A Shot in the Dark
"You stay right there. Hands up where I can see them like a good little spy." Oliver keeps his gun trained on the enemy agent before him. The man is kneeling with his hands resting on top of his head.
You laugh lightly. "You enjoy this far too much I think sometimes my love."
He shrugs and turns his head to smile at you. "What's not to enjoy?" Oliver's attention is off of the agent for a millisecond, but it is a millisecond too long. The man swipes forward, knocking Oliver's sig sauer out of his hand. As Oliver turns to look, the man draws a concealed small caliber pistol and aims it for his chest. You are already in motion. You tackle Oliver to the ground, feeling your chest hit Oliver's side at the same time as you feel the bullet hit your arm.
Oliver, running on pure adrenaline and oblivious as yet to your injury, grabs you around the waist as you fall on him. He rolls over you, bringing his leg up in a powerful kick which catches the gunman in the face. The agent fires again in reflex but it is a wild shot and misses by a mile. The man falls back unconscious and Oliver quickly dives onto him, prying the gun from his grip.
"You can get up now Love." His back is to you as he stands. "Thanks heavens for you. I didn't even s.." You are not moving. Freezing, nauseating terror floods Oliver's entire body. He turns you over and sees blood before he sees anything else. "Please no," he whispers. He places two trembling fingers to your throat, able to breathe again only when he feels the rhythm of your heart there.
Oliver can see the entrance wound on your arm and is too afraid to lift your arm to trace the bullet's path. He is scared he will hurt you, and scared the slug may have burrowed into your torso. He places one hand tightly over the seeping hole on your biceps. With his other hand, he flips open his cell phone and dials the numbers with blood coated fingers. "Yes hello? I need an ambulance immediately. Ferguson park, near the playground. She's been shot!" Oliver gives the dispatcher a few more requested details then stuffs the phone in his back pocket. He slips out of his suit-coat and covers it over you, laying on the asphalt beside you. He smoothes the hair away from your brow and kisses your shock-cool, moist forehead. "Hang on my Love. Please? Don't leave me."
The way Oliver has been pacing in the hospital corridor, he has already had three people ask him boy or girl. The snide comments he has always found on the tip of his tongue during crisis befriend him again as he sends each curious passerby on their insulted way.
"Mr. Sampson?"
Oliver approaches the doctor. "Is she all right?"
The white haired man nods. "She's better off than she looked when you brought her in. The bullet went almost the whole way through the arm. We made a little incision on the far side and it was nearly ready to fall out. It was fortunate the caliber was so small. It did minimal damage. It nicked the artery, so there was a bit more bleeding then would have normally been. The bullet cracked her humerus. We've patched her up, given her some blood and some pain killers."
"Why was she out?"
"Oh, she must have bumped her head on the way down, poor thing. Hell of an afternoon for her. She's got a mild concussion. If she has someone to look after her, she can go home tonight."
"Is that wise?"
"She has been...ahem, extremely vocal about her wish not to remain in the hospital overnight." Oliver grins widely for the first time that afternoon. "However, she has to be monitored and she'll need some assistance for the next few days. If she doesn't have someone, she will have to stay."
"She has me. She'll be well looked after. May I see her?"
"Oh yes." The doctor walks him back into the emergency room and pulls back the curtain on the third bed. You are laying slightly pale against the bedclothes, your hair splayed on the pillow beneath you. The doctor leaves Oliver to tend to you as he goes off to ready your release papers.
He smiles down on you, his hand going automatically into your hair as his lips touch your forehead. Your eyes blink open, slowly focusing on your favorite site in the whole world, Oliver's smile. "Welcome back," he almost whispers.
"Are you okay? Were you hit?"
"No my Love."
"Was I?"
He kisses your forehead again. "'Fraid so. You saved my life." You try to sit up and bite back a scream of pain when you try to move your arm. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut, tears starting to fall from them. Oliver winces in sympathy and puts his arms around you. You sob quietly against his shoulder until the pain subsides.
"I take it I got hit in the arm?"
Oliver kisses you again. "Yes Love. Bumped your pretty little head too. I've been ordered to take care of you." He is smiling.
"You don't have to do that."
"I do unless you want to stay here."
"I take it back. You do have to do it then."
"My aren't we the bossy little girl."
You look up at him. "Please Oliver, I don't want to stay here. You won't leave me here will you?" Your eyes threaten tears once more.
"It was a joke Love. You'll be home with me in an hour. Two at most. I promise." You sigh in relief. "Try to sleep till then hmm? I'll be right here." You drift off almost the second you close your eyes.
Oliver wakes you up what feels like minutes later. He helps you to sit-up and gets a robe around you in your hospital gown. "Time to go home."
"Don't I have any clothes? I can't go out like this."
"Darling, for someone who's just been shot, you look ravishing. Besides, I'm not wanting to try to get a sleeve on over your arm."
You look at his face, your vision focusing and unfocusing. "You're so cute, do you know that?" He smiles and you giggle. Suddenly your expression becomes serious. "Why am I in here Oliver? Was I shot?"
He is confused, and concerned. "Yes Love, in the arm. It's all right, I'm taking you home." Oliver looks over at the Doctor.
"It's okay. It's common. It's the pain killers, and the concussion is likely not helping. She can still stay here if you'd rather."
He looks down on you as you snuggle against his chest. "No I can't. I promised. Trust me I can do this. I've dealt with gunshot wounds before, and usually without the benefit of pain pills. We'll do fine."
"I'll have the nurse bring a wheelchair."
"That won't be necessary," Oliver says hoisting you into his arms. He carries you out of the Hospital and into his car.
When you get to Oliver's lighthouse, he runs ahead and unlocks the door then comes back and carries you right inside and to the bed. He lays you down and you close your eyes almost immediately. Oliver takes the opportunity to run back out to the car to get the bag with your medication in it.
While he is gone, you stand unsteadily to your feet and almost sidewind out the bedroom door. Oliver comes in and finds you about to attempt to lay in his hammock. "Whoa, no you don't." His arm around your waist holds you up. You begin to laugh. "You're going to be quite the handful, aren't you?"
"Would you like to swing on a star..." you begin to warble but cut yourself off with your own laughter. Oliver leans your head back against his shoulder and attempts to walk you back into the bedroom. Your feet are barely touching the ground, going through the motions of walking. You begin to panic. "Oh no, Oliver. I'm floating!"
He tries not to laugh at that one. "It's all right, I've got you. We're going to get you back to bed."
"Good. I'm sleepy. Floating is exhausting work."
Oliver gets you sitting on the bed. He strips you of the robe and hospital gown in favor of one of your own, one he could easily get on you without bumping your injury. He leans you back down on the pillows and you are asleep quickly. Oliver thinks about sleeping on the couch but then thinks better of it, instead undressing and crawling in by your side.
When you wake up in the morning, it is to a dull ache in your arm and some leftover grogginess. However, you find yourself able to think clearly finally. You know to move your arm very gingerly or that dull ache will become sharp pain. You try to ease yourself out of the bed only to have Oliver's arm clamp over your waist. You almost jump in surprise.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"I need water."
"I'll go."
"No, I can manage."
"Do you remember..."
"Yes. I got hit in the arm...and I recall singing...badly."
He laughs against your ribcage. "Do you need some pills?"
"No! No more of that."
"Love you're hurt. You're going to need them eventually."
"No. I'll grin and bear it like you've always done. I can't think right on those damn things."
"Love..."
"No!" You look him in the eyes to make your point.
"All right. But I don't want you moving around today. I will go get the water. You're staying put."
"But Oliver..."
"No! I can be as stubborn as you, you know. Hell, I invented it." You relent and watch him as he makes his way out of the room to the kitchen.
The next two weeks find Oliver doting on you sweetly until your employers call him on assignment and he can't get out of it. You'll miss him, and you'll worry not being there to back him up but you can take care of yourself now. He is due to be gone a week. You do everything you can to aid in your recovery in the mean time. You want to surprise him when he comes home.
"Love?" Oliver opens the door to a darkened room, candlelight is the only illumination. A delicious meal is laid out on the table. Oliver makes his way over.
You appear from around the corner in a simple, but sexy, black velvet dress. "Welcome home!"
You run to him and throw your arms, both of them, around his neck. "Well you're feeling better!" He is grinning. "What's with all of this?"
"I made you a welcome home dinner."
"Are you on the pain meds again?" He winks knowingly.
"Okay so I dished stuff out from order in food...but it looks very pretty yes?"
"Oh yes. It looks delicious. Almost as delicious as you." You blush. "Is your uh...arm...all better?"
"Mmm, pretty much. Still a little weak but I've been lifting with it where I can."
"Uh-huh," he has a devious look in his eyes. His arm tightens around your waist. "You're feeling healthy? Stronger?"
"Oh yeah, almost my old self."
"Thank God." He bends slightly and slings you over his shoulder, heading toward the bedroom.
"Oliver what are you doing?"
"What I've wanted to for nearly a month!"
"But dinner?!"
"Take out invariably warms up halfway decent and I fully intend to work up an appetite!" He kicks the door shut behind you.
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| The character of Oliver Sampson and the show VR.5 were created by John Sacret Young and are © Samoset Productions and Rysher Entertainment. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |