A/N: An idea popped into my head and refused to leave it. What if Slade Wilson and Laurel Lance met? What would that dynamic be like? After some careful consideration, I decided to find out. Thank you to all the readers and authors who helped me make the decision. :)

This story is set just after Tommy and Thea's wedding in "Chemicals React."

Australian slang:

Offsider: an assistant, helper

Spit the dummy: Get very upset at something

Bloke: Man, guy

Built like a brick shit house: Big, strong guy

Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome. :)

LadyG

Slade Wilson was in a lot of trouble.

After being shot and presumed dead on Lian Yu, barely alive, he'd been captured by the Australian Government, and smuggled off the island. After a period of recuperation in which he'd been mostly isolated, he was damned as having betrayed his country by joining the ranks of Edward Fyers. He'd been interviewed relentlessly for months before being threatened and eventually brutally tortured.

Confused, and driven half mad at their continued accusations, he'd pronounced his innocence over and over, not understanding why his explanations were falling on deaf ears. Then one day, in the midst of a particularly vicious interrogation, the operative responsible for questioning him had slipped up, giving him some insight into the reasons for his captivity and everything had fallen into place.

Bill Wintergreen had been clever. Despite being the one to betray his nation, he'd framed Slade, making it look as though he'd been the mastermind, forcing Bill to help him and Fyers if he wanted to stay alive. What made matters worse, Slade had killed Bill when he'd found out about his friend's betrayal, but now, his claims that the former agent had been the dirty operative were rejected in favour of the supposed evidence which indicated that he'd murdered his partner to ensure his silence. Nothing he said seemed to make any difference at all. They thought him guilty and faced with the false trail left behind by Bill, no one would even give him a hearing. Instead of being labelled a traitor, Bill was hailed as a hero who'd died in service to the Australian Secret Intelligence Services.

For the past four years Slade had been kept in a secure ASIS location somewhere on American soil. The only reason they'd kept him alive was because they believed he was in possession of information that would help them determine what Fyers end game had been. Since Slade knew nothing about it, they were at an impasse.

However, five days before during a routine change of guard, his ex-handler, and only remaining ally, had created a diversion, allowing Slade to escape into what he'd later realised was a wilderness somewhere in the San Francisco Bay area. Armed only with a compass and a map, he was guided to a location where some supplies had been stashed. Once there, he'd laid low for a few days, wanting to make sure that the search for him had widened considerably before attempting to move on. Free for the first time in years, he'd hardly had a moment to revel in the sentiment before having to figure out what his new strategy would be in order to ensure his survival.

So while he plotted and planned, he'd tended to his wounds; various cuts and bruises on his face, chest and arms. He'd also given himself a basic haircut and shaved the scraggly hair from his face. It had been such a long time since he'd experienced the simple amenities that the feeling was almost completely foreign.

He'd wanted to kill each and every one of those operatives standing guard over him, jeering and taunting him daily with all manner of humiliating statements. It had taken every ounce of his will and superior training to remain focussed on what needed to be done, waiting for the moment when he'd have his chance. He wasn't stupid either. He knew that if he succumbed to his desire to send them all to an early grave, he'd significantly reduce his chances of ever clearing his name.

After staying off the radar for three days, he'd erased all traces of his temporary hideout in a small cave shrouded from sight by a dense thicket of bushes, collected the gear left for his use and started the hike that would take him out of the wilds. With a change of clothes designed to disguise him further, he'd blended in fairly well with his surroundings.

He'd slept in the mossy base of an old tree the previous night and set out again at dawn. Not that he'd slept much. Closing his eyes meant letting his demons in. He'd avoid giving them free reign for as long as he could.

After twenty minutes of meandering, he huffed and puffed, glaring at the landscape in disgust. Not that he was disappointed at the view, it was spectacular. Breathing in the fresh mountain air, he revelled at being able to walk unrestricted, no one dogging his every move. His vision stretched as far as his eyes could see, his senses coming alive. There was greenery everywhere, seemingly impenetrable forest surrounding him in all directions.

What he loathed was his weakness. A few years back he'd have been able to run over the hills before him in a matter of hours without even breaking stride. At the rate he was going, resting every so often and doubling back time and again to hide his tracks, it was going to be another long day. After so much time with limited exercise and rations for food, he wasn't anywhere near the peak of his former fitness levels, but while in captivity he'd tried his best to remain as active as possible. As a result, he still had the same powerful build he'd always had, but his planes of endurance were seriously compromised.

Taking a deep breath, he forged on, knowing he needed to make some headway before nightfall. He hoped he'd be able to find a pay phone somewhere. If not, he'd have to find a safe place to rest before he attempted to hitch hike a ride into the city the following day. The second option didn't sit well with him. He was sure the ASIS had men scouring the roads looking for him. Trying to catch a ride could result in his recapture and should that fate befall him, he knew there'd be no getting away a second time.

Knowing exactly where he was filled him with the greatest sense of purpose he'd felt in a long time. He had a plan and he hoped he'd be able to execute it without anything going wrong. He was less than seventy miles from Starling City, a mere leap from the one man with the resources to help him gain his freedom permanently - his former island escapee and friend, Oliver Queen.

Laurel Lance sat at her computer at CNRI and frowned at the screen. Nothing seemed to be working properly. First her internet connection had bombed out and now her incoming emails were coming through in drips and drabs. She had a ton of cases she was working on and losing time while IT sorted out their gremlins was something she couldn't afford.

Frustrated, she pushed her brownish-blonde hair back from her forehead and grabbed the phone.

"Greg, it's Laurel," she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

The tech responded in his usual flirtatious manner. "Hey, beautiful. How can I help?" He made a kissing sound into her ear.

She rolled her eyes and cut to the chase. "My internet is down and my email is slow. Is there a problem?"

"Damn. So you're not calling about your hard drive?" He sounded so disappointed that she might have laughed if she hadn't been so annoyed.

Her computer had crashed the previous week and he'd managed to put it back together, but there was still some work that needed to be done.

"Not this time," she said. "And Greg, don't start with the floppy disc jokes again. I'm a lawyer, you really don't want me suing you for harassment." She wouldn't, of course, he was harmless. On a regular day, she'd indulge him by laughing at his corny jokes and pick-up lines, but she didn't have the time right then.

He sighed. "One of the servers is down, but I'm working on it. You should be back up and running within half an hour, max."

"Thanks." Then feeling bad about her brusque behaviour, she added in a lighter tone, "You're the best and you know I less than three you."

She could almost see him smile at the rejoinder that would send his heart to geek heaven as she placed the receiver back on its cradle. Thirty minutes before she could get back to work. Perhaps it was time she took a break.

Deciding to grab some coffee, she headed out.

Big Belly Burger was partially empty, though not unexpectedly so since the lunch time rush had already died down. Sitting at the counter, Laurel removed her beige coat and ordered a latte. Looking around, she didn't notice the masculine presence beside her until he spoke.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Laurel whipped around and smiled fondly at Oliver. "Me? You're the billionaire. I didn't know you still hung out in low places," she teased. Laurel knew that wasn't true. Despite being richer than Croesus, he wasn't a snob.

He was dressed formally in a grey suit and white shirt, probably grabbing something to eat between meetings.

He smiled broadly. "You know me. I do like seeing how the other half lives." He ordered some coffee and a take-away sandwich.

She laughed. Oliver had mellowed a lot since his marriage more than three years before. He was still the same, but that heavy cloud that had always seemed to hover above him was gone. Clearly marriage and family life suited him.

Laurel was happy that he'd found someone to love. In fact, everyone seemed to have done just that except her.

"How's Tommy and Thea?" she asked casually.

Her former boyfriend had married Oliver's sister a month before. Laurel wished them well, but she couldn't help feeling like she was stuck in reverse when all her childhood friends were moving forward.

"Enjoying the Bahamas, according to the email I received yesterday." He thanked the waitress who placed his beverage before him. "We don't expect them back before the end of the month."

"They seem really happy," she commented, thinking back on the beautiful wedding.

Oliver nodded. "They are. Believe me," he said, looking at her, "no one was more surprised than I was when they got together. But they love each other and in the end, I guess that's all that matters."

Laurel knew he wasn't being insensitive to her feelings, but she still felt a pang at his words. "It is. I'm glad for them." She stared into her coffee cup.

Oliver put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You'll find the right guy for you, Laurel," he said sincerely.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Brightly she smiled, "Yeah, I know." Except she didn't really. She didn't know if she'd ever meet someone who made her feel the way the wives of her two ex-boyfriends clearly made them feel.

"I thought you were seeing the new ADA? Weren't you at the wedding together?"

She shrugged. "Jack is a great guy, but he's not looking to settle down anytime soon. I think I'm looking for someone who is thinking a little more long term."

"I'm sorry," he said, with a sad smile.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "Please don't be. It's not like I was in love with him." Needing to change the subject, she threw a question at him before he could respond. "How is Felicity and Robbie?"

She watched as a genuine smile curved his lips upward, his blue eyes filled with warmth. She couldn't stop the stab of envy she felt. "Fantastic, thank you. Felicity is back at Queen Consolidated full time and Robbie is at day care. Thankfully, he's just a couple of floors away from both of us. I don't think she would have wanted to leave him anywhere else." Laurel suspected that neither would he, but didn't say anything.

"He's so cute, Ollie."

"Thanks." He grabbed his take-away. "I need to run. You should come over for dinner sometime. I know Felicity would love to see you again."

Laurel waved noncommittally as he exited the diner. While she and Oliver's wife were friendly, they weren't exactly friends. She didn't know if she felt comfortable socialising with them now that she and Tommy were no longer together. That's an understatement.

He was now an official member of the Queen family by marriage. That made her the outsider. Apparently being a workaholic really wasn't good if you wanted a relationship to last. That's why she and Tommy had broken up. They'd both spent too much time worrying about their work and not enough preserving what was between them. In the end, he'd broken up with her and she couldn't even argue with his reasons. They were true. Evidence of just how true was confirmed when he'd married someone else less than six months later.

She wasn't bitter about it, or even upset. She knew that he was happier now than she would ever have been able to make him.

She loved her job and she was extremely good at it, but at the end of a long day it was cold comfort. Her best friend, Joanna, had moved back to her mother after her brother had been killed and Laurel missed her every day. They talked on the phone regularly, but it just wasn't the same.

With Anna gone and Tommy married, she'd never felt more alone.

Slade hid behind an old, abandoned outhouse as he surveyed the truck stop ahead. Nothing looked out of the ordinary and he was pretty sure that there were no cops around. Taking his chances, he pulled the black baseball cap lower to shield his eyes and swung the backpack he was carrying over his shoulder.

Casually, he strolled up to the pay phone on the side of the dingy diner, making sure to avoid eye contact with any of the truckers milling around. For the most part, everyone seemed too absorbed in their own business to pay much attention to him, a fact he was grateful for. The less people poking around, the less bodies he'd have to discard.

Hoping he had luck on his side, he quickly scanned the worn telephone directory until he found the number he was looking for – Queen Consolidated.

He knew Oliver had been rescued. His guards had gleefully given him the information, knowing how it would affect him since his own freedom had been a thing they would never have willingly granted him. But they'd been wrong. He had been happy to hear of his friend;s return to civilisation.

Hastily putting the call through, he looked around cautiously as he heard the cultured tones of a woman manning the switchboard.

"Queen Consolidated, how may I direct your call?"

"I'd like to talk to Oliver Queen." His voice sounded a little rusty, even to his own ears. The Australian accent was as pronounced as ever.

He could almost hear her hesitation. "I'll put you through to Mr Queen's personal assistant."

He heard the line go silent before the tranquil sound of running water filled his ears. He gritted his teeth in annoyance while staring at the notice board above the phone, scanning the headlines of a week old paper disinterestedly. A name on the front page caught his attention, along with the small square picture beside it.

Laurel Lance. Why does that sound familiar? Then he remembered. She'd been Oliver's girlfriend before he'd been stranded on the island. He looked at the formal portrait absently. She looked more mature than she had in the only other photo he'd ever seen of her.

"Mr Queen's offices," came another brisk and efficient voice and Slade immediately forgot the woman and her picture.

For a second time he asked to speak to Oliver.

"I'm afraid Mr Queen is in a board meeting and not available to take any calls. Should you wish-"

He tried to be calm as he interjected, "I need to talk to him. It's urgent."

Miss Efficient continued talking as though he hadn't said a word. "As I just said, Mr Queen should be available in about an hour's time. You are welcome to leave your name and-"

Slade lost the fragile hold he had on his patience. "Listen offsider, before I spit the dummy, you go in there and you tell your boss that the bloke he once agreed was built like a brick shit house needs to talk to him. NOW! And if that doesn't get his arse in gear, tell him it's a matter of bloody life and death!"

He heard her gasp at his tone of voice, which he knew sounded rough. He hadn't meant to let the slang slip into his speech, but when he was aggravated, he couldn't always help it.

There was a prolonged silence after his demand and he sighed in frustration.

About to repeat himself, he heard her reply, "One second."

More running water. He cursed under his breath.

"Who is this?" came the suspicious voice he recognised from what felt like a lifetime ago. He nearly sagged against the wall in relief.

"It's Slade Wilson. I'm alive, mate and I need your help."