Chapter Text
Mia’s coughs and sneezes seem to echo through the house like gunshots. Each one makes Ollie jump and he can feel Connor’s jugement weighing on him like an anchor- it should be grounding but instead it just feels like it’s pulling him under, into the frigid depths of his mind.
“She’s fine.” Connor says on the third day of this. “It’s a cold, not a death sentence. Your melodramatics aren’t helping.”
“I don’t have-” another sneeze from the next room, Ollie jumps again, “-melodramatics.”
“You’re scared, and it’s scaring her .” Connor says, mouth set in a firm line.
“I’m not scared , I’m-” cautious doesn’t cut it, and preparing for the worst sounds like he’s just waiting around to plan a funeral…although he supposes that is what he’s afraid of.
“Exactly.” Connor says once his father cuts himself off. “She’s living . She’s still here, now stop scaring her so she can thrive .”
It’s great advice, and Connor himself is able to follow it. But Connor didn’t miss several years of medical developments. Connor spent his teenage years in a monastery and wasn’t stuck watching friends waste away, wasn’t watching good people, vulnerable people get arrested just for trying to get medication. Connor’s advice is easier heard than followed.
That doesn’t mean Ollie doesn’t try - it does however mean that he isn’t successful. And he knows that Connor thinks he isn’t trying hard enough, and that Mia can feel each failure like a stab wound. He absently wonders if it would hurt her less if he didn’t try? Would his failure be as painful to any of them if they all weren’t aware that he was trying? That this is the best he can do?
Ollie grabs a metal kitchen chair and drags it over to the computer plugged into the wall there. Connor looks up from his book. “Dad….what are you doing?”
“Uh…. trying to figure out how you kids use the google.”
“Use the-” Connor starts and then sighs, pulling his own chair and cracks his neck in a way that Ollie has come to learn means he’s annoyed. “What are you trying to search?”
Ollie fidgets in his seat and the chair creaks. “I uh- was hoping to look up an old friend of mine.”
“You have a league communicator.”
“No uh… she’s a civilian.”
Connor’s glare is almost icy. “ She- ”
“Is a therapist…. Okay?” Ollie says, staring at the keyboard, at the fading letters on the keys- at how the ‘H’ key is more faded than the others. “I’d talked to her a few times when I lived in Seattle and thought it might be a good idea to talk to her…now. Maybe she could help me learn to help Mia.”
Connor’s gaze softens immediately and he looks almost ashamed of his instinctual anger, but Ollie’s relieved for it, proud of him for it - appreciates that his son is ready to hold him accountable at a moment’s notice.
“What’s her name?” Connor asks finally, after an awkward cough.
“Annie Green- I don’t know if she’s still in Seattle though…lots of… bad memories for her there.”
Connor nods and after several minutes of searching and waiting, he shows his father a webpage and gestures to a photo of the doctor. “Is this her?”
“Yes!” Ollie says, a bit too loudly and then winces- more than aware of the fact that Mia is asleep upstairs. “Thank you!”
Ollie reaches around in his pocket for a receipt and a pen and quickly writes down the number on the waxy paper, Connor stands up and squeezes his dad’s shoulder as he moves back to the table.
Annie had moved to Star City- wonders never cease. The line to the office rings and Ollie paces back and forth in the kitchen, twirling the coiled phone cord around his finger as he walks, humming a soft song under his breath. All under Connor’s watchful eye.
“Dr. Green’s office, are you calling to set up an appointment?” The voice comes through the handset and Ollie struggles to compose himself.
“I was uh actually hoping to speak to Dr. Green.”
“Are you a patient? If you’re in crisis I can direct you to the appropriate emergency lines.”
“Not- not currently.” He coughs out. “I used to see her when she was in Seattle- I- listen could you just tell her that Oliver Queen called and that I’d like to talk to her if she’s willing to call me back?”
“At this number?” The secretary speaks again. “Can I repeat it back to you for confirmation sir?”
“Yeah yeah, that’s fine. Thank you.”
He rests his head against cool tile and sighs, hanging up after thanking the secretary again. Connor speaks then, “You look like Roy after trying to get a first date.”
Ollie huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Just nervous I guess.”
“Why?”
“It’s been a while- and I was there for some pretty traumatic stuff for her, I don’t want to trigger her y’know?” Ollie’s whispering, more gentle than Connor’s seen him be about anyone that isn’t family.
Connor’s about to reply when the phone rings again and Ollie picks up. “Queen residence- Ollie speak- Annie!”
Connor can vaguely hear her yelling at him over the phone, something something ‘you died and you’re re establishing contact with a phone call ’- it makes him laugh.
But Ollie looks….more relaxed, Connor hopes this works. “I was wondering if you could take me on- what? Yes I know I could have told your secretary, but I know you- well I suppose you could come over for dinner, so long as you don’t mind the kids- well no they’re all at least teenagers, no they’re not with Dinah- Annie , I’m calling because of one of them.”
It’s at that moment that Mia freezes in the doorway, having ventured downstairs in search of cough medicine. “Who’s he talking to?” She whispers as she walks past Connor, Ollie unaware of her presence.
“Uh….” Connor pauses. “A therapist.”
Mia pauses, nearly dropping the bottle of grape flavored grossness as her eyes well with tears. “So he thinks I’m dying.”
Ollie finally notices she’s there and reaches for her with one hand, “No sweetie I-” But Mia’s running away, back up to her room, and Ollie curses. “ Fuck - Annie I’ll have to call you back.”
Ollie doesn’t even bother hanging the phone back up, just follows Mia up the stairs.
Connor stares at the handset as he hears Dr. Green’s voice come through the static and gets up to pick up the phone…
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Ollie knocks on Mia’s door and struggles to keep his composure, for all his anxiety about her being sick this is so much worse . Not talking to him, not trusting him anymore. “Mia- c’mon kiddo, please . I just want to talk.”
“Go away! Wait for me to die somewhere else!”
“I’m not waiting for you to die, kid. I’m just…” he pauses, swallowing his pride. “I’m just scared .”
He knows that Mia’s just on the other side of the door, can hear her shuffling against the wall. It’s why he can hear her when she whispers a tearful. “Me too.”
“Mia….. Hon ….can I come in?”
Before he hears an answer the door is flung open and he has his arms full of his little girl who’s trying to hide her tears in his chest. “Shut up Old Timer.”
“Yeah yeah.” He whispers, stroking her hair. “You know me, quiet as a churchmouse.”
The weak laugh he gets in response is more than worth the smack she delivers to his side, and he holds her tighter, trying to convey with actions what he doesn’t yet know how to say with words.