raptorcanaria: ([young] reflective)
Dinah Laurel Lance ([personal profile] raptorcanaria) wrote2013-04-28 08:28 pm

Got your back

Dinah watches the door to the surgery close and is shown to some less than comfortable chairs on which she can wait.

And wait.

She slumps against her seat back, where she can do nothing but listen to the voice in her head tell her all the different things that could go wrong on the next few hours. All the things she should have done and said before the anaesthetic. Before the diagnosis. Before. The things it might be too late to say now. The knot in her throat tightens and it feels like all the screaming she's doing inside has finally turned sonic, and her power is causing her to  implode.

Breathe. Wait.

She fixes her gaze on the floor a few yards away and stares. Hours, they said, it would take. But she daren't move from here in case something happens. She just stares and breathes and tries not to think.

She is nowhere close to success when a pair of expensive sneakers step into her field of view.

Dinah raises her eyes past a pair of jeans and a tailored shirt, to an enormous fruit basket, behind which she is surprised to see a familiar blonde beard and friendly grin. She stares in disbelief.

“Oliver?”

“How's it going, Pretty Bird? I figured you'd have enough flowers, but no one can have enough vitamin C, right?”

He places the basket on the floor, and pulls out an apple, which he hands to her as he sits down next to her. She stares at the apple, then at the basket, then at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I got Hal to cover my monitor shift. Left my communicator at home. I thought you might like some company.”

“I...”

Staring stupidly at him, Dinah realizes how tired she is, and when she yawns, she feels the strain in her jaw.

“I'm sorry, I'm not really up for conversation right now.”

Or coherent thought, she realizes.

Oliver smiles.

“Didn't think you would be. But hey, if you want to nap: I'll wake you when there's news.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She doesn't know what else to do. She leans on him, her head first on his shoulder, then his arm, then on his knee as she lies down.

The voices, for a while are quiet.





Dinah is woken by Oliver's hand on her shoulder, and the realization that someone said her name. She pulls herself out of sleep to face a smiling surgeon behind his clipboard shield.

“Ms Lance,” he repeats himself. “Just to let you know that everything went swimmingly. We think we got the entire tumor, but we need to run some tests to be sure. Your mother is sleeping on her own under observation. Would you like to wait in her room?”

Oliver leaves before her mother wakes, leaving mother and daughter alone.

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