Guardian Angels
Summary: AU/ After five years in hell, Oliver Queen has returned home with only one goal – to save his city. Unfortunately, nobody told him he'd have to wait in line.
A/N: Okay, I've switched the sequence of episodes around here a bit, skipping Damaged for the time being (we will return to it later) due to the changed events in chapter 2. Oliver never takes his costume out of a dumpster at the Exchange Building, so Quentin doesn't really have anything on him.
Chapter 4: Marked Cards
How did he end up in this?
A question Oliver had been asking himself for the last ten minutes or so while he lay head-down on the floor uring a bank heist he was trying to stop. There was nothing wrong with his memory, of course. He could recall with perfect clarity the moment he'd walked into the Queen mansion parlor to find Diggle accepting his offer and he certainly wouldn't forget the man's dirty trick in getting him involved in the bank heists. Oliver's initial refusal had a good reason as he'd told Diggle. These robberies were merely a symptom of the virulent cancer that festered in Starling City. He was fighting the tumors themselves, those who caused the suffering. He'd gladly have left the rabble to the Black Canary. A smirk pulled at his mouth at the thought of what she might have to say to the highhanded way he chose to delegate. A few unkind words might be the least of his problems. Then his mind refocused. He retraced the case thus far quickly, reminding himself of the reasons he was there today. Diggle had lured him to the hospital using a name on his father's list, only to rope him into providing the much-needed medical care for the cop injured in the gang's first robbery in his city. Confronting him with the man's worried wife, her entire face screwed up in fear, tears threatening to spill at any moment – Diggle really knew how to push his buttons.
"I'm not the kind of man who walks away from someone who needs help," Diggle had said. "And, I think, neither are you."
Angry at first, angry enough to give his partner the could shoulder the entire way back to the lair only to berate him once there, the face of that woman kept haunting him. Every time he raised his voice to Diggle, every time he opened his mouth to issue protest, her face reappeared before his mental eye stricken with grief already as if not daring to hope for her husband's survival. As if she had been expecting this all along, expecting to get a call from the precinct or a visit from one of her husband's fellow officers to bring her the worst news. And maybe she had. Maybe that's what all husbands and wives of people in high risk jobs expected. The knowledge had thrown his mind to the question of what would happen to his family if he died while out as a vigilante. To them he was a playboy millionaire with a crazy idea about opening a night club, so the party would never end. They did not expect him to die, to risk his life. And if he did, they'd be told of his death in the same breath as they'd find out his double life. He wondered who they'd hear it from first, the press seizing on a story that would be worth his weight in gold, or would the police get there first? Would they be discrete enough, kind enough...
He'd quickly stamped down upon that line of thought with a viscious snarl that had startled his partner enough to take a step back, thinking perhaps that Oliver was about to turn his skills onto him. Instead, after one last flash of the woman's stricken face as her husband was pushed into the hospital on a stretcher, Oliver had made his way over to the computers and checked the footage from the robbery. Diggle, thankful but aware of Oliver's remaining bad mood, had remained blissfully silent throughout the entire search, even as they both must have realized that there was one less person running out of the bank in fright than there had been on the bank's own security footage before the cameras were destroyed. The missing woman was no doub an accomplice. The gang's inside woman and how they discovered that the cop was about to take action. Reviewing the footage of the shooting, Oliver noticed that the robber who had shot him – Ace – had also punched him for good measure. He could see that they were not wearing gloves and that something indistinct was on the robber's hand, glinting into the camera. From there it had not been difficult to obtain the evidence the police had collected, including a picture of the imprint the ring had left on the cop's face. Associating that with a local high school, they discovered Ace's name. Kyle Reston, disappeared five years ago right before his senior year. His family, consisting of his father, mother, and younger brother, disappeared with him.
"A family business," Diggle had muttered questioningly.
Oliver's brow had furrowed, wondering why an entire family would decide to give up their lives in order to go on a a crime spree across prominent city banks. Scrunching his nose up in confusion, he decided to ask them when he met the so-called Royal Flush Gang. If they were the family he had discovered, that was. His gaze lowered in thought. It made sense to an extent. Whatever their original motivation, a family unit was tight-knit and trusting; two vital attributes if one wanted to commit a series of perfectly timed bank heists across the country. Something still didn't quite fit, though. Why take one's children out of school, why disappear off the face of the earth so completely in the first place. He had turned to instruct Diggle to dig deeper and find out what made this family snap when his gaze had fallen on his partner's watch. He had jumped up immediately, toppling over the chair with the sudden movement. Diggle had jumped then, too, not expecting Oliver's reaction. The vigilante had managed to bite out a few instructions as he had rushed out the door to his perfectly boring brunch with Janice and Carter Bowen.
He had never been so glad when Diggle had finally called to give him the bad news.
His father's involvement had further changed the situation. If he hadn't been one hundred percent committed to solving this case after seeing Jana nearly crying at the hospital as they had rolled her husband in, he certainly had been convinced then. His father's empty promises and backstabbing tactics had caused this family to lose everything and find solace and subsistence in a life of crime. He had to right this wrong. He had to make up for his father's sins. So when Diggle had protested that he was applying a double standard, he had brushed him off. Oliver had been fully aware of that, but nonetheless unable and unwilling to act differently. He had needed to find the Restons and at least offer them an alternative before he confronted them as the vigilante. Before he could dive into all the possible hideouts and haunts that the family might have chosen, Diggle had handed him a small slip of paper with the name of two renowned banks.
"In each city the Royal Flush Gang pulls three heists in prestigious banks, all within a week. They usually come in quick succession, so today you and I need to be at these banks in case something happens."
"And what, just loiter about?"
"They always hit during lunch time when the fewest number of people are about. The banks should have beefed up their security if they did their homework, but – well..."
"They're banks," he had replied. It seemed the 'it won't be me' mentality was pervasive in all aspects of life and business. Additionally, bank security was not supposed to be too visible in banks that prestigious. Customers were supposed to feel safe not under scrutiny. These banks may rely more on electronic and other non-human security measures. "So, we give them business. I already have an account at Starling National. It won't be suspicious if I wanted to review my account."
He had then proceeded to pull several thousand dollars out of his wallet, to the astonished eyes of Diggle. He had given Diggle the money, so he could prove that he could make the necessary first deposit if it came up during the initial consultancy they had agreed Diggle would request at the other bank. Which was how Oliver now found himself in the middle of a bank robbery, lying on the ground reminiscing on how he had gotten himself into this mess. Diggle had taken his gun, but Oliver had to improvise a little. Counting on the fact that they would try to make their way to safety underground again, he had chosen comfortable dark trousers and a green long-sleeved shirt of firm cloth. It was hidden under his high-collared dark suit jacket. He'd folded the ski mask from his trip to Iron Heights into a small bag he put into a suit case and added his armed wrist bands. Luckily, banks didn't yet x-ray their clients' possessions. He wouldn't have to worry about being caught on camera with the mask as the family was sure to destroy them again. In fact, that was exactly what had happened the moment the Royal Flush Gang had control of the room. Oliver, though not bothering to look up, could hear the distinct sounds of several things shattering. After that, everything went relatively quickly. Within minutes the family had gathered the money. Their guard, Ace, had been going around among the hostages in random patterns, but now his footsteps could be clearly heard to take a distinct direction. Oliver risked a glance up and realized he had been called into conference by King, probably his father. Oliver took a calming breath; whatever escape plan they had come up with, it would take place soon. He needed to be ready to go after them. He had positioned himself on the outskirts of the pool of hostages, thereby also away from the cameras, so he could slip away when necessary. He was readying himself to do just that, to jump up and follow after them when Ace returned and pulled him up roughly by the elbow. Instinct from years of training had Oliver want to react, to take his aggressor out, but he fought his instincts down and remained passive. Ace brought him round to face him, the barrel of his automatic weapon coming up to cover where his lips would be if not for the mask, signaling him to shush.
"Everyone be quiet and still!", he addressed the other hostages. "If you follow orders, you'll walk out of here with nothing but bad memories, but if you try anything funny..." He shot a trash bin for emphasis. A frightened shriek went through the crowd. Everyone jerked at the sound, tensing up and subsequently keeping as still as possible. They were frightened enough that the gang's leaving would probably even go unnoticed. In any case, they would not move for fear of retribution. Not for a long while, probably not until the cops moved in at the extensive silence from the bank.
"Nobody move!", Ace emphasized anyway, angrily shouting at the group of hostages, who shrunk away from him further in response. Then he grabbed another hostage, the woman who had disappeared with them the other time as well, bringing her over to the back of the bank. He turned to Oliver and the vigilante could hear the guy's smug grin in his quietened voice. "You're coming with us."
Upon seeing him, King grabbed Ace's arm.
"What's this?! What's he doing here?"
"The police know how we escaped the other bank. They'll expect it this time," Ace argued. "We need a hostage and what better one than Starling's prodigal son." He gestured in Oliver's general direction. Oliver could tell from the remaining tension and jerk of movement in King that the father still had something to say on the matter, but refrained from doing so to avoid divisive consequences or a delay in their exit strategy. The vigilante mentally grit his teeth, mourning briefly the loss of his suitcase with the ski mask and arrow wrist bands inside. He would have to adjust his plan; he couldn't risk revealing his level of fighting skills, but Ace might not give him a choice. If he intended to hospitalize Oliver the same way he had the guard or even kill him, the vigilante knew he would be forced to act, potentially announcing his secret to a gang of bank robbers and, if they were caught, the police. Which would mean that he would have to silence the family. He did not relish the idea and it only made him feel worse when his mind flashed back to Deadshot's accusations. If Oliver could envision killing four people in cold blood to keep his secret, people his family had wronged, perhaps they were more similar than he had liked to admit so far.
He was roughly brought from his thoughts by the deafening sound of an explosion, followed closely by being shoved into a room full of concrete dust. Oliver's lungs seized up at breathing in mouthfuls of dust particles. He was thrown into a violent coughing fit that had his body move involuntarily to curl in on itself while he was still standing. Ace didn't grant him even a moment's respite and instead shoved him again, this time into a hole in the ground. Oliver fell gracelessly, partially because he couldn't permit himself to soften the fall much or risk giving himself away, and partially because he was still mid-cough when the floor suddenly vanished on him. The impact of the ground below hurt, his left side going somewhat numb, but he didn't think anything was seriously broken. He felt the reverberations of four sets of boots dropping onto the ground around him before he opened his eyes. Ace pulled him up without a moment's hesitation and dragged him along the tunnel. Oliver took in his surroundings. He noticed that, while Jack was walking behind the woman, she was being neither held nor shoved, confirming what he already knew about the group's make up. Each of the men had a large bag slung around their shoulders containing the bank's monetary reserves. King led at the front, following by Ace leading him, then the mother, then Jack. The structure was not advantageous for him to act against them. He could disarm Ace easily, but he'd be facing a battle on both sides, blocking any escape route or path to cover in the tunnel, so unless he was planning to take his own hostage...
Before he could contemplate the matter further, a surprised, undignified grunt caught all their attention. Out of nowhere a black figure had gotten the drop on Jack, literally. Black Canary had somehow managed to get one leg over the man's shoulder, while fixing the other under his armpit. Oliver figured she had been lying in wait for them somehow clinging to the ceiling and had dropped down onto Jack at the opportune moment. Using the momentum of her fall, Oliver caught sight of her as she flipped the younger son over, so he was lying on the ground with her knee in his back. Without hesitation, Oliver used the opportunity the family's confusion granted him to squash Ace against the nearest wall of the tunnel, delivering a precise strike to the man's hand in order to make him lose his weapon. His mask came off and Oliver used the opportunity to slug the guy in the face with his elbow. Removing the money bag and the gun and throwing them away blindly, he felt two hand grab hold of his suit jacket and turn him around, then Kind landed a punch in his face. As another punch flew toward him, a small metal bar collided with King's arm before it had fully stretched out. The pain of the metal striking skin and bone underneath made Oliver's assailant retract his limb to cradle it against his chest. Oliver allowed himself a brief glance toward the woman vigilante, seeing the end tail of her throwing the other woman over her shoulder. He also saw that Jack's money bag had been thrown several feet back the way their little group had come along with his gun. Black Canary didn't bother to check if the woman would get back up again, instead moving decisively toward King, she was interrupted when Ace grabbed her around the middle, trapping her arms and lifting her. Oliver dove for the metal stick and, still kneeling on the ground, struck the man's thigh just as she slammed the back of her boots into him. Ace let go and was unceremoniously thrown across her shoulder as well, angled so he would hit his rising brother. Oliver's head cocked to the side; she sure had an impressive awareness of her surroundings at all times.
"Thanks," she said to him, extending a hand into which he placed her baton. Then she turned her attention to King. Sliding her baton back into its holster at her thigh, she extended her hand to him too, presumably for the money bag. Gutsy move, but before she could say anymore, more footsteps could be heard, following by shouts calling for their surrender. The SCPD had caught up with them. After a moment's silence, King scrambled to get his family together, disregarding the two money bags that had been lost in the fight. Oliver could see the vigilante make a grab for her baton as if to go after them, but instead she maneuvered backward, herding him against a wall with her free hand outstretched to prevent him from circumventing her in presumed panic or to run toward the police. She kept herself between him and the Royal Flush Gang until they had disappeared from sight and then another moment. Now Oliver could see the light from the flashlights, no doubt mounted onto the police officers' guns. His heart sped up by several beats at the thought that she might be caught because she chose to protect him.
"Go," he whispered.
"You okay?"
Oliver's eyes widened. This woman... She had a knack for asking the right questions at the totally wrong time. Her concern was endearing, but counterproductive.
"I will be. Now go!", he told her hastily. "Please," he added as an afterthought.
She darted away without further ado, but the first officers were already rounding the corner and opened fire without so much as a 'freeze'. Oliver dropped, laying himself flat against the wall as he heard bullets penetrate concrete and ricochet from solid metal objects. All the while he listened for a feminine cry of pain or surprise, relieved beyond measure when nothing came until an angry voice questioned the officers' sanity for opening fire in the tunnel. Oliver took a deep breath; he had never been so glad to hear Detective Lance yell at people, especially people other than him. Nonetheless, he stayed on the ground until a firm hand on his shoulder made him look up. It was Lance's partner who offered him a hand to help him up. He gratefully took it, checking himself over to see if anything had hit him or if he showed any signs of combat, but there was nothing except a rumpled, dirty suit. Another relieved breath, then his attention was caught by the hostile face of Detective Lance. Oliver was immediately on alert.
"You make it a habit of getting kidnapped, Queen?", Lance asked unkindly.
"Quentin," his partner admonished quietly.
"Oh, come on. Twice since he got back-"
"This isn't my idea of fun, either, detective," Oliver interrupted angrily.
"Something we can agree on. What happened here, Queen?"
"I was at the bank to discuss some possible investment options when these four whack-jobs storm in and hold everyone at gunpoint while their raid the safe!", Oliver replied exasperatedly, putting just a slither of desperation in there as if he couldn't believe what had happened to him, that it had happened to him... "As if that isn't enough, they herd me and another woman to the back of the bank – toward an explosion – and push us into these tunnels to use as shields against the police. If the vigilante hadn-"
"Whoa, other woman?"
"Yeah, small, brown-haired, middle-aged. She was in the bank when those nutters took over. They took her away with them when you – oh God, they still have her; you've got to find her!"
"We will," Lance's partner promised him calmly. "Now, you mentioned a vigilante. Was the Man in the Hood here?"
"Ah, no, sir," one of the officers spoke up, having overheard. "It was the woman. She was standing over Mr Queen when we caught sight of her. That's why we opened fire."
"Is that supposed to make it better?", Lance questioned irritatingly.
"She was a potential hostile-"
"Who, by your own statement, was standing over an in- over a bystander, a hostage who could have been hit by one of your bullets as you fired at her!... Do me a favor, officer, go help find those bullets of yours before CSI gets here and has to comb everything, would you?"
Chastised, but with a look that promised rebellion on his face, the officer slunk off. The trio of Lance, his partner and Oliver watched him go, all with various degrees of irritation on their faces. Oliver quickly wiped his away when he realized, but he figured the detectives would take it as anger for being shot at or due to gratitude toward the woman who saved him. When he refocused his gaze, Lance was looking at him oddly. There was inquisitiveness on his face, but something else too. Something Oliver couldn't name before it was gone again a moment later. It was replaced with his previous hostility. That was something Oliver didn't understand. Detective Lance had arrested him before on occasion when he happened upon Oliver driving under the influence or abusing mild drugs at a party and he doubted the man approved of his womanizing lifestyle either, but all of that was more than five years ago. It was pre-island, and though he had maintained the persona of the rich playboy as cover, it didn't really qualify him for such open hatred on the detective's part. Come to think of it, the detective had had the same attitude when first interviewing him about the Hood after his and Tommy's abduction and then again at Laurel's apartment when the man had placed the responsibility for the attack squarely on Oliver's shoulders, even though the Triads had been after Laurel. He hadn't thought about it before because Laurel's passionate defense of him had overshadowed her father's deliberate accusation in his mind, marking herself as a potential ally (which was why her assessment of the Hood after Iron Heights had stung so much), but now it came back to the forefront of his thoughts.
"Why are you so angry at me?", he blurted out before he could stop himself.
Detective Lance scoffed.
"Where was your bodyguard this time, Queen? He wasn't among the other hostages cowering frightened on the floor."
"He was out on personal business," Oliver answered succinctly, but without letting Lance distract him from his line of inquiry. In for a penny... "Have I wronged you in another life, detective?"
The look on Lance's face turned downright murderous. Oliver took a shocked step back, not having expected this level of enmity at all. Lance's partner quickly stepped between the two and maneuvered his friend away, while informing Oliver that he could go for now.
"Come on, Quentin," he spoke calmly to the enraged detective.
"How dare he... You heard him!" Pacing for several tense seconds, he finally made a beeline for the exit.
"It's best you leave as well, Mr Queen. We'll see you at the precinct for your official statement."
"But what did I do?!", he half asked, half called after the angry man.
Lance rounded on him, and though he didn't come any closer, the tense posture and fists clenched at his sides stopped everyone dead in their tracks. Officers stopped working and looked uncertainly between the two of them. Oliver didn't understand what was going on until he recognized the looks on their faces – compassion, pity, suppressed anger, understanding. They all knew. They all knew why Lance hated Oliver so much. He was the only one left out of the – well, not the joke for this was clearly no laughing matter, but still. There was something that these men and women shared, a story, a pain and it somehow involved him – only, he had no idea as to how. Or how to make it right...
"You wronged me enough in this lifetime, you spoiled, self-centered brat! And the fact that you don't even know just makes it worse, cause it proves me right! You're so focused on your own sob story that you don't see the grief you cause others."
Oliver could say nothing to that. It hurt, because it was true. He knew nothing of Detective Lance's grief or even his own family's. Not really. He hadn't been the son, step-son, brother or friend any of them deserved because the mission came first.
"I'd really hoped you'd rot in hell a lot longer than just five years," the detective added quietly, drawing Oliver's attention again. Despite his hateful words, now the man just looked defeated. Lost.
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
(Ted's Gym – back room)
"I was right!", Laurel announced, chirping, as she entered their secluded base of operations. Pulling her domino mask off her face served to brighten the triumphant smile she was sporting a little more. She quickly grabbed a pad and some make up remover, dabbing at it and then carefully wiping away the water-resistant dark face paint she always applied around the eyes before donning her mask. It was quickly followed by that grizzly dark lipstick she used. She hated that color. In her opinion, coupled with her pale complexion, it made her look like a vampire. She unzipped her leather jacket and flung it over a nearby stool. "The robbed Starling National this time. Good thing I was close by when the news came in."
"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," Ted answered, scrunching up his nose. "Although, technically, you were only half right."
She looked at him nonplussed.
"The vigilante wasn't there."
Laurel grabbed a water bottle and sat down on the chair next to his, swinging it around so she could face him. Momentarily lost in thought, she took in a few gulps of water. If there was one thing Ted had drilled into her, it was how important it was to keep hydrated. She drank slowly, then folded her legs underneath her body on the chair.
"Yeah, I guess street crime isn't really his milieu," she mused out loud. She had become so used to run into him on the job that she had somehow expected him to show up there as well, but now that she thought about it, he did seem more involved in high-profile crime. She'd never heard of him taking down a street thug, except that one time he came to help her at CNRI. That situation reminded her of how they first met, though, and she was sure he had merely been ready to delay his hunt for Somers to help that woman. He had certainly not been there looking for a bunch of douche bags.
"Oh great, an elitist murderer. Just what this city needed," Ted chirped with false enthusiasm. Laurel cast him a look, but Ted just shrugged his shoulders at her irritation. "Don't look at me like that; he is! You know he is. Why do you think I want you to steer clear of him?"
"That's not all he is, though," Laurel said quietly, not wanting to throw into this conversation how sure she felt that he wouldn't hurt her. They had built a rapport in the short time they had grudgingly worked together, either as Laurel or as Black Canary. True, his... actions at Iron Heights had scared her, maybe even scarred her. Such unchecked anger – there had been so much pain and rage in his eyes! It had left her wondering if maybe everyone else in her life was right about him. That this man had chosen his path and didn't deserve another chance, that he couldn't be saved. But he'd also stopped when she had asked him and clarity had returned to his eyes. His had been a gut reaction; he had wanted to protect her and had been angry for her, but he had not been beyond her reach. He had not been beyond human reach, but she also meant what she had said to her father. There had been no remorse even as his gaze cleared and it scared her. His tranquil look still gave her nightmares! Maybe it was just as well that she hadn't met him today. She wasn't sure how she would have reacted. She might have risked to blow her cover.
"Look," Ted finally said, quietly. His tone indicated that he wanted to make peace. "Far be it from me to tell you who you can and cannot help – and I know you're still mad about the Deadshot incident -" Here, he paused for a moment as a flash of that irritation made its way onto Laurel's face. "If you want to try to... help him, I will support you. We are in this as a team, but I also want you to remember that this guy has put people in the morgue already and, whatever triggered his crusade, I don't think he's done. I want you to remember that. I want you to remember that he's ready, willing and able to use lethal force. He's dangerous; never forget that – for your sake and his!"
A tentative smile blossomed on Laurel's face. She nodded softly to show her assent, then shifted on the chair to move closer to Ted. Without a word she gave him a hug. She buried her head in his shoulder and allowed a single tear to slip out. She had been so worried, so worried to lose his support over this constant issue of her tentative camaraderie with the green-clad vigilante. She knew Ted disapproved of her attempts to gain his trust, to grow closer to him, knew he didn't understand what she saw in the other man. To him the hood was definitely an executioner and nothing more. To be honest, Laurel herself wasn't quite sure what she saw in the archer, but his willingness to compromise with her after two days had sparked something in her and whatever it was, she needed to pursue it. For his sake as well as for her own peace of mind. Peter Declan's case had further proven her point. He'd been so intent to save an innocent live... He could have just taken out Brodeur, but that wouldn't have saved Declan from the lethal injection and he cared enough to contact her to fight for Peter Declan's life. Just like he wore a hood to protect those whom he holds most dear from retribution and, she guessed, from his own sins.
"We need to find those bank robbers," she announced as she pulled away. "They're not done and if they were willing to take a hostage this time and shoot a cop the last time, I dread to think what they'll do next."
"Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise when that woman attacked you. I thought she was a hostage too. Instead she is their inside woman and it got me thinking. I went through the files your father forwarded to us again and realized that she had been the one to alert the Royal Flush Gang of the cop's presence. That's what got him shot and beaten."
He turned toward the computer in front of him and pulled up a picture. It was the imprint from where the hospitalized cop had been hit.
"I hadn't paid much attention to her the first time around – my bad, I thought she was just a scared hostage. This time I went back through the footage the police got from the bank."
"But I thought they'd destroyed the camera."
Ted grinned.
"They did, but they forgot to wipe the footage from before they entered the bank. The woman came in about ten minutes earlier, probably to do a final assessment on the bank's security and so as not to give in the eye by turning up right before the robbery. She was waiting in line in front of the cashier and the camera caught a decent picture of her," Ted explained, pulling up a black-and-white, slightly pixelated picture of the woman from the robbery. "I ran that through a couple of databases, cause I couldn't be sure where she's from. Turns out, she lived right here in Starling. Meet Amanda Reston; her husband worked in the Queen's factory in the Glades before it closed down five years ago. Using a clause in the workers' contracts Queen Consolidated even managed to weasel their way out of paying them severance packages. The Restons lost their house within the year. They were not the only ones, but they were the only ones who disappeared off the grid afterward."
Laurel raised an eyebrow. She quickly looked over the information Ted had compiled. Derek, Amanda, Kyle and Theodore Reston. Immediately following the loss of their house, Amanda quit her job as a nurse at Starling General, the teenage sons dropped out of school and the whole family disappeared. A missing person's was filed for each of them by a Brian Harker, another former employee at the factory and probably friend of the Restons. He supplied the police with pictures of every family member that were added to the file, though the police obviously had copies of their passport and driver's license photos. He must have been terribly worried, Laurel concluded, but unfortunately the police never found any trace of them. Until now, that was. She looked over the list of other banks robberies associated with the Royal Flush Gang.
"Look at that," she told her partner, pointing at the screen. "Coast City, Central City, Gotham City, Opal City, Dos Rios."
"All the places they robbed, so?"
"All these places are as far from Starling City as can be."
"Like they were trying to avoid it...", Ted mused with her. He gave her a look. "Then why come back?"
"A last hurray? End of the line," Laurel suggested.
Ted grit his teeth.
"Then it's probably a good thing that you got Queen out of there when you did. I can't imagine they chose him as hostage at random."
"You think they would have hurt him?" Laurel swallowed uncomfortably. They had never hurt anyone before the other day. They hadn't gone after the Queen family either, but it was possible that they had made their peace knowing that Robert Queen had died and the surviving members of the family suffered just as much. The family might have even considered the tragedy of the Gambit to have been an act of poetic justice. Oliver Queen's return could have triggered an irrational surge of resentment and a thirst for vengeance. Ace, probably the older brother, had proven himself capable of violence. Would he have killed the Queen heir once he and his family had made it to safety? Would the family have allowed it to happen, even approved? Similar thoughts seemed to run through Ted's head, because he said out loud what Laurel was afraid to even think.
"He is the son of Robert Queen and the only one who made it back from the yacht. If they're looking for a scapegoat, they might be looking at Mr Queen."
There was a moment of silence, before Ted spoke again.
"Is this when we address the elephant in the room?"
Laurel looked past him at the far right monitor where a news story was flashing across the screen about the new club Verdant that was set to open in a little while. She sighed quietly. It wasn't that she had deliberately avoided it, but she wasn't exactly keen on this conversation either. Even though he seemed more sombre – at least when he talked to her – than the reports from the paparazzi made him out to be, she had a hard time reconciling the image of the playboy billionaire with the suspicion that Ted and she herself nurtured.
"It must have occurred to you," Ted went on. "The timing is too perfect."
With a sigh, Laurel let herself fall onto the chair beside him.
"Yes, exactly, too perfect. If you had just returned from five years on a desolate island with some agenda to start a crusade on crime, would you be so foolish?"
"I never said he was smart; I said he was dangerous."
Laurel glared at him.
"Look, let me say what we're both thinking: it makes sense. He was alone on an island, he must have learned to hunt. What else would he have lived off; berries and roots?!... Then he returns and not a week later, a green-clad killing machine makes his debut. Green is not exactly camouflage in city streets, but it would blend in perfectly in a jungle environment."
"I agree."
"And you can't count his past reputation. Five years on an island would- wait, what?"
"I said I agree. The coincidence is suspicious, except for one thing: the bow. What, did they have a sports gear shop on Lian Yu?", she asked sarcastically, then held up a hand when Ted was about to protest. "If you're about to say that he could have made it himself, don't. Where would he have gotten the tools or the skill for that matter? I don't know much about bows, but I know you can't just use any old wood. And what about a string. Barring artificial ones, I think you'd need to use animal sinews. They need to be long enough too. Again, where would he have gotten the tools or the skill?"
"If he was alone," Ted interjected. "His word is all we got for that... Eighty per cent of his body is covered in scar tissue. Where did he get all those scars?"
"Living in a desolate place, learning by doing how to survive on his own and with no access to medical assistance or supplies, I'd be surprised if he didn't have scars."
"But eighty per cent, your honor?"
That earned him another glare.
"...I know. I'm not saying it's not suspicious or that we shouldn't investigate, but I'm not starting a witch hunt based on circumstantial evidence. All we really have is the timing, and, while suspicious, it could just be a coincidence. When I started; if you look hard enough, you'll probably find it coinciding with something of relevance."
"So we dig deeper. Let's see if we can find out where Oliver Queen was every time the Hood turned up. If we can prove even once that he was somewhere else, it isn't him, but if we can't..."
"Then Mr Queen will get a little visit from a bird of prey."
"If it is him, cornering him could be dangerous."
"Hmm, but he'd want to stay calm to throw me off. Unless I got a picture of him in costume, I don't think he'd want to reveal himself."
Ted said nothing to that. He wasn't sure he agreed, but he had to trust her instinct and he knew she could handle whatever Queen would throw at her.
"Try to get his medical records as well. The doctors' might have made note of what they think caused his scars."
"The hospital should have an electronic copy, but... I'm not exactly a hacker," Ted admitted. After a moment of thought he smirked evilly. "I think I'll need to delegate that to our friend in Gotham."
"Friend is saying a bit much... Don't you think he'll just get annoyed?"
"He's always annoyed. Besides, I can always tell him you'll scream his house down if he refuses."
Laurel rolled her eyes, but her gaze, like Ted's, fell on the little sonic bombs that lay neatly stacked in a nearby shelf. After the deadshot incident, they'd adjusted them somewhat, but they still hadn't been able to see if it had had the desired effect. If nothing else, they could suggest testing those if Grumpy, as Laurel liked to call Ted's friend (sort of), decided to be a pain about their request.
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(Queen Consolidated, IT Department)
Walter entered the secluded office without knocking and closed the door. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the slim blond move to gaze around her computer. The pen she had been chewing on fell from her mouth and clattered onto the floor. Walter paused for another moment at the door, waiting if someone had noticed him come in and followed him. He had thought of summoning Ms Smoak to his office, but decided that, even at this hour of the evening, that would draw more attention that simply making his way to her office. He had even brought his glitchy tablet to give to her to look at as an excuse. When everything remained quiet, he finally turned toward Queen Consolidated's most expert computer technician. She didn't look like much, particularly as she was slowly rising from the floor from which she had retrieved her pen. She waved it in her hand with an uncertain look as if she wanted to provide him with evidence that her dive to the floor had been necessitated by circumstances.
He approached her desk slowly, moving around it and pulled up a chair to sit beside her work station. Ms Smoak instantly planted herself on her chair, sitting so rigidly that she might give a statue a run for its money. There was the slightest tremble in her frame, but not from fear. Walter had been managing personnel long enough to recognize employee reactions and her involuntary twitch seemed more to be about holding something in that threatened to burst out of her at any moment. Maybe a barrage of questions or quirky comments; his head of security, Josiah who kept an up-to-date profile on all employees, had told him she was an odd duck but excellent at any type of research.
"Ms Smoak-", he began, but was immediately interrupted by the technician.
"Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to misappropriate company resources, but, well, I figured what with having given the name to the company – not to mention that it's boldly written all across the building – I figured granted certain benefits about using company resources for one's own purposes. I really didn't mean to get involved in the whole Unidac bidding war, particularly as the building turned into a literal war zone with all those bullets flying aroun- not that I knew anything about that in advance. All I had to go on was a demolished laptop from your rival Patel, and I told – I said I didn't want to end up in a Shakespearean drama about your marriage-"
Impulsively Walter covered her mouth with his hand. Josiah had certainly been right; Ms Smoak had quite a gob on her. He didn't know what to make of the word salad she had just spit out, but clearly someone from his family had used their position to obtain favors from the technician. Favors that ended up being connected to the shooting at the Unidac bidding. His face closed off. He couldn't believe Moira would place him and Thea – and Oliver if he had actually bothered to show up – in such terrible danger. Then again if she had paid to turn the bid into a war zone as Ms Smoak had put it so aptly... Although he couldn't quite see to what end she might have orchestrated something like that and 2.6 million seemed a bit much to pay even for a professional hitman.
"Felicity – is it alright if I call you Felicity?"
She nodded mutely, his hand still covered her mouth. He removed it.
"Start at the beginning, Felicity. What did my wife ask you to do and what did she use the 2.6 million dollars for?"
Felicity shook her head in surprise.
"What would Mrs Queen need 2.6 million dollars for? I mean that's a lot of shopping – not that your wife would use 2.6 million on blouses and pencil skirts... or anything. I mean... uh..."
Walter supposed they could be separate incidents, but if the money wasn't for the attack on the Exchange Building, then what was it for?
"If it had nothing to do with the money, what did Moira want from you?"
"Mrs Queen? Nothing. I've never even met her."
At Felicity's puzzled look, Walter raised both eyebrows. Had they been talking about different things the entire time?
"Wait, you aren't here to chew me out over helping out... Oh, well, then I guess I shouldn't have mentioned that."
"No, I came here so you could quietly trace 2.6 million dollars my wife took from the company to invest in a friend's business." He handed her the documents he'd uncovered so far. "I can't find out what she did with it, but Josiah assured me that you would be able to. Quietly."
Felicity took the documents and gave them a quick once-over. Mr Steele had actually been pretty tenacious in finding that missing money in the last few days, but he had run into several walls or followed red herrings. She was somewhat flattered that he would come to her with this problem – really, she should add personal researcher for the Queen-Steele men to her resume – but it did beg one unfortunate question that made her wonder if she really wanted to ger in the middle of this mess.
"Is there any reason to disbelieve Mrs Queen, uh, Mrs Steele – Mrs Queen-Steele? Did she hyphenate? She looks like someone who would hyphenate-"
"Felicity." His voice caught her to attention.
"Uh, yeah, is there any reason not to believe her?"
"That's what I want you to find out," Walter replied. He waited for her to nod, but stopped her when she moved to turn toward her computer to get started. "But first, back to that incident at the Exchange Building..."
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
(CNRI)
Laurel was busy filing away a few closed cases. She was glad they were finally off her desk and that CNRI had managed to get justice for most of the people involved. She didn't stack the unsuccessful files separately, but she knew every single one by heart. She used them to remind herself of two very important things; first, that you couldn't win every battle, and second, to keep on fighting even when you lost. Sometimes literally, she mused with a smirk, thinking of a few particularly nasty men and women who'd won their court cases, but gotten an unpleasant visit from one of the local vigilantes. She heard footsteps approaching and turned to find Joanna heading straight for her. The look on her face did not promise good news.
"I'm glad you have reached your quota of smiles for today," she said by way of introduction. "Because we have a problem. Stagg Industries has just announced that they're pulling out of CNRI's donor pool."
"What?! But they're one of our major sponsors. I'm not sure we can keep this legal office running without their contributions!"
"We're gonna have to find a way, because they got hit by that Royal Flush Gang's hit on the bank the other day. They had substantial amounts of money there and while the bank will have to fully refund them, that will take time, so they have to pull out on us, and I quote, "for the foreseeable future"."
Laurel groaned softly.
"What are we gonna do? We need another sponsor and quick."
"And until then we need money to keep CNRI afloat. Stagg Industries asked for a refund of their last donation." At Laurel's incredulous look, Joanna raised both her hands in defense. "Hey, I get it, they have to pay their employees... and they want to pay them in full. At least their's is an ethical choice."
Laurel hung her head in shame. Joanna was right. They may have a legitimate need for the money, but so did the company. They had a responsibility to their employees and at least they weren't leaving them hanging in the air. Laurel went through the list of their other sponsors to determine how they could make the rounds and ask for more money. Biting her cheek she realized that they would need to find a new sponsor to take Stagg Industries' place, at least for the time being. Before she could ask Joanna for her input on who to target – because really, that's what it was – more footsteps approached. Heavier than Joanna's, at first Laurel thought they were her father's, but instead she found Tommy Merlyn gazing back at her when she looked up from her thoughts.
"Tommy?", she questioned a bit surprised.
"Hi, Laurel. So, I realized that I never properly thanked you for your help with... the thing the other night that must not be named-"
"You mean when she saved yours and Queen's asses from Fuller's hooligans?", Joanna interjected dryly.
Laurel shrugged at Tommy's shocked expression as if to say 'duh, of course I told her'.
"Yeah, well, so I thought I could take you out for lunch. Even lawyers must eat, right."
Laurel opened her mouth to protest, but Tommy was faster.
"Look, I'm not coming onto you; that's why I said lunch. Nice and neutral, just a thank you," he emphasized, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made her wait for the punch line. "And if you happen to want dinner and a movie later, that'd be nice too..."
Laurel laughed gently. She knew it.
"You really don't need to thank me. You were in trouble, I could help. It's that simple."
"It really is with her." Joanna rolled her eyes, then turned to Laurel. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
They absconded together into a quieter corner of the office where Joanna proceeded to question Laurel's sanity.
"Weren't you the one to warn me about Oliver? Those two go hand in hand, you know," Laurel deadpanned.
"And I'm not saying jump into bed with him or play house," Joanna retorted, then caught herself with an apology for how harsh that sounded. "Look, he wants to say thank you, lunch really is pretty neutral as far as potential first dates go and his father happens to be Malcolm Merlyn."
"So?"
"He's nominated for this year's Humanitarian Award. Maybe he would be interested in getting more brownie points by helping a struggling legal aid office...," she suggested carefully.
Laurel's face hardened.
"I'm not using Tommy for his father's money," she said between gritted teeth.
"No, of course not," Joanna replied, emphatically. "That doesn't mean you can't ask if he'd think it would be a good idea to ask his father."
"Ask my father what?", Tommy asked them. He'd slowly moved closer when he heard his name being spoken a few times. He had just caught the end of Laurel's angry refusal to use him and had been half insulted at the notion of being used and half flattered that she would so vehemently reject the idea. As he listened in on the reply though, he realized that Laurel's friend sounded seriously worried. She didn't mean any real harm, her shocked expression at Laurel's implicit accusation had confirmed that. There was something sitting on her chest and he could see that it weighed on Laurel as well. Something must have happened before he came in because the two women had seemed a little down in morale when he had first joined them. Now he looked at them with an open expression, hoping to inspire them to confide in him.
"I'm sorry, Tommy. It's nothing, really."
Typical Laurel. He may only have known her for a few days, but even he could tell that. So he turned to her friend, whose name he really needed to catch if he wanted to stay on Laurel's good side. She seemed more willing to discuss the matter and utilize his connections, so it probably had to do with money.
"Stagg Industries, one of our major donors, just pulled out due to the bank heist the other day. They lost a lot of money and need even their last check back to fully pay all of their employees. Most of their other assets are apparently bound up in buildings or machinery and not easily liquidated. Thing is, we can't run this office without their contribution," Joanna explained. "I didn't mean to sound like I wanted Laurel to play the gold digger, but your father is a notable humanitarian in this city and I was hoping you might be convinced to help us request his sponsorship... I am sorry."
Tommy nodded. Personally, he didn't have the best opinion of his father or the other way around, but he knew that Merlyn Global supported several pro-bono projects in the Glades.
"I'll have to think about it. I know dad has Merlyn Global set aside a certain amount of money at the end of each quarter to support humanitarian projects, but I think all of that capital is already bound up in other projects. I'll have to double-check with him, though." He looked back at them. "Does that mean lunch is saved?"
Laurel opened her mouth to offer him to join them at their lunch table; she wasn't in the mood for something fancy now as it would only remind her of their financial troubles. Before she could do that Oliver Queen rushed into the office. He took one glance around the room, spotted them and stalked over to join them. He greeted his friend distractedly, the smile he offered Tommy not really reaching his eyes as his gaze rested firmly on her. Laurel went cold inside, thinking he might have recognized her in the tunnel and had come to confront her about her night-time activities. He looked worried and, thinking back to Ted and her father, she really didn't need another disapproving male to try to talk her out of it.
"I'm sorry for the rush, but can I borrow Laurel for a moment?"
The other two nodded and left to get some coffee. Oliver barely heard them, instead he grasped Laurel's armer rather more forcefully than he had intended and dragged her off to one of the small offices to the side that had a door for privacy. Laurel allowed him to drag her, even allowed his firm, almost painful grip on her arm. Oliver looked like he was in a right state, worried, scared, lost; she couldn't quite place it. Whatever it was that had taken a hold of him, he had chosen to come seek her out. She gulped, not knowing what she would do if he had discovered her secret. There weren't any police officers to arrest her, though, which she took as a good sign. She cocked her head to the side when he closed the door and drew the blinds. Best to go on the attack, she figured.
"I heard you'd been taken hostage. Are you alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?", she asked worriedly and it wasn't only a pretense. While he had seemed physically fine in the tunnel, she had had only a moment to asses his state, really. Then there was Ted's prediction that worried her beyond measure. What if they had come here to take revenge on the Queen family aside from their usual bank heist, right before they disappeared off the grid for a second time. A final time.
"I'm good. I'm fine, but... I met your father there."
Her eyebrows shot up. Now she was worried for an entirely different reason.
"He... said some things that didn't make much sense to me, but sort of explained why he has been so hostile ever since I returned. He basically said I ruined his life, but... I can't recall anything that I have done that might..."
She remained quiet. What had her father been thinking? No, that wasn't fair. His father was still so burdened with Sara's loss. They all felt it every day, but her dad... his was a special hell. Before, when he'd had alcohol to help numb the pain... Now he had to process it all at once.
"I know there are nights that I don't remember," Oliver admitted. "But I can't imagine... Laurel, what did I do to him to make him hate me?"
"Oliver, he doesn't hate you as much as he hates himself. He-"
"Laurel? Please, I need to know."
She sighed. She could feel tears prick at her eyes.
"When you first came to my apartment, I had thought it was over. I had brought you legally back to life; case closed. I didn't expect to see you again. That evening I thought it would keep building up in me until I blurted it out and it wouldn't make any sense to you, but... I wanted to tell you. I know you have a right to know. I know you need to know to understand, but... I can't, I'm sorry."
She made a move for the door. She'd just pried it open, but he held her back. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as if she could hold in the sob that built up in her throat. He let her go like she had struck him at the heart-wrenching sound. God, she hadn't expected this to hurt so much. She knew it would be hard to talk about, but she'd always pictured herself more composed. It had been five years. She had spent all her tears already, or so she had thought. She could see Joanna and Tommy approaching from the other side of the room, both looked worried. She turned quickly to face Oliver, even though by then she was crying.
"Oliver, I'm sorry,. I know you need to know, but this... this I need time for. I need to think how- I'm sorry," she added in a whisper, before she rushed out.
Oliver wanted to follow her, but Tommy's hand on his chest stopped him.
"You really live on an island, don't you?", his friend asked, irritated. "What was that all about?"
"I asked her about her father's attitude toward me and... she just... I don't know."
"So you came rushing in here to corner Laurel because you needed to know something?! You couldn't approach it more delicately? You need to apologize," Tommy concluded angrily, but when Oliver made another attempt to follow Laurel, he stopped him again. "Not now. Now you need to give her space. Let her get her bearings. I'll go look for her."
With that he left his friend standing with Joanna. He only vaguely heard Joanna mention that it was not her place to tell Oliver. When he found her she was sitting on the roof, knees drawn up to her chest and head resting on her knees. Tommy quickly sat down beside her and placed an arm around her. She came willingly when he drew her in. She wasn't crying anymore, but her face was tear-streaked and her eyes puffy. He dug a pack of tissues out of a pocket and handed it to her. She let out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, but took the tissues gratefully to wipe her face and blow her nose. Tommy waited till she was done and calmly leaned against his side before he addressed her directly.
"I won't ask you any questions about what happened and I don't need you to tell me anything. I'm just going to suggest lunch at your favorite place again, but this time as an apology for my castaway friend who really doesn't know how to not be an asshole anymore."
Laurel laughed. This time he actually recognized the sound.
"Told you."
"I promise, if he ever does anything like this again, I'll sign him up for charm school."
The solemn oath made her laugh again and this time he cracked up as well.
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
(The next day; Queen Consolidated)
A soft knock on the door as he gathered up his coat and suitcase on his way out alerted Walter to the unexpected presence. Looking up, he saw Felicity Smoak stand half-way in the door, a smile so slight it had to be forced directed at him. At his acknowledgement she entered more fully, righting her glasses on her nose and pressing her tablet tightly to herself. Her rigid body language suggested that she was nervous, either still about their earlier conversation regarding Oliver's unexpected, surprising and somewhat alarming acquisition of one of Warren Patel's laptops, or about the favor he had asked of her. He immediately set down his things. A quick glance at the watch told him he would be late for brunch, but the chance to discover what Moira had been so intent to cover up was too important to delay.
"Felicity."
"I'm here to take a look at your computer, Mr Steele. I was told it has had a few glitches," she told him formally and loud enough for his assistant to gather her purpose. Then she approached his computer, reactivating it from the dormant mode he had put it on for his brief absence during the day. He wouldn't stay for the usual conversations after the food had been finished, but Moira had insisted on him attending at least that. He rounded his desk to watch Felicity work as she connected her tablet to his computer and transferred a few files.
"I'm afraid the money Mrs Queen... redirected," the technician formulated diplomatically, "was used to create an LLC called Tempest, but it's bogus. As far as I can tell, that LLC never truly saw the light of day. However, it was used to purchase a warehouse at this address..."
Walter looked from the screen to where Felicity was writing a few lines on a stick-it note. He vaguely recognized the address as being located somewhere on the far outskirts of Starling City and wondered what Moira could want with an empty warehouse.
"That's where the money trail ends, I'm afraid, and it's not very much to begin with," Felicity continued, biting her lip guiltily as if she expected him to get angry or disappointed. "The money that went into the purchase was only a drop of the money Mrs Queen... endowed the LLC with."
"Then what did she use the rest of it for?", he mused allowed.
"Your guess is as good as mine, sir, but..." She hesitated briefly, swallowing with difficulty. "Well, aside from a Shakespeare play, tempest is a synonym for storm."
She left him to ponder those words until she was half-way to the door, then she resumed her role as helpful IT employee.
"Just a program that got stuck running. Should be fixed now, sir. If you have any further trouble, IT is just a few floors down – not that you would have to come in person, you could just call – but you know that, of course."
In true Felicity character. Despite the new, disturbing revelations and the questions that came along with them, it made Walter smile.
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
(Queen Mansion)
The dreaded brunch with Carter and his mother was as uneventful and as irritating as expected. When his mother had first brought up the idea of inviting their old family friends for brunch, both he and Thea had shared a look. They remembered Carter well enough, but they remembered Moira's swooning over the boy turned man even better. Neither of them wanted to sit through brunch just to have to listen to their mother sing Carter's praises for the next week or so. So, they had both tried to bail out, albeit to no avail because Moira Queen would not take no for an answer from her children. When Walter joined them, asking what the commotion was about, they had turned to him for help, but he didn't know the Queens' tortured past with Oliver's old school companion and so had sided with their mother. The only upside was that, somehow, Tommy had arrived just in time for brunch, Walter had still been missing and his friend had gotten Moira to rope him into joining them. Oliver and Tommy exchanged a bored look for what seemed like the millionth time as Carter referenced his recent book on neurosurgery when suddenly the conversation took an unexpected turn.
"I wish I could do more for the less fortunate, though. I feel it is our duty to help, since we are so blessed, so I thought I could open up a free clinic in the Glades."
Tommy perked up at this rather noticeably.
"My lawyers are all over it, of course. Calculating the cost versus possible tax benefits," Carter continued, no doubt about to launch into another monologue of self-praise when Tommy interrupted him.
"Actually, I'm pursuing a similar goal," he announced to an astounded audience. Even Oliver looked at him slightly off, not sure if his friend was alright.
"You're going to open a free clinic," Thea teased. "You might wanna get a medical degree first."
The table chuckled.
Tommy put down his fork and dabbed at his mouth with the napkin before continuing. He wasn't the only one who ignored his salad in favor of this sudden turn in the conversation.
"Not quite, Speedy. A friend approached me yesterday. She works at CNRI – the free legal aid office in the Glades?", he said by way of explanation. As everyone nodded that they knew the office, Oliver felt a clot form in his chest. "They recently lost their most important donor, Stagg Industries, due to the bank heists and now they are in need of quick, financial support. My first idea was to talk to my father, but unfortunately, all of Merlyn Global's assets reserved for charity work are already assigned and without that money CNRI might have to close its doors."
The pang grew into a dull ache. He had been at CNRI yesterday, no doubt interrupting the very conversation Tommy was alluding to. He should have seen the worry creasing Laurel's face; in fact he had seen it, but he had been so consumed by his own worries that he had not bothered asking about them. She was supposed to his friend, a new friend perhaps whom he had only seen a few times, but she was supposed to be able to confide in him. She had been able to confide in Tommy. Now he couldn't help but think that his pushiness and near hostility had exacerbated whatever worries she already had in addition to the mysterious back story that connected their families somehow, leading to her unexpectedly bursting into tears. He hadn't felt so gutted since Laurel had flinched away from the vigilante, regretting their association. Now he had failed her as Oliver Queen as well.
"That's terrible," his mother was commenting on Tommy's announcement.
"Yeah, it can't happen. That's part of why I came here today, actually. While I enjoy the luncheon, I kinda came here to solicit you for money."
"Yes, of course, let me get my checkbook," Moira was saying, but Tommy held a hand up to stop her.
"No, no, not like this. Thank you, Mrs Queen, but I think we need to get more people together and get them to donate all at once."
"You mean like a fund raiser?", Thea asked.
"Yes, exactly. We just don't have anywhere to do it."
"Well," Oliver interjected. "The club isn't open yet, but we could use that. It has a large open space, enough for more than a few of our... blessed friends and their checkbooks." He nodded to Carter and the two shared a rare smile.
"We'll be there, of course, just tell us when and where," his mother immediately agreed.
"I thought about it, but the fact that it isn't open yet means that we can't really have that many people there. It isn't insured."
He knew he shouldn't, because Tommy was right of course, but Oliver felt a little slighted.
"We are," a new voice spoke up. Walter came into the room with quick strides, quietly apologizing to Moira for having been held up at the office. He took the last open spot at the table, opposite Oliver. "Sorry I'm late. There been some unexpected developments at Queen Consolidated. I needed to rearrange a few meetings."
He looked around the table with almost excessive cheer for his usual self.
"So, we're having a party, I gather?"
"We were discussing throwing a fund raiser for CNRI. Ms Lance's pro bono legal aid office," Moira explained. "It was Tommy's idea, but he lacks a space to invite the guests and naturally thought of us."
There was slight teasing in his mother's voice and Tommy had the decency to blush.
"Only with your permission, of course. I mean we could flaunt all regulation and have it at the club; it would certainly not be the first time and it would mean good publicity."
"Nonsense, of course you'll have it here," Moira replied with a chuckle. "I'll get the invitations sent out immediately and inform our usual caterer. They could get it done for tonight."
"Isn't that a bit early; maybe people have plans," Tommy suggested carefully.
"Ah, you're forgetting, we're the Queen family. If we call for a fund raiser, they'll throw aside their plans just to avid being the only ones not showing up for charity," Thea told him proudly.
"Guests of the Queen family twice in a day is a true honor," Carter added cheesily. Oliver gave him a wan smile for the effort.
"Sounds like a plan," Walter concluded.
He raised his glass and everyone toasted to the plan. Before the happy family brunch could resume, though, John Diggle walked into the room with a serious face. The mood became immediately quietened and even before Diggle reached him, Oliver forcefully smothered a grimace. His eyes had automatically fallen on his mother who had given him the briefest, but most disappointed look of his life. Then Diggle leaned down to murmur into his ear and Oliver had half a mind to ignore whatever it was he said, except that he mentioned his club's liquor supplier. That meant he had located the old drinking joint of the factory workers and his sources in the Glades. There was a chance that Derek Reston still frequented that bar and Oliver was loathe to let an opportunity to right his father's wrongs go by. He got up, ready to excuse himself from the table, but his mother merely waved a hand and sent him off. She didn't even look at him, while Thea glared at him – probably for abandoning her at Carter's mercy – and the look Walter was giving him was downright confusing. It was calculating in a way Oliver had never seen his stepfather regard anyone as if he were measuring Oliver.
Fighting down another grimace, he stood somewhat undecided for a moment. He didn't want to disappoint his family and certainly not hurt his mother to the point she couldn't even look at him, but ultimately he shifted uncomfortably away from the table and followed Diggle into the hallway. They stopped briefly for Diggle to hand him a small mechanic device he had brought from the lair, a bug Oliver intended to plant on Reston if he met with him. Oliver took it and went to gather his comfortable brown leather jacket. There was no need for the vigilante in this encounter with Reston; this was something he needed to do as Oliver Queen. So instead of doing a pit stop at the hideout, he took his bike directly to the Glades bar Diggle had indicated. It didn't look like much on the outside, but that was not unusual for the Glades. It wasn't far from the factory he was converting into a nightclub and he could see why the workers might have liked to hang out there. The bar was larger on the inside than it first appeared and, though a little dark perhaps, almost cozy. It oozed an intimate setting that the coworkers and friends would have appreciated. Oliver spotted Derek Reston without much trouble but coursed quietly when he saw Kyle Reston was with him. He approached the duo anyway and sat down at there table without hesitation.
"You!", Kyle was immediately hostile. "What are you doing here? Who told you you could sit?"
"Kyle," his father admonished, for which Kyle threw him a nasty look, but kept his mouth shut. Derek refocused his attention to Oliver. "This is not a place I would have expected Starling's Golden Son to turn up in."
"I came for you," Oliver told him directly.
Both sets of eyebrows on the Reston men shot up at that.
"When I was on... the Gambit, my father told me that he wasn't the man I thought he was. That he had made decisions he regretted, decisions that had hurt a lot of people," he explained calmly. "So, when I got back I did some digging. I found out what happened at the factory my father closed and how he treated his employees."
"As if we'll believe that you didn't know the cushion of privilege you were raised on was bought with the blood of people like us, Queen," Kyle spat hatefully. Oliver ignored him. There was no chance he could convince Kyle, but his father seemed like a reasonable man. At least he hadn't burst out into hate speeches so far.
"Then you know I was the foreman of that factory. Last time I saw your father was in my office when he told me he wouldn't close down the factory or fire anyone. That was a week before we turned up for work to find closed doors."
Oliver looked down at the table, ashamed for his father's actions.
"They hadn't even told us. Your father had lied to me and he even found a way to get out of paying us the money he owed us. Many families lost their homes, their savings, everything." Derek Reston's voice wasn't one of suppressed anger, which he would have a right to, it was one of defeat. Perhaps that was better, Oliver thought, a defeated man might welcome hope. And hope was what Oliver had come to give, however feeble an attempt it was to make up for what had been done to them.
Oliver took a deep breath.
"I can't undo what happened, but I can do something for you now," Oliver offered. He took the older Reston's surprised look as a good sign and continued. "I can offer you a job at any Queen Consolidated subsidiary. One call from me and you can start tomorrow. And if you know of any other families of the workers who need help, that offer stands for them as well."
At that point Kyle obviously couldn't keep himself in check anymore. He stood up with such a ferocity that the table shook and the chair fell over. Oliver looked up at him calmly, but the younger man's face had turned into a feral mask.
"You think wed accept charity from the son of the man who stabbed all of us in the back?! How dare you?", he questioned loudly enough for the whole bar to turn their attention on the trio. "You arrogant sod; think you can just waltz in here and use your daddy's money and reputation to buy us off! Fuck off!"
Oliver closed his eyes briefly. He got up to leave, but approached Derek Reston one more time, leaning in closely to create an air of trust and to drop his card on the table in front of him with one hand and with the other put the bug into Reston's jacket.
"Neither of us can go back in time, Mr Reston, nor can my father who regretted what he'd done at the end of his life and given an opportunity would do all he could to make this right. That doesn't mean we have to continue to pay for his mistakes."
After he left, Kyle remained standing a moment longer before angrily righting the chair and slumping back down on it. He turned his head several times between the door and his father's face with incredulous rage still showing clearly on his features. He gritted his teeth, sure now that he should have just shot the pretty boy bastard when he had the chance in the tunnels.
"Can you believe him?!"
"He was trying to make amends."
"Amends?", Kyle snorted, not believing what he heard. "There are no amends to be made. You were fired; the entire factory staff-"
"That's not Oliver Queen's fault, Kyle. He's not his father," Derek told his son emphatically. He lowered his voice drastically for the next part. "And I'm still not okay with the stunt you pulled yesterday! You can't just go around taking people hostage..."
"He's just as bad as his old man; they all are. They deserve to pay."
Derek shook his head slightly. There was no talking to Kyle sometimes.
"Maybe it's time to stop," he suggested. "After all, we've got a good amount. Enough to start over."
"I didn't give up my life to start over – we said we wouldn't stop until we were settled for good," Kyle protested quietly, but acerbically. "And we're so close! Isn't that what we came back for? Back to Starling where it all started?"
"Kyle, this city is too dangerous now. After your stunts with the police officer and Queen, the police will be gunning for us. And what about those two vigilantes? The woman broke your brother's nose and threw your mother to the ground! Who's to say it won't be worse next time?!"
Kyle's face was a storm.
"We agreed, and I'm not gonna settle for second prize. I'll do it alone if necessary, but I'm pretty sure Teddy will be with me on this one -" Which meant their mother's support as well. She'd never abandon her two boys. Derek felt a sense of despair take a hold of him. Queen's offer was good, better than the very real alternative of crossing off with the police and the vigilantes. From what he'd gathered, they'd only met the nice one so far. The other was a killer... "- unless..."
Derek's ears perked up. An out?
"I'm willing to quit early, if we go for the real culprits," his son suggested darkly, ripping Oliver Queen's card apart.
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
(Queen Mansion)
"Can you hold a charity event when the person whose charity you're holding it for isn't there?", Tommy asked as he stood beside Oliver while they both watch Laurel hasten through the Queen Mansion's majestic double doors. They had been in the foyer most of the evening so far, greeting guests as they arrived and directing them to the house's very own ballroom, then just to wait for Laurel. They looked on in astonishment as Laurel hastily navigated various security officers, coming to an abrupt standstill only in front of the two friends. Two members of Diggle's security detail were in irritated pursuit as she had gracefully danced around them, but Oliver held up a hand to signal them to let her be. Then he refocused his gaze on the young attorney who had her hands on her knees to catch her breath, but still had enough energy to glare up at Tommy for his remark. "And please tell me there's a dress in your enormous duffel bag somewhere... Delightful as you look in work out clothes, I think you might feel a little under-dressed in this crowd."
"That's what you get for not warning me more than a few hours before the fund raiser – which I didn't even agree to – that I am to make an appearance. I came straight from training," she told him off decidedly.
Oliver's throat constricted as he thought back to the events that had led up to her no doubt rigorous new self-defense training regiment. The night at the prison still did not sit well with him, but he had briefly forgotten it over the torment of his own mistreatment of Laurel. He was about to suggest that they could ask his mother or sister to lend her something when Laurel fully regained her breath and straightened herself up to continue.
"You're lucky you're so pretty, Merlyn, and that you're doing this for CNRI," she informed them. "And that I know how to multi-task."
She turned her head slightly to look beyond them as she spoke. Turning around both men noticed Laurel's coworker Joanna de la Vega approaching them. She moved past them for a moment to retrieve a suit bag from the cloakroom before she joined them.
"Of course there is a dress," Laurel was saying as she took the suit bag from her friend with a grateful smile.
"Then what's all that for?", Tommy asked, gesturing at the excessively large duffel the attorney was carrying around.
"It doubles as her purse," Joanna joked, earning a chuckle from them. "No, seriously though, do you take your own work out equipment to Ted's? I thought that's what a gym is for."
So that was who Ted was. The reference hadn't quite made sense to Oliver the other night at Iron Heights, but now it became clear. Ted must be her instructor.
"Well, my regular clothes are in there right now and later it will have to fit the suit bag and my sports wear. You included shoes, right?"
"I even included some jewelry and a hair brush," Joanna answered a little affronted as she pulled out an elegant, simple set of gold earrings and a matching necklace from her clutch. Oliver filed the thought that Joanna might have a key to Laurel's apartment away for future reference, but for now he decided it was time to step in. He had held himself in the background thus far due to what transpired the last time he interacted with Laurel; it wasn't something he wanted to hash out in front of everyone. Now, however, Laurel's need to change clothes presented him with the perfect opportunity to whisk her aside and have a brief private conversation with her. He stepped up to the group more fully, making sure there was a friendly, non-threatening smile on his face. He noted that though Tommy and Joanna regarded him with trepidation, Laurel didn't seem overly perturbed by his sudden proximity. He heaved a mental sigh of relief. Perhaps she had already overcome their little incident.
"I can show you to a guest room, so you can change..." He formulated it precisely as a proposition to offer her an out in case she wasn't as calm about his presence as she appeared. Laurel just nodded with a smile and took his proffered hand.
"See you in a few minutes," she said to the other two as she let Oliver lead her away. His grip on her hand was soft and warm, almost like he was afraid to send her flying. She smiled slightly; it was nice to know that he regretted his behavior from last time. She honestly didn't know what to make of hers, though. His request had been straightforward enough and certainly justified. He had a right to know why her father hated his guts so much. And while thinking about Sara still hurt, it wasn't enough any more to send her into tears. Usually. Somehow between everything else that she had going on in her life, CNRI and her extracurricular activities, it had made something burst in her, opening the proverbial flood gates on a jumbled mess of much bigger issues. Laurel had felt herself be pulled under by the onslaught and had reacted in the only way she knew how – run for higher ground.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted when she walked straight into his broad back. Disoriented, she took a step back, smiling sheepishly up at him as he turned around to regard her. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts, she hadn't even realized they'd arrived. She let go of his hand, her fingers twitching at the missing warmth, and slowly spun in a circle to take in her surroundings. A guest room, he had called it. It was almost as big as her entire apartment. The generous open space was kept in light green colors that contrasted the rich brown bookshelves, closets, desk and chairs nicely. She dropped her bag without noticing and went over to the floor-to-ceiling window, a small segment of which functioned as a door that led to the balcony. She stepped outside for a moment, pretending to look into the night. Instead she took in the two guards waling up and down the stretch of front lawn directly underneath her room. She might have to knock them out. Or... there was a tree nearby. If she could distract the guards somehow, she could make the jump. Finally, she relaxed for a moment to take in the cool evening breeze before going back inside. When she turned back to Oliver she couldn't help the brilliant smile; it was beautiful.
"My guest room is a closet by comparison," she teased sightly.
"Yeah, well," he smiled. "You can just leave your stuff here when you're done. The key is in the lock on the outside..."
He made his way to leave, but stopped just inside the door.
"I'm sorry... about last time. I was so focused on what I wanted that I didn't consider... I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I... Thank you, Oliver. I'm sorry too. I know you deserve the truth, I was just-"
He held up a hand.
"You weren't ready to share it with me then and you shouldn't feel forced...", he explained. "You tell me when you're ready. I've dealt with plenty of paternal disapproval."
The last was meant to be a joke, but Oliver realized by the stricken look on Laurel's face that it had fallen flat against reality.
"Sorry," he apologized again, even though he didn't know what for this time. "Well, I best... get back to the party, so you can..."
He allowed the sentence to trail off as he closed the door. Hovering outside for a moment, he wondered when he had become so inept at stringing a sentence together in front of a beautiful woman. He had told her a lie, of course. He had no intention of returning to the festivities. Tommy, and Joanna could handle the potential donors. They had the help and support of the Queen family name and most of its members to further their project. Meanwhile, he knew from listening in to the Restons' conversations that they were planning to hit the Queen Mansion tonight. For a moment, he thought the fund raiser might deter them from trying, but instead Kyle Reston had seen it as an incentive, an opportunity to get back at all wealthy families who treated their employees just like Oliver's father had. He made his way into his room, to where he and Diggle had smuggled his vigilante uniform. Securing the door, he made his way over to his closet and dug the gear out. One item brought a small smirk to his face. The mask he had been working on was finally ready for a test drive. He had had to experiment a bit to get it right, so that the mask wouldn't impede his aim or block his peripheral vision, but the extra bit of security in hiding his face had been well worth the wait. He changed quickly into his hunting gear and made his way toward the back window. Looking down, he found Diggle himself patrolling there as agreed and quickly dropped onto the ground beside him.
"Any sign of them?", he asked quietly, making sure to stay out of the light.
"Not so far. Maybe they saw us and decided to rob a bank instead," Diggle murmured back, not without a note of cynicism. Before Oliver could reply, a series of quiet rushing noises filled the air, almost like an arrow finding its target. He and Diggle took note of a few groans and thumps from where the outdoor guards were patrolling, as they pressed themselves in to the shadowy corner of the mansion. A moment later four black-dressed figures with their customized masks rushed out of the darkness of the nighttime garden to storm the house. By the direction they were taking when Oliver risked a glance, he guessed they intended to jump through the windows straight into the ballroom, thus circumventing the rest of the private security force. Once inside with a hundred potential hostages, security wouldn't dare storm or take any other action against them. Oliver rounded the corner to shoot off a single arrow. It embedded itself right in front of Ace's foot, making him stumble and drawing the attention of the entire family. The second arrow, fired in quick succession, disarmed the boy where he stood.
Oliver took the moment of their perplexity to bridge much of the distance between him and the Royal Flush Gang. He felt more than heard Diggle approach with him, gun raised. As they approached Oliver noticed that they were all carrying something that dully reflected the light on their backs. He couldn't quite make out yet, what it was, so he chose to cock another arrow to disarm the younger brother. Of the four family members, they had been the most vocal about getting their money's worth, though only Kyle seemed to have actively delighted in the idea of revenge. Oliver let loose his third arrow, but Jack pulled something over his shoulder that the vigilante now recognized as a riot shield. It deflected the arrow and Oliver cursed internally. He had known Kyle had absented himself from the family for 'preparations' as he'd called it, but he hadn't realized the guy would go obtain extra gear. Being close enough then, he also recognized the tranquilizer guns, probably a concession to Derek Reston who had repeatedly insisted on nobody coming to serious harm.
"This time we came prepared," Jack aka Teddy Reston taunted and ran right into him with his own riot shield. Oliver had to move backward as the other man pushed. Though he had fired another arrow, it too had been deflected. Gritting his teeth, he ducked to grasp onto the lower end of the shield and rip it upward. As it left Jack's midriff unprotected, Oliver turned to move himself inside the shield, grabbing onto the boy's arm to keep it steady and smashing his elbow into his gut. He heard Jack wheeze right next to his ear, extended his arm once more and this time struck him in the face. The shield came loose in the boy's grip and, noticing movement from the side, Oliver took it with him as he twisted away. Immediately, King was on him, placing himself between the vigilante and his son. Even in the darkness and shadowed further by the mask, Oliver could tell that Derek was afraid for his son's life. Something twisted in the vigilante's gut at the sight, rendering him immobile for only a second, but long enough that King's wild swings could knock the riot shield right out of his hands again. Brutally forced to let go, his grip ripped open by the father's strike, Oliver's hand and arm flared up with pain. He grunted at the sensation, trying to blink the tears the pain had sent to his eyes away. A quick shove with King's shield and Oliver fell to the ground. For a moment he was disoriented, shaking his head to clear his vision. He vaguely noticed King approach him carefully and managed to kick the man's legs out from under him when he was close enough.
Oliver vaguely saw Queen look between all the combatants, unsure what to do, aiming her stun gun here or there. Obviously she wasn't confident enough in her ability not to hit one of her loved ones. Diggle meanwhile was confronting Ace, trying to get around the protection of the shield without having to fire his gun. Maybe because he didn't want to alarm the guests, or because he didn't want to shoot the brat or both, he had holstered the deadly weapon again. Thus the fight between the two man was a sequence of dancing around one another and shoving heavily on each other, with Diggle trying to maneuver his hand over the shield once to get to Ace's eye. Ace ripped the shield up so quickly, Dig had to take a step back and cradle his arm against his chest as the shield had raked against it. Finally, Dig kicked at the shield to drive Ace away from him, pulled out his gun and shot at the leg area. The shield didn't resist the onslaught from the bullet, but either it was strong enough to deviate its course or Diggle hadn't aimed specifically at the body part, perhaps intending to scare Kyle Reston rather than hurt him. The shield hadn't broken, though it had been penetrated and Ace wildly swung it at his partner to knock the gun out of Dig's hand. Queen also seemed to have decided where to focus her attention because she pulled forward her own riot shield.
Together with her eldest, she moved against Diggle, herding him toward the low stone wall of the terrace where they could tranq him without difficult. Once they had him pressed up against it, Ace shifted his position to push his mother away, crushing Dig to the wall by himself. The increased pressure on his chest area had the bodyguard struggle for breath. His arms and legs were stuck even against the weakened shield; he could feel them getting numb and his vision tunneling. If he didn't get to breathe in properly soon, he would be a goner. He saw Oliver try to reach him, but the vigilante was still struggling to get to his feet. He must have hit his head harder than Dig had initially thought when he caught the movement with his peripheral vision. His field of vision continued to shrink as he vaguely heard Queen appeal to her son, screeching at Ace that he was killing Dig. The last he saw this caught even the attention of the father. Then his vision went black. He could feel the muscles in his legs giving in, only the shield holding him upright anymore, and still the pressure would not cease. His lungs were burning, his racing heart was loud in his ears like, screaming for air. Then, all of a sudden the pressure lifted, and Dig crumbled to the ground.
Oliver watched in horror as Diggle lost consciousness with the riot shield still crushing his lung. He barely registered the screams and yells from Amanda and Derek Reston, calling for their son to stop. The mother was even pulling at the shield, but all in vain as the young man was a lot stronger then herself. Ultimately, it was another woman who removed Kyle Reston none too gently from Dig's unmoving form. Coming rushing up from the terrace, Black Canary executed a half flip that allowed her to grasp onto Kyle's shoulders. Then, mid-motion, she moved one hand off his shoulder to twist her arm around his throat. Using the energy of her movement as her feet hit the ground, she pulled him sideways away from Dig and let him go to stumble a few feet away from her. Not deigning Amanda Reston with so much as a look, she immediately set after the son to kick him. Kyle raised his battered shield in time, but the force of the kick still sent him stumbling further. In a rage, Kyle through the riot shield away and came at her directly. Not expecting the full frontal assault, he tore her to the ground with him, closing his hands around her throat. The image too close for comfort, Oliver finally found the strength to get up and fire another arrow. His aim was obviously still off, though, because instead of embedding itself in Kyle's flank, the arrow only scratched across his back. Still, the searing pain as the arrow head tore through even a thin layer of flesh distracted the man long enough for Black Canary to grab hold of one of her batons and smash it into the side of his face. With another yelp of pain, her assailant rolled himself away from her. As she got up,
Amanda shoved her to protect her son. Landing on her back again, Canary grunted more in irritation than in pain. Clearly, she had underestimated the strength and readiness for violence of a determined mother. A kick landed in her side and she hissed. A second one followed quickly, but when Amanda hauled her foot back to land a third hit, the vigilante shifted onto one side, using her elbow for support, and struck her upper leg out toward the other woman's shin. Once her leg gave in and brought her down onto the same level as Canary, one foot found purchase on the woman's midriff. Lifting the other over the woman's head to grip her, Laurel twisted her body to make Amanda fall forward, hit her heat and roll across the ground none too pleasantly. Righting herself by rolling backward than pushing up to stand on her hands, Laurel hastily blocked a punch by Kyle, then ducking under the next to hit him in the ribs. Bringing up her elbow from the crouched position, she struck him across the face breaking his nose. The resulting gush of blood trickled across her arm and made Laurel grimace.
Oliver, meanwhile, had his own problems. Though he was on his feet again, the arrow he had fired at Kyle had inflamed Derek again. Despite not being okay with his son's violent temper, he clearly had a strong instinct to protect him. Oliver tried to defend himself, but at first the dizziness increased because he was moving too quickly for his jostled mind to keep up with. While managing to disarm Reston when he dropped his guard to point his tranq gun at him, he barely evaded the repeated strikes with Derek's riot shield until finally he grasped an arrow. He couldn't shoot it directly at Reston as it would never get past his defenses, not was his aim particularly good at the moment, so instead he waited for another attack. When it came, Oliver twisted away a little more clumsily than usual, but managed to stick the arrow into the other man's arm manually. A quick kick sent the man flying.
"Don't pull it out," he warned. "The only thing that hurts worse than an arrow going inside is trying to remove it again. You'll just rip out flesh."
That said he made his way toward Diggle. Black Canary seemed to have the situation well enough in hand to warrant him a moment of checking on his friend. Casting a glance at her continued fight, he noted that she was just hitting Kyle with a crescent kick across the face to put him over the edge. Then Oliver noticed Teddy Reston take aim at her with his tranq gun. He had apparently regained consciousness from his earlier encounter with Oliver. His aim couldn't be trusted at the moment, so instead he chose to rush Teddy Reston. Slamming into his side sent them both toppling over. The impact and the rapid fall made blood rush to Oliver's head, making him dizzy again. Teddy easily threw him off in his state. The bank robber kicked him in the gut for good measure. Due to their position on the ground it wasn't very powerful, but it was enough to make Oliver chortle. Raising himself to his knees, Teddy struck Oliver once, twice, before fixing both his hands around Oliver's throat and squeezing. Oliver's knee came up against his back to dislodge him at the same time as a small, heavy boot shoved him unceremoniously off of the hooded vigilante. Teddy rolled away, letting loose a few undignified noises, as Black Canary kneeled down beside him.
"Are you alright?"
Instead of an answer, Oliver tried to get himself up, but the quickness of his motion only intensified the buzzing sound in his mind. He felt like his head was packed in cotton. Thanks to his repeated interference when he should have been resting his head injury, his senses were near totally muted, except for that incessant buzz that badgered his brain like a hive of hornets. He vaguely realized that her hand was squeezing his shoulder and that she was talking to him. At least he thought she did, because her mouth was moving, but he couldn't focus. Then, unexpectedly, she raised her arm in a protective motion, just before a riot shield could crash into her face. It still send her flying backward. He tried to get up again, rolled onto his stomach to raise himself onto his hands and knees. Just as he did that, he saw a shadow looming over him. Teddy Reston was raising the shield to smash it into his head or back. Oliver switched positions again to kick up as the shield came down when a shot rang out clear across the field. The sound pierced the preternatural quiet that had engulfed his senses, making him turn rapidly around just as Teddy crumbled in on himself, a gurgling noise escaping from his throat. There was an anguished cry from the side; Oliver could see Derek Reston shuffle toward them, but it was the Hood who caught the boy before he fell to the ground.
A quick glance backward revealed a reawakened Diggle as the shooter, just putting down his gun and letting his head fall back against the wall. Black Canary was the next to reach them. She took the boy from him and, as gently lowered him to the ground, his blood flowed freely over her arms and into her black ribbed shirt. She tore a piece of the boy's own shirt off as Derek stumbled toward his son. She lay the boy down onto his side and inspected the wound. The bullet had pierced his side just below the armpit and was bleeding profusely. The raspy sound of Teddy's breath meant that the lung had been torn and blood was leaking into it. Canary placed the cloth over the wound to apply pressure and looked up at him. They both shook their heads minutely.
"No, no," Derek cried as he watched the exchange. "Not my little boy, not my boy... Teddy, please..."
The commotion had roused the other two members of the Reston family, who came hastily stumbling forth to surround their boy. The Hood and the Canary both moved backward to give the family some space, leaving Derek Reston to apply pressure to the wound. The family was distraught; there wasn't a dry face among them when they shed their masks.
"The shot will have been heard," the Canary told them quietly, risking a glance at the ballroom where she could identify masses of guests crowded around the floor-length windows. "Someone will have called the police. Paramedics are on their way."
"They won't make it in time," the Hood deadpanned. He didn't believe in giving anyone false hope. "I'm sorry."
"NO!... No, come on, Teddy," Kyle demanded, pleaded, begged. "You can't die here. We gotta go to Mexico. The beaches and the girls – all the plans we had, remember? You're not gonna miss that, are you?... You can't die! It's all my fault; it was me! You can't, you can't!"
Teddy managed a bloody smile, but the rattling in his breath had increased. His body began convulsing almost immediately afterward, jerking uncontrollably until suddenly it stopped.
"No, no, Teddy, please no." Prayer and pleading were accompanied by wailing as the family mourned the loss of their youngest. Both vigilantes looked on a moment longer, but when sirens could be heard approaching they knew it was time to leave.
"Come on, we better go," Canary whispered, catching his gloved hand as she led him away. As the sirens grew louder, the two vigilantes made their escape around the house and into the forested area where they would be out of sight for a precious moment longer. There was an uncomfortable silence after the recent tragedy while they both caught their breath. Finally, Black Canary attempted to return to some semblance of normality, even though it felt cheap and callous. She couldn't stand this silence.
"I don't suppose you've got a cloth or something on you, do you?", she asked, vaguely gesturing at the blood on her arm. He inspected it carefully for a moment, but she didn't seem injured. "It's Kyle Reston's. I crushed his nose with my elbow."
He looked at her.
"The boy just died, I don't want his brother's blood on me," she said by way of explanation.
He just kept staring. Only now he realized that her arms were bare because she wasn't wearing her usual leather jacket.
"Where's the rest of it?" He gestured vaguely to her uniform.
"At the cleaners," she deadpanned. She hadn't bothered to put the jacket on when she realized the attack was already going down.
Right, Oliver thought. Ask a stupid question, you'll get a stupid answer. He quietened. Though there should be a million things to discuss, there didn't seem anything more to say.
"You didn't mean to let it come to this, did you?", she asked. "That poor boy; you were as horrified as any of them. You... regret what happened, don't you?"
There was a vague note of uncertainty in her voice that pulled at something in his chest.
"No one was supposed to die. Certainly not for me, certainly not that kid... They are just a family down on their luck since Robert Queen abused their trust and fired Derek Reston. There are hundreds of families like that in Starling-" He interrupted himself; there was nothing he could say. Nothing that would make this alright.
"Not all of them turn to crime," she told him.
"All the same..."
"He was aiming for your head. He would have killed you."
"That doesn't actually make me feel better."
"Then be better," she said simply. No directive, no challenge in her voice, no direct relation to their previous conversation, but just a statement. He could take it or leave it. He had no doubt which she'd prefer. It was what she had wanted from him from the start, he guessed, and, when he compromised with her, he thought maybe a part of him had wanted that too. At this point, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. Maybe things would be clearer tomorrow.
"You know, we gotta stop meeting like this." When she spoke again , she was several feet away as if she had been about to leave.
Against his will, this won a ghost of a smile from him. Instead of answering he threw her something from his pocket. He'd been carrying that around with him since his unsuccessful attempt at locating her when he needed her help with Brodeur's case. It had worked out in the end, but his inability to find her had nearly cost Laurel her life.
"I'd tell you not to bother trying to trace it cause you'll never get past the encryption..."
She waved the phone at him.
"But you know I'll try anyway."
They shared a chuckle that made him almost feel normal again.
ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow
Joanna and Tommy were rushing through the Queen mansion in search of their friends. The party had been abruptly interrupted by a single gun shot that had drawn everyone to the windows, only to see the Royal Flush Gang converge around a fallen body. Both of Starling City's vigilantes stood nearby, watching the scene. Joanna had been the first to call the police, even before seeing what was going on, then she'd grabbed Tommy and gone in search for Laurel. She figured Merlyn knew the house and his friend Oliver Queen better than her, so they could find them both together. Currently, Tommy was leading her straight to the other wing of the mansion. He stopped in front of a pair of double doors that looked exactly like all the other expensive, real wood applications in the house, but Tommy looked sure enough. Joanna tried the handle.
"It's locked."
Tommy banged on the wooden door.
"Laurel? Laurel, are you alright?!"
They stayed quiet for a moment, listening, but nothing happened. Tommy banged loudly on the door again and this time Joanna joined him, calling for Laurel. Tommy seemed so sure that this was the room Oliver would have led their friend to that Joanna's worry increasingly heightened into all out panic. She called her friend's name over and over.
"Laurel! Laurel, are you in there? Laurel, it's us! Laurel! Laurel..."
"Hey, what's going on," Oliver's voice reached them as he rounded the corner.
"Where were you?"
"I had... uh, company," he answered his friend sheepishly. "I heard the gun shot; what happened?"
"The vigilantes and the Royal Flush Gang had it out on your front lawn, and now we can't find Laurel," Joanna told him impatiently, just as the door opened to reveal a towel clad attorney, hair damp and eyes wide.
"Laurel...?", Joanna questioned softly, while Tommy and Oliver tried to decide whether to enjoy the view and risk a slap or avert their gaze.
"I'm sorry, I... I opted for a shower before slipping into the dress and then- the shot, at the shot, I locked myself in the bathroom, and then I couldn't... I- sorry." The words came out hastily, jumbled from fright and guilt at having abandoned her friends. When Laurel opened her mouth to say more, Joanna stepped up to hug her friend.
"I'm so glad you're alright."
Laurel immediately returned the hug.
"You too. What's going on?"
Joanna ushered her friend back into the room.
"You get dressed. The police is on their way and I think your father would murder these two if he found you in nothing but a towel," she told her friend, jerking her thumb in Tommy and Oliver's general direction. Then the door closed in their faces again.
"First Iron Height, now this. Laurel must think she's cursed," Tommy joked, then sobered abruptly. "She must have been so scared..."
"She was never in any danger," Oliver assured him calmly.
"You don't know that. There were two vigilantes and four armed bank robbers on the grounds. And where were you? Enjoying some 'company'..."
Oliver grimaced.
"Tommy-"
But his friend sighed and raised a hand.
"Sorry, pal, you're right... I don't know why I was having such a go at you." Then he chuckled. "It's not like you would have been much help if they had made it into the house... So, who was she?"
Oliver's answering smile did not reach his eyes.
"Russian model, but she ran off when she heard the shot." He clamped his eyes shut at a sudden bought of dizziness. He raised his hand to cover his eyes while Tommy answered and allowed himself to lean against the wall for a moment. A mistake, as it turned out, because Tommy caught sight of it.
"Ah, some you win, some you lose, my friend... Hey, are you alright?", Tommy asked, going from amusement to concern, patting him on the back. Oliver's smile widened a little with genuine affection. It was good to be home after all, but the smile quickly turned into a grimace.
"Yeah, it's nothing," he bit out.
"Certainly doesn't look like nothing. What, you hit your head on the bed's headboard or something?"
Oliver let out a snort. While it had its advantages when friends and family filled in the blanks themselves, that was truly a ludicrous thought. Tommy laughed with him for a moment, before helping Oliver to right himself when he noticed Detective Lance joined them at a jog. The officer stopped suddenly in front of Oliver and the two men scrutinized each other uncomfortably. Their manner was entirely opposite, though, as the detective fidgeted while Oliver stood so still all his muscles must have seized up. Finally, Detective Lance cleared his throat loudly.
"I was told... chrm... My daughter in there?", he questioned, pointing at the double doors behind Tommy and Oliver. Figured, he thought, when both men nodded. His daughter really knew how to pick her friends. Not one, but two playboy billionaires who like to play hard – their records included drunk driving and drugs, and one very public incident of assault on Oliver Queen's part. After Queen's return from the island, he seemed to have a tighter grip on his life, but something about him rubbed Quentin the wrong way. Now, he was aware his personal opinion would always compromise his judgment when it came to Oliver Queen, but this was beyond what happened to Sara. There was something... off about Queen's aloof manner. The man didn't even twitch under his gaze, he didn't move at all and the only indication of discomfort lay in the tightness of his features. Quentin shook his head free of his thoughts. There would be another time to contemplate how a spoiled, rich brat like Queen managed to creep him out like that.
"It's actually more embarrassing than that," Oliver said, turning to Tommy and returning to their earlier conversation in hopes of breaking the tension. "When we heard the shot, I ran for the the door, but I didn't stand far enough away. When I opened it, I literally banged myself in the head with the door."
Tommy looked nonplussed for a second, then burst out laughing at Oliver's presumed misfortune. Quentin looked between the two buffoons and shook his head again. He left them standing there and went to check on his daughter.
End of chapter 4!
A/N: So sorry for the long wait! I'm scrambling for time to write (something other than my thesis) at the moment, but I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. I quite liked how it allowed me to twist away a bit from the TV series' storyline for the episode.
