Oliver Queen

Something big was going on in Kansas.

He'd had not one, but two rather upsetting phone calls from Clark in the past three weeks. The first was asking him to help a young, blind meteor-infected man to get eye surgery, to which he hadn't hesitated. According to the doctors, Tobias was recovering very well and was expected to have at least eighty percent of his vision back. Which was great, and Oliver certainly didn't mind helping people who needed it.

It was part of who he was, after all.

The second phone call had come late last night, and had been disturbing enough that he'd considered flying in to find out what exactly was going on--because Clark had been very sketchy about the details. All he knew was that somehow Chloe's mother was ill and in need of protection. From who or what, Clark hadn't said. But whatever it was had to be big. He'd requested to talk to Chloe, but Clark had told him she was resting and that he'd have her call later if she was up to it.

Frowning as he sat behind the desk in his office, he stared blankly at his computer screen, not really seeing the data.

Something wasn't right. That much he knew. But Kansas wasn't his turf. He belonged in California. And if they needed him, he assumed they'd call again.

But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was needed.