Title: All We Relied Upon

Chapter 1: I Just Let You Slip Away

A/N: I have already finished writing this, so it won't be long between updates. It's a 6 chapter fic which is the first of a series which I am planning to write. The main focus of the series will be Oliver and Tommy's friendship. Please do read and review!

THANK YOU to Warriora for beta-reading this fic.

…

Yesterday I lost my closest friend,

Yesterday I wanted time to end

I wonder if my heart will ever mend

I just let you slip away

- Lost Prophets, "4 am Forever"

…

Even as he begs Tommy to open his eyes, Oliver already knows that it's too late. The guilt he feels is suffocating; and he can barely breathe around the whirling thoughts in his head which whisper that he should have been here faster, should have fought Malcolm Merrlyn harder, should have put the pieces together sooner, so he could somehow have stopped all this from happening. As pieces of the building continues to collapse around him, flames licking the edges of the room, Oliver bows his head, completely paralyzed by grief.

And then he hears it, a low, desperate cry. It jolts him out of himself. There is someone in this building who is still trapped, still needs help, and Oliver…Oliver is still the Arrow. Even though it kills him to leave his friend lying impaled in a pool of his own blood, he forces himself to get up.

The man cries out again, and Oliver tracks the source of the sound to where he is trapped under a heavy teak bookcase. It's one of the lawyers that work with Laurel, Oliver recognizes him vaguely from one of his brief visits to the place. Acting on autopilot, Oliver strains to lift the case, barely managing to get it off him long enough for the man to scramble out from under it.

More chunks of ceiling fall, and a small chunk of cement glances off his head.

"Get out of here," he says to the man he just rescued, his mind still fixed on Tommy. He needs to get his friend's body out of here before the whole place goes up in flames.

"I can't." The stranger indicates his broken leg, his features twisted in pain and desperation. "You have to help me."

Oliver feels as if he's been cleaved in two. He knows that if he leaves without Tommy, there's a good chance that he won't be able to get back in here again.

"Please!" says the man, panic in his voice.

Oliver makes his decision, helps the man up and together they hobble towards the door. Once he gets him a safe distance away, he turns back towards the building, only to see it explode for a second time. Ash and cement rain down, and scorching flames leak out of shattered windows.

There is no way he can get back in there. His stomach roiling at the thought of Tommy's body being consumed by fire, Oliver staggers away from CNRI, his eyes taking in the horror the earthquake has wrought. The surrounding buildings are completely destroyed. He has failed this city, failed to save his best friend, failed even to give Laurel a body to bury. Something inside him splinters into pieces, and he knows without a shadow of doubt that he will be able to put it back together again.

…

Slade is consumed by rage when the news breaks on the channels. He curses, throws a chair across the room that narrowly misses the TV.

The Glades are crumbling to pieces and the Arrow seems to be doing his best to get himself killed rescuing its screaming, pathetic people. Slade has spent years planning his revenge, and now it is in danger of being snatched away by an entitled business tycoon.

Slade vows that if Oliver is killed tonight, Malcolm Merrlyn will pay the price for it. Donning his skull mask, he slips quietly out of the small, non-descript motel he's been staying at, making his way to the Glades. It is not very far- he wanted to stay nearby so he could keep an eye on Oliver's activities.

It is a measure of the degree of panic and chaos in the city that no one even stops to blink at the sight of a masked man roaming the streets. The streets are filled with terrified people running or driving haphazardly, trying to get as far away from the Glades as they can. Slade is the only one heading back towards the place, so he is able to pass with relative ease.

When he reaches CNRI, he stops when he sees a familiar face emerging from the building. Laurel Lance argues briefly with a co-worker, and then disappear into the building again. Of course, he thinks with a hint of sadistic amusement. Oliver had mentioned that she was stubborn.

If Laurel is here, Slade knows the kid will come eventually. Slade finds a narrow alleyway behind CNRI, which is as good a vantage point as any. He settles in to wait.

…

Oliver doesn't know how long he stands staring at the wreck of CNRI before Diggle finds him.

"Oliver!" he exclaims as he limps towards him. He takes in the ruins of CNRI and sucks in a horrified breath. "Is Laurel-?"

"She's fine," says Oliver dully. He had seen her earlier, leaving with her father, a shattered expression in her eyes.

"We have to get out of here," Diggle begins, "You're bleeding all over the place, you need medical attention-"

"Tommy's dead."

"What?"

Oliver sways, light-headed, and Diggle reaches out to steady him. "Oliver," he says, "What do you mean he's dead?"

Oliver can't bring himself to say the words. He gestures mutely at CNRI, and immediately Diggle understands. "Fuck," he says, looking pained. "I'm so sorry, man."

Oliver shakes his head, unable to respond.

"We can't stay here," says Diggle. "The authorities will be arriving any second, and you're going to pass out any second. I'm in no shape to carry you."

Numbly, Oliver lets himself be led away.

…

When Slade follows Oliver into the ruins of CNRI, he has only one thought- Oliver isn't allowed to die here. That would be too easy. Slade watches; concealed by a huge pile of debris as Oliver sobs and pleads with his friend.

Though he is too far away to hear what they are saying it is obvious the two are close. Slade never knew about Tommy Merrlyn until he came to Starling City. Oliver had never mentioned him on the island, and Slade wonders why that is, because this man is clearly important to the kid.

He watches; his lip curled with disgust as Oliver leaves his dying friend behind to save a stranger. Clearly, the kid hasn't changed in the slightest. When Oliver is gone, Slade makes his way to the body on the floor. He puts his hand to his neck-there is a pulse, but it is very faint. The man isn't going to last for long. A complete waste, unless…

Slade's eye burns with triumph as a plan begin to form. He had been furious with Malcolm Merrlyn for putting his carefully laid plans at risk, but now it seems as if the man may have just handed him the perfect weapon against Oliver Queen. He slides a hand into his coat pocket and brings out a syringe, his lips curving in a grotesque smile as he injects the green liquid into Tommy Merrlyn's neck.

…

One moment Oliver is walking through the Glades with Diggle and the next, he is opening his eyes to find Felicity hovering anxiously over him. He is on the operating table in the foundry, which looks almost completely destroyed. He sits up, biting back a cry as his entire body protests.

"Oliver!" Felicity exclaims. "Don't do that, you nearly died! God, do you have any idea how worried we were. Thea keeps calling you, she wants to talk; and Laurel-"

"Felicity," he interrupts her mid-babble, "Take a breath, will you? I'm fine."

But, he remembers, Tommy isn't. It all comes screaming back, everything that happened, and now he is in pain for an entirely different reason. "Tommy," he says. "Is he, I mean did they find his…?"

She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, they tried, but the building was too destroyed. They couldn't recover any, uh, remains."

He flinches at the word, feeling bile rise in his throat. "I should have gotten there faster," he mutters.

"You couldn't have," said Felicity. "You barely survived that fight, Oliver. You can't blame yourself for not-"

He doesn't want to hear it. "What about Diggle? Is he okay?"

"He's fine." Felicity's phone rings, she glances at it and grimaces. "Oliver, I hate to do this to you now, but this can't wait. Thea keeps calling, and even though I told her you're busy, I can't keep making excuses. She wants to talk to you and make sure you're okay. And Laurel wants to talk about the arrangements for Tommy's funeral, and your mother's lawyer wants to discuss her case, because Thea's refusing to meet her…"

Oliver's mind spins away from him. He can't even imagine putting on a brave face for Thea, let alone arranging Tommy's funeral with Laurel, who he had slept with, despite knowing that Tommy loved her. It's enough to make him sick to his stomach.

"Oliver, are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, I'm listening," he says unconvincingly.

Felicity looks at him skeptically. "Like I was saying,"' she continues, "your house has been completely mobbed by the press, so we're going to have to do something about that-"

Suddenly, it's all too much. "I can't," he says abruptly, scrambling off the table. The only thing he wants is to get as far away from everything as possible. "I can't, I have to-"

"Oliver, wait!"

He stumbles out of the room, oblivious to Felicity's frantic calls.

…

Tommy wakes up on something soft. The first thing he registers is a surprising absence of pain; he looks down at his bare chest and sees only a deep bruise where there was once a large piece of metal protruding. The last thing he remembers is being in the worst pain he has ever experienced, and feeling sure that he had only moments to live while Oliver looked down at him with a devastated expression.

He wonders briefly if he really is dead, but then dismisses the idea as he looks around the room, which is like no version of the afterlife he has ever heard of. It is a fairly ordinary bedroom, if a little cramped. There is an attached bathroom, a small cupboard; a bookshelf with about thirty odd books stacked haphazardly, a tiny TV with a DVD player and a stack of CDs lying beside it. There is a yellow bedspread on the bed, which matches the truly revolting wallpaper printed with daisies, his least favorite flower.

He goes to the door and tries to open it, but of course it is locked. He feels a hot flush of anger at that- how dare someone keep him here against his will- and he draws his fist back and punches the door before he can stop himself. To his shock, there is a resounding bang, and when he looks closely at the door, he sees that he has somehow managed to dent it. He stares down at his arm, unnerved.

There are footsteps outside, and then the sound of a key turning in a lock. A huge man, exuding strength and quiet menace, enters the room. He is holding a tray with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water which he sets down on the table before turning to face Tommy. His face is scarred and he is wearing an eye-patch, which only adds to the aura of danger that surrounds him. "I see you're finally awake," he says in a deep, grating voice.

"Who are you?" asks Tommy. "Why are you keeping me here? How am I not dead?"

"Too many questions," the man says hoarsely. "There are only a few things that you need to know. First, my name is Slade Wilson. Second, you're not dead because I saved your life." He smiles a twisted, unhinged smile that sends chills down Tommy's back. "And last, where I'm holding you is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that no one will hear you if you scream. There is a metal door behind this one, made of adamantium- even stronger than military grade. And the walls have a layer of the same thing behind the concrete. I suggest you make yourself at home, Mr. Merrlyn. Try not to destroy the TV the first time you get frustrated. After all," he smiles that disturbing smile again; a manic gleam in his eye, "you're going to be here for awhile."

…

TBC…