A/N: Hey there! So to continue on in the fashion of writing in new fandoms, I have this bright shiny new Arrow story to share with you all. Now, be gentle since this is my first time writing for this fandom. Also, there are spoilers for all of season two littered in this bad boy, so watch out if you're not caught up. I apologize to any Oliver/Felicity fans out there, as this is strictly Oliver/Laurel, since I ship them (I only ship Oliver/Felicity as friends). Please enjoy, and check out my new poll! I want to get an idea for what fandom you guys would like to see me write for next!
She stood, her arms freely dangling at her sides, as Malcolm Merlyn smirked at her. The sinister look in his eyes made her wonder how she had ever seen anything good in him. She swallowed thickly, as her eyes roamed over to the green-clad figure that hung from the rafters. His hands were tightly bound together, as his arms were pulled taut. His green suit hung open, from where Malcolm had slashed it. The open wounds, dripping fresh blood, were large and fairly numerous. However, Laurel noticed something familiar about the toned torso she was staring at so intently. It was the scars that littered across his chest and stomach.
It couldn't be, there was no way it was possible. Yet, even as she continued her internal debate on the subject of the man beneath the green hood, Malcolm's smile grew in size, as he clapped his hands together.
"I believe she's figuring it out, Arrow. What do you think about that?"
Oliver tried his hardest to not lift his head. He bit his lip, as the pain started to wear on him. He was exhausted, and he just wanted it to be over. Oliver felt the deja vu of his current situation, except for the fact that Laurel was standing across from him. Staring at him intently, with an almost knowing look. He had never wanted her to find out the truth. Not because he was afraid she wouldn't accept who he was or what he had done, but because he wanted to protect her from it all.
"You said you wouldn't hurt her."
Malcolm chuckled, "And I won't, so long as you don't try anything stupid. Now, how about we share a truth with our guest, fair Arrow."
"Don't." Oliver called out, as Malcolm grabbed a hold of what was left of his green suit. The hood slipped away from his head, and he heard Laurel gasp. He couldn't look at her. It wasn't his biggest fear, but it was still there. Seeing the same look that Tommy had given him. The look that said he was a monster. Just some criminal who killed people.
"Oliver." Laurel whispered out, her hand clasped over mouth. She felt like she should have put it together. The clues had been there. How mysterious Oliver had been since he returned from the island, always disappearing at a moment's notice.
"I'm sorry." Oliver finally said, looking up to meet Laurel's eyes. There was no hatred, though she did seem a little put off.
She took a step toward Oliver, before speaking. "Why didn't you tell me, and don't say the opportunity didn't come up."
Oliver sighed, the exhaustion winning out. As it were, he knew that he wasn't going to make it out of the warehouse alive. He just hoped that Malcolm would keep his word, and leave Laurel alone. "I just wanted to protect you. A lot of good it did me."
Laurel just shook her head as she tried to take it all in. The opportunity lost itself, as Malcolm stood between them, and stared at Oliver.
"It's time for you to finally pay for the crimes you've committed, Oliver. You're attempt to take my life – you're inability to save my son. The fact that you failed this city, Oliver. Just think of it like this. Starling City will be a much better place without The Hood in it."
"Don't!" Laurel cried out, as Malcolm turned quickly, his hand striking her face hard.
"Merlyn! You swore!"
Malcolm merely shrugged his shoulder, before turning his attention back to Oliver. "Are you ready to die for your crimes, Queen?"
"My crimes? What about your crimes? What about the fact that you single-handedly murdered over 500 people?"
"Not single-handedly, Oliver. Your mother – your father had a hand in it as well."
Oliver scowled at Malcolm, as he made an attempt to pull against the bindings. "You leave my father out of this! You murdered him. You tried to murder me and Sarah! You need to be accountable for your crimes, Malcolm."
"I am not the one on trial here, Oliver. You are!"
The sinister look in Malcolm's eyes grew darker, as he toyed with the small army style knife in his hand. Oliver barely had time to flinch as Malcolm jabbed the knife hard against his cheek. Oliver felt the flesh under the knife start to burn. He could feel the familiar stickiness as the blood seeped down the side of his face.
"You don't have to do this Malcolm. No one even knows that you're alive!"
Malcolm chuckled mirthlessly, "Your mother does. Let me ask you, Oliver. Has she opened up to you? Has she told you the truth?"
Oliver's eyebrows cocked slightly. He wanted to know what the hell Malcolm was carrying on about, but he was getting so tired that he just wanted to fall asleep right there.
"I guess that's a no. You see, your mother, Oliver, not only had an affair with me. She birthed my child."
Oliver just stared at Malcolm as reality set in. "No! I don't believe you."
"That's right, Oliver. Thea is my daughter."
"No!" Oliver shouted again. The anger giving him a renewed bout of energy. He kicked up his legs in an attempt to take Malcolm down.
"Tsk, tsk, Oliver." Malcolm said, clicking his tongue. "Punishment time." This time, Malcolm pocketed the small knife into his jacket. Settling instead, for his fists. "There is nothing that feels better than the feeling of beating someone to the brink of death with your fists."
Without warning, Malcolm's fist drew back and forward in almost record speed. The contact was so hard that Oliver was certain he heard one or more of his ribs crack. A cry of anguish flew from his mouth, while Laurel whimpered from the floor. Oliver could see the fear in her eyes, as he continued to stare at her. He found the pain to be more tolerable as long as he knew that she was all but safe at the moment.
"How you feeling, Oliver?" Malcolm asked.
Oliver merely shook his head, before spitting out some blood. He had hoped if he and Laurel were able to make it out of the warehouse, that he wouldn't need a hospital visit. Now that was the only option – if they made it out alive.
Laurel squeaked lightly, as she made a move to stand back up. She couldn't handle being on the ground, moping over the sting in her cheek, after watching Oliver being used as a human punching bag. She cringed as Malcolm chuckled lightly, his head turning slightly, as he watched her brush the dust and dirt from her clothing.
Oliver's lip curled as he saw the red streak of flesh on her cheek where Malcolm's hand had connected. Oliver took the opportunity of Malcolm's attention being anywhere but on him, to swing backward, ignoring the stabbing, sharp pains that covered his torso, and let his body fly forward. Just as Malcolm moved to turn back toward him, Oliver's foot connected with Malcolm's chin sending him falling straight down to the concrete floor of the warehouse. Malcolm's head connected with the concrete with a resounding thud.
"Grab the gun." Oliver hollered at Laurel, as he attempted to breath through the pain.
Laurel picked it up and pointed it at Malcom's still form. "I think he's unconscious, Oliver."
Oliver looked down at Malcolm, and back up at Laurel. He didn't want her turning her back on the madman, but he needed her to let him down before his shoulders officially gave out and he was completely unable to protect her.
"Okay, good. Use that chair to climb up and slowly let me down."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? You're hurt pretty bad, Oliver."
"I'm sure, Laurel. Trust me, I've been in worse situations than this. Just, grab the chair and release the rope."
Laurel nodded, as she moved to grab the chair. Oliver kept a close eye on Malcolm, as Laurel placed the chair in place and climbed up. She was barely tall enough to reach the rope, and she was able to note her close proximity to Oliver. Laurel attempted to not look him directly in the eye, as her fingers worked on the knot that was keeping the rope held tightly in place. After a couple of minutes, she knew that all her effort was in vain. The more his body kept pulling on the rope, the tighter the knot was getting.
"Oliver, we're both going to have to step on the chair. You're just pulling the knot tighter."
Oliver nodded, as he tried to swing his feet onto the edge of the chair. He quickly noted that almost all of the adrenaline had seeped out of his body and he felt like he could just pass out right there. Laurel quickly, grabbed a hold of what was left of his suit and pulled him forward. His feet barely touched the edge of the chair, but it was enough for his feet to grab a decent purchase. He lowered his arms and sighed out in relief as the muscles up and down his arms ached.
Laurel reached back up and started pulling at the knot in the rope again, and grinned as it slowly started to come apart. "Almost finished." Laurel announced.
"Quickly, Laurel." Oliver whispered, as he watched Malcolm starting to move on the ground.
Just as Malcolm started to stand back up, Laurel dropped her hands, and Oliver pulled the rope off of his. He took advantage of Malcolm's disorientation, and punched him in the jaw, hard. Malcolm turned, his feet wobbling slightly.
"This isn't over, Queen."
"I will make sure this ends right here and now." Oliver said, even as he swayed on his feet. He made a move to punch Malcolm again, but Malcolm managed to dodge it and stay on his feet.
Malcolm recovered slightly, and punched Oliver's still bleeding cheek. Oliver hissed out in pain, as his knees finally gave out and he crumpled to the ground. "Time's up, Oliver."
"The hell it is." Laurel said, as she pointed the gun she had picked up, directly at Malcolm's face. "Let us go, and leave Oliver and his family alone."
"Or what?" Malcolm spit at her, venom in his voice.
Laurel stared Malcolm down, as she swore she could hear Tommy's voice telling her to end it all. "Or I'll shoot you."
Malcolm chuckled. "You don't have the ability to pull that trigger." Malcolm made a move to take the gun from Laurel, as she pulled the trigger. Malcolm grunted as he stumbled backward. A deep crimson circle appeared in the middle of his chest. He looked down, before looking back up at Laurel, then he collapsed to the floor.
"The hell I don't." Laurel whispered, instantly thanking her father for teaching her how to correctly shoot a gun. "Oliver." She yelled, as she caught his arms before he fully collapsed. "I can't carry you."
"My phone. It's on Malcolm's table of doom. Speed dial number two. It'll be Felicity Smoak. Tell her where we are and to bring Diggle."
Laurel just shook her head, wondering exactly how many people knew his secret. Instead of questioning him though, she ran quickly toward the table that held a few other knives, some large in size, along with many other torture type devices. A quick cursory glance and she spotted his phone. "Help's on the way, Oliver." She called out as his exhaustion finally won out and he fell to the concrete floor.
Oliver groaned loudly, as the fog started to lift from his mind. Thoughts started to flow in, and he quickly remembered the last place he was, the warehouse. He had to get himself and Laurel to safety. He couldn't fail her on top of everyone else. He was fairly certain that would break him indefinitely.
"Just lay back, Oliver."
Her voice was like velvet in his already racing mind. She sounded so calm, so serene. If that was the case, then they had somehow made it out of the warehouse alive. Slowly, trying to stem the pain in his head, Oliver cracked one eyelid open. He turned his head in her direction, and drank in her beauty. Despite the now purplish skin on her right hand cheek, the rest of her face was untouched.
"Malcolm?" Oliver asked, as he tried to recall any memory of his death.
"I shot him. He was going to kill you."
Oliver sighed, he had never wanted this. Wanted Laurel to hurt anyone – hell he didn't even like killing anyone. It was only to be used as a last resort, but from what Laurel had just said, that's exactly what it had boiled down to. Them or him. Oliver would have gone the same direction as Laurel. He just wished that he could have been the one to pull the trigger.
"Are you okay?" He asked, realizing just how raspy his voice sounded. As he waited for her answer, he allowed his eyes to roam around the room. Realizing quickly that they were in his hideout under Verdant, and not in a hospital. Felicity and Diggle knew the rules. Knew that taking him to the hospital with his torture-induced injuries would drudge up far too many questions. In that moment Oliver realized that he didn't give his two friends enough credit. Diggle had saved his ass more times than he could count. Felicity has always done everything in her power to help him catch the bad guys, but he always just seemed to take their help for granted. Always just assumed that they would always bail him out of whatever crazy thing he got caught up in.
"I think I should be asking you that, Oliver." Laurel answered finally, as she stood up and grabbed a hold of his hand. "I don't think I ever realized the amount of pain that the vigilante – that you go through protecting this city, Oliver. He would have killed you."
Oliver smiled crookedly at her. His attempt at shrugging his shoulders only caused him to hiss out in pain. "It's no big deal, Laurel. I've been in worse situations than that. Hell, I've been closer to death than that. I don't do this whole...vigilante thing for any other purpose than to ensure this town's safety. That's all I've ever wanted. Malcolm was right though. I failed this city... I failed Tommy...and I failed you."
Laurel squeezed his hand, until he looked up at her. "Don't you dare do that. Don't you dare sell yourself short. You did everything you could to stop Malcolm from sitting off that earthquake machine. You did everything you could to save Tommy. You've saved my life more times than I can count. Oliver, you're a hero, whether you want to admit it or not."
Oliver's eyebrows wrinkled, "How do you know so much about what I've done?"
Laurel smiled softly, a slight sadness in her eyes. "I honestly thought you weren't going to make it. Not after you lost consciousness. Diggle and Felicity found us pretty quickly. I begged them to take you to the hospital, but they wouldn't. After Diggle patched you up and hooked you to the heart monitor, we only had time on our hands. So, I asked them to tell me about why you were doing this and just how much you had done to save the city. Those two people in there, Oliver, they care about you so much. You have got to be careful, because there are so many people that would be lost without you here."
Oliver looked up at Laurel expectantly. He had wanted nothing more than to keep her at a distance. Not only because of the danger, since Laurel seemed adept at putting herself in danger, but because of Tommy. Because he wanted to respect his friend's memory by not starting a relationship with the woman he loved, but Laurel made it hard for him to not fall for her more and more when she gave speeches like that. "Are you including yourself in that list, Miss Lance?"
Laurel shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe I am, Mr. Queen." She softly ran her thumb against his cheek, carefully avoiding the few stitches that littered his face. Oliver Queen had half a dozen or more new scars to add to the torture he had endured when he had been stuck on that island, but Laurel couldn't help but think that Oliver wore his scars well. He didn't let them define him, he lived because of them. They were proof that Oliver Queen was a survivor. That he didn't give up easy. She couldn't deny the way she felt about him, that much was certain, but she also couldn't fully give her heart to him when part of it still belonged to his best friend. So for now they would still play the friend card, but Laurel was hopeful that one day the pain of losing Tommy would ease and that maybe she would finally get her second chance with Oliver.
