thought, he was cool and hip with his son's lingo.
Oliver had a horrifying image of his dad showing up at Hannah's club, ready to take on the world while wearing his slippers and tube socks. "I believe you, dad," he said, hoping to save everyone from that. "You'd make me look like a pussy."
"Damn straight I would," Robert curled his arm up. "Look at this 24 inch python."
"You know when I said for you not to do stuff? Impersonating the Hulkster is one of them."
The word Hulkster had both men looking at each other for a moment before they both let out loud, gruff grrr's and puffed up their chests. "Hulkamania!"
"Dude," Oliver grinned as he slapped his dad's hand in a high-five. "That match with Quake was so good."
Robert paused. "Fixed?"
His son nodded. "Totally fixed. That bodyslam? No-one could lift that mother."
"You mom had a thing for Lex Luger..." Robert confessed. "Then I introduced her and she slapped him for touching her ass." He paused again. "That was a fun sight."
"Then what?" Oliver asked, his cheeks aching from stopping his laughter. The wrestler got off lightly if his mom had merely slapped him. "You took him outside and showed him your 24 inch pythons?"
"Of course I didn't," his dad managed to appear offended. "I left the press to make him look like a moron. Your mom is your mom, but she's my wife..." He paused again. "Though I did leave her alone with Steve Tyler for an hour. You were conceived a week later..."
Oliver really did choke on his scotch. "What?"
Robert kept a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at his boy's outrage. "Your mom was already pregnant, son. Though she did confess to having a grope, but I can't complain. I groped Tawny Kitane."
Oliver had to chuckle. "Did you get a slap?"
"Nope!" Robert's smile was everything smug. "I got her husband's car and guitar. Your mom, though son... Your mom is always the belle. The Tawnys, the Cindy Crawfords... Your mom is the one, son. She's so smart."
Oliver was quick to stop his dad before it reached the point where he needed therapy, so he brought up the one thing they'd both avoided all afternoon. "I'm a dad, dad."
Robert kept his smile to himself. "Yes, son. You are." He didn't mention the child's ill health in case Oliver closed up.
"What am I gonna do with a kid?" His distraction technique for his dad became all too real. "What can I offer it?"
His father remained silent. "I've got money, so I can give child support, but that isn't what the mother wants, is it? The mother only wants me for bone marrow. How can I give bone marrow to a stranger's kid?"
Seeing his dad open his mouth to speak, Oliver hastily continued. "I don't know either of them, I don't know how to give bone marrow, I don't know what ALL is..."
Robert focused on doing the perfect inhalation from the perfect cigar, giving his boy the time to really open up.
"I'm just your kid, dad," Oliver said, his gaze now on the amber liquid remaining in his glass. "Everything I could do to make things better, you and mom have already done. Charity funds? Done. Investments? Done. Inventors? Funded. I'm just Oliver, the rich kid who works for his father and doesn't turn up on time."
He knocked back the rest of his scotch. "Not to mention I make women sick if they think I'm the father. So you tell me, dad. What can I do apart from live in the shadow of great-grandfather, grandfather, and you?"
Oliver shrugged. "I'm not really anything, am I dad? I'm just the son of Robert Queen. I've never really done anything to make my mark, you know? I'm not great-granddad or granddad or you. I don't know how to do anything."
Robert looked at his son, really looked, and saw something in his son's face that he'd missed. "Oliver Jonas," he said, shocked at how little his son thought of himself.
"It's fine, dad," Oliver gave another shrug. "I'm used to it."
XOXOXO
How Laura managed to keep from crying, she didn't know. Maybe it was the fact she didn't want Molly to see or maybe she didn't want Chloe to see, or maybe it was because tears and pity were not what was needed.
She walked beside Chloe as she pushed Molly's wheelchair carefully towards a nearby seat outside the hospital. She looked at the tired little girl sitting quietly and enjoying the simple fact of being outside. She thought about her son and cursed the way he seemed to take everything for granted.
She took a deep breath and spoke to Molly, not over her. "Do you like to be outside?" It was only after asking that she realised what a stupid, horrible question that was.
Her granddaughter nodded and familar brown eyes blinked at her. "I'm not allowed out lot," and her voice was muffled by her face mask.
"That's cos you're a menace," Chloe stated fondly as she put the brakes on. "You scare people."
Laura choked back her response when Molly put a hand on her hip and graced her mother with a familair haughty expression. "That's you."
"Say what?"
Then Mrs. Queen realised Chloe was getting her daughter strong enough to fight for herself if and when the time came. "You're quite right, Molly," Laura whispered with a kind smile. "Your mommy scares me and even scared my son."
Molly looked to her mother, her eyes wide. "You scared a boy?"
Chloe arched a brow at Laura's subtle yet daring attempt to bring Oliver into the conversation. "He was even taller than me."
"You should pick on people your own size," Molly said, the gleam in those brown eyes was pure Queen.
Laura took a seat next to Chloe and despite having a child of her own, she honestly wasn't sure what to say. Molly Sullivan was a little wise beyond her years and she guessed it was caused by her circumstances.
Reading Mrs. Queen's expression, Chloe started. "Sweetheart, why don't you tell Mrs. Queen about your drawing?"
Face mask or no, both women saw Molly's face light up. "I came second in a competition. I drawed..." and corrected herself when her mother coughed loudly. "I drew a picture of my doctor with funny glasses and a potato nose."
Laura smiled at her enthusiasm. "That's wonderful, Molly. I'd love to see it one day."
"Mommy has it at home."
"Mommy did until aunt Lois stopped by and stole it."
Off Mrs' Queen's quizzical expression, "She's my cousin," Chloe explained. "But we're very close."
"Ahh," Laura understood. "Maybe you can draw another picture just like it for your mom?"
Molly considered it, then shook her head. "I want draw something pretty next time and my doctor isn't pretty."
Mrs. Queen laughed. Oh, she had quite the cheek on her. "And what do you think is pretty?"
The little girl looked exactly like her son when he was deep in thought. Head tilted to one side, wrinkles at the corners of the eyes, and a frown on her forehead. "Gizmo," she answered eventually. "Gizmo is very pretty."
Laura looked at Chloe just in time to see an eye roll. "Gizmo?" She asked.
Molly nodded. "My friend gave me his Gizmo when he got to go home."
"Maybe your friend can come visit and he can help you with your drawing?"
Then she noticed something.
Chloe was twisting her hands together and subtly shaking her head before looking to the ground. It took a moment or two for Laura to realise the implications.
Molly shook her head. "Ben said he was going home to sleep proper. Maybe we can ask his mommy if he can come after he's woken up? Can we mommy?"
Chloe went to say something, but was going say was cut off by a yawn. "Mommy, can we go back inside now?"
"Of course we can, sweetheart. Tell you what," she said. "How about we stop by the shop for some more cocoa?"
Laura had never known a child to turn down cocoa and especially not a child who'd silently pleaded for chocolate mile two hours ago.. Molly shook her head. "Not today, mommy. I'm a sleepy head."
"Well then," Chloe took the brakes off and stood. "Let's get you to bed, slugger."
Laura walked quietly beside them for a short time before speaking in a voice too low for Molly to hear. "Chloe, what did her friend have?"
"Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia," was the clipped response. "Ben's mom couldn't find a donor."
Laura felt her heart drop. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to see a child die of the very same thing her child had. She'd known the illness was serious, but just not how serious.
Laura felt her heart drop. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to see another child die of the very same thing her child had and it hit her hard.
If her son wasn't going to help, then she might be able too. "Being Oliver's mother, maybe I could..."
Chloe shook her head. "You're too old, remember?" she reminded quietly. "My dad and uncle already tried, but they were told the same thing. My cousins aren't a match and Molly is an only child who isn't at the top of the register..."
The elder woman gave a nod of understanding. "That's why you found my son."
"No offense, Mrs. Queen. I will get my daughter's bone marrow if I have to strap him down and suck it out of him with a straw!"
For the second time that day, Laura Queen laughed out loud.
How she wished Oliver had met this woman before that vicious viper known as Tess Mercer. "Chloe, I believe I'd help you."
It didn't take long to reach the Oncology ward and by then, Molly had fallen asleep in her wheelchair. Laura stroked her head and there was no baby soft wisps of hair. It made her want to weep.
Right then, Mrs. Queen made a decision to talk to Oliver and make him see that if he didn't help, the child he never knew would die.
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