Disclaimer: The characters and plotline do not belong to me. I took much of the dialogue directly from the show, but anything you do not recognize is my own dialogue. This may be an AU, but most of the storyline belongs to the DC universe, and the CW channel.
The forest vibrates around the two men as they race towards their freedom and rescue. Oliver takes the most direct route, throwing himself off the branches of the surrounding trees, and clambering up the rocky side of a hill. Tommy takes the lesser known path, around the rocky hillside, and into the thick shrubbery surrounding the shoreline.
As Oliver finds his bow and stash of arrows, Tommy secures himself in the shrubbery, ready to fight or flee. Ollie might trust Anatoly's word, but they hadn't been alone on the island when they'd returned. And that meant that the ship coming might not be there to help them.
Even after five years in hell, Oliver was still a bit more naïve than Tommy, something owed solely to the sheltering brought upon him by the Queens. But, Tommy could not deny that Oliver was a much better shot with the bow than him. And so, he lay in wait for Ollie's signal of safety.
The stack of wood on the beach blew up with the fire arrow that Ollie had planted earlier, and Tommy steadied his breath, waiting for the ship to make its move. And move it did. The ship quickly made its way to the shore of the island, where it docked and its inhabitants got off to search the shoreline for islanders.
Ollie stepped out onto the shore in front of the Chinese fishermen, his pre-determined signal of safety. Tommy stepped out of the shrubbery, just a few feet from the fishermen. The fishermen didn't seem to know what to do for a moment, before Oliver collapsed on his knees and removed his hood. Tommy remained standing, just an arm's length away from his best friend.
Oliver lifted his face slowly, unsure if he would be recognized, even as Tommy stared the fishermen down defiantly.
The fishermen brought the two men on board their ship, prodding each for answers. All the response they got was a soft request to be taken home, to Starling City in America. This seemed to satisfy the two fishermen to an extent, because they left the two castaways mostly alone after that.
They delivered a phone to the two, then retreated to sail to China's mainland.
The two castaways shivered at the sight of the phone, even under their warm blankets. Eventually the blonde gripped the phone just a bit tighter and dialed a number. The two seemed to agree about the number, the dark-haired man even managing a soft smile as the blonde typed. The two fishermen could not have been more confused by the two men if they'd tried.
Oliver's call only rang for several seconds before Moira picked up. The conversation that brought light back into Oliver, after years of only darkness began with a simple, "Hello? Who is this?"
Tommy's face crumbled at the sound of Moira's voice, and Oliver's face transformed into a sob.
Oliver uttered the words he'd been missing for the past five years, for the first time. "Mom… it's, it's Oliver." Tommy gripped the edges of his blanket tightly, even as he squeezed his best friend's arm as tightly as he could manage.
Then came the dreaded response, that each had believed would come. "My son has been dead for five years. Please don't call here ag—"
Oliver cut his mother off before she could finish breaking their hearts even further. "Mom, Mom, please just listen to my voice… It's Oliver. I did not die on the Gambit. I'm alive. I'm okay."
"Oliver?" Came Moira's gasping response, unable to believe the truth of her son's words. He was alive, he said he was okay. She was hearing her son for the first time in five years, and he was alive again. She couldn't believe it. "Oliver, is that you?"
Tommy let out a short sob, as Oliver pushed through his own tears to speak once again. "Yeah, Mom, it's me. Just please don't hang up, okay?" He rushed through his words, as if afraid that, even knowing it was her son, alive once more, Moira would hang up.
He couldn't have been more wrong. Moira quickly denied that she would ever hang up on her son. "Oh, my beautiful boy." She managed to gasp out, amidst her tears. "Is—is your father alive?" She asked, afraid of the answer, but still forcing herself to ask her son.
Oliver and Tommy exchanged pained looks, filled with regret and guilt. A long pause fell between them, before Oliver answered, "No. No. He—he, um. He and Sara didn't make it." Moira gave a great sob at his words, trying to clench her mouth shut so her son wouldn't have to suffer her grief as well.
"Oliver…" she whispered softly, carefully. "Is Tommy—what about Tommy? Is Tommy alive? Is he okay?" She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for more bad news.
Oliver and Tommy exchanged glances, and Ollie handed Tommy the phone, fumbling with the side of his blanket in his haste to hand it over.
Tommy grasped the phone as if it were a lifeline, and put it against his ear. "I'm okay. I'm alive, Moira. I made it off the Gambit." Moira gave another loud gasp through the phone, and more tears came to her eyes. Her son had lost his father, but he had remained at his best friend's side these last five years. She could've asked for nothing more than Oliver having someone by his side.
"Oh, sweethearts, I can't imagine what you've been through. Where are you?" She sniffled, trying to get back on track, to get her boys back home as soon as possible.
Tommy handed the phone back to Oliver quickly, with a significant glance his way.
"I-I'm not entirely sure, but I'm—I'm on a boat. I love you, and—and I'm coming home, all right?" Ollie gasped through the last few words.
Moira gave another giant sob, and gasped out, "Oh! I love you! Oliver, I love you so much. T-Tommy, I love you too, sweetheart. Please come home. T-Tell me when you reach land. Oh, Oliver, I love you, so much!"
Both Queens quietly sobbed, as the two men gripped each other's arms in a vice-like grip. The fishermen tried to discretely watch the two, well after Moira had hung up. But, they stopped when the blonde gave them such a murderous glare that they swore his eyes might've burst into flames.
One of the fishermen braved the glare and gave warm mugs of some liquid more delicious than anything the castaways had tasted in quite a while, to the two men. After that the only sounds that were heard on the ship was the quiet sipping of the mugs, the whispers of the two fishermen to each other, and the crash of the waves and water against the side of the ship.
Each time a particularly loud crash of the waves sounded, the castaways tensed against each other, under their blankets, and the dark-haired man began picking away at his blanket. It was unusual to say the least, but nothing out of the ordinary for castaways, at least in the eyes of the fishermen.
Hours later, the boat reached the coast of China, at Shanghai. The fishermen unloaded their cargo, both the fish they'd caught, and the men they'd rescued. The blonde spoke quietly with them, and the fishermen agreed to part with their blankets, so the castaways would have something warm at the American Consulate of Shanghai.
Then, with an almost imperceptible nod to the fishermen, the men set off toward the Consulate.
Organizing a trip back to Starling City, through the Consulate took as long as one might expect, even if you are the heirs to billion-dollar companies in the United States. The castaways spoke quietly, and quickly with the other men they met with American representatives. Eventually, their trip home was organized, and the two were on their flight back to Starling City.
The two men never separated long from each other, and even fell asleep against each other on the flight back.
Even though they were only a few hours away from home physically, the two men were anything but.