The scent of gunpowder coated the air thickly enough to taste. Frightened whimpers and cries cut through the air, as uncomfortable as a blender suddenly going off in the middle of the night. People huddled against the walls, parents curling protectively over their frightened children, couples crouching tightly together, trying to get as far away from the armed, masked men as possible.

Will had been excitedly explaining the minutiae of a painting that looked to Oliver like someone had dragged their naked, paint-covered butt across a huge canvas. But Will assured him it was art and genius art at that.

Gun fire had pierced the area and instinct made Oliver grab Will in a way that made the 14-year-old squawk and shove him out of sight.

Now, they were both hidden behind a retaining wall, Oliver's body blocking Will in between the wall and a display case.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Will hissed.

"Of course." Oliver pulled out his cellphone. He punched three keys and put it to his ear. When the call was picked up, Oliver gave his emergency code, the one used to ensure nobody could engage city action while posing as him on the phone. "There's a robbery at the Museum of Contemporary Art. Three perpetrators heavily armed, lots of children on site."

Oliver ended the call and returned the cell to his jacket pocket, peering around the corner to keep a bead on the masked men who were after a traveling exhibit that was due to be moved at closing.

"That's all you're going to do?" Will asked, incredulity dripping from his voice.

Oliver didn't even turn to meet Will's gaze. "Yes."

"But you could go over there and lay them all out. You could use your trick arrow and—"

"You mean the arrows I don't have with me?"

Will hesitated. "Well, yeah. But I've seen you fight. You could—"

"Get hurt? Or get someone else hurt?" Oliver asked, now turning to actually look at his son.

Will huffed, mutiny crawling across his face, but he didn't say anything else.

Oliver and William stayed in their hiding space until sirens sounded and the bad guys took off to avoid capture.

After Oliver spoke with everyone in the museum from the guards to the little kids, assuring them that the bad guys would be brought to justice and that the Star City MOCA was still a safe place for family fun, they headed home.

And Will's temper boiled over the second his butt hit the sofa.

"How can you stand it? Watching somebody do something bad and not stopping them?"

Oliver sighed and sat down next to Will. "Sometimes doing the right thing means knowing when to back down. Being the big hero could have gotten a lot of people hurt. I was outnumbered. They had guns. I didn't even have my gear. And most importantly, I was there with you."

That did not soothe Will's temper. If anything, it seemed to make him madder. "I would have been fine. I've been training with you for years."

"Self-defense training, not 'bring fists to a gun fight' training," Oliver pointed out.

They sat in silence for a few moments while Will stewed. Oliver studied his son. One of the things he loved about Will was that the boy had such a clear sense of right and wrong. But it was also one of the things he feared. It constantly reminded Oliver of Lyla's prediction that Will might one day follow in his father's footsteps. And not the elected ones.

"Will, do you remember a few years back when you asked if you could tell people I was the Green Arrow? What I told you?"

Will nodded, the anger leaving his face in just a small measure. "That you weren't afraid of people knowing who you were. You were afraid of people knowing who I was."

"Right. You're already a target just for being the mayor's son. If you all of a sudden became Green Arrow's son, too? I –" Oliver shoved a hand into his hair, deeply disturbed at just the thought. "I can't risk that. Oliver Queen is supposed to be a talker. Not a fighter. If all of a sudden, I'm disarming three guys in public with fancy ninja moves I'm not even supposed to have, I could blow my cover. No. Worse. I would blow your cover."

Will frowned. "I have a cover?"

"Yes. You do. Son of the mayor who is just a regular kid who doesn't know any vigilantes and therefore would be terrible collateral for a kidnapping attempt. That's your cover."

Will's shoulders slumped and the defiant anger leaked out like air from an unknotted balloon. "I just wanted to stop the bad guys."

Oliver nodded. "Me, too. Do you think sitting there watching them steal and terrorize people in my city made me feel good? The Green Arrow in me was mad. The mayor in me was mad. The protective father in me was downright pissed."

Oliver put a hand on William's shoulder and squeezed.

"But my first thought is always you. Keeping you safe. And part of that is making sure Oliver Queen is not a fighter. This only works if I keep it that way. I have to make sure there is no reason to make a connection between the two. People remember heroes. Trust me."

Will nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get it."

Oliver smiled and pulled Will in for a quick hug, releasing him before the boy could start squirming and complaining about being too old for it. "Alright. How about some Moollenium Crunch?"

Years later, looking back, Oliver would realize that this was where it really began.