The Journey Home

Chapter One – Rebirth

Oliver Queen

He ran through the forest at top speed, expertly navigating around the familiar obstacles of Lian Yu. A fishing trawler was nearby and he only had a small window of time before it would weigh anchor and leave the vicinity of the island. Unless he could light the signal fire he had set up on the coast, his ride home would be gone and he would be stuck on the hell that was this island for the foreseeable future. Grabbing a branch above him, he swung himself across the rough landscape, getting closer and closer to the rocky outcrop where he had stowed his means of lighting the signal fire.

Running barefoot through the jungle and onto the rocky outcrop near the shore wasn't a pleasant experience, but it wasn't even high on the list of unpleasant experiences that this hellhole had to offer. He climbed up the steep incline of the rocks and just barely made it in time to the outcrop near the shore. Panting from the exertion, he unwrapped the bundle of cloth that contained his bow and arrow.

Selecting a flint-and-paper-tipped arrow, he struck it against the steel of his knife and nocked it, focusing his aim towards the mound of branches he had set up on the beach. He hoped that the fuel he had placed at the base of the pile was still combustible. Letting out a breath, he released the arrow and watched it fly towards the branches.

Mere seconds later, a whoosh sounded as the fuel ignited into a fireball. Once the initial blast had eased, he could see that the signal fire was burning strong. The fishing vessel slowly turned towards the source of the explosion and accelerated towards the shoreline. Grabbing his things, he stowed them in the green crate that had been left on the island and made his way towards the rocky beach.

By the time he had arrived on the beach, the fishermen had managed to anchor their ship a few hundred metres from the shore and two had made their way to the island on an inflatable boat. Approaching them slowly, he dropped the crate at his feet and kneeled down to indicate that he wasn't a threat. Seeing their curious expressions, he pulled back his green hood to expose his face.

The men in front of him took in his unkempt appearance and began to talking between themselves in Mandarin. Believing that he couldn't understand Mandarin, they were discussing bringing him aboard their vessel where one of their colleagues spoke English. After a moment, a man who was clearly the eldest of the two gestured for him to come. Picking up the crate, he followed the two onto the small boat and they set off towards the larger vessel anchored in the bay.

When they had arrived on the boat, the captain came out of the cabin and helped him aboard. The younger man on the inflatable boat handed him his crate before helping the elder man board the ship. Whilst doing this, the two fishermen who had brought him aboard were telling their shipmate about the little they had figured out about him. The captain guided him to a crate in the centre of the deck and placed a woollen blanket over his shoulders.

"You speak English?" the man asked him in accented English.

"Yes, I speak English." he nodded, making sure to speak slowly and enunciate.

"American?" the man asked.

"Yes." he replied. "I've been stranded here for the past five years. I need you to bring me somewhere I can contact my government."

"We bring you to mainland." the man told him. "Wait here, we get you something warm to drink and contact port."

While the fishermen went back into the cabin, he took the time alone to reflect on the last five years of his life. His time away had turned him into a lethal weapon, one which could takes lives in the most efficient and brutal ways imaginable. The young, carefree boy who embarked on that fateful voyage five years ago had died on that island and out of that death came the birth of the man who he now was. A man who had learned to do anything to survive, anything to get back to his loved ones. A man who had done anything to go home.

The younger man who had helped him earlier came back out of the cabin with a cup of what looked like tea. Taking it from the man, he bowed his head in a universal sign of thanks and put the cup to his mouth. As he sipped the hot beverage, he let out a sigh at the pleasant sensation of warmth permeating his body. It was finally time to go home.


Still sitting on the crate, he held the satellite phone that one of the fishermen had given him in his hands. He took a moment before dialling the familiar number of his home, hoping that it hadn't changed during the last few years. It took a little while for the phone to connect, but then the familiar dialling tones sounded. The moments that it took for the call to be answered felt like an eternity; five years of being away from his family and he finally had the chance to go back. Waiting even these few moments seemed like too much time. He heard a click before hearing a voice that he hadn't heard half a decade — his mother's voice.

"Hello? Hello?" asked his mother. "Who is this?"

The soft cadence of her voice brought a warmth in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time. Just hearing her voice made him choke up with a plethora of emotions. The simple sound provided a balm to the miseries of the past years.

Steeling himself, he answered. "Mom, it's… it's Oliver."

The silence that he was met with gnawed at his heart. After a pregnant pause, his mother replied in a shaky voice that still managed to hold some ice. "My son has been dead for five years. Please don't call this number again."

A fear that he hadn't known he could feel penetrated him. Fear shouldn't have been something he should have been able to feel after his years in hell, but the thought of his mother dismissing his plea most definitely brought it back.

"Mom," he pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please. Please just listen to my voice. It's Oliver."

He heard her take a sharp breath. "I did not die on the Gambit. I'm alive and I'm okay." he told her quickly before she could change her mind and hang up the phone.

"Oliver?" she asked shakily. "Oliver? Is that really you?"

"It's me." he said, tears falling down his cheeks. "Just please don't hang up. Please, mom."

"No." she answered, her tone breathy. "No, no, no. I won't. Oh, my beautiful boy… Is your father alive?"

His heart clenched at her timidly-asked question. He still remembered clearly the day that his father died. Guilt began to well up in him before he quashed it down. It wouldn't do to bring up his father's death. His mother didn't deserve the pain of knowing the truth of what happened that day, and a call from halfway around the world was not the best time to broach the subject. His time was limited anyway; satellite phones were notorious for being unreliable, with even the slightest variation in environmental conditions causing trouble. They needed a direct line of sight to the satellite itself, good weather, and no environmental obstacles. He probably had very little time to speak before the call would inevitably drop.

"No," he answered. "He and Sara didn't make it."

A sharp breath could be heard as his mother began to make peace with the fact that her husband was dead. "Oliver… Sweetheart, I can't imagine what you've been through." she choked up. "Whe-Where are you?"

"I'm not entirely sure." he lied.

He knew perfectly where he was. He had plenty of time to find out where exactly purgatory was located in the last five years. And he knew exactly where he was in that moment. On a boat in the East China Sea, heading west towards mainland China.

"I'm on a boat. It's Chinese, I think. Just know that I love you and I'm coming home."

She let out a such a wounded cry that it made fresh, new tears flow down his cheeks. In that moment, he would have given anything to be able to provide her comfort. But he was an entire ocean away from her, on a boat that was heading away from her.

"I love you." she told him. "I love you so much."

"I know, mom." he replied. "I know. Listen… I won't have much time left on this call. One of the guys on the boat told me satphones don't get the best reception. When I'm ashore, I'll try to call you again. I'm coming home, mom."

"I'll make some calls." she told him. "I'll find out where you are and find you a way home. Just stay safe, Oliver. I love you."

"I love you too, mom." he told her tearfully. "I'll be home soon."

With a heavy heart, he pulled the phone away from himself and hung up. While talking to his mother had made him so happy, the lies that he found himself spinning were gnawing at him. He had overheard one of the fishermen say that they were heading towards Shanghai. Telling his mother would just raise more questions about how he knew these things, especially when the sailors had been speaking Mandarin.

The English-speaking crew member came back out onto the deck shortly after he had finished calling his mother. The man guided him towards a cot in the cabin, telling him to rest while they made their way to the mainland. He had been informed that they had contacted the port authorities in Shanghai and that U.S. State Department officials would be meeting him at the pier.


Moira Queen

October 3, 2012. That was the day when the carefully-crafted life that she had created in the last five years collapsed. Five years ago, when her husband and son had died on the family yacht she had been inconsolable. She was the one who had encouraged her late husband to go to Shanghai anyway, to find a way of extricating their family from the situation that he had unwittingly put them in. To put a stop to the madness that was to happen.

All that encouragement had done was condemn half of her family to death.

For a while life had no meaning for her. Even her sweet, twelve-year-old daughter couldn't bring her out of her misery. But Walter had changed that. The tall, handsome Brit had managed to bring light into an otherwise miserable existence. Walter had given her a reason to live again.

That was when she had decided that she would do whatever it took to keep her family safe. She had given up on stopping the madness that was to unfold; her previous attempt had only led to the death of her loved ones. She had been warned that any further attempts would result in the same outcome. Instead, she had worked to protect what was left of her family. What she wasn't prepared for was the possibility of being granted a miracle.

She had just come home after having accompanied Walter to a company dinner and had been hoping to get herself a glass of whiskey when the phone had rung. She had picked up the phone and heard words that she had long given up on hearing. At first, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had been cold and emotionless to what seemed to be a cruel prank. But even then, a tiny flicker of hope had appeared in her heart. She hadn't dared to hope in the last five years, but the words that the man on the phone had spoken awoke the part of her that had dreamed of this very situation.

The broken voice she heard on the phone had somehow convinced her not to immediately hang up. She had put all of her focus into deciphering the voice that she was hearing, hoping that she could still recognize the voice of her son after all these years. And Lord was she thankful that she hadn't hung up the phone. Their emotional conversation was brief, but it had lit a fire in her. Her son was alive. Her tormentor hadn't succeeded in taking everything from her.

Her first husband might have been confirmed to be truly dead, but her son — her beautiful boy — was alive.


At some point during the call, her knees had grown weak and she had collapsed onto the sofa. She almost felt like she was dreaming. Only in her dreams had this news been delivered to her. Only in her dreams had she been able to hope that her family wasn't taken away from her. It seemed too good to be true. The phone was still in her hands when she was found in the living room.

"Darling?" a deep voice asked behind her.

She startled at the sound. The phone call had left her so shaken that she hadn't even heard him come in. She turned to face her husband and saw a worried look on his face.

"Are you alright, darling?" Walter asked.

She gave him a tearful nod in return. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her, gently brushing a hand against her back.

"It's Oliver." she told him. "He's been found."

She felt him tense beside her. "His remains?" her husband asked.

"No," she said, raising her head to look him straight in the eyes. "He's still alive. I don't know how, but he's still alive."

She could see that he was skeptical, like she had been at first. It had been a long five years and the possibility of her son somehow still alive after all that time as a castaway seemed remote.

"I know what you're thinking." Moira told Walter. "This isn't some kind of prank. I've spoken to him on the phone, Walter."

"Is Robert alive?" Walter asked gently.

She shook her head in response.

Before she and Walter had gotten married, Walter had been a close friend of her first husband, Robert. While both she and Walter had moved on with their lives after the disappearance of the Queen's Gambit, she knew that Walter still missed his friend dearly.

"From what I gather Oliver's somewhere near China." she told her husband.

There was a pregnant pause between the spouses before Walter asked "The Queen's Gambit was en route to Shanghai when it was caught in a storm, wasn't it?"

She nodded, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "Contact with the ship was lost soon after it entered the East China Sea. He's alive, Walter. My son is alive."

"Oh, darling," Walter said as he pulled her fully into his arms. Her husband pressed a kiss upon her head, his hands gently rubbing her back. "This is wonderful news."


She had wanted to start calling in favours at the State Department immediately but Walter had managed to convince her that pursuing that course of action so soon would yield little results. He was right, of course. If her son had been found anywhere near where the Queen's Gambit had gone down, he would have been about a day away from mainland China. Even if she had called in favours with their friends in the diplomatic corps, it would have been hours until they would have any information about Oliver.

She spent the night getting little sleep. Moira had been anxious to get her son back since the moment she had realized it was truly him on the phone. The entire night had been an exercise in shutting her eyes and waiting for morning to come. Walter, her sweet husband, had kept vigil over her for most of the night before he had succumbed to exhaustion. She couldn't blame the man; he was the CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation, and a good one at that. The fact that he had stayed awake to watch over her for hours made her love him all the more.

The morning breathed new life into her. Even with the night of just closing her eyes and waiting, she still felt better than she had in a very long time. Getting ready in the mornings was usually something that was routine and didn't require much attention, but the news of Oliver's survival was a topic she didn't know how to broach. She still hadn't told her daughter, Thea, and lest she forget her son's best friend and honorary member of the family, Thomas Merlyn.

"I rang the office today and informed them that I wouldn't be coming into work." Walter told her as she put on her earrings.

She turned around to face him. "You didn't have to do that."

Her husband walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Your son has just been found alive and is likely stranded somewhere in China. I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone."

She brought a hand to her shoulder and gently squeezed the hand that Walter had placed there. His endless support was something of which she would never tire. That only left the matter of what she was going to say to the rest of their family.

"Have you given any thought as to what we're going to tell Thea? Or Thomas for that matter?"

Walter had a thoughtful look on his face as he considered the matter.

"I think it best for us to wait until the evening to tell them both — dinner would likely be the best time." he suggested after a moment. "We don't know where exactly in China Oliver is yet and we don't know how long it will take for the authorities there to send him home."

She sighed in reply. "It feels wrong to keep something like this from Thea."

"I know, Moira." he said, giving her a soft look. "But telling her now will just make her anxious. If we tell her when we know more, the wait will be less nerve-wracking."

Walter had a point. But part of her wanted desperately to tell her daughter the good news. Thea had only been twelve when Robert and Oliver had disappeared. Both she and Thea had been heartbroken at their loss, but Moira had eventually found Walter. Life had started to get better for Moira after a while. Thea, on the other hand, didn't have the same kind of support and despite Moira's best attempts to comfort her daughter, it simply couldn't be done. Her daughter had instead found it better to dull the ache of grief by immersing herself in drugs and alcohol.

Walter's voice brought her back from her thoughts.

"As soon as Thea leaves for school, we can ring our contacts in China." her husband told her. "It's been a several hours since the phone call last night. Oliver should be on the mainland by now. By the time Thea gets home from school, we'll know when the authorities plan on sending him home."

"Alright," Moira acquiesced. "Let's head downstairs. Raisa should have finished laying out breakfast by now."


Breakfast ended up being a relatively quiet affair. Moira had always been closer with her son, while her late husband had always been closer with their daughter. Following the disappearance of their family yacht and its occupants, the relationship between mother and daughter had deteriorated quickly. Luckily, this breakdown in their relationship didn't seem to affect Thea's relationship with her stepfather. Walter was the one person who seemed to get through to Thea. That was probably why he had decided to be the one who told Thea about their new evening plans.

"We would like you to come straight home after school tonight, Thea." Walter said at the end of the meal.

Thea immediately turned and gave Moira a sardonic smile. "This is of your doing, I assume."

"Thea—" she started.

"I already have plans." her daughter cut in. "Katie, Madison, and I are going out tonight."

"Thea, dear, your mother isn't trying to punish you." Walter said, trying to appease her daughter. "Tonight's dinner was a decision made by the both of us. We have an important matter to discuss with you that we felt would best be broached then."

"What's so important that I have to cancel on my friends?" Thea asked.

"Just know that it's something very important, Thea." she tried.

"We'll speak about it at dinner, dear. It's nothing bad, I promise." Walter told Thea. "Besides, your mother and I wanted to invite Thomas and make it a family affair. It's been far too long since we've had him over."

That seemed to get Thea's attention. As a child Thea had always been chasing after Oliver and his best friend. Walter telling her daughter that Thomas was invited to dinner was likely the cause of her daughter's sigh and subsequent acquiescence.

"Fine." Thea grumbled. "I'll tell Madison that we'll go out on Friday instead."

"Splendid." Walter beamed.

"I'd better get to school." Thea told Walter. "Are you dropping me off on your way to work?"

Her husband shook her head. "I'm afraid I won't be going into the office today. There are urgent matters that I need to take care of before tonight."

Thea sighed in response. "I'll get one of the chauffeurs to drop me off."

Her daughter had thankfully decided to go to school with no further fuss. Both Moira and her husband watched attentively as Thea left, wanting to make sure that she was truly gone before getting underway. When they both heard the front door shut behind her daughter, they knew that it was safe to begin their search for Oliver.

"I have a friend in Washington that I'll phone. He works at the State Department. I'll see if he can get us any information on Oliver's whereabouts." Walter told her.

"Thank you," she told her husband. "Meanwhile, I'll call Frank Chen, one of Robert's old friends. I don't know if you remember him."

"He owns numerous shipping facilities in China, does he not?" her husband asked.

"Yes," Moira replied. "He's also very well-connected with the diplomats in his home country. He might be able to get me in touch with them directly. I'll be in the study if you need me."

Pulling out her phone, she walked to the study where she could have more privacy. Frank Chen was not only a friend but also another unwilling conspirator in the undertaking planned by their mutual tormentor. When her late husband had taken their family yacht, the Queen's Gambit, on the trip to Shanghai, he had planned on meeting Frank Chen to put a stop to the conspiracy. However, the ringleader had found out and had the yacht destroyed, murdering her husband and having stranded her son in the process.

Tapping on Frank's contact information, she placed the phone to her ear and waited for the familiar dialling tones to sound. It took a few rings but she eventually managed to hear the click that was the connection being established.

"Hello?" Frank greeted.

"Frank, this is Moira." she told him. "I need your help."

She heard him breathe in sharply. Given the complex nature of their friendship, she wasn't surprised that he was apprehensive about hearing those words. Especially with how horribly wrong the last attempt to help went.

"Is this about Tempest?" her friend asked, a quiver in his voice.

"No, Frank, I think that those efforts are best left in the past." she said with a heavy heart. "This is about Oliver."

"Your late son?" the man asked, his tone surprised.

"No, Frank, Oliver survived the sinking of the Queen's Gambit. He's alive." she revealed.

There was a long pause before her friend started speaking again. He was likely considering how this would affect Tempest's plans. Or even if this would somehow lead to the discovery of his own complicity in the plan from five years ago.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Moira." Frank replied. "Did Robert—"

"I'm afraid not, Frank." she told him, anticipating his question. "The reason I called you is because you're close with the American diplomats in your country. I was hoping that you could help me get in touch with someone."

"Of course, Moira. I can send you the phone number of the Consul General in Shanghai. He's the one I'm most familiar with." the man told her. "His name is Richard Griffiths. I'll send word to him that he should expect your call. Give it half an hour or so before you try."

"Thank you, Frank." she told him. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"After what you did for my family, Moira, there is very little that I wouldn't do for yours." the man replied. "I haven't forgotten how you shielded my involvement in Robert's plan from the others."

There was a pause before he spoke again.

"If I can give you some advice, Moira, it's that you should be very wary in the next few days." Frank told her. "He will no doubt find out about this through his own contacts in China, and I worry what his reaction will be to learning that there is a survivor of that voyage."

He was referencing their mutual tormentor, the man who had Robert murdered, the reason why her son had been shipwrecked for five years, and the leader of Tempest.

"Thank you." she told the man, hanging up the call.

A minuted later her phone buzzed as a new message came in. Frank had sent her the contact information for the American consul in Shanghai.

Consul General Richard Griffiths. +86-21-8011-2200. 30 minutes.


Oliver Queen

He had arrived in at the Port of Shanghai in the late afternoon. With their large, red cranes and the seemingly endless stacks of containers, the docks almost reminded him of the port of his hometown, Starling City. He was met at the docks by two officials from the American consulate, one of which thankfully had the foresight to bring him a change of clothes and some shoes. They weren't anything special, but they were better than the rags they had found him in.

"Hi," greeted a woman as he disembarked. "My name is Jane Thompson. I work with the American consulate here in Shanghai. And my colleague here is Matthew Sharp."

She held up a lanyard with her picture and information about the consulate. The man also did the same.

"Oliver." he said simply.

"If you would please follow us to the car." the man told him. "I can take that crate to the car for you."

"It's fine." he answered curtly. He had locked the crate before he had even boarded the fishing boat, but he didn't want to risk State Department officials to start asking questions about it.

He had placed the crate in the trunk of the black SUV and had gone to sit in the back. The two officials were waiting for him there. Buckling up his seatbelt, he prepared himself for what was likely to be the barrage of questions that they would undoubtedly unleash.

"So, we got a call from the port about an American citizen that was rescued from an island in the East China Sea by fishermen." the woman informed him. "As you can imagine, we need to ask you a few questions about what happened."

"Of course." he stated.

"First, we're going to need your full legal name, date of birth, and hometown." she informed him. "This will help us locate your personal information in government databases and will help us confirm your identity. Matthew is going to take notes on his laptop and send information to the consulate so that we can speed things up while we drive there."

It looked like he wouldn't be able to pass under the radar after all. He was pretty sure that his name and his story would raise more questions than he would like to answer. But it would be pretty hard for him to claim consular assistance without actually giving them a name.

"I was born May 16, 1985 in Starling City, Washington." he told them. "As for my full legal name, that would be Oliver Jonas Queen."

The clacking of the laptop's keyboard stopped immediately and both of the officials froze. It was exactly as he had expected. The man was the first to recover from the revelation.

"Queen?" the man asked, baffled. "As in the billionaire family of Starling City? As in Queen Consolidated?"

He nodded in reply. "That same family."

They both stared at him for a second, as if trying to see if he could really be who he said he was. Oliver didn't know why they bothered. His hair was much longer than any they would have seen in pictures of him and he had always been clean-shaven before Lian Yu. The rat's nest that was his hair and beard were not at all like what he looked like before.

"Oliver Queen has been dead for five years now. If this is some kind of identity theft con, you're not going to achieve anything." the woman informed him. "The State Department doesn't mess around."

He sighed. "I can promise you I'm telling the truth. If you want to be sure, have my fingerprints checked. I've been arrested before in Starling. The police should still have my prints on file."

They both looked at each other for a moment before turning back to him.

"Alright, Mr. Queen." the man finally said. "Can you tell us about what happened that made you go missing for five years?"

"It was the end of September 2007. My dad was taking a trip out to Shanghai on the family boat." Oliver recounted. "I had just decided to leave Stanford and I went back home. I found out my dad was taking the Queen's Gambit out so I thought that I might as well join him."

"What happened to the boat?" the woman asked.

"It was a week into the trip. We were a few days away from Shanghai when we were caught in a storm." he said, thinking about the lie he would have to tell. "The boat split into pieces and sank. There wasn't any time for anyone to get to a life raft. I managed to hold on to a piece of flotsam and I drifted for a while. I don't even know for how long exactly."

"As far as you know, were there any other survivors?"

"No." he lied. "I was the only survivor. I eventually washed up on the island where the fishermen found me. As far as I know, I was the only one there. The rest of the story is pretty simple really — I had to survive."

The two seemed to buy his story. After all, it was the most plausible version of events that they could believe. The real story was much more complicated and it wasn't one he was keen on sharing with anyone, let alone complete strangers.

"I'll call the consulate immediately." the woman told him. "I'm going to ask them to contact the police in Starling City to see if we can get your information sent over. We're also going to need you to undergo a physical examination by a doctor."

He tensed at the mention of the doctor. If there was one thing that he wasn't in the mood for, it was doctors that would ask prying questions once they got a hold of him. And he wouldn't be able to explain all of the scars, burns, and tattoos that had taken residence on his skin. Some scars he could try to pass off as injuries obtained whilst trying to survive, but the others plus the burns and tattoos wouldn't be explainable.

"How long will that take?" Oliver asked, trying not to give them too much of a reason to ask more questions.

"Not a fan of the doctor, are you?" the man asked with an obnoxious smirk.

"Haven't been since I was a kid." he lied.

"That's alright, Mr. Queen. The doctor will only take a cursory look at you." the female official informed him. "The State Department cannot force you to be examined by a doctor if you do not wish so, but you will need to at least have a cursory examination. We need to make sure that you're healthy enough to fly home."

"I've survived five years alone on an island. I'm pretty sure a flight won't be an issue." he said wryly.

The woman smiled. "I suppose not, but rules are rules."

The two had thankfully been kept busy by the paperwork that they needed to file and the calls they needed to make, leaving him free from having to answer more questions. He wasn't really interested in answering their questions to begin with, but it would have been far too suspect for him not to say anything. Looking outside the car window, he could see the streets of Shanghai. They bustled with people at this hour, the scenes before him reminding him a bit of Hong Kong.

They had finally reached the consulate about an hour after he'd left the boat and the two workers had led him into a Neoclassical compound that served as the American consulate in the city. Thankfully, he had been taken to a private room to deposit his things and was allowed to groom himself first and take a shower, making him look far more like himself than he had before.

As soon as he'd finished, he had been whisked away to get fingerprinted and have his picture taken. They'd be using those to match him up with the records they had on file. From there, it was on to the paperwork because god forbid a government service could forgo the paperwork for once. Thankfully, they only asked him to dictate information they needed, not actually write it down himself. Five years as a dead man left him with a distinct lack of practice in penmanship.

That only left the medical examination, something which he was dreading. The male official had led him to the private room in the consulate that he had been given temporarily. It would be where a doctor would be waiting to examine him. Oliver supposed that he should be thankful for the fact that the consulate had convinced a doctor to make a house call, rather than have him go to a hospital.

When had entered the room, the first thing he was examine his surroundings. A man in a lab coat was waiting for him — the doctor, he supposed. Underneath the bed, he could still make out the shape of the crate that he had stashed there, luckily still undisturbed by curious staff. The consular official had left and closed the door behind him, leaving the doctor and patient alone.

"Hello, Mr. Queen," greeted the doctor in slightly accented English. "I'm Dr. Zhong Wen. I'll be performing your medical examination today."

Oliver didn't say anything. He wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. The consular officials, he could trick — they would buy his story. But he doubted that he could trick this doctor if he had to remove his shirt.

"Have a seat." the physician instructed. "First, I'll be listening for breath sounds and heart sounds, as well as taking your blood pressure."

The man put grabbed a pair of disposable gloves from his bag and grabbed a stethoscope. Dr. Wen thankfully didn't ask him to remove his shirt and performed his examination quickly, prompting him to breathe in and then out. The man then checked his heart sounds before putting away his stethoscope.

"So far so good, Mr. Queen." the doctor told him. "Next is your blood pressure."

Dr. Wen grabbed a blood pressure monitor from his bag and fit the cuff around his bicep and pressure began to increase on his arm. Shortly after, the pressure released and the cuff was removed.

"You're blood pressure is good." the physician informed him. "The last thing I need from you now is to take a blood sample to run tests."

Oliver frowned. A blood test would take time to run. He had wanted to go home soon, not sit in China waiting for a lab to get their results.

"How long will those tests take?" he asked, speaking for the first time with the doctor.

"Not long, I assure you. I'll be taking them personally to Columbia Hospital." Dr. Wen told him. "Columbia is a private, American-owned hospital with its own laboratories. It should take less than eight hours for the results to come back."

"Alright." he acquiesced.

He felt a tiny prick as the needle entered his arm and the vacuum tube was attached. The entire process only took a few minutes. After it was done, the doctor stored the sample of blood in his bag and threw away the needle and his gloves.

"The officials here have informed me that you were not keen on taking a medical examination today." Dr. Wen said. "I should advise you that it is my professional opinion that you should be resting in a hospital right now, not simply taking minor tests."

"I mean no offence when I say this doctor but if I have to stay in a hospital, I would rather it be in Starling." Oliver told the man. "I've spent the past five years away from home. You can't even begin to understand how much I miss it."

The doctor sighed. "Fair enough. I'll speak to the officials here about taking you straight to the hospital once you're home for a more detailed examination."

"How long will it take for you to clear me to return home?" he asked the physician.

"Based on what I've observed so far, not long." the doctor answered. "You're in remarkable health for someone who was found on a deserted island after five years. While I'm not happy about it, I'm willing to give you the okay once your blood work comes back."

"Thank you, doctor." Oliver said as the man left the room.

No sooner than the doctor left, the female consular official who had met him at the docks came inside the room. She was carrying a small stack of paperwork and a pen. Coloured tabs on the ends of the pages indicated that she likely needed him to sign some paperwork.

"Hello again, Mr. Queen," she said as she entered the room. "I just have a few things for you to sign and then I'll be out of your hair."

"Is all that paperwork really necessary?" he couldn't help but ask.

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Afraid so. There's some paperwork in here about issuing you an emergency passport, as well as some regarding the release of your blood work and medical examination to the State Department."

He followed the woman's guidance as she took him through the paperwork, indicating where to sign and what each signature consented to. After so many years of not signing his own name, the mere action of holding a pen felt foreign. His signature looked more like a scribble than anything else, but she thankfully didn't say anything about it.

"Any idea when I'm going home?" he asked when he was finished.

"Well, we've got your files from the Starling City Police Department and were able to confirm your identity. So that's no longer a holdup." she informed him. "We just need the all-clear from the doctor and we can immediately send you home."

She paused in thought. It looked as though she was contemplating whether to tell him more about his situation.

"Once your ID came back as a match, the consul general was informed. Your situation is… unique and as such it was felt that a senior diplomat should take over." she revealed. "He's chartered a plane to take you back to Starling City. It's sitting on the tarmac at Pudong Airport right now, ready to leave as soon as you're cleared."

Oliver had a feeling that when she had said that his situation was unique, she wasn't just referring to coming back from the dead. The Queen name was likely what convinced the consul to charter a private jet to take him home. Five years ago this sort of treatment would be just what he would have expected. Now Oliver just found it to be a reminder of the injustice that existed in the world, where the wealthy were subject to an entirely different set of rules than the masses. Five years without access to a ten-figure trust fund had made him more critical about the disparities in how the wealthy and the poor were treated.

"Is there anything else you needed?" he asked, hoping to finally be on his own again.

She shook her head.

"Can I just rest until it's time for me to go?" he asked.

"Of course, we'll send someone to inform you once your blood work comes back and you get the all-clear to fly." the woman told him. "This room was stocked with fresh toiletries before you arrived so you can use everything you see. If you need anything else, just ask."

With that said, the official left the room and he was finally alone. It was somewhat disorienting to deal with so many people after so much time away from society. Being left alone allowed him the time to think about his return. It was less about going back to his previous life — if that was even possible after his experiences — but more about his father's last wish. Oliver still remembered his father's death clearly after all this time, as if the memory itself had been permanently seared into his brain.

Unlike what he had told the consular officials, Oliver hadn't been the only survivor of the Queen's Gambit — at least not originally. His father and a crew member, Mr. Hackett, had also managed to make it to the life raft. They'd drifted for a while and had been running out of food and water. There wasn't enough for everyone and his father had decided to take matters into his own hands.

The speech that his father had given him about his wrongdoings should have given him a clue, but he remembered being so thirsty and so hungry that he hadn't paid it too much thought. If only he had, he might have been able to stop what would happen. Oliver hadn't even known that his father carried a gun and had been shocked when his father had pulled one out and shot Mr. Hackett. That sound and image of the murder had been like a shot of adrenaline, waking him up completely. No sooner than that had Robert Queen turned the gun on himself. His last wishes were that his son survive the ordeal and right their family's wrongs.

Oliver would do so, no matter what the cost.


Moira Queen

Waiting for even thirty minutes felt like forever. It had been so long since she had seen her son, she desperately wanted to know when she could. At least then it would feel as though she were in control. And control was something that Moira had been lacking for the past five years — ever since the night that her husband had revealed his complicity in a grand plan to ostensibly repair the city.

It would do little good to dwell on the past, she should instead focus on the present. Moira had been granted a miracle in her son's survival and Oliver had to be her priority. The first thing she needed to do was inform Walter of what she had found out. Walking to back to their living room, she found Walter at the end of his phone call. He had just been saying his goodbyes before she had entered the room.

"Any news?" asked Moira as she sat down in one of the chairs.

"Yes, actually," Walter replied. "Though I couldn't get him to divulge personal information, the State Department's Bureau of Consular Affairs had received word from the consulate in Shanghai that a shipwrecked American was picked up from the port after being contacted by local authorities."

"So we don't know for sure if it's Oliver?" she inquired.

"I strongly believe it is." her husband told her. "The man found claimed to be a high-profile American from Starling City. It's your son, Moira."

She gave him a teary smile. It felt good to know that Oliver had made it to the Chinese mainland unharmed.

"How did your call with Frank Chen go?" Walter asked, sitting opposite her.

"I told him why I needed his help and asked him for the phone number of his diplomatic contact in Shanghai." she answered. "He sent me the number for the Consul General in Shanghai and asked me to wait as he informed the consul to expect our call."

Walter sighed, taking her hand in his. "I suppose we just wait for now."

While the wait itself was tense, her husband's presence did soothe her nerves a little. She just needed to have patience for a little longer and she would get her beautiful boy back. And when thirty minutes finally passed, she quickly unlocked her phone and tapped on the number than Frank had sent her.

She put the call on speakerphone so that both she and her husband could hear. The number dialled as both she and Walter waited. It took a little longer than usual for the call to connect, but she breathed a sigh of relief when it did.

"Hello, Consul General Griffiths speaking." greeted a man.

"Consul, this is Moira Queen." she said. "Frank Chen told me that he would inform you of my call."

"He did, Mrs. Queen, and I have been brought up to speed by my staff here at the consulate." the man told her. "We were going to contact you ourselves but it seems like you beat us to the punch."

"My son was able to get a hold of a satphone from the vessel which rescued him. He called me last night." she informed the man.

"That's wonderful, Mrs. Queen." the man said. "On to more pressing matters, I assume that this call is to inquire about the status of your son's case."

"Yes," Moira answered. "Specifically, my family and I wish to know when you plan on allowing my son to come home."

"Due to the special nature of his case, we've fast-tracked all of our usual procedures and are simply waiting for a doctor to sign off on it being safe for him to fly." the consul replied. "The State Department has authorized the use of a chartered plane to take Mr. Queen back to Starling City. However, I must warn that when he is transported home, he cannot be released into your custody immediately."

She frowned at hearing this. "And why can't he be released immediately?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that while we've had a doctor perform a cursory examination of him here in Shanghai, Mr. Queen has requested that any further examination be done in the United States." the consul told her. "Our protocols mandate a full series of tests at a hospital, but given the special nature of his case, I've gotten the authorization to have most of those done stateside. As a results, Mr. Queen will be driven straight to a hospital when he lands."

"Good." Moira stated.

She would rather that any medical procedures be done in Starling City as well. She had just gotten her son back, she wasn't looking to lose him to some shoddy medical practices from halfway around the world.

"And when will he be cleared to fly?" the mother asked the diplomat.

"We've had a doctor take his blood and had it sent out to a private hospital here. It should only take a few hours to get them back now." the man told her. "There's already a plane waiting at Pudong Airport to take him home."

"You said that he would be taken to a hospital once he arrives. I want him brought to Starling General Hospital. Not Star County or any other hospital." she instructed.

Star County Hospital was one of the public hospitals in the area but it was severely underfunded and lacked many facilities. Starling General, on the other hand, was a private non-profit hospital which was much better funded and equipped. Moira also knew a number of the staff there, making it her preferred choice.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that, Mrs. Queen." the consul replied. "We'll do our best to speed things along here while you wait for your son to return. Our hope is to have him back in Starling City by October 5, Pacific Time."

"Thank you, consul." she told the man.

"It's no bother, ma'am. It is my job to help in these kinds of situations. Besides, any friend of Mr. Chen is a friend of mine." Griffiths replied. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, Mr. Griffiths. Though, I'd better let you go. I suspect that it's rather late in Shanghai right now." Moira said. "Goodbye, consul."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Queen." the man said, hanging up the phone.

This was good news. If the man was right, Oliver would be in Starling City by tomorrow night. Perhaps he could even come home that night. Even if he was stuck at Starling General for a few days, her son would still be home. Walter was right about the news being freeing; the anxiety that she had felt before had all but disappeared.

Walter squeezed her hand in comfort. "This is even better than what we could have hoped for." her husband told her. "Oliver could be here by tomorrow."

She nodded, happy tears flowing down her cheeks. Five years without her son and she could see him again as soon as tomorrow. Her worries and anxieties seemed to melt away at the good news. They would no doubt be back but for that moment she felt happy and free. It was like rebirth.

"I'm calling Thomas," Moira told her husband. "He needs to be here tonight to hear this."

Walter nodded and pressed a kiss to her cheek and let her make the arrangements.


Thomas Merlyn, it turned out, was quite difficult to reach even midday on a Thursday. She had called a few times before she'd given up on calling altogether. If the man didn't pick up his phone, she'd just go over to his penthouse. The drive there was longer than she'd hoped, but the Queen estate was miles outside the city and Thomas had preferred to keep a penthouse in the West End. She couldn't blame the man for not wanting to stay home, Thomas' father wasn't a pleasant man.

When she'd finally gotten there, it was only an elevator ride away. Luckily, security hadn't made too much of a fuss. On the top floor of the building, she knocked at the young man's door. He didn't answer so she knocked again. This time, she could hear some movement behind the door. A faint crashing sound could be heard as well as some coarse language. The door swung open to reveal a figure with a disheveled mop of dark hair wearing rumpled clothes.

"Good afternoon, Thomas." she greeted, walking straight past him into his apartment.

"Mrs. Queen," he winced. "What are you doing here?"

Taking a look around, she could see the disarray in which the apartment was in. The cleaning staff would likely be looking for a big tip after this. She would have taken a seat if she could find somewhere untouched by the chaos.

"I did try to call you but it seems like you were too busy recovering from this… get-together." Moira told the man, struggling to find a polite word for a rager.

Thomas winced. "Sorry. And how many times have I told you to call me Tommy, not Thomas."

"Thomas is the name your mother gave you." she reminded him.

That was the moment that one of the young man's liaisons chose to leave the bedroom, looking just as dishevelled as he was, but thankfully fully clothed. She had the unfortunate experience of seeing more than one of Thomas' lovers with far too little clothing. Back when Oliver was around and doing the same things as his best friend, it had been even more mortifying, not that she'd show it outwardly. Thankfully, this interloper had looked ashamed and blushed a bright red as she all but ran to the door. Moira even felt a slight bit of pity for the girl.

"I'm surprised to see you back to this life." she commented. "I thought you and Laurel were in a relationship."

The young man's eyes bugged out. It seemed like Thomas' relationship with Oliver's on-again, off-again girlfriend wasn't something she was supposed to know.

"Please, Thomas," she said. "I'm not blind. If you were trying to keep it a secret, you should have tried harder. Not that it matters, who you date is entirely up to you."

He winced in response. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"No matter," she told him. "I wasn't here to discuss Laurel Lance with you. I came here to invite you to dinner tonight at home — it's been far too long since the entire family's been together."

"Of course, Mrs. Queen," Thomas told her. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."


Thea Queen

October 4, 2012 started out pretty normally. It had seemed like a regular day, only different by how weird her mom and stepdad were acting at breakfast. When her stepdad, Walter, had finally brought up cancelling her plans, she was sure that her mom had put him up to it. Their relationship hadn't been easy ever since the deaths of her dad and brother. Thea's mom had all but ignored her after the funerals and when she'd finally come out of her grief, she'd been out with Walter all the time. Thea had been left to grieve on her own.

She still remembered the day she'd found out about the disappearance of their family's boat. It had been a Friday. She had discovered the news from school, of all places — from one of the many people staring at her in pity that day. The twelve-year-old had been in the school's library and had turned a gawker's laptop toward her and saw the news.

She had been distraught when she heard the news, but a small bit of hope was there. It had after all only claimed disappearance, but that hope wouldn't last. Not even a month later had investigators determined that the boat had sunk and no survivors had been found. She had been twelve when they'd buried the empty coffins of her dad and brother.

She couldn't believe it at first, that her doting dad and loving brother had just been ripped away from her. When reality had finally sunken in, it was like there was a gaping hole in her heart. That was why when her mother had shut down emotionally, it had taken a harsh toll on Thea. The support she had needed after that loss hadn't been there and when her mom had finally gotten out of her funk, it had been too late. She'd already found an easier way to cope.

The day at school had been pretty boring — it took all of her willpower to not just up and leave. The only redeemable part of her day was the business class that she was taking. Her father had been a businessman and her brother had been studying business at college before their disappearance. Taking that business class had made her feel closer to them, even if her brother had always complained about his time at college.

When the day had finally been over, she headed home after telling her friends that she was cancelling on them. They'd have to go out during the weekend or next week. She hadn't wanted to attend a family dinner, not when it didn't feel like a family anymore, but Walter had managed to convince her. Regardless of how Thea felt about her mom, Walter had always been kind to her and she couldn't begrudge him for his connection to her mother. Plus, Tommy would be at dinner and Thea was always happy to spend more time with the handsome, charming billionaire.

She'd gone straight to her room when she had gone home and had only returned downstairs once dinner was ready. A minor act of protest for having been told to cancel her plans. Dinner went better than she had expected, but Tommy's charm and presence seemed to bring out the best in everyone. Even Thea had dialled down her antipathy towards her mother. Raisa, their housekeeper who was always keen to please, had even made Tommy's favourite meal in honour of his visit.

Tommy, Walter, and her mother had all been making small talk for the duration of the meal, avoiding the reason why she had been summoned to this dinner in the first placed. The only thing of interest that came out of the polite conversation was learning that Tommy and Laurel had taken a break — again. Tommy and Laurel's on-again, off-again relationship was almost as bad as the one which Laurel had with Thea's brother, Oliver. She didn't know why the billionaire even wasted his time with her. Besides, there were plenty of fish in the sea for Tommy. And one interested party was Thea herself.

"So," she interrupted so as to speak to her mother and stepfather. "Are you two going to finally tell me why I missed going out with my friends?"

The two spouses looked at each other for a moment before turning back to face her. Her mom was smiling to her and Tommy — not the fake smiles she put on consistently, but a bright, real smile.

"Yesterday night, I received a phone call from China." her mom revealed to her confused daughter. "It was from a boat that found Oliver."

Thea drew in a breath. She didn't dare ask the question that popped into her head. She didn't even know if she wanted to know the answer to her question. What if the answer wasn't what she was hoping for? What if it confirmed her worst fears?

"His body?" Tommy asked shakily.

"No," Thea's mom shook her head. "Oliver's been found alive."

The tears that had been welling up in her eyes fell down her cheeks. She let out a sob at hearing this. She knew in her heart that her big brother couldn't have been dead. She knew that he would have found a way back to them.

Walter got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing them over her back. The gentle touch from the Brit had calmed her sobs, but the tears kept flowing. It felt strange to cry at such wonderful news, but Thea found that she couldn't control it. It was like all of the pent up emotions from the past five years were coming rushing out. From the corner of her vision, she could see that Tommy had a similar reaction to her. It wasn't often that she'd seen Tommy cry, but tears were indeed flowing down his face.

When she'd finally managed to get her crying under control, she turned to her mother. "You've known since yesterday and you didn't say anything?" she asked rhetorically.

"That would be my fault, Thea." Walter confessed. "I convinced your mother not to say anything until we could contact the State Department to get information about Oliver's repatriation."

She could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth and not just covering for her mom. Thea supposed that for this lie by omission she couldn't really blame her mother.

"Did you find out when Oliver's coming home?" Tommy asked, his voice trembling.

"The consulate in Shanghai told us that they would try to put him on a plane as soon as possible. The earliest they can get him here is tomorrow." her mom told them.

"Tomorrow?" she asked disbelievingly. Could it really be that after all these years, she would only have to wait one day to see her brother? Could it really be that easy?

"Yes, but there is a slight hiccup." Walter informed Thea and Tommy. "He's going straight to the hospital. Not for anything bad, I assure you, but because Oliver requested that they only do the mandatory checkup in Shanghai to get home quicker."

"Oliver will be taken straight to Starling General for a full workup once he arrives, but if everything is fine, we should be able to take him home the next day." her mom said. "We might even be able to visit him in the hospital."

"He's still coming home tomorrow though?" she asked in confirmation.

Her mother and stepfather nodded in response to her question. That was good. She didn't care if he had to be taken for tests at a hospital. So long as he was healthy and coming home, it didn't matter if he would be spending a night under observation. She was finally getting her brother back.

"And what about Mr. Queen?" Tommy asked timidly, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Her dad had been just as much a father to Tommy what with Tommy's father having straight after the death of Tommy's mom. The man had just disappeared for a few years and when he'd come back, Tommy had said that he was cold and distant. It was no wonder that Tommy was asking about Thea's father.

Her mom shook her head, her eyes teary. Her father, Robert Queen, was truly dead after all. Only one miracle then, but one she would gladly take. And knowing her father, Thea would bet that the man would be happy to trade his life for Oliver's.


Moira Queen

The day had been a long one for Moira and once she and Walter had answered all of the questions Thomas and Thea had, they had all mutually decided to skip dessert. Tommy had gone home to his penthouse, Thea to her room, Walter to sleep and she had been ready to turn in when she heard her phone ringing.

Picking it up, she paled when she saw the name on the phone. Frank had been right, their mutual tormentor had indeed found out about Oliver's survival. She padded quietly out of her bedroom and down the hall into an empty guest room. At least there she wouldn't be overheard.

She steeled herself before accepting the call.

"Hello, Moira," greeted the oily voice of Malcolm Merlyn. "I've heard some very interesting news from Shanghai. We need to talk."