STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing in the Arrow universe...I just have an overactive imagination.
Author's Note: I'm just in love with the idea that Walter knows more than he's letting on, and let us not forget who referred Oliver to Felicity in the first place. I also think it entirely likely that he's the one who actually selected Diggle as Oliver bodyguard. I also borrowed more Walter background from the Green Arrow comic universe ( in which Walter was explicitly developed as Robert Queen's best friend).
I may or may not expand on this, please let me know if you'd be interested in reading more. Also, this story has not been edited by anyone but me so any and all mistakes are my own.
Walter Steele knows himself to be a complicated man, an extensive education at a prestigious boarding school had done much to enhance his natural reserve, and it was often remarked upon how apropo his name truly is. Steel; firm, hard, unyielding much like the persona he projected, but as in all things looks and often perceptions can be misleading.
Walter's upbringing, his reserve, his public persona, were all tools that served him well in his career and few bothered to look beyond that, those that did were pleasantly surprised by the depth of emotion that ran beneath his rigid façade because once you chipped beyond that Walter Steele was quite possibly the best friend anyone could ever hope to have. Such was the case with the late Robert Queen and Walter's devotion to his best friend had extended far beyond the grave.
Long after The Queen's Gambit was lost Walter he continued to honor his friend in the only way he knew how, by doing what he KNEW his friend would have wanted. So Walter had done his best to protect the Queen legacy; both the family members left behind and by steering his friends corporate legacy through the tumultuous times following the sudden loss of its founder and CEO. Perhaps he had not meant to make that his life's work but as with all things Walter Steele did not know how to do things part ways. In the days following the loss of the Queen's Gambit Moira had been so broken, so very lost, coaxing her to rejoin the living, to enjoy her life, to remind her that she hadn't lost everything and that there was a very frightened very hurt little girl who needed her had been a monumental task but one he felt he could in time he could conquer; in the interim he had pledged to be there for Thea in any way that he could.
Days had turned to weeks, weeks into years and somehow slowly things had changed Moira emerged from the depth of her sorrow and what had begun as an easy friendship had blossomed into more, Thea had grown into an astounding young women and all was well (as it could be) for his family; because that's what they were now the remaining Queens were his much beloved family.
One would assume that the Queen family was not unaccustomed to change, sometimes those changes were sudden and tragic, and sometimes they were gradual as Walter's own integration into the role of patriarch had been, but none of that equipped them for this…after 5 years lost at sea, missing and presumed dead Oliver Queen had been found by a group of Chinese fishermen on an island named Lain Yu also known as Purgatory.
Verifying the information, arranging the logistics of getting him home where tasks he's accomplished at a blinding speed overjoyed as they had all been to learn of his survival, that joy had only been tempered for Walter in learning what he had about the boy's physical condition. Looking over Oliver's medical records Walter's usual detachment had failed him as he teared up, over 20% of Oliver's body was composed of scar tissue, the wounds he'd received were horrific and the scarring pronounced it told its own story of what had befallen the Queen heir and Walter knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the charming rascal Walter has almost begrudgingly adored as a child and then a young man had been lost in that storm, whoever Oliver was now was someone else entirely, how could he not be?
Walter's first meeting with the returned Oliver had gone….oddly. There really was no other way to describe it Oliver before the island, or Ollie as he had preferred to be called, was all boundless energy and easy charm, he had never been as simple as he let people believe but neither had been renowned for his insight.
That was not the man he'd met in the foyer of the Queen mansion that day. This Oliver was calculated, deliberate in his thoughts and actions and stoic enough to make Walter Steele himself wonder just how deep those still waters ran. It had not escaped his notice that Oliver's abrupt departure from dinner that evening and the revelation that he knew that Walter himself was more ingrained in the family fold than any of them had been letting on had only occurred after Oliver himself had let slip his mask.
How does one learn another language let alone Russian on an island off the coast of China? Yes, deflection was a maneuver Walter knew well, one didn't get ahead in the dog eat dog world of corporate conglomerates without being a keen judge of character and every fiber of Walter's being was screaming that Oliver Queen was keeping a number of secrets.
As for his own behavior that was one point in the whole affair on which he did not look on favorably. He'd initially refused to go along with the ruse that he was there solely as a friend of the family. Walter Steele was an honest man, he'd known Oliver for his whole life and even before the island he'd liked if not exactly respected the boy. Oliver deserved more from him, more from his family than lies. In the end, he'd capitulated going along with it after the incessant pleas of both his wife and adopted daughter. He'd let them convince him that after all Oliver had been thorough (and he expected they didn't know the half it given his injuries) the last thing Oliver needed was to be upset.
To be fair, if he was correct (as he generally was) Oliver wasn't upset. No his departure from the dinner table had less to do with upset and more to do with his own lapse. Walter had gone to bed that evening contemplating his adoptive son. For all that he was a grown man, Oliver Queen was his best friend's son, his wife's child, and his adoptive daughter's only sibling and he'd help him in any way that he could, but he was at an impasse as to how to do so. How did one assist an enigma, sighing Walter had gone to sleep for the evening, the puzzle that was Oliver Queen would keep for the night.
As the fates would have it, the puzzle that was Oliver would NOT keep for the night. Walter had woken to unusual noises coming from down the hall, curious as to the source and the reason for the commotion he'd rose to investigate, Moira waking as he rose and choosing to accompany him toward what he now knew to be Oliver's room, the cause of the noise now apparent, and it broke his heart just a bit because Oliver Queen clearly suffered from night terrors.
Opening the door to the room he was alarmed at the scene that greeted him, Oliver lay on the floor at the base of the open windows, drenched from the rain he laid on one side thrashing as he cried out in distress, what transpired next happened so quickly even Walter's quick mind took a moment to process. Acting purely on instinct Moira had reached out to her sleeping son, and more quickly than Walter thought humanly possibly Oliver was awake on his knees his hand on his mother's throat.
"Oliver!" he'd called his low voice breaking through the haze of slumber Oliver was currently halfway in; and just like that he was back. Moving once again at a speed Walter hadn't thought possible Oliver had thrown himself across the room where he sat huddled in on himself.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" he kept repeating over and over again.
Calming Oliver back down had taken about as long as one may imagine, even after that Walter knew that his pleas for his stepson to get some rest had fallen on deaf ears, there was absolutely no way the young man was going back to sleep after that. So Walter wasn't entirely surprised when Oliver appeared the next morning with what appeared to be his usual reserve firmly back in place. He'd greeted him briefly as he departed for Queen Consolidated, pondering what he knew about his stepson.
Oliver had clearly been through a horrific ordeal the details of which he would probably never know, and the persona he portrayed in his limited interactions was a case study in contradictions deathly serious one moment, flippant the next; reserved but when unguarded, as he had been after the incident in his room the night before, haunted in a way he couldn't begin to fathom and beyond all of that Oliver Queen was deeply committed to his family, it was a cause Walter was more than passingly familiar with and so had no difficulty recognizing in another, whatever else he may be, and whatever he has become Oliver Queen is a good man who deeply cares for and is committed to his family, THEIR family. Walter gladly included Oliver in that number regardless of whether or not the feeling was ever reciprocated.
The call that had come in mid-day had nearly leveled Walter's reserve, something that only Oliver seemed to do with any kind of regularity. A day, he hadn't even been back a full day and already his stepson had been in a potentially life threatening situation.
Masked men had abducted both Oliver and his best friend Tommy Merlyn in broad daylight from a Queen Consolidated property at the heart of the Glades. Just what exactly the two of them were doing in the Glades was a topic of discussion for another day, right now he needed to get home, he needed to be there for his wife, and an understandably upset Thea, and someone needed to deal with the police.
When he'd been informed of the Detective assigned to the case Walter had immediately cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. Quentin Lance may well be the best Detective in the city, but he was not an admirer of the Queens in general and Oliver in particular for understandable reasons, this had all the ingredients in making for a very long afternoon.
In the end Adam Hunt had proven to be the final piece of the puzzle, the key to solving the enigma of Oliver Queen. The news coverage of his arrest and the bow wielding vigilante who had brought him to justice in addition to returning the life savings of hundreds if not thousands of Starling City's residents, the same vigilante that had foiled the kidnapping attempt on Oliver and Tommy….that was the moment when all of the pieces fell into place, snapshots of his interactions with his stepson since his return, the clearly deliberate playboy persona he often adopted, and the stoic façade he presented in that persona's absence, the speed and control of his movements, the noticeable gaps in his story of his rescue and the highly suspicious timing of the vigilante's arrival.
Oliver Queen IS the vigilante. For a moment Walter pondered what he was meant to do with that particular bombshell, turning him in never occurred to him and despite the obvious illegality of his actions, Walter was hard pressed to argue with the results. The streets of Starling would undoubtedly be safer with Oliver on them, he'd already helped so many so quickly, and beneath all of that he found that he was actually rather proud of him.
Whatever fate had befallen Oliver on the island had surely been horrific, but it seemed that he was intent on utilizing his rather alarming skill set for the good of others. With the paradox solved Walter's keen mind moved on to his next steps, impressive as his skill set was and as shrewd as he knew Oliver to be this was not something he could do alone, that he SHOULD do alone, the potential for disaster was just too high.
No, if Oliver was going to do this, be the vigilante and still live his life. Even someone with his rather disturbing yet impressive skill set would need help; very discreet, very specialized help. Luckily Walter's years as the head of a wildly successful multinational corporation had taught him just about all there was to know about recruiting and even vigilantes need a team.