The storm started with almost no warning. They had been expecting it, of course. It had been charted on radar and they were well-prepared for it. But the sky didn't grow dark until nearly seconds before the waves starting thrashing and the rainwater started lashing out sideways.

The boat rocked, throwing Oliver from side to side. He would be lying if he didn't admit it scared him. It was his first official mission for the CIA, and the weight of that responsibility was weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Lian Yu. An island in the middle of the North China sea, it was known for being completely unknown. He had never heard of it. His partner had never heard of it either, which was a statement, because Sara Lance was everything a CIA agent should be. Smart, dangerous, and able to do whatever it took to get the job.

She was younger than him but had already been on two missions prior. He was comfortable admitting that she did the job better than he did. Still, he was uncertain as to why they had been put on a mission together. Surely the brass knew of their… extracurricular activities.

There was a knock on his small cabin door and he lifted his head. "Come in."

The door swung open a crack, revealing the smirking face of Sara. "You need some company? Wouldn't want you getting scared in here by yourself."

"I'll never say no to that."

Oliver liked Sara. A lot. Sure, their relationship was complicated. He had dated her sister in the past before… well, before that had ended painfully. He had known the Lance's his entire life as well and dating a fellow agent (if you could really call it dating) was anathema.

But still. She was beautiful; she was funny. She made him feel like the American James Bond. One of these days he'd figure out what it was that they were doing. Or maybe he'd even ask her, and wouldn't that be a crazy idea?

She slid into the room and closed the door behind us.

"How's the captain?" Oliver asked, referring to the man the agency had provided to navigate the boat.

Sara shrugged. She was wearing a white tank-top and tiny black shorts. Oliver had trouble focusing on her answer. "He didn't seem too concerned. Said this sort of thing happened all the time."

"Does it?" Oliver said wryly.

"Doubt it. But we'll be fine."

Oliver laid back on his bed and brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes. "Do you get a weird feeling about this assignment?"

Sara set herself down on the bed next to him. "That's called nerves, Ollie. We're going to be fine."

He wished he believed her. Not that she was wrong—this was only natural. But that didn't mean he was able to internalize the things she was saying to him.

"We've trained for all this," she said. "We'll be back in the states before you even know it."

There was a sort of ease to their conversation, the words flowed as if they meant nothing. Even so, there was no mistaking what they were there to do. They were there to stop a very dangerous man.

It seemed strange, perhaps, that such a mission would lead them to Lian Yu. It was remote, known by few, for there was nothing there of note. A few minor battles had occurred in the area over the centuries, but even that history left nothing to be desired by most individuals. That being said, such seclusion granted a bit of merit to any who might seek a place far from prying eyes.

Men like Eddie Fyers.

Fyers was ex-CIA, a man of great skill and intellect and even greater ambition. He had never been content to be an agent of a greater good, and he wished only to serve himself. Oliver had never known the man, but he had heard the stories. Of a shocking betrayal that left the agency with a gaping hole in their safety and intelligence, one that threatened the peace of the United States and the world as a whole.

When he had been assigned the mission along with Sara, Oliver had been confused. Why them? Surely there were more qualified, experienced choices? He hadn't asked such a thing, of course. That would be no way to react to his first official assignment. The question lingered nonetheless.

Sara had tried to explain it away—she was something of a rising star, and everyone knew of the rapport she had with Oliver. It wasn't illogical.

Oliver had other questions—what would happen after they detained Fyers? He had tried asking that question but had received no straightforward answers. In a way, that came as a relief. He knew his job would lead him into murky waters, but there were some things that he knew he was not yet prepared for.

He put his hands behind his head and let himself relax. "At least we're here together."

He was confident about one thing. Whatever came at them, they could handle it. Sara and Oliver, an unstoppable, inseparable team.

The explosion happened hours after Oliver had drifted off to sleep. It happened so fast, too fast for him to gain any stock of the situation, any time for him to prepare. There was no warning, no sign that anything was wrong.

Oliver tumbled out of the cabin bed, sirens blaring. The smell of smoke was already reaching his nose. "Sara!"

She wasn't there. He was surprised by this—she had likely gone back to her own cabin after he had fallen asleep. But what—

"Sara!" he could barely hear the sound of his voice over the blasting of the alarms.

He stumbled into the hallway, throwing on clothing has he went.

No.

The hallway was filled with water, almost up to his shins.

They were taking water. They were sinking. Oliver needed to find the captain, he needed to find Sara, and he needed to find a way to get them to the lifeboats.

Sara can take care of herself.

It was a thought that should have done something to comfort him, but it brought him nothing at all. There were too many questions. What had happened? And accident? An attack? The storm?

"Ollie!"

Oliver pushed through the rising water, around the cabin corridor. Sara was standing, leaning on a wall, exhausted. She was in full mission attire.

"What—?"

Sara shook her head. "Couldn't sleep. There's no time. Ollie, this wasn't an accident. There was something in the engine room. The captain is missing. I don't—"

"The captain isn't missing." Sara spun as the door to a storage room slid open behind her.

The man standing there was dressed very differently than he had been the last time Oliver had seen him. Then, he had been wearing a simple blue uniform. Now, he was dressed in black tactical gear and was pointing a gun directly at Sara's head.

"You're coming with me," the captain said.

Sara raised a hand and took a step forward. The captain shook his head. "I don't think so. No closer. I only need one of you."

Oliver clenched his fists and felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. "What did you do?"

"I laughed n the face of the arrogance that you and yours have shown for so long. This way."

The captain, who Oliver now knew was one of Fyer's men, led them to the two small lifeboats that were docked in the side of the ship. Oliver didn't understand what the plan was. Take them to the island this way? The sinking of the ship was obvious—make the agency think they had died in an accident, or at the very least, deprive them of their supplies and equipment.

Sara was walking beside Oliver, a few paces in front of the captain. All they needed to do was disarm him, but that was easier said than done. A few feet might as well have been a mile with the gun in play.

Sara nudged him with an elbow.

"When I turn," she whispered, "run."

Oliver looked at her with confusion. What was she going to do—?

No!

Sara dropped to the ground, splashing in the water, and threw herself at the captain. He staggered back a few steps, surprised by the sudden and vicious movement, and fired. The bullet tore past Sara and Oliver, kicking up the water which was now knee-height.

"Go!" Sara screamed. "Run, Ollie!"

There was only a moment of hesitation. He had little choice. Sara was on the man, driving him into the water, and the sirens were still sharp in his ears. "I'll find you!" Sara shouted. "Go now!"

He ran. Every step he took only increased the guilt and regret by a thousandfold. He was afraid. He was afraid, and he left his partner—his friend—someone he loved—to face disaster by herself.

I should go back.

I can't go back.

There was another explosion, one that felt nearer and nearly pitched him headfirst into the rising water. There was no time. Sara would make it. There were two lifeboats. She was strong; she was capable, even more than he.

He climbed the stairs to the main deck, to unlash the lifeboat, to make his way into the tumultuous storm. Alone.

Sara.

The sea was still. The ship was still in view, but Oliver could barely make it out. Had Sara escaped? Where would she go? Where would they go?

There were few supplies in the lifeboat, which was big enough to old three, maybe four people. He would be able to stretch it out, perhaps make it last for a week, but then there would be trouble. Where were they? He couldn't tell, not yet. Once night fell again and the stars were out in more force, he could at least approximate a location.

He checked the rudder of the boat. Eastward, then he would be headed. That was the best he could do, the best he could hope for. If Sara was here, she would have known. Where they were, how to get to land.

If Sara was here, you'd have less supplies to survive on.

He shook his head to clear the awful thought away. That was the fear talking. There was no room for such things. Not now.

He drifted onward. Hours passed and he dozed. Laurel was there with him, in the boat, looking beautiful and serene.

"Ollie, what are you doing?"

"Laurel? I—what? You can't be here—"

Laurel shrugged, her long hair cascading down her shoulders like water. "Doesn't seem like that to me. Where's my sister?"

Oliver looked up at the sun. It was black, like an eclipse. He squinted into it, feeling the spray of the ocean and the heat of the day. "I couldn't—the ship was going down, she told me to run, Laurel." His voice caught. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
Laurel smiled at him and shook her head. "Don't apologize, Ollie. She's tougher than that. You might want to look up now, though. You're not going to want to miss what happens next."

Oliver's eyes snapped open and he threw himself up, gasping. A dream. Of course it had been a dream. Something more alike to a hallucination, perhaps. What had she meant by not wanting to miss what would be happening next? Had it meant anything at all, or just been the idle ramblings of his fevered brain?

But then he saw it and he knew just what it was that his vision had been trying to prepare him for. It was massive and it was drawing nearer with every second. A colossal ship, all black and gun-metal, bearing down on his tiny lifeboat. His first thought was rescue, that the agency had heard—perhaps Sara had gotten word out—but that thought only persisted for a moment. That was impossible. Even if she had managed to make contact, there was no way they would have been able to find him so quickly.

And if they had found him, this monstrosity of a ship was far removed from what they would send to retrieve him.

Oliver knew that more than likely, whatever this ship was, it was not bearing good news. A black freighter, advancing inexorably to collect him. He should run, there was no other choice. Yet there was nowhere to go. His lifeboat would never be able to take him far enough. They had, in all likelihood, already seen him.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, there was a small boat being descended into the water, lowered down by a chain. Oliver could do nothing more than sit and watch helplessly as three armed men pulled the motor and cruised up beside his meager lifeboat, kicking up spray and sending him rocking back and forth.

"Get out," one of the men said. They were virtually indistinguishable, due to the black ski masks each wore. They were wearing full tactical gear and each had a gun trained on Oliver.

He had no choice but to comply. Against this many men, unarmed, weak from his ordeal, he had no chance.

He stood up, shakily trying to steady himself so that could maintain his balance and get into their small craft. They said nothing, just stood watching impassively, all of them visibly armed and threatening.

"Is Sara alive?" Oliver asked, his voice hoarse. There was no reason to try and hide her name or her existence from the men. If they were behind the boat explosion, then they already knew about both him and Sara.

"Sit down. Shut up." The man gestured with his gun, and Oliver let himself fall to the bench on the side of the boat. He needed to accept that he would receive answers only when they wanted him to. It wasn't supposed to have happened like this. It was supposed to have been easy.

The masked men pulled him from the craft into the monstrous boat and dragged him through the levels of twisting corridors. Oliver did his best to pay attention, memorizing the landscape and layout, in hopes of a potential escape. But that seemed unlikely now. They hadn't blindfolded him. That meant he was unlikely to be alive for much longer.

Eventually, they brought him to a dark, dank room that smelled of mold and fear. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, hardly caring what they did to him.

They slid open a cell door and roughly tossed him inside. He picked himself up onto his hands and knees and dragged himself to the small cot in the corner. "What do you want?" he croaked.

"What do I want? That's an interesting question. I'm hoping that you'll be able to help me with that."

Oliver raised his head, noting the new figure that was now standing there. He had slicked back auburn hair, and a thick mustache of the same color. He was wearing a white button down shirt that was casually unbuttoned at the top, and he was staring at Oliver with poorly concealed malice. The man looked unhinged, dangerously so.

Eddie Fyers.

"You're Fyers." So this was it then. He was going to die. He wished that he could have a chance to say goodbye to the people who were important to him. Maybe just change one or two things.

Laurel…

"And you're Oliver Queen."

Oliver felt the surprise register on his face before he could stop himself. That Fyers knew they were coming was obvious. But knowing his name?

"Don't look so surprised. You think I wouldn't know the son of the great Robert Queen?"

"You don't know a damn thing about my father." Oliver tried to growl. He failed.

"I know far more than you'd think," said Fyers. "And you're going to help me find even more."

He turned and stalked in the opposite direction. Oliver forced himself to his feet and wrapped his hands tightly around the bars. "Where's Sara?" he screamed. "What did you do with her?"

But there was no answer beyond the mocking laughter that followed Fyers out of the room. Oliver felt desperation clawing at his windpipe.

They're going to come for me.

They're going to come for us.

I'm going to die here, cold and alone, and no one will ever know what happened.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I plan for each chapter to be around this length. Hopefully with less time between updates once summer is here. Let me know what you think. This is my first public fanfiction and any feedback is greatly appreciated.