He was alone.

He had been for 6 years. The cold, empty, shallow, and unforgiving feeling of being alone had imprisoned him since the day his mother was gunned down on her way out of routine meeting with DA of Starling City. He was only 8 when it happened. That feeling of abandonment and desolation was not the first for him. No, his father, had left he and his mother a decade ago to pursue vigilante justice in Central City. He had promised to return after a month, but that month came and went. The young boy had to watch his mother slave on, lost to her rightful inheritances after she chose to live for a short time with her genocidal father.

Even after she had just been murdered, the boy knew his mother was dying long ago, in her spirits, in her demeanor, slowly rotting away into nothing more than a zombie. She had lost the life within her which the boy had always loved and remembered; she was no longer the caring, loving, playful mom instead, she would waste away in her room day after day. The boy had no one to turn to, no father, no mother, or grandparents, only an uncle. A billionaire uncle who lived a double life of his own, never there when the boy needed him, only randomly showing his face at special events with his wife, and his bodyguard. He tried to show his nephew his care and attention but he was always whisked away because, "Something's come up."

Yet, when the boy watched at his mother's funeral how much his uncle wept, he was confused, confused between understanding his family's personal relationships with each other. His uncle had hardly ever showed his face to the boy's mother in the last year, only in times of argument, but his emotions at her graveside suggested he still loved his sister. It was bad enough the boy had never known any of his grandparents, killed before he was ever born. He had no one.

No one except . . . the vigilante.

The boy's one light in the dark, was the Arrow. He wanted nothing more than to follow in the Arrow's footsteps and become his apprentice, he wanted to fight for justice and put down the criminals who terrorized the city: the murderers rapists, serial killers, thieves, and gang bangers.

He had acquainted himself with the Arrow on many occasions and was always left with encouraging words, words that made the boy feel loved and appreciated, like family. The boy often laid awake wondering if the Arrow, himself, had family. He imagined what it must be like to lead the life that the vigilante did, and what his own personal story was.

The boy wanted to make a difference in his life and in Starling City. Then one night he found his chance. After a years worth of searching and asking for leads on his mother's case with no luck, the boy had found his mother's killer. Jacob Robert Harper had found Thea Queen Harper's killer.

The killer was part of drug trafficking ring in Starling that circulated out of Central City. On that very night, four years after his mother was shot, Jacob was going to put her killer down. It would happen in the midst of a routine drug deal, in a dark alleyway in the Glades. The hunter stood atop a nearby rooftop, watching and waiting for the killer to enter the alleyway. The predator had become the prey.

Within a few minutes, two men had entered the alley, approaching a dimly lit door on the right side of the street. Jacob identified one of them as his mother's killer. He pulled out a good sized compound bow and placed an arrow onto the shaft, pulled back with ease. Timing was everything. He waited for a few moments, listening intently to the rhythm of his own breathing.

. . 2. . . 1 ––

But before he could fire, he could hear deafening pitches of whistling objects zip by his right ear. He clutched it in pain as he turned around to see . . . the Arrow standing only 5 feet behind him, his bow still aimed at his targets. The boy whipped back around to see what looked like tranquilizer arrows stuck in each of the three men. He turned back to the vigilante slightly angered and yet slightly embarrassed.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" the hood asked, with impatience boiling through his tone.

"I found him. I found the sonuvabitch that killed my mom! Why did you do that? He needs to die!" Jacob protested.

"He will get what is coming to him," the Arrow shot back. Off in the distance, the sounds of police sirens pierced the air, the vigilante had already called in the bust. "Meanwhile, you need to get off this roof and go home," he continued as he neared the boy.

Suddenly Jacob whipped up his bow and arrow, drawn and ready to fire at the the green-hooded vigilante, "Why didn't you let me shoot him! I had to kill him! I have nothing left, no family! He took it all away and made me alone! Why'd you do that?

"Being alone is a choice, something we can let rule our lives or something we can overcome and strengthen ourselves by! And killing him isn't the answer, it never is and never can be! I know this better than anyone in Starling City!" the Arrow said angrily, disgusted with Jacob's foolishness. "You are not the only one who has lost those he cares about! I have lost too many! A father, a mother, my only sister, and a dear friend! I learned that killing solves nothing. It only ignites your hatred further to kill again. I don't want to see that happen to you, Jacob!"

Jacob was about to blurt some foolish retort when he paused, "How did you know my name?" Never in any of their run-ins had Jacob ever revealed his name to the vigilante.

To Jacob's shock, the vigilante drew back his hood and removed his mask.

"Uncle Oliver?! But. . . "

"We have much to talk about, Jacob. I have someone I want you to meet."

Oliver talked the entire the drive to, well Jacob had no idea where, but he listened intently taking in every detail about his family and its past.

"So who am I meeting, Uncle Oliver?"

"Your dad."

Jacob froze. His father was dead. He always assumed as much anyway.

They had arrived at Oliver's penthouse, now and Jacob was a mess of emotions:happy, sad, angry, and confused. He could feel the nervous tension course through his body as he approached the penthouse door. Suddenly it opened and there stood his father, roughly about 30 years old. Roy Harper flashed his son a weak smile, "It's good to see you, son."

"You too, Dad."

A/N: PLEASE READ!

I AM A HUGE ARROW FAN! So I am really glad I finally wrote a fic about Oliver Queen.

If you will notice, I realized that I had to shift the timeline of Arrow back a few years so that it was still reasonable to believe. I would say that you could play with the idea that Arrow Season 1 could have started when Oliver was about 19-20 and Roy and Thea were about 16. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reviews appreciated!