Dragonfly Wishes and Butterfly Kisses 10a
Title: Dragonfly Wishes and Butterfly Kisses
Author: Jude
Email: Miss_Incognito4@live.co.uk
Rating: Rated for adult content
Category: AU
Content: Chlollie
Summary: Donations come in all forms.
Disclaimer: I own nixies.
Distributions: Here, there, everywhere!
Notes: Dedicated to Slytherinpunk because I severely let her down, numerous times. I know a chapter dedication won't go far in making it up, but I hope it's a start. I thank you for kicking my ass :-)
Notes 2: This chapter kicked my arse to hell and back. Repeatedly. I just couldn't get it right and it wasn't until Al, Solo, and Strom pointed me in the right direction that it started to take shape.
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Oliver spent the entire drive to the hospital getting more and more nervous until he was in the parking lot, questioning his sanity.
What the hell did he think he was doing?
He'd never babysat in his life, so what made him think he could start now?
Chloe said Molly liked him, but did she really or was Chloe just saying that?
How did a person tell a story?
Did the hospital regulate bedtime or did the parents?
What if something did happen to Molly?
He gave his head a damn good shake. "I can do this," he said firmly and got out of the car, only just remembering to get the things Chloe gave him and made sure everything was accounted for.
Half a chocolate fudge cake? Check.
Pajamas? Check.
Cuddly toys and books? Check.
Head full of panic? Check.
Oliver rolled his eyes as he made his way into the hospital. He was such a goddamn pussy, it was disgraceful. Chloe had been doing this for years and one night was nothing in comparison to that.
Pull yourself together, Queen. You're a man, not a mouse, he thought. Don't think about it, dude. Just let Molly set the pace and it'll be all good.
Good self advice he figured as he waited for the elevator.
Besides, my folks have been babysitting for thirty three years. If they can do it, why can't I? But then again, I wasn't sick. Well, not that kinda sick. Plus there's nurses and shit here, so if something does go wrong, they're within yelling distance. Not that anything will go wrong, of course, cos it won't, but if it did...
"Enough with the if's!" Oliver snapped at himself and casually smiled at the people now giving him odd looks.
It took some creativity for him to juggle his luggage and to press the intercom button at the same time. "Oliver Queen for Molly Sullivan."
Didn't take long for the door to be buzzed open and he was oh so thankful he had a foot to nudge it open and had an ass to keep it open as he slipped past it. If this sight made the papers, he'd be a damn laughing stock.
Oliver stopped at the check-in desk to let them know where Chloe was and found himself on the receiving end of a smile.
"We know, Mr. Queen," the nurse said. "Miss. Sullivan informed us."
Of course she did. "I'm staying with Molly tonight, so..."
"We know, Mr. Queen," her smile got bigger. "We were informed of that, too."
Of course they were. "Is there anything she hasn't informed you of?"
The nurse chuckled and for some reason, that chuckle made him suspicious. "Not at all, Mr. Queen."
Uh-huh.
"Well, I'm just gonna..." He gestured towards Molly's room and she nodded with that funny little smile still on her face.
Usually when he got funny little smiles, it was from people who recognised him and wanted one of four things. A date, to pick his brain, an interview, or an autograph, but something told him this nurse wanted none of those things and that made him suspicious.
Oliver left the desk with a forehead creased by a slight frown and wondered if the nurse knew something he didn't.
There was no time to put thought into it as a little girl giggle reached his ears and he paused long enough to let it sink that sound was not just any little girl giggle, but his daughter's. Molly Anne Sullivan was his daughter and that was his daughter's giggle.
He swallowed and couldn't deny the urge to turn and run.
Christ, what the hell was he thinking? Trying to play dad to a kid who thought of him as nothing more than a friend?
Seriously, what kinda man did that?
"Apart from a step-dad, that is," he mumbled.
Except he wasn't Molly's step-dad, he was her actual dad. The DNA test proved that he was and he didn't want to play at being dad, he wanted to be dad.
Oliver took a deep breath and walked into her room.
XOXOXO
She was giggling and holding his dad's hand, thumbs in an intense battle for victory.
He took in the size difference and covered his laugh with a cough. "Am I interrupting?" He asked and watched her brown eyes light up.
"Ollie!" She exclaimed happily and looked behind him, a frown appeared when she didn't see who she was looking for. "Where's mommy?"
Oliver was about to reply when he noticed his dad also seemed to be looking for Chloe. "Where is Chloe, son?"
The look on his dad's face was somewhere between hopeful and excitement, a sight which made him rightly suspicious. More so than the nurse's funny little smile.
He answered both simultaenously. "Your mom's gone home for the night, Fishcake," he explained as he moved to sit in the chair next to the bed. "But I'm here to keep you company."
Molly nodded. "Aunt Lois is home, right? Mommy always stays at home for one night when aunt Lois is home. They have wine, but it's not very nice. It smells like mommy's nail paint."
Both Oliver and Robert chuckled. "Are you okay with me staying with you? We can play games and read stories and we even have chocolate fudge cake."
Brown eyes sparkled. "Real chocolate cake?"
"Real, real chocolate cake," he said with a smile, a smile that turned curious as he looked at his dad. "I'll be picking Chloe up tomorrow morning, so I might be a bit late for work."
Robert waved it off. "Take the day off, son," and Oliver's brows touched the ceiling, but didn't get a chance to question it. "Did you know Chloe's an author?"
"Yes..."
"A crime author," Robert exaggerated with a nod. "Esther Allred, in fact."
Oliver inwardly sighed and sent a mental apology to Chloe for whatever was coming her way. "Yes, dad. I did know and I know you have all her books."
Sorry, Sidekick. Get your autograph pen ready.
Molly immediately looked to her new friend. "You have all of mommy's books?" She asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
Robert nodded, quite proud of himself. "Every single one of them, sweetheart. My favourite is Two For Tea. There's a great twist near the end."
"Is that the book with the sighnide?"
How on Earth did a four year old know about cyanide? Robert coughed and looked to his son for help.
Oliver smothered a laugh at the expression on his dad's face and held up his hands. Now he knew how Chloe felt. "Don't look at me, dad."
Robert scowled. Damn sons. "Yes, princess. That's the one with the cyanide."
Molly pulled a face. "I didn't like that one."
Oliver smiled affectionately. "Which one is your favourite?"
She thought for a moment and Robert was taken aback by just how much like his son she looked. Brown eyes were slightly wrinkled, lips pursed, and fingers tapped her chin.
He glanced at Oliver, noting how his boy was looking at her, and yes. Molly could quite well be the best thing that ever happened to him.
To us all, he amended.
"I think mommy's new one is the bestest," Molly eventually said with a nod of finality. "But am not s'posed to tell."
Oliver wiped the smirk away as his dad's shoulders slumped in disappointment. "You wouldn't want the story to be ruined, right dad?"
Robert glared. This close to knowing something and he got nowhere. "One of these days, Oliver Jonas..."
"You have a middle name?" Molly asked curiously.
"I do," Oliver answered. "Jonas. Oliver Jonas Queen."
"My middle name is Anne," she told him quite seriously. "Molly Anne Sullivan. Mommy's middle name is Anne, too. Chloe Anne Sullivan."
"That's a very pretty name," Robert told her and was about to tell how his own mother was called Anne, but his cell phone buzzed and signalled time with his granddaughter was about to get cut short.
He sighed. "I won't be long, princess."
Oliver watched his dad leave the room, then turned to his daughter and rubbed his hands nervously. Though it was his idea to spend the night, he wasn't entirely ready to be left alone quite yet.
Please don't let my dad have too go to work. Please don't let my dad have too go to work. Please don't let my dad have too go to work. "So..."
Molly looked at him expectantly.
Not really knowing what else to say, "You like your mommy's stories, huh?"
She nodded. "I like the one with the evil doctor and you said we have cake?"
The question instantly put him at ease and he chuckled. "Would you like some now or do you want to wait until later so you can have it with your bedtime story?"
Again, Molly deeply thought. "I think I'll wait until later."
"Ollie?" Robert poked his head round the door. "Did you send the contracts to Andrews yesterday?"
Oliver blinked. "Eleven on the dot. Why?"
His dad's expression was that of frustration and anger. "I swear that man is useless," and disappeared back out the door.
Molly looked at Oliver, curiosity once more on her face. "What do you do?"
He grinned, hardly unable to wait for her reaction to his wealth. "I work for my dad at Queen Industries."
"What's Queen Industys?"
"It's a big company that deals in all sorts of things."
"What sorta things?"
It started to dawn on Oliver that she was quite the curious George. "We buy little companies and make them bigger and better."
"Oh," Molly said like she understood. "How?"
"Well," he wondered how to explain this to a four year old. "When we buy them, they get special help to make more money."
"How much money?"
"Lots and lots of money, which we use to buy more companies and make more money."
"Oh," she said again. "What do you do with the money?"
Oliver grinned widely. "We spend it on cake!"
"Ollie, which email did you send it too? Andrews personal or company?" Robert asked, his expression clearly showed extreme displeasure.
"The company one," he replied and confusion slowly turned to realisation. "Oh, don't tell me that schmuck is blaming me?"
His dad nodded. "I'm afraid so, son," and then watched his boy tense.
Though Oliver was nervous as hell, he was not about to leave his kid just to go deal with some jackass who blamed his incompetance on everyone else. He now also fully understood what Chloe meant when she said about not letting her down. "I'm not leaving, dad."
Molly's eyes went wide and she tugged on his sleeve. He was leaving? They were supposed to have cake and watch movies. "Ollie?"
Robert arched a brow when Oliver's lips twitched momentarily before he looked to Molly. "You still have mommy's laptop, Fishcake?"
She nodded. "It's in there," and pointed at the bottom drawer of the bedside cupboard.
Andrews was so gonna pay for making his daughter pout.
Oliver slid the laptop out and had to chuckle at the butterfly stickers which covered the lid. "You wanna see what I do with silly people who can't do their job?"
Molly eagerly nodded. "Can I help?"
Robert gave his forehead a mental slap when his son beamed at her and said, "Course you can, sweetie. Now, what's your mommy's password?"
XOXOXO
Robert Queen sat, head in hands, as his son and granddaughter verbally tortured one of the company's longest serving employee's. Sure, Thomas Andrews might be an absent-minded, incompetant idiot half the time, but he didn't deserve what he was getting right now.
"You hear that, Andrews?" Oliver snapped down the phone. "You're a silly boy who's silly and you have cooties."
Molly did as she was told and didn't hide her giggles. "You're taller than he is, Ollie. See?" She pointed to the Queen Industry's profile picture.
Robert groaned as his son winked before he spoke again. "And you're short," the immature insult was said with all the authority of a CEO. "You're so short, you make midgets look like Everest."
If this ever made the papers, stocks would either go through the roof or straight to hell, and he didn't know who to blame. Chloe, Molly, Ollie, his wife or himself.
There was a sqawked response that only Oliver heard and Robert didn't really want to know what made his son look once more to Molly.
"He has a big, giant nose."
Oliver barked out a laugh. He couldn't wait to tell Chloe how cool their kid was. No matter what mommy says, Fishcake, daddy's getting you presents. "Your nose is so big, you could smell poop on the moon."
"What have I raised?" Robert asked no-one in particular while Molly squealed with giggles.
"Ollie, Ollie," she grabbed his free hand just to show him a small spot on Andrew's chin. "Look! He has acme!"
"That's acne, Fishcake," he corrected even as he gave her the thumbs up. "You have spots and a big nose and cooties. You just have to be silly to have all those things."
Robert sighed, resigned to the fact there would be damage control tomorrow.
There was another affronted squawk followed by something that made his son's humour rapidly fade. "Watch your mouth, Andrews. I swear it."
At this, Robert stood up and went to stand beside his son just to hear what was being said on the other end, but only caught the end of it.
"Brat..."
Robert hadn't needed to go stand beside Oliver to hear as Andrews pretty much yelled it out, and neither had a chance to say anything.
"Yeah, well, you're a douche," Molly yelled back, then slapped a hand over her mouth and looked at her new friends with an expression that clearly said oops.
Andrews forgotten, Oliver stared at his daughter. "Where did you hear that word, young lady?"
Molly lifted her chin defiantly. "He called me a brat. I'm not a brat. Mommy says so and I'm allowed to stick up for myself. So there."
Robert hid his smile when pride showed on his son's face.
"You know what, princess? He is a douche and he's a douche who can't use email applications," Oliver ran his hand over Molly's smooth head and rubbed her back, mentally frowning when all he felt was bone. She had absolutely no fat on her at all and it made him die a little more inside.
He pushed that aside in order to concentrate on the problem at hand. "Since you basically suck at everything bar being an arrogant douche who throws insults at a four year old who can work a computer better than you."
"Cooties makes boys stupid," Molly told with a voice full of worldly advice. "Maybe he's really sick and has really bad cooties?" Her eyes widened. "What if he needs to be in a hospital?"
"Yeah," Oliver didn't bother to lower his voice. "A hospital with special padded walls. I sent you the contracts at eleven yesterday. You might wanna check your email for more than Facebook status updates rather than using me as your scapegoat."
Robert and Molly watched as a slow, wicked smile turned Oliver's lips up and gestured for his dad to go closer.
"I wanna..." Molly quickly fell quiet when a finger landed on her lips.
"Well?" Oliver asked, his grin firmly in place as he used his clearance code to override security and logged into Andrews company email inbox. "Have you checked your email for the contracts?"
Robert followed his boy's lead and searched through the unread emails to find what was wanted. Right there, at the very bottom of the page, was the proof that Andrews was an incompetent. He sighed and shook his head.
"Of course I checked my email," Andrews barked down the phone.
Before his son could reply to that statement, Robert snatched the phone away and walked out of the room. One, to do some damage control and two, to keep his granddaughter from hearing what he was about to say.
The girl already had already heard enough language as it was.
Molly grinned up at Oliver. "That was fun."
He returned it whole heartedly. "It was, wasn't it?"
She was silent for a moment. "Can we do it again?"
Oliver wondered how much pain Chloe was going to cause him. "Not tonight," he said quickly.
Her disappointment was visible. "Okay," she pouted like only a child could do.
"We still have cake," and as expected, she brightened.
"Can I give some to David?" Molly asked. "Mommy says I have to share with my friends. He hasn't been well today and cake will make him feel better."
He couldn't help the soft smile if he tried and he sat next to his daughter on her bed. "You share lots, don't you?"
"Mommy says being selfish isn't nice," she replied, then frowned. "I won't have to share my quarters, right?"
He chuckled as he smoothed his hand over her head and wondered how Chloe must miss having hair to stroke. "No, you don't have to share your quarters."
Molly's frown magically disappeared. "That's okay, I guess."
Oliver went to speak, but was cut off as his dad walked back in and glared at him. He offered up the most innocent grin he could muster.
Robert held up a finger. "Not one word, Oliver Jonas."
"Is Ollie in trouble?" Molly asked as she recognised the look.
"Yeah, dad," Oliver joined in. "Am I trouble?" So he was hiding behind a four year old. Sue him.
Robert narrowed his eyes at his son and then smiled benignly. "Of course not, son. You've just gotten another department to run. You should be congratulated."
What?
"Whoa there, sailor," Oliver's eyes almost left his head. "You can't do that!"
"What's that? What can't he do?" Molly asked, wide eyed.
"I'm your boss, son. I can do whatever I want and what I want is you in charge of accounting."
"But it's accounting," Oliver whined. "Accounting's boring."
"What's accounting?" Molly asked, desperation in her young voice.
"It's math class, Fishcake," Oliver explained while he glared at his dad.
Molly frowned at Robert. "Math sucks and Ollie didn't do anything wrong, Bobby. I made him do it." Ollie was her friend and it wasn't fair.
Oliver rolled his eyes. If Molly Sullivan had her way, she'd be responsible for World War III. "I got myself into trouble, sweetie," he told her and winked a wink that made her giggle. "Besides, I'll make more money to buy more cake."
Then he remembered.
"Aw, damnit," Oliver smacked his forehead. "I forgot. Dad, I won't be able to do it. I won't have the time."
Robert arched a brow. "Why won't you have the time?"
Oliver puffed up his chest. "I'm going into business."
His dad's other brow joined its twin. "Aren't you already in business?"
"Not like this," he replied as the excitement once again took hold. "Real estate."
Robert blinked. "Real estate."
"Yup!" Oliver beamed as he tugged his daughter close enough to hug.
"Explain," his dad half demanded. If this real estate thing put that look in his boy's eye, then it had to be good.
Oliver was about to launch into detail about it, but he remembered he was talking about his daughter's home and how she would have to move. His pride and excitement dimmed a little at the thought of Molly having to leave her childhood home. He slid his eyes toward her in the hope his dad would understand. "Can we talk about it tomorrow? There's cake to be had."
Okay, now Robert was really intrigued. His son was obviously dying to tell, yet something about Molly was stopping him. Something to do with real estate.
What did his son, Molly, and real estate have in common?
The answer came thick and fast for Robert. "Homes!" He half yelled and snapped his fingers. "You're looking at the property market. My guess is either first or second time buyers. Since you have little experience in this area, I think first. You do realise the market at this time, don't you?" He didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Of course you do. You wouldn't be my son if you didn't. You've seen a property worth investing in and you're buying it, renovating, and selling, aren't you?"
Molly looked up at Oliver. "Your dad talks fast."
Oliver scowled at his dad. "He also thinks fast. This is my idea and you can't have it."
A sly smile appeared on Robert's face. "Do you have a partner?"
Brown eyes narrowed. "Yes, I do."
"What capital has she put up front to start your business?"
Oliver's scowl deepened into a frown that creased his forehead. "What makes you think my partner is a she?"
Robert bit back the urge to smirk. "All these years and I still assume," he said and shook his head. "As long as you're not putting up all the capital."
"No, Chloe's putting the..." Oliver swore as he dropped himself in it. "Can we not do this now, dad?"
Robert went to say something, but decided it was better said away from little ears. He looked at Molly and smiled when he saw her snuggled quite happily against his son. No, he thought, her dad.
It was well known that time flew by within a blink of an eye, yet Robert never put much thought into it until now. Maybe because his son had never accepted much responsibility or because he chose not to see it or because his son never chose to show it, but now...
His son was sat there, holding his granddaughter and was looking into his own business, and he felt his eyes sting with heat.
Robert blinked away the knowledge that his son was not a boy anymore and smiled at his granddaughter. "Can I borrow him for a little while? We'll just be right outside."
XOXOXO
Robert took his son to one side and placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder and squeezed. "Talk to me."
There were a few moments of silence only broken by heavy swallows that were accompanied by brown eyes that shone with tears. "I saw her bedroom, dad."
The older man frowned. "I don't..."
"Understand?" Oliver asked with a snap. "I didn't, either. Chloe has to sell because Molly will be in a wheelchair most of the time while she recovers and the house is just that. A house. She won't be strong enough to walk up and down all the time, the halls are too narrow for a wheelchair, and Chloe can't carry her up and down all the time."
Ah, Robert thought and refused to give pity or sympathy. Chloe and Molly certainly didn't need it. Especially now that they had his son in their corner. Still, this didn't explain the bedroom and if the bedroom didn't have meaning, Oliver wouldn't have mentioned it and he wasn't getting away without talking. "Now, tell me about her bedroom."
Oliver gave a quiet laugh. "Perfect for a little girl, ya know? Toys and pretty duvet and lotsa cushions, and a mattress that's made for excessive bed use. God, dad," he ran a hand through his hair. "I've stayed in five star hotels that are less comfortable."
Robert honestly didn't know what to say.
"She was just a baby when it started," Oliver looked at his father. "Her bedroom is the way Molly left it. Tidy. A four year old's bedroom is tidy with toys still in their boxes."
Robert kept quiet as his son pulled away. "I went to see Green, you know? He told me that... " He swallowed and got himself together. "He told me that this would be Molly's second time. Her second time, dad."
"God," Oliver shook his head. "She's four years old and she's been through hell twice and... I'm going to be a match. I know I am. I can save her. I can save my daughter."
"I can't lose it," he looked at his dad in a way that begged for help. "I can't. Molly is... She's mine. She's my daughter and I can't. Not now."
Hell, he couldn't lose Chloe.
If he lost one, he lost the other, and he just couldn't deal with that. She'd become a friend to him in the last week or so and he hoped it was vice versa. To say the least, it would hurt if...
Christ, he couldn't even think it.
Robert knew his son well enough to know when to step in and step in he did. He tapped Oliver across the face until he was satisfied his son had snapped out of his worrying. "You listen to me, Oliver Jonas Queen," he snapped and gave his son a harder tap on the face. "Don't you ever, ever talk like that again. You hear me?"
"But dad..." Oliver sighed. "If I can't save her..."
This time, Robert didn't just tap, he slapped his son. Right across the back of his idiotic head in an effort to knock some sense into that brain of his. "Stop talking stupid."
"Ow!" Oliver glared as he held the back of his head. "You haven't done that since I was 12!"
Robert shrugged. "You said something stupid then and you said something stupid now."
Oliver stared at his dad, wholly unimpressed. "I appreciate the sentiment," he deadpanned. Chloe's sentiments were much more fun and a lot less painful.
"As well you should," the elder Queen snapped. "Now pull yourself together, son. Your great-grandfather would be taking a cane to your behind, so yes. You should appreciate the sentiment."
Oliver wanted to roll his eyes, but he had a feeling his dad honestly meant it.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he let out a long breath as his dad spoke again. "Did you manage a good talk with Chloe?"
"I did and we're going to tell Molly who I am..." Oliver drifted off as panic once again started to set in.
Robert honestly wasn't all that surprised. "Is that why you're babysitting?"
A rueful expression crossed his son's face. "I need to 'prove' my capability."
"Ahh..." came the reply of understanding. Then, "You've never babysat in your life."
Oliver's nervousness shone through as he scratched the back of his neck and chuckled. "Nope."
Robert stood in silence for a moment or two. "I wonder if I should go get the camera."
One thing was for sure, Molly was going to run rings around his boy.
XOXOXO
Next time, Oliver thought as he watched the mess form, he was gonna buy a simple sponge cake with no sign of sauce or cream whatsoever. Crumbs were all over her bed and probably under the blankets, she had bits of cream and fudge around her mouth and face, and her hands were covered.
"Mmm..." Molly hummed as she swallowed the last piece of her last slice before she looked to him. "Can I have more?"
Remembering Chloe's stand on manners, "I don't know, can you?" He asked, quite pleased with himself. Plus, Chloe would be proud he kept up the consistancy.
The little girl huffed and brown eyes rolled. "May I have some more cake, please?"
"Good girl," Oliver grinned and handed over what was left of his slice. Being a pie kind of guy, most cakes were a bit too sickly for him, so it was no big loss on his part.
Molly eagerly took the paper plate, then more eagerly dug in her plastic Nemo fork.
Silence descended as she continued to eat, leaving him to sit back in his chair and just watch her.
It was strange, he realised. Her body and arms were nothing but skin and bone while her face was a little chubby with prominent cheekbones. He wondered if that had something to do with the leukemia or her medication.
He supposed it was a case of cause and effect. Leukemia caused the need for medication and the medication gave the effect.
His eyes followed those little arms down to where a tube could be seen from under her pajama top. It was thin and long with a clamp close to where it entered her skin, and he couldn't stop curiosity from raising its nosey head.
"It's my PICC line," Molly's voice made him jump a bit.
"What?" Oliver asked, his face burned with shame for staring. He should know better by know.
Brown eyes looked at him and a tiny smile appeared. "It goes near my heart and my medicine goes through it and it gets cleaned every few days and the bandaid gets checked everyday. Wanna see where it goes in? David says chicks dig scars."
Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The amount of times he'd heart that line was unreal. "Sure you can show me, Fishcake."
She put her fork down and lifted the loose sleeve up, turning her arm enough for him to properly look at it. Though he couldn't see the entry because of the gauze dressing, but he didn't have too. Just seeing what he did was enough.
He wanted to touch it, to take it out and throw it far away from her, wanted to swap places so she didn't have to suffer. How many times had Chloe wanted to do those things? How many times had Chloe mentally prayed and prayed for it to be her and not her daughter?
Oliver knew as well as anyone that things like that couldn't done, but he never knew how hurtful that knowledge would be.
He kept his wince to himself and feigned a grin at Molly. "Cool," he said, forcing his grin that bit bigger. "Does it hurt?"
Please say no, please say no, couldn't handle it if she said yes.
She responded to his light hearted attitude with one of her own. "It gets itchy sometimes, but that means I need a new bandaid. The special doctor who put it in said it wouldn't hurt cos of the... the..."
Oliver's fake grin turned real at the frustration now on her face.
Molly eventually huffed. "They said it wouldn't hurt."
"That's good it doesn't hurt," and she looked at him like he was stupid. "That is a good thing, right?"
"Don't you know anything?" She demanded, a honest to good scowl wrinkled up her forehead. "If it hurts, I get extra treats for being brave. David told me that if I pretend, I get lollypops."
It took a second or two for Oliver to realise just how much Chloe and David's parents were being played. He should tell them, really he should, but hell.
He couldn't help being proud of the sneakiness and besides, one of Molly's parents knew and could step in when needed.
"Wanna know a secret?" Oliver whispered as he leaned close.
Molly gave an oh so eager nod.
"I used to run so I could fall over and graze my knee just to get extra dessert."
Her mouth was quickly covered by two hands that hid her giggles. "I'll have to tell David."
Oliver's eyes widened. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. "No, no," he tried to prevent what would probably happen in the near future. "It was naughty. Very, very naughty. My mom used to get real sad when I got hurt."
She didn't so much as bat an eye. "It's just a grazed knee."
Crap, crap, crap, dumbass, he thought and quickly hurried on with explaining why doing that was wrong. Chloe was gonna string him up and kill him dead if she found out about this.
First night of babysitting his kid and he fed her ideas like that? He should be taken to court by child services and locked up and the key thrown away.
He was a damned health hazard to these kids.
Oliver shook his head. "It got infected once."
Molly nodded her head like she understood.
Of course she understands what an infection is, moron. She's probably had like a zillion.
"It was really bad, Molly. Like really, really bad," and that got her attention, so he went with it. "It was so infected, it turned all green and smelly, right?"
She nodded, clearly hanging onto his every word.
"There I was, my knee all gooey and and totally gross, when it started hanging off..."
"Your knee was hanging off?" Molly asked, eyes wide. "What did you do?"
"Well," Oliver lazed back in his chair. "The nurses and doctors were throwing up all over and I had to hold my own knee. It fell off twice."
"That's gross!" She exclaimed loudly, joy in her childish voice. "Did it fall on the floor?"
"Went splat and everything!" He exaggerated and felt pretty damn good. Not bad for his first bedtime story.
Okay, so maybe it wouldn't be the choice of a soccer dad or whatever, but Molly seemed to like it.
"Cool," she breathed in total awe and couldn't wait to tell mommy what happened to Ollie's knee. "I bet you got lots of chicks wanting to see your scar," she paused for thought. "Can I see your scar?"
The only problem with lying through the teeth was not having evidence to back it up.
Oliver coughed as he tried to quickly think of a good enough reason why she couldn't see the scar. Excluding the fact he didn't actually have one. Well, he did, but it was smaller than his thumb nail and in no way described the horrors he told her.
"You can't really see it cos of my bandaid," he said.
Molly shrugged. "Tell the nurses it itches and then when they give you a new one, I can see it. Wait! I know!"
Oh CRAP.
Oliver watched as his daughter reached over and pressed her help button before she turned back to him, beaming away like he wasn't gonna be made out to be a lying jackass.
"That button's for when I need nurses to come see me," she explained with all the maturity a four year old could manage. "Just pretend like me and David... I mean David and I."
There was no time for him to retract his stupid bedtime story as the same nurse from earlier entered the room and the instant she saw him, that funny smile of her reappeared.
She didn't give him a second glance as she walked towards Molly, her quick eyes giving the girl a once over. "What is it, porkchop?"
Despite the fact he was about to get caught out, the endearing term roused his curiosity.
"Porkchop?" Oliver asked with a smile.
The nurse's genuine affection was visible. "Just look at these cheeks," and tugged on his daughter's left cheek.
Molly scowled and tried to bat the woman's hand away. "Stop it, Nurse Myra! Go away!"
It warmed his heart to know that, despite stories in the papers and on TV, there were hospital staff who gave a damn about their patients and this Myra woman was obviously one of them.
He made a mental note to put her forward as a candidate for a nursing award.
Myra let go of the girl's cheek and laughed at the sheer dislike on that gorgeous little face. It wasn't professional to have favourites out of the patients, but Molly was a sweetheart. A scheming one, yes, but a sweetheart nonetheless.
Molly shook off her irritation of having her cheek pinched. "Ollie's bandaid is itchy."
Oliver swallowed when the nurse looked to him in genuine concern.
"His knee was hurt real bad and it fell off," his daughter helpfully told. "Twice. It went splat and everything. I think you should change it."
He focused on his shoes rather than see the expression that was no doubt on Myra's face.
"It did, did it?" She asked, genuine concern was rapidly replaced with a tone that simply dripped humour. "That must have been very painful, Mr. Queen."
Oliver's head snapped up in surprise. He thought for sure she was gonna drop him in it. "It was," his surprise shone through. "It really was. Molly said that if my bandaid was itchy, you'd give me a knew one and she could see my scar."
"Ahhh," Myra's blue eyes twinkled knowingly. "I'm afraid we'd have to change your bandaid away from Molly. I can't risk a cross-contamination."
"Aww," Molly huffed again and crossed her arms over her chest in a sulk.
The nurse lifted a finger, "But I can take a photo on my phone and show you after it's changed."
Her sulking magically stopped and a large grin full hope appeared. "Really?"
"Yes, really," the nurse paused. "It's not itchy, is it?"
Oliver reigned in his laughter when his daughter's hope deflated. "No, Nurse Myra. I just wanted to see the scar."
"I thought as much," the woman said through a laugh, then knelt down to Molly's level. "You know how it stings when you have your bandaid changed?"
She nodded.
"It wouldn't be very nice for someone else, would it?"
Molly lowered her head. "I guess... I just wanted to see it is all. I'm sorry, Ollie. I didn't mean for you to be stung."
Oliver didn't get a chance to feel guilty about lying to his daughter when Myra came to kneel down to his level. "And it isn't very nice to lie about injuries you don't have, is it Mr. Queen?"
He hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Molly. I didn't mean to lie and my knee didn't fall off."
Molly shrugged. "I guess it's okay."
"I do have a scar, though," and his daughter brightened.
Myra stood up, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "I'll leave you two to it, but don't you think you're getting off easy, Molly Anne Sullivan. I'll be coming back with your pills and if you haven't been on your best behaviour..." and shook a finger at the little girl.
Molly stuck her tongue out, an action which merely caused the nurse to chuckle as she left the room.
Oliver waited until the room door was closed before he started to roll up his jean leg, thankful he chose his baggy and most comfortable ones. When his knee was on show, he pointed to a visible white line that ran from just above his kneecap to just below. "I tripped over a tree branch when I went looking for conkers."
"You got conkers?" She asked, more awed than she was at hearing about his knee falling off.
He was about to say yes when he realised that his daughter would never have been able to go looking for conkers, much less than play the game. How much of childhood had she missed out on, was going to miss out on?
Oliver thought for a second and given the time of year, getting her conkers wouldn't be a problem. "You wanna play conkers, Fishcake?"
Molly nodded.
"Allow me..." and he slipped his phone back out of his pocket and pressed 3 for speed dial. It didn't take long for Bart to answer.
"Dude! Where are you?"
"At the hospital with Molly. Listen, I need a favour."
"The Bartman is here at your service. What can I do for ya, man?"
Oliver rolled his eyes at the over enthusiastic response. "Can you round some good conkers for Molly and me, please?"
Molly tugged on his sleeve. "Can David have some, too?"
He rolled his eyes again. "And David."
"You came to the right place. Went out and got some today before work. If I win, A.C gets the booze in. Did I hear your kid..."
"Thanks, Bart," and Oliver hung up before Bart could say anything more.
Molly was grinning ear to ear when he looked at her. "You'll play conkers with me?"
"I'm not only gonna play conkers with you, I'm gonna win," he said with confidence.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yuh-huh!"
She shook her head. "No way!"
Oliver nodded. "Yes way! I play conkers all the time with my friends."
Molly went to say something else, but she stopped and stared at him.
He was no stranger to the calculating looks on a woman's face and they didn't scare him in the least, but from a four year old with a love of all things gory and gruesome? Yeah, he was scared.
"If you win lots, can you teach me? I can beat David if you teach me how."
Oliver's curiosity made itself known again. "You like your friend David, don't you?"
Molly nodded. "He doesn't get out of bed a lot, but he's funny. He does stuff so the nurses have to come look at him." She paused. "Though he doesn't like it as much when Nurse Colin goes to look. I don't know why, cos Nurse Colin always makes me laugh."
"Does he have leukemia, too?"
Her forehead once again wrinkled up. "He has sir ee bal paul see and loo kee mee... Same as me."
Cerebral palsy?
Oliver figured that couldn't be a good combination. Not that he knew anything about cerebral palsy to make such an assumption, but never mind. After being around Molly for a short while, he was of the opinion that anything involving leukemia wasn't good.
"Tell you what, Princess," he said eventually. "I'll go cut your friend some cake and then we'll take it to him. How does that sound?"
Molly brightened. "Can we borrow a DVD to watch on mommy's laptop?"
Oliver didn't think Chloe would appreciate his encouraging the girl, so he chose his words carefully. "That depends on the movie," then he sat back and watched his daughter silently work out how she could get her own way in the matter and chuckled quietly.
Unlike her mother, the kid stood no chance of that with him.