AN: Hi everyone! I got this idea from watching It's a Wonderful Life over the holidays and couldn't resist. Many thanks to my marvelous beta, who made this much better.

You all know the drill, I don't own this so don't sue me.

WARNING: This is not going to be a particularly happy story and will contain references to drug abuse, suicide, murder, and other serious topics so if you are easily triggered please proceed with caution.

Backlash

Oliver stood on the edge of the pier looking out over Starling City Harbor. The cold wind wrapped a damp, chilly shroud around him but he inhaled it deeply, knowing it was likely the last fresh air he'd ever get. He'd been close to death many times before, but still tension tightened around his chest like a noose. Strange as it was, Oliver wished for Slade to hurry up and get there just to break the anticipation.

Glancing down at the dark blue water slapping against the edge of the pier, he saw his distorted reflection looking back at him. A pang of sadness at what he was leaving behind weighed down his heart. Oliver thought of all the things he survived to get home to Starling City. It all seemed like wasted effort now. All the times he'd promised himself he'd never give up without a fight, and here he was about to do just that.

He quickly looked back up at the harbor, jaw clenched with resignation. He knew this was the right thing to do. Tommy, Shado, Moira, they were all dead because of him. He couldn't have any more blood on his hands. Besides that, he was tired of endless combat, tired of constantly having to live up to peoples' expectations, as Oliver Queen and as the Arrow. As morbid as it was, there was a certain kind of relief in knowing that he was done fighting. He'd started down this path six years ago when he brought Sara on the boat, and this was where it ended.

Oliver heard a heavy footstep behind him. Slade was here. He started to turn toward him, then faced the water again. It seemed oddly fitting that he'd chosen this location. "This is where it all started," Oliver said, partly to Slade and partly to himself.

"I got on the Queen's Gambit right over there." His voice held a solitary note of regret as he said it. "I should have died on that boat. If I had, none of this would have happened. I never would have met you. Shado and my mother would still be alive." Oliver paused as fresh wave of guilt washed over him. Every time he closed his eyes he just saw his mother lying on the ground in a slick of her own blood… "No one else is gonna die because of me."

He slowly turned to face his adversary for the last time, but before he got there he heard a sudden whistle, then felt the sharp sting of a dart in his neck. Oliver grunted in surprise and reached up to pull out the needle, but his vision blurred, his legs gave way underneath him, and he collapsed onto the cold concrete surface. He caught a glimpse of a figure moving toward him, then a wall of blackness pushed him down into oblivion

.

Oliver's eyes snapped open, and the first thing he registered was darkness and the sound of thunder and rain, loud as gunshots. He slid down a hard surface, then suddenly plunged into icy water. An involuntary gasp rushed from his lungs at the shock, and his limbs seized up in the cold. Wherever he was, it was dark. A frigid wave slapped him in the face, then another forced his head under. He gulped water and flailed his useless limbs trying to fight back to the surface. His head broke the water and he gasped another breath, managing to tread water for a few seconds. Needles of cold rain slanted into his face, nearly blinding him. Was Slade trying to kill him by drowning? Despite the situation, Oliver couldn't help his bark of bitter laughter. At least Slade hadn't lost his cynical sense of humor. The rain meant he was outdoors, but if he'd been thrown off of a boat his adversary had to be nearby. Oliver jerked his head around, looking for a light source. He wanted to look in the face of the man who killed him before the ocean won the fight. After everything he'd been through, he deserved at least that small dignity. And considering all the trouble Slade had gone to to ensure Oliver's suffering, surely he would want to watch the show. He caught sight of a large boat, nearly vertical and sinking into the water several yards away. Not just any boat though, one he recognized. The Queen's Gambit? It couldn't be.

He didn't get time to think about it before the current dragged him underwater again. The waves knocked him from side to side until he wasn't sure which way was up anymore. Oliver opened his eyes underwater to try and see the surface, but all he could see was the freezing blackness of the sea. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen. He kicked with all the strength he could muster and suddenly he was above the surface again, coughing painfully. His arms and legs were going numb and his muscles felt exhausted and rubbery from fighting to stay afloat. Oliver looked behind him and barely caught sight of the stern of the Queen's Gambit as the black waves closed over it. This isn't happening. Am I hallucinating? Am I already dead? His heart pounded so hard against his sternum he thought it would burst. If he was dead and reliving the sinking of the Gambit, then this really was hell.

The weight of Oliver's heavy wet clothes dragged him down, and he knew he couldn't fight it much longer. He choked in one more breath of air before the waves closed over his head again. Exhaustion made his arms and legs into stone slabs. Oliver squeezed his jaw shut, trying to hold onto the one breath he had, but he lacked the strength to fight the ocean any longer. Pain like a migraine from the lack of oxygen squeezed his eyeballs and made his head feel like it was going to explode. Finally the water pried his mouth open and filled his lungs, and even the knife-sharp pain of the cold deserted him.

Suddenly, Oliver found himself on the surface of the water again, but this time he didn't feel the cold. The storm was gone and the water was calm. He floated on the surface easily, without even having to tread water. To his right side the sun was rising over the sea. It was morning?

"Oliver,"

He spun around to see who had spoken to him and looked into a familiar face.

"Dad?" He asked incredulously. How could this be happening? I'm dying, Oliver thought over and over again. I'm dying, I'm dying. But why am I here? Where's Slade, and how can the yacht be here? This doesn't make any sense.

His father reached out a hand to him and Oliver took it. Robert gripped his son's arm and pulled him up and out of the now calm water. As he was released from the water's hold Oliver felt as if he was stepping onto a solid surface to stand beside his father, even though he could see they were standing on thin air. His head spun.

"What's going on Dad?" Oliver demanded, panic and confusion coloring his tone. "I thought Slade killed me, but it's the Gambit sinking all over again, you're here now and…how are we doing this? I don't understand."

Oliver looked back at the water and his mouth fell open with shock. Floating in the water a few feet below them was…Oliver. He was wearing the same gray plaid shirt he'd been wearing the night the boat capsized, but Oliver could tell from the pallid face and the way he floated motionless on the surface of the water that he was dead. He reeled with the shock of looking at his own corpse. "What is this?"

"Just what you wanted, son." His father said calmly. "When Slade was coming for you, you said you should have died when the boat went down. So you did."