Love and Other Battles
When a kidnapping spills secrets, Oliver Queen must decide what he really wants for the future, which includes who he wants to spend it with. Of course that's assuming he has a future at all…
This is set during season 2 but as though Slade didn't come back/has been dealt with already. It's after Roy has found out about Oliver (so basically current but ignoring the whole Slade situation). Oliver is currently with Sara but things could easily change! Felicity isn't in this much but she will be in later chapters if I carry on writing this. I hope you enjoy.
Fair Trade
"Somebody's taken Laurel," Sara said; her voice sounding oddly distant.
Oliver looked down at the floor and gripped the phone, hard. His head span for a second and he felt nauseous as all kinds of scenarios flickered through his mind at rapid speed. But then he gathered control and stilled his mind, in the way that only people who have been in life or death scenarios repeatedly are able to. He couldn't afford to question how he had allowed this to happen or what they were doing with Laurel; he had to be calm and functional. He was good at being calm and functional, although perhaps not as good as he had once been. There had been a time on the island, after Slade and Shado were long gone, when he had felt entirely cold and empty inside. He had been completely detached from any feeling – pain and killing and death had left him completely numb. He hadn't really felt again until after he had returned to Starling; to his surprise it hadn't been his family that had edged their way into his heart but the team he had built – the team who had quickly become more than friends and more than family. They were the ones who had truly warmed his heart. But Laurel had never really left it; she had always been there with him during his long years away. Even though he was with Sara now, and he didn't need or want Laurel like he once had, he still couldn't imagine what he would do if anything bad happened to her.
"Who took her?" He asked, his voice steady.
"I don't know. There are a signs or a struggle in her apartment. But Ollie…" Sara tailed off, and Oliver knew that what she said next was going to be bad. "They left a ransom note. It's addressed to the Arrow."
"She was taken because of me," Oliver summarised. He felt sick – this was his fault; why were things always because of him? "What does it say?"
"It's just a cell number with 'no cops' written underneath. The envelope says 'Arrow' on. I was coming to visit Laurel with my dad but when we arrived the apartment was all smashed up and the envelope was on the table."
"Are you still there?"
"I'm just outside the door. My dad's inside keeping an eye on things. I'll wait for you with him, inside."
"I'm on my way," Oliver said shortly, before hanging up. He took in a deep, steadying breath. Then he set off – he was five minutes away from the club and a further ten from Laurel's place if he pushed it. But first there was something important he had to do. Without pausing he dialled Diggle's number.
"Oliver," Diggle answered, no nonsense as always.
"Laurels been taken hostage because of her association with me. I don't know who took her or if they took her because she works with the Arrow or because of my personal relationship with her as Oliver Queen." Oliver said quickly. He didn't have time for a long conversation.
"You're worried others might be targets." Diggle responded, quick to understand why Oliver was calling.
"I need you to get my mom, Thea and Roy, along with Felicity, and put them somewhere safe. I need you to protect them," Oliver said. Diggle wouldn't let him down. The fact that Oliver would leave Diggle to look after the people he loved was testament to how much Oliver trusted the other man.
"I'll get them somewhere safe," Diggle said shortly, able to tell that Oliver was in a rush. "Anything else?"
"I'm going to dial a number from this phone in about fifteen minutes and I want Felicity to try and trace it."
"I'll put her on it before we go. Be careful Oliver." Then Diggle hung up.
Oliver found Sara where she'd said she'd be, waiting inside the apartment with her father. She was wearing her civilian clothes, making her look younger. Quentin Lance looked white and worried, but was holding it together. He was a man who knew all too well what it was to lose a child, and he didn't plan on letting Laurel get hurt.
"Has anything been left that could tell us who did this?" Oliver asked, his voice losing its emotion because of the voice changer.
"No. But they were professionals. The mess was probably made after they took her just to spook us – they wouldn't have broken a sweat taking her." Sara said angrily. Laurel was an above average fighter who would usually fight back but she would have been no match for the kind of force they had obviously brought.
"There's no blood?" Oliver asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be; if there was it could be from one of the men who had taken Laurel, but it could also be from Laurel herself.
"No," Sara said softly. She couldn't believe that Laurel was gone, that she hadn't been able to keep her sister safe.
"Do you know who did this?" Lance asked, speaking up for the first time. He sounded slightly accusatory. "After all, the note is addressed to you."
"No. But I'm going to find out," Oliver said, before walking over the table and finding the cell number. He put the numbers into his cell carefully.
"Put it on speaker," Sara told him. He didn't try to argue.
The phone rang for only two rings before it was picked up – somebody had been waiting. There was no sound from the other end.
"You wanted me," Oliver said, glad at the way his voice sounded when disguised through the voice changer.
"We have the girl," said a voice, also disguised through voice changer. Oliver couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman. "She's fine." The 'for now' didn't even need to be added.
"What do you want?" Oliver asked.
"A trade. You for her. We'll send you the place. Do not try to leave the apartment before we do. We are watching you," the voice ordered. Oliver instinctively glanced out of the window but he couldn't see anybody; he hadn't expected to.
"When will the trade be?" Oliver asked; he was still processing what had been said. He didn't know what else he could have expected, really. At least they wanted something he could give.
"Come straight to the location when we send it."
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Oliver asked. Double crossing was often the norm in these cases.
"We have no reason to harm the girl. You can bring the other two with you to oversee the trade. But no one else," the voice said, before the line was cut. The three of them stood in silence for a few seconds, before the phone rang again. Oliver turned off speaker before answering. It was Felicity.
"I couldn't trace it. I'm sorry Oliver, I tried but-" Felicity started, and Oliver could tell she was about to go on a long ramble. He hung up before she could, feeling slightly guilty, but he didn't have time for that now. Even though he liked to listen normally, and that might have been the last time he heard her voice. On the other end of the line Felicity froze as the line was cut, then stared at the floor. She had heard every word of the conversation and knew immediately what Oliver would do. She felt a single tear run down her face as dread filled her stomach.
"It wasn't a traceable number," Oliver said at the apartment, breaking the silence once more.
"What do we do?" Sara asked. She looked pained. Oliver was reminded of when he'd had to choose between Shado and Sara; making a decision between people you loved was never easy or fair. Shado haunted his dreams frequently with questions and hurt; how could he have let her down, did she not love him. He often questioned if he had loved her, really – if he'd loved her wouldn't he have chosen to save her without question? Did that mean he had loved Sara all along instead? It was hard to know what love was, at times. Perhaps he always had loved Sara – more than Laurel, deep down (after all he had cheated on her). Right now they seemed to be perfect for each other – they were both hurt, both knew exactly what it was to have your whole being stripped away through suffering and replaced with something that the people you loved couldn't recognise. They both knew what surviving meant, what killing did to you, what it was to face death and almost lose on a regular basis. Oliver knew one thing – he loved Sara enough not to make her choose.
"Make the trade," Oliver said simply. He wouldn't risk Laurel's life. Not when all he needed to give was his own.
"Thank you," Lance said, and the man sounded so relieved. He had a way to get his daughter back.
"They could kill you," Sara said, and her eyes were blazing. Oliver hadn't let her make the choice but she could still see that a choice had been made; she wasn't happy. Oliver wanted to put his arms around her, let her feel his pounding heart so she would know that the decision hadn't been easy. He wanted to tell her it was partly for her, because he didn't want her to lose her sister because she was too afraid to lose him. He didn't want more death on her conscious. But he resisted. Quentin Lance was a smart man who knew that Sara and Oliver were a couple – he couldn't show that she was also coupled with Starling City's vigilante.
"We both know they probably won't," Oliver replied. It was true – if they wanted a trade that meant it was most likely they wanted him alive. Of course that meant that after a while with them he probably wouldn't want to be alive any more. "After Laurel's safe you can come and get me."
"How will we find you?" Sara snapped, and she looked furious. "There has to be another way!" She looked like she was about to carry on but the phone buzzed. It was a text with an address.
"Let's go. It's a place out in the middle of nowhere. We'll have to take a car." Oliver said quickly.
"We can take mine," Lance offered. Oliver's cell buzzed again. It simply said, 'Leave your phones and the bow'.
"We have to leave our phones." Oliver said shortly. Sara threw hers down without a word. Lance carefully placed his on the table so it was easy to see. Then Oliver delicately placed his bow on the table, internally deflating as he left it behind; but he was quite capable of fighting without a bow, it was only a preference. Sara narrowed her eyes as she saw him leave it, but didn't comment. Then the three of them left and went down to the car. Things were moving too quickly for them to think properly. Oliver didn't care that he had no plan – he would just have to improvise. He figured that as soon as he saw that they had Laurel with them he and Sara could fight and get her to safety, or better yet they could make the trade and then he could try to break out. But for now he wanted to do exactly what the people who had Laurel said – or they would just kill her.
Somebody had helpfully placed a GPS in Lance's car, the location of the trade already programmed in. Sara's eyes narrowed once again when she saw it. Oliver was feeling surprisingly calm about the whole affair – he was used to bad things happening, used to this feeling of not knowing what was going to happen but knowing it would probably be bad. The time before a fight focused him, he no longer feared his battles in the heart pounding way he once had. There was no point in fearing the future before it arrived, because living it could be frightening enough.
The three of them climbed into the car – Lance driving and Sara in the front. Oliver stretched out on the back seat, feeling awkward in the setting. It was still light and he felt slightly ridiculous wearing his greens during the day. He would have quite liked to take the journey in contemplative silence, but Sara wasn't going to let that happen.
"This is ridiculous. I can't believe we're going along with this." Sara said icily.
"What would you do Sara? Not go along with this?" Oliver found that the voice changer made the argument rather surreal.
"I don't know what to do! I need Laurel to be safe but I can't lose you!" She retorted.
"You won't lose me. Once Laurel is safe we can act. I won't let her get hurt because of me!" Oliver snapped back.
"And what if I can't help you and you get stuck somewhere? We have no idea what we're walking into. For all we know they could be planning on machine gunning the car with all of us in it. And they might not even give us Laurel!"
"If they wanted us dead they would have ambushed us, or put a bomb in the apartment. They want me alive. Which means to keep me cooperating they'll keep Laurel alive for the exchange; they won't want this trade to turn into a fight. So we just need to get Laurel to safety."
"This is going to go badly, I can feel it." Sara said, lowering her voice to a normal level. She glanced at her father, who had his eyes fixed firmly on the road and had wisely not said anything for the whole exchange. Then she looked back at Oliver. "Is this how you felt with me and Shado?"
"What?" Oliver asked, confused. His voice came out as cold with the voice changer, which he regretted. This was a conversation he wanted to have in private, with his voice soft. Sara didn't repeat the question; she didn't have to. Oliver sighed. "That was a different situation. It was all in the moment. And only one of you was ever going to walk away. I've gone over it again and again in my head, thought of ways out, things I could have done – but in the rush you can't think. But we're experienced now. That's not going to happen."
"What if it does?" Sara whispered, and she looked so afraid that Oliver again felt the urge to wrap his arms around her. Sara was rarely vulnerable, and when she was it was always linked back to the early days – it was the same with Oliver (because in the past they had both been so vulnerable).
"Shado accepted it." Oliver said quietly. "She knew she wasn't walking away. I could see it in her face. She just looked so tired. Maybe it will be the same for me." Sara didn't respond to that. Her face didn't even twitch. Then she turned away and when she turned back any fear was gone, replaced by cold focus. The two of them didn't speak after that.
Quentin Lance had an eyebrow raised. He had just learnt more about the vigilante in a few minutes than in years. He wondered who Shado was. He wondered where and when the situation they had described had happened. Most of all he wondered how the two of them could carry on.
The drive was about half an hour, but it seemed to pass in seconds. They were out in the country, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, on a dirt road lined by trees that the car's suspension could barely handle. Eventually they reached a bridge, and pulled over on one side. Oliver felt his lip quirk upwards at the location – a bridge for a hostage exchange; how original.
"Well, this is it," Lance said darkly, and the three of them got out of the car.
The sun was getting low and the late afternoon light warmed them. The sky was clear and open above the trees, and seemingly a more vibrant shade than usual. The three of them stood in a line and watched the bridge, waiting. It was a short bridge – only a couple of metres. The location was not ideal – the only road was behind them or in front of them.
After about five minutes of standing there another car drove up, and pulled over on the opposite side of the bridge. The car doors opened and several men stepped out, all heavily armed. All of them were masked. Another car drove up and more men stepped out – Oliver counted twelve in total. But still Laurel did not emerge. But then she was pulled out of the second car, gagged and with her hands zip tied behind her, looking frightened but unharmed. She was pushed to one end of the bridge. Most of the men had guns pointed at her. There was no way to start a fight without her being shot at close range, probably multiple times.
Then a man who wasn't wearing a mask stepped out of the car. As soon as he saw him, Oliver stiffened.
"Hello Oliver," the man said, his voice loud enough to easily project across the short bridge. "Nice to see you again. If you don't mind, I'd rather you took the hood off." The tone of voice made it clear that, despite the way it was phrased, this was not a request.
"Marcus Black." Oliver said with a sigh, flicking the voice changer off. He no longer needed it. In a way he was glad it was Marcus – the man had a twisted sense of honour and wouldn't hurt Laurel if Oliver did what he was told. He pulled the whole of his jacket and hood off, leaving just his undershirt below. Opposite Laurel stared with wide eyes at him. He wondered what she would have said had she not been gagged.
"Very good. In fact, take the shirt off too," Marcus said with a sneer. It was a show of power but Oliver didn't let it get to him – he peeled off his shirt without a word.
"Alright, now can we get down to business?" Oliver asked, voice cold. "You push Laurel over to us, and I'll walk over to you. Then they drive off."
"Alright. I'll give you a minute to say your goodbyes – give Sara a goodbye kiss," Marcus offered with another sneer. At that Oliver turned to his companions. Quentin Lance was staring at him but didn't actually look that surprised. His eyes were drawn mainly to the scars on Oliver's chest, prominent even in the fading light.
"Oliver, who is he?" Sara asked, hurriedly.
"I hid something. He wants it." Oliver said shortly. The days ahead were looking distinctly unpleasant.
"I'm sorry," Sara breathed. Then she pulled him close and kissed him. Oliver wrapped his arms around her and leant into the kiss, wishing it would never end. She smelt of longing. But it had to end, and he was the one who pulled away.
"Keep everybody safe for me," Oliver said, with a slight smile. If this was the last memory that Sara had of him he wanted it to be a good one. "I'll be back in no time."
"If you're not I'll come and get you myself," Sara said, her lips also quirking upwards. The two of them turned back to face Marcus.
"That was sweet. Alright Oliver, zip tie your hands behind you." Marcus said, and one of his men threw the tie across the bridge. Oliver did as he was told. "Now walk slowly across the bridge."
"Let Laurel walk with me," Oliver demanded. Marcus nodded and pushed Laurel forwards. She stumbled but soon found her footing and made her way out to the centre of the bridge. Oliver stepped out, but as he did somebody grabbed his arm. It was Quentin Lance. Oliver glanced at him, confused; the man had been silent so far but now he spoke.
"Thank you, Oliver. You're a good man," Lance said. He seemed pained. Then he let go of Oliver's arm. Oliver stepped out onto the bridge and met Laurel halfway. She looked up at him but he couldn't recognise the emotion in her eyes. Before he could identify it he was past her and at the other side of the bridge. He turned around and saw that Laurel was with her father and Sara; she was safe.
"Get her in the car and drive off," Oliver called across, as three men pushed him down into the ground roughly. One of them elbowed him in the side and he lost his breath. Before he could get it back a bag was pulled over his head and he felt a needle in his arm. The whole thing had been very professionally done. Diggle would have been reluctantly impressed in the same way Oliver was now. What would Felicity have thought? He wished that he hadn't hung up on her; he should have said a proper goodbye, in case he didn't get out of this. What would she remember him as? Would she remember him at all?
Before he faded out, he thought he heard somebody call his name. At first he thought it was Felicity, then he realised it was probably Sara, or even Laurel. For a brief second he swore it was Isobel. Then he realised it was Shado, calling him; beckoning him into the empty bliss of unconsciousness. She caressed his face and closed his eyes and when he finally gave in to the darkness her name was on his lips.
So what do you think? Please leave a review letting me know if I should carry on with this!