"Ransom?" Oliver panted, spitting some blood out of his mouth onto the cold concrete floor. "You can't be serious."

"I like this, this could work." Jack smiled tapping the phone on his chin. "Yes, this could work very well indeed." He was ignoring Oliver which didn't really bode that well. "She'll pay." Jack turned to look at Oliver. "And a hundred million is certainly more than enough to hide from our mutual friend if things go south."

"You're screwing over Charlie?" Oliver laughed and then winced, yep, his ribs were broken.

"Thinking about screwing over Charlie." Jack corrected. "And you're one to talk." He reminded him.

"I didn't think you were in this for the money." Oliver glared at the other man.

"I'm not, but I'm also not going to get thrown in jail because some billionaire playing gangster pissed off the wrong mob boss." Jack shook his head. "You've always got to have a back-up plan my friend." Jack forcibly smacked the back of Oliver's head. "Something you should have done well to remember."

"A back-up plan." Oliver shook his head. "I wish I'd have thought of that. It would have saved me a lot of trouble, and an SUV." Jack just smiled and walked out of the room. Oliver sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "She's totally gonna sell my car to pay the ransom." He twitched his nose and sighed. "Now my nose itches." He tried to rub it against his shoulder but he just couldn't reach. "This day just keeps getting worse. Chloe is so going to kill me."

**********

"Ok, first thing first." Chloe turned to Mia. "I'm going to need everything you have on these guys." She motioned to Oliver's file. "Any known associates, rap sheets, everything you've got."

"Chloe, you know I'm not going to give those to you." Mia said, wondering how long it would take this time for the files to mysteriously appear in Chloe's hands.

"Oh." Chloe smiled suddenly, snapping her fingers dramatically. There may as well have been a giant light bulb above her head. "The FBI." She turned back to her computer. "Organized crime is like their thing right? They've probably got tons of information on these guys."

"And how are you planning on getting into the FBI's files?" Wise asked her concerned but relatively assured he knew the answer.

"The same way I got into yours." Chloe said sheepishly. "Hack into their system. Good thing about the Fed's is all their stuff is electronic so I don't even need hard copies, I can make my own."

"I'm sorry Chloe, I really am, but I can't let you do that." Chloe turned startled to see Mason standing beside her. She briefly wondered when she'd gone from Ms. Queen to Chloe.

"It's fine. I've done it hundreds of times." She brushed him off.

"I didn't just hear that." He mumbled under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Chloe paused again and really looked at him. He looked exhausted. His hair was rumpled, his eyes had dark circles under them and he was wearing the same clothes he'd had on the day before at the wedding.

"Mason?" Chloe asked confused.

"Look, I kept my mouth shut when you hacked into the SCPD system because, while still a felony, honestly, not my problem. But I really can't sit here and watch you commit a federal crime." He explained.

"You can't?" Chloe's voice was slightly amused as if she found the whole situation endearing.

"I really can't." He sighed resigned, pulling something out of his back pocket and dropping it on the table in front of her.

Chloe looked down to see a black leather wallet. She picked it up slowly and opened it. She let out a bark of laughter and tentatively reached forward to touch it, see it if was real because there is no way that the man who followed her around on her wedding day making the best coffee she'd ever tasted in her life was an FBI agent.

Her fingers ran along the edges of the heavy metal badge as she read the information on the sheet. Special Agent Conner Mason. "So you're not a barista then?" Chloe tossed the wallet into the middle of the table so everyone else could see it.

"No ma'am." He shook his head. He was standing a bit taller now, his eyes more focused, his voice more authoritative and she noticed for the first time the familiar bulge at the back of his pants that indicated a service weapon.

"Might I ask why you were pretending to be one on my Wedding day?"

"The barista thing was Oliver's idea but I was there because…well, I was assigned to you." Mason said, doing that FBI thing where he stared just a little to the left of her face. "I was there for your protection."

Chloe was quiet for a minute trying to process too many things at once. "Why would I need protection from the FBI?" And that was the kicker wasn't it? She wasn't confused as to why she would need protection but as to why the FBI would be the one to provide it. There were many reasons why Oliver or others might feel she needed protection, many things involving many illicit and illegal activities, but nothing that the FBI would be concerned about.

"Because." Mason moved his eyes just enough so he was staring straight at her. "Your husband has been working undercover with the FBI for the past eighteen months to investigate Carmine Luciano and we thought-" he paused at the look on her face. "We weren't sure until a few hours ago, but we thought his cover might have been blown."

Chloe wanted to laugh again but she couldn't, she really couldn't, this whole day had gone from ridiculous to surreal and at this point she wasn't even sure what was tragic and what was funny anymore.

"Hold on." Bart stepped forward. "Carmine Luciano?" He scoffed. "The Sicilian? Gentleman's Don? The freaking

Old World Mephistopheles?"

"The one and only." Mason nodded.

"Are we missing something?" Victor asked confused.

"He's the head of pretty much all organized crime this side of Chicago." Bart threw his hands in the air. "He's old school." Bart said. "Guy got off the boat, fresh from Sicily and in two days had taken over Tommy "Two Toes" Carpoli's territory and Frank Gigante's. He had California organized in a month."

"Should I be scared about how much you know about modern day mobsters?" Victor asked him.

"It's a hobby." Bart bristled at his tone. "Anyway, this guy is seriously bad news, like the worst kind of news you could get. Like if you go into a doctor about a small freckle on your neck, Carmine Luciano is the equivalent of a stage four melanoma diagnosis."

"So wait, he's like cancer?" AC asked.

"Yes, serious, painful, and with less than a 5% survival rate." Bart explained. "We've got to get Oliver away from him and fast."

"Hold on though." Lois shook her head. "Most of those mob guys have badass names that indicate their preferred method of killing. This guy's the Gentleman's Don, doesn't sound so bad, not a real hands on kind of guy."

"The Brit he's got with him, no one knows his real name. They just call him Jack." At their still confused faces Mason explained. "As in Jack the Ripper."

"Why?" Dinah asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

"Because he likes to play around with your insides." Mason sighed. "While you're still alive."

"Right, so slightly hands on?" AC sighed.

"Slightly." Mason pulled out a chair and sat down; relaxing for what was probably the first time in two days.

"This day just keeps getting better and better." Chloe said bringing a hand up to scratch her nose. "I'm so gonna kill Oliver."

************

Chloe walked out the back door of the station, for some reason the only place not crawling with reporters. It likely had something to do with the stench rolling off the overheated, overflowing dumpsters. It smelled disgusting but it was quiet, blessedly quiet and there was no one out here looking to her for answers, looking to her for orders. She slid down the back wall and rested her forehead on her knees. She couldn't be sure how long she'd been sitting there when she heard his voice. "It seriously stinks out here."

Chloe lifted her head, exhaustion starting to settle into her bones. "Jake?" She squinted at the man. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw the news." He stared down at her. "I…shit are you ok?"

Chloe laughed and then sobbed and lowered her head to her knees again. "I just needed some fresh air."

"Not very fresh." He snorted and she laughed again, this time suppressing the sob.

"Really Jake." Chloe's voice was muffled. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to tell you something." He took a deep breath and Chloe lifted her head.

"I swear to God Jake." She stared at him. "If you came here to tell me that you're with the CIA or that you're an alien from outer space or like, Canadian, today is really not the day."

He smiled and crouched down in front of her. "100% human and American. The CIA thing would be cool, but not so much." They both laughed at that but Jake sobered up quickly. "I think I know who has Oliver."

"I know I know who has Oliver." Chloe leaned her head against the back wall of the police station. "Carmine Luciano. The Gentleman's Don, The Sicilian, The Old World Mephistopheles." She barked out laughter. "Oh and he's brought along his buddy, the fucking modern day Jack the Ripper."

"So you know." Jake collapsed against wall next to her.

"I know." Chloe nodded then turned to him and narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because I introduced them." Jake swallowed hard, unable to look at Chloe. She nodded and stood up slowly. Jake scrambling up after her. She inclined her head, letting him know that he should follow and he did as they walked into the building. He led her into a room full of people he recognized, her cousin and her friends, and a few people he didn't. She turned to the man in the corner and leveled him with a glare. She pulled out two chairs, sat in one and motioned for him to sit in the other. He obeyed.

"Tell me." Chloe leaned forward.

"Chloe, it's an ongoing investigation I can't just…"

"Tell me." She said again and Mason just nodded.

Three Years Ago…

Oliver signed where his secretary indicated and glanced up at the clock on the wall for the tenth time. "It's your own fault." Lucy shook her head at him flipping the page and pointing to another line.

"These really can't wait until tomorrow?" Oliver asked.

"Sure, you can wait to sign these until tomorrow. It's nothing important or anything. It's not like if you don't sign these it'll cause every single Queen Industries Employees to stop getting paid. " Lucy said dropping that file and then moving onto the next one, flipping it open and pointing to a line at the bottom.

Oliver, thoroughly chastised, remembered these were the contract renewals for the firm who handled the payroll and benefits for everyone who worked for him. They had to be entered in by midnight tonight or all the money would stop. "That's a stupid system." Oliver grumbled.

"Yes well, I put these on your desk two weeks ago and instead of signing them when I told you to, you played around and here we are at eight o'clock on Friday night." She flipped the page again and Oliver could feel his fingers cramping up.

"It's not like I was making Origami swans, I do have a whole company to run." Oliver pointed out and she just glared at him. He turned his attention back to the contracts and started signing again.

"As it is I'm going to be stuck here for another three hours processing these." She grabbed another file and opened it up.

"I'm sorry Lucy." Oliver rolled his eyes. He was the president of this company, he should not be apologizing to his secretary but she was a seriously scary woman.

"Don't be sorry to me." She snorted. "This is my job." She looked up at the clock. "Be sorry to Chloe. You're so late you do realize that don't you?"

"Yes, thank you. I realized that twenty minutes ago, when the auction started and I was still sitting at my desk." He said dryly.

"Don't take that tone with me." Lucy slammed the file shut and stood up straight. Oliver immediately jumped from his seat and grabbed his jacket.

"Sorry Lucy." Oliver apologized again as she walked to her desk and Oliver hurried to the elevators. The doors opened and Oliver jumped in, straightening his tie and fiddling with his cuff links. Lucy just smiled as she started to process the contracts. The elevator doors opened again a minute later and Oliver jumped out with a panicked expression on his face.

"Forget something?" She lifted her head trying to portray innocence.

"You could have reminded me." Oliver walked to her desk.

"I'm not your mother." She shook her head, walking over to the storage closet behind her desk and opening the door.

"Well you sure act like it sometimes." Oliver mumbled under his breath.

"Just for that." Lucy turned around holding a basket out for Oliver that contained a bottle of wine, an intricately carved music box in the shape of a hot air balloon, a baguette and a small bag of clothes pins. "I hope she bids on someone else's basket."

"You're a horrible spiteful woman Lucy." Oliver grabbed the basket and kissed her on her cheek. "You take Monday off ok?" He called back to her as he once again climbed in the elevator. Oliver shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently, thinking about what Lucy had said. Chances were if he didn't get to the hospital in the next twenty minutes, Chloe probably will have bid on someone else's basket.

The elevator doors opened up into the dark underground parking garage and Oliver hurried to his car, already working and reworking his excuse for Chloe over in his head. He didn't have the whole thing sorted out but he knew he was going to rely heavily on pointing out things like how his actions allowed a family to put food on the table for one more week and provide quality medical care for sick children. Yes he was definitely going with the sick kids; Chloe was a sucker for sick kids.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice the man leaning on the hood of his car until Oliver was right next to him. "Mr. Queen." The man had a British accent and a large, almost creepy grin. He pushed himself off of Oliver's car and literally tipped his hat to Oliver.

"Can I help you?" Oliver asked wearily as he pulled out his keys.

"Mr. Luciano requests a word with you." The man said.

"I don't know who Mr. Luciano is." Oliver smiled. "But tell him he can feel free to contact my secretary." Oliver reached forward to unlock his car and suddenly the British man was standing in between him and the car door.

"I'm afraid that's not how Mr. Luciano does business." The man's smile was gone and Oliver felt the muscles in his fist twitch with the desire to hit him. The sound of a car pulling up behind him captured his attention and in one smooth motion the British man had taken the basket from Oliver, turned him around and shoved him slightly forward with a firm hand on Oliver's back. "Like I said, Mr. Luciano would like a word." The car, the limo actually, came to a stop and the back door was opened from within.

Before Oliver could even think about doing anything he was shoved once more from behind and found himself settling into the back seat. "Thank you Jack." A gravelly voice with a slight Italian accent spoke from behind a newspaper on the seat opposite Oliver. Oliver assumed Jack was the British man who'd cornered him.

"My pleasure." Jack smiled.

"Mr. Queen." The man lowered the newspaper, folding it neatly and setting it beside him on the seat as the car moved forward. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Mr. Luciano I presume." Oliver couldn't help but notice, but was also completely unimpressed by, the very large bodyguards on either side of the old man, or the 9mm Beretta's they both had tucked under inside their suit jackets.

"Please, call me Carmine." The man said motioning to Jack who reached to the side bar in the backseat and grabbed two glasses. He placed one large ice cube in each glass then poured a healthy measure of scotch in both, passing one to Carmine and one to Oliver. "Actually my friends call me Charlie, and I do hope Mr. Queen that we will soon become very close friends." He smiled before sipping the drink and then nodded at Oliver to do the same.

Everyone stared at Oliver intently so he took a small sip and then closed his eyes. "This is a Dalmore 62." Oliver said reverently. He'd tasted this scotch only once before in his life and never again. Only twelve were produced, they ran about $50,000 a bottle and getting his hands on one was one of the more difficult things he'd ever done in his life.

"I knew you'd appreciate it." Carmine smiled. "I'm not much of a scotch man myself."

Oliver had noticed as he took his second sip of the incredibly rich amber liquid that Carmine had set his glass aside. Oliver sighed and leaned over to set his own glass beside Carmine's discarded one and had one moment, one pang of regret at letting the scotch sit there while the ice slowly melted, rendering the liquid completely undrinkable. "What exactly is it that you want Mr. Luciano." Oliver said pointedly not using the man's first name.

"Like I said. I simply wish Mr. Queen that we can become good friends." He smiled. "I'm quite new in town and I like nothing more than making new friends."

Oliver's brain was working over time. The off business hours, the Italian accent, the thugs, the $50,000 scotch, all of it pointed to one thing and one thing only. "I'm sorry Mr. Luciano, but I've got enough friends thank you." Oliver said cheekily. The man's smile didn't vanish, in fact he laughed. It was just one sharp bark of laughter and it surprised all the other passengers in the car. "Someone want to clue me in on the joke?"

"Forgive me." Carmine smiled. "I'm an old man and it's been a while since someone refused me, especially so quickly."

"What can I say?" Oliver shrugged. "I like to be unpredictable."

"Mr. Queen, may I call you Oliver?" Carmine asked.

"I'd rather you didn't." Oliver said truthfully.

"Fair enough." The man acquiesced. "Mr. Queen. I came to this country a few years ago and do you know what I saw? Turmoil. I saw the cities being run by petty criminals, the people living in fear to go out of their own homes after dark." Oliver frowned; he knew all this because this was the very thing he'd been fighting the past two years. "This is not how people should live is it?"

"No." Oliver agreed with him.

"No." Carmine smiled. "Which is why I do what I do, to help people, to save them."

"I can't be a hundred percent sure what it is you actually do Mr. Luciano, but I have no doubt in my mind that it has nothing what so ever to do with helping people." Oliver scoffed at him.

This time the smile did disappear from Carmine's face and he leaned forward in his seat. "I've cleaned up this city, this state even. Gotten rid of the riff-raff, put the word out that petty crimes would not be tolerated in my territory."

"Right so you take down a lot of tiny little criminal organizations and replace it with one massive criminal organization, headed of course, by you. How magnanimous." Oliver pointed out. There was no use pretending anymore that he didn't know Carmine was mafia.

"Exactly." Carmine smiled, also losing all pretense. "And how is that any different than what you do Mr. Queen?" Oliver's eyes snapped over to Carmines confused. "Granted I don't have to don green leather, and I much prefer a gun to a cross bow to get my point across but still, are we not alike? Going outside the law, cleaning up the streets and working hard to make sure they stay that way?"

Oliver leaned forward, a little too shocked to really process the fact that the head of the Mafia had just identified him as the Green Arrow. "I am nothing like you." He spat out, enunciating carefully, lest there be any confusion on the matter.

"We are more alike than perhaps your comfortable admitting at the moment Mr. Queen, but alike none the less." Carmine leaned close, his voice deadly serious. "I have a proposition for you." He leaned back in seat, the smile back on his face. "It is key to my very survival to know where the power lies in any given situation and here in Star City, the power lies with you." Oliver moved to protest. "Whether in a Gucci suit or a leather one, you hold the power in this town, a power that I need."

"And what I'm just supposed to give it to you?" Oliver asked. "Ok, but only if you ask very, very nicely."

Carmine smiled. "No, ideally I'd like for you to share it with me, work with me. You are very impressive man Mr. Queen and I know that the two of us together could conquer so much more than the West Coast."

"Is this the part where you tell me your plan for total world domination?" Oliver smiled, amused. "Does it involve a secret underground base on the moon? Cause I'm not in unless there's a secret underground base on the moon."

"I'm an old man." Carmine said. "World domination is a dream for much younger men but I do have my sights set on something much higher than California. Work with me, beside me and together you can have the world at your fingertips."

"I've already got the world at my fingertips." Oliver said. The car stopped and the door opened. Oliver turned and found himself looking at the entrance to the hospital. "And if you'll excuse me, I'm terribly late for a date with a very lovely woman." Oliver smiled one more time and climbed out of the car.

"Mr. Queen." Carmine caught his attention and he turned around to have his basket shoved in his arms. "Please give my regards to Miss Sullivan."

"If it's all the same to you, I don't think I will." Oliver shook his head.

"At least don't forget to compliment her on the dress. It took her quite a long time to find it. Vintage Dior, beautiful beading. She looks delightfully exquisite."

Oliver took two steps back to the limo. "How do you…" Oliver cut himself off before things got out of hand. "You leave Chloe out of…whatever this is. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly." Carmine nodded once. "Oh and just so you know Mr. Queen. This was me asking very very nicely." He got back into the car and drove away and Oliver couldn't keep his eyes off the back of the limo, just long enough to make sure it was really gone.

"Oliver!" Chloe called to him from the top of the steps. "Where the hell have you been?"

He turned around and smiled when he saw her standing there in a beautiful floor length gown of the palest pink. Silk and organza flowed together in precise striping that wound naturally around the bodice and down the skirt and over top a layer of finely detailed beading, twisting all around the dress. "Wow." Oliver swallowed hard as he took in the whole look. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the chill in the air and he smiled at her. "That's some dress."

"Do you like it?" Chloe asked nervously.

"It's…exquisite." He used Carmine's word, because there really was no other option. He couldn't help himself ask the next question, he had to know. "Vintage Dior?"

He'd hoped Chloe would laugh, correct him with Versace or Vera Wang. Then he wouldn't have to worry about the fact that a mafia Don had obviously been following his girl. Her eyes simply widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

Oliver swallowed again. He didn't want to think about how he knew. "Lucky guess." He held out his arm. "Would you care to accompany me inside?"

"You're late." Chloe slid her arm in his. "Very late." She reiterated and Oliver has his excuse ready on his lips. "And in your absence I was forced to bid on someone else's basket."

The excuse forgotten, Oliver turned sharply to Chloe. "Whose?"

"How should I know?" Chloe shrugged mischievously, which told him she knew exactly whose basket she'd bid on. "You know it's anonymous." She patted his arm affectionately. "Don't worry there are still some very deep pockets in there. I'm sure your basket will go for a high price."

"It's not the price that I'm worried about." Oliver mumbled under his breath.

"Well, that will teach you to be late." Chloe opened the door and they walked inside. Oliver was determined to put Carmine Luciano out of his head and enjoy the evening.

********

Oliver managed to put Carmine Luciano out of his head rather quickly, as soon as he found out whose basket Chloe had bid on. He managed to keep Carmine Luciano out of his head for a full two weeks, until he and Chloe decided to spending a weekend in the country at his parent's old house. Chloe went to change and Oliver headed into the kitchen to see if the fridge had been stocked and figure out what he was going to cook for diner.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, wrapped in a green satin ribbon was a wooden box, about the size of a shoe box. He assumed it was a gift from Chloe trying to apologize for bidding on someone else's basket and saddling him with, of all people, Eleanor Rothschild, the founding mother of Star City and President of the Junior League. Her family had basically run this town for three hundred years and she had at least a hundred stories for every year and Oliver knew that he was going to hear each and every one of those stories.

"Feeling guilty I see." Oliver called out to her. "About time too."

"I never feel guilty." Chloe walked in the room pulling her hair into a pony tail. "What are you talking about? Guilty for what?" She walked passed him and opened the freezer, pulling out a metal canister. She turned over to the counter and started making a pot of coffee.

"Don't even." Oliver pulled off the green ribbon as she filled the coffee machine with water. "You know exactly what you have to feel guilty about."

Chloe merely smirked at Oliver and opened the fridge pulling out a bowl of fruit. "He's picking me up on Wednesday night." She popped a strawberry in her mouth. "When's your date with Eleanor? She's terribly excited about the whole thing. She hasn't stopped talking about it all week."

"What are you doing spending the week with Eleanor Rothschild?" Oliver asked.

"She's been telling me about some of the changes she thinks we should implement when I take over as the head of the Junior League's Fund Raising Committee." Chloe smirked excited.

"Seriously?" Oliver walked over to her. "She wants you to head the Committee?" Chloe nodded, her grin so large it threatened to crack her cheeks and Oliver pulled her into a hug. "Sissy Parker must be pissed."

"Oh I haven't told her yet." Chloe smiled manically. "I'm still trying to figure out just the right way to do it so that I elicit the maximum amount of well deserved jealousy. Hopefully somewhere there's a rather large audience."

"I never knew how vindictive you were." Oliver laughed going back to his box.

"Yeah well, she's the one who dumped the hospital fundraiser on me thinking I would crash and burn like everyone else, and then when it became a success, she tried to steal it out from under me." Chloe popped another strawberry in her mouth and pulled herself up to sit on the counter. Oliver opened the box and froze. "Do you think she'll cry? It would be so awesome if I made her cry." Chloe laughed. "Oliver." She frowned when he didn't respond.

"Huh?" Oliver turned to her, tearing his eyes away from the bottle.

"What is it?" Chloe nodded at the gift. "Is it from Eleanor?" She jumped off the counter and walked around the bar. "Wow." She reached in the box and pulled out the bottle. "This is a Dalmore 62." Chloe gently spun the bottle around in her hands. "You've been looking for one of these for longer than I've known you. How did she know?"

"It's not from Eleanor." Oliver took the bottle away from her a little forcibly.

"Who's it from?" Chloe grabbed the box before Oliver could stop her. "Look there's a note." She pulled a small white square off the back of the box. "It says, 'There's more where this came from. This is the last time I ask.' What does that mean? Who is this from?"

"It's a business associate." Oliver shoved the bottle back in the box and practically ripped the note away from her. "He wants me to invest in his company and I told him I wasn't interested." Oliver stood up and wrapped the box back up with the green ribbon. "This is a last ditch attempt I suppose."

"Oh." Chloe frowned.

"I'm just going to take this back to him. Let him know I'm still not interested."

"You have to bring it back to him tonight?" Chloe followed him to the door as he pulled on his jacket.

Carmine had been in his house, this definitely couldn't wait. "If I don't, it'll be sitting there taunting me all weekend." Oliver kissed her cheek. "I won't be more than an hour, I promise and I'll pick up some Greek take out on the way back."

"How did you know I've been craving Greek?" Chloe smiled.

"You've been talking about Baklava for like two weeks now." Oliver said. "And you never get it because it's got nuts."

"You're allergic." Chloe smiled as if it were no big deal.

"I'll find you some nut free Baklava." Oliver promised before getting into the car and driving away. He was halfway into the city when he realized that he had no idea where to return the bottle too. He stopped at red light and tried to figure out what to do. He couldn't give the bottle back to Carmine because he had no idea where Carmine was. He couldn't just get rid of the bottle either because he needed Carmine to know that Oliver was refusing him in no uncertain terms.

He smiled when his salvation came in the form of none other than a neon green cross shining over a small dilapidated building. He pulled over to the curb and parked, walking up the steps to what he now knew was the Saint Nicholas Catholic Church. He walked into the building and looked around at the dingy interior. "Who's there?" A man asked from the front by the alter.

"Sorry Father." Oliver walked further into the building, slightly sheepish. "I just wanted to make a donation."

"Oh, we're always willing to take those." The man smiled and walked forward and Oliver pushed the box into the priest's hand. He opened the box and frowned. "Scotch?"

"This is a 1943 vintage Dalmore 62 Single Highland Malt. It's a blend from 5 different casks; only twelve bottles were ever produced. The last one sold at auction for over $50,000."

"I don't know much about scotch." The priest smiled setting the box down on a pew. "I'm more a Sacramental Wine sort of a guy." Oliver stared at him then laughed. "This seems like a very spur of the moment decision and this is a very expensive bottle of scotch. I realize you don't need the money Mr. Queen, but are you sure you just want to give it away to us?"

Oliver wondered if he'd ever get used to people just knowing who he was. "It was a gift that I'd rather not keep."

"A gift?" He asked extinguishing the candles on the wall. "You're giving away a gift?"

"It's not like that." Oliver laughed. "I'm 99% sure that the intention behind the gift was less of a friendly gesture and more of an attempt to…lead me into temptation."

"Ah." The priest nodded. "I see."

Oliver reached into his wallet and flipped through his cards until he found the one he was looking for. "Call them, ask for Stephanie. Tell her that Oliver Queen recommended her. She'll help you sell it." He smiled passing over a business card for an auction house. "I believe if it's for a nonprofit organization, they'll waive their usual fee."

"I really appreciate this Mr. Queen."

"Sure." Oliver smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to find somewhere in the city that's got baklava with no nuts or I'm not sure what my girlfriends going to do." He laughed and headed for the door. "Could you just, keep my name out of it?" Oliver asked. "In case anyone asks about the scotch."

The priest smiled and nodded. "Mykonos."

"Bless you?" Oliver said uncertainly.

"It's a Greek place on 84th and Main." The priest explained. "Best Baklava this side of the Aegean. Ask for Aleska and tell her that I sent you. She'll make you up a batch nut free."

"Thanks Father." Oliver turned and walked out.

He came back with a special batch of nut free baklava. Aleska had the batch halfway to the oven before Oliver even finished explaining, insisting that he need more meet on his bones. She also sent him home with what he was sure was one of everything on the menu and a promise that he would bring Chloe in soon.

A week later a story appeared on page two, under the fold about a priest who sold an anonymously donated bottle of scotch for $62,350. Three weeks later when he was sitting in his office and was informed by his lawyers that a controlling interest in Queen Industries had been bought right out from under him, and his board was voting him out, he was relatively assured that Carmine had gotten the picture.

Before Oliver even realized what was happening, they'd taken everything, his business, his apartment, his car, his house. That whole period was one big blur to Oliver. The only thing he remembered really was Chloe by his side. She found and furnished a new apartment when they had no place to live. She gave up anything and everything with no complaints, Oliver even felt sometimes she gave them up happily. She stood by his side as they packed up his parent's home, her hand solid in his, the only thing keeping him grounded to the real world. It was just as hard on her as it had been on him, he knew, but she didn't let it show, she didn't crumble like he did.

He hit bottom three months into his new life with one simple delivery of a dozen white tulips. "What does this mean?" Chloe slid the card across the table to him over dinner.

"What is it?" Oliver reached for the card.

"It came with the flowers you sent." Chloe smiled at him. "But I don't understand it."

Oliver dropped his fork. "I didn't send you any flowers." He opened the card slowly and swallowed hard. All it said was, 'I did ask nicely'. "Where are they?" He jumped up.

"In the vase on the coffee table." Chloe jumped up and followed him to the living room where he scooped up the flowers and dropped them into the trash. "Oliver!"

"Just..."

"What did it mean?" Chloe asked quietly.

"Can we please just eat dinner?" Oliver snapped at her and she nodded, walking back to the table. The next day he found the ticket to Gotham City and he spiraled out of control.

"Gotham City?" Oliver asked dropping the plane ticket he found in her bag on the kitchen table. "You leaving me?" He tried to joke.

"I have a business meeting." Chloe took a bite of her cereal.

"A business meeting?" Oliver frowned at her confused. "What business do you have in Gotham?"

"JLA business." Chloe dumped the last of her cereal down the drain and rinsed out her bowl. "I'm meeting with someone who I think could take over the funding."

"Right." Oliver nodded, everything finally and painfully hitting home to him. "You need money to fight crime and I'm kind of broke."

"Oliver." Chloe sighed. "We agreed that I would be in charge of the team and yes we need money to keep going so I'm going out and I'm getting it."

"That's good." Oliver said. "That's great actually." He paused, putting the pieces together. Gotham City, someone who had enough money to throw away at something like the JLA, someone who Oliver would rather gouge his eye out then ask for help. His stomach twisted horribly and he turned to Chloe, his mouth suddenly independent from his brain. "So are you going to go for the whole package? " He could hear himself saying the words, see himself digging the hole but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chloe frowned.

"Like you had with me?" Oliver smiled. "After all you didn't just loose the JLA funding. You lost the penthouse and the fancy car and the house in the Hamptons."

"Oliver." Chloe was close to the breaking point and he knew if he stopped now, if he shut up it would be ok, but he didn't stop.

"Oh and let's not forget the jewels and the fancy dinners." Oliver laughed. "Hey, is he about my size? Cause he can just take the suit and have that part of my life too. What's his number? I should give him a call, maybe if I tell him how generous you are in the bedroom he'd thrown in a private plane." When she slapped him, he was almost grateful. Oliver brought a hand up to his cheek and knew he'd gotten off easy, that he deserved much, much worse. "Chloe, that was way out of line." He whispered.

"Yes it was." Chloe said stepping away from him calmly and grabbed her bag. "My flight leaves at ten; I'll call you when I land to let you know it got in ok." She picked up the plane ticket.

"Chloe wait." Oliver wanted to reach out to her but he was scared. He numbly wondering if this was it. Losing the money and the houses and everything that went along with it wasn't enough to get her to leave; maybe he'd finally pushed her too far.

"Oliver, I really need to leave right now. I need to leave now because if I don't, the next time I leave I won't come back." She said her back to him and that hurt worse than her slap, like a punch to the gut.

"Yeah ok." Oliver nodded. She paused with her hand on the knob and turned around. She walked over to him, rising on her tip toes and kissing him softly.

"This isn't easy for me either. But I'm making the best of it. I wish you would too. I love you." She said before turning around and walking out of the apartment.

********

When she got back, he tried he really did, he put on a smile and apologized every five minutes and when the tickets to the charity ball arrived in the mail he was the one who suggested they go, that they have one last hurrah. That had been a mistake.

The only purpose it served was to let him know just how far he'd fallen, to show him what he was no longer a part of, what Chloe was no longer a part of because of him. It all became too much and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He barely remembered excusing himself, remembered Chloe coming after him, remembered a brief argument and then he said goodbye.

He walked around town for a while. He stared at the building that was his new home and couldn't bring himself to go up to the apartment. That's when he saw the sign, the Stout Goat. He could definitely use a drink but drinks usually cost money. He paused, remembering the last time he'd worn the tux and shoved his hand in his pockets, smiling triumphantly when he emerged with a hundred dollar bill.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked as Oliver sat down, not once remarking on his far too dressy attire.

He thought about the bottle of Dalmore 62 and slapped the hundred dollar bill on the bar. "Glass of your best scotch." He said, his voice rough. "Keep 'em coming until that wears out."

"You got it." The woman smiled fixing the drink and sliding it to him. She was a good bartender, she didn't hover but his glass was filled before he even knew it was empty. She didn't press him to talk but she listened when the scotch loosened his tongue and he let it all pour out.

"I'm the man." Oliver said, sliding his finger around the rim of the glass. "It's my job to provide for her and I can't do that anymore."

"Has she complained?" Mary leaned against the bar.

"Well, no of course not. Chloe's not like that. She doesn't care about the money. She'd be happy if we were living in a tent." Oliver scoffed. "Well maybe not a tent, she really likes indoor plumbing." Mary laughed. "But it's my job, what good am I to her if I can't do my job?"

"Let me get this straight." Mary set her towel on the counter. "She doesn't care that you're broke. She doesn't care that you're a jack ass." Oliver snorted into his glass. "And she loves you enough to run out of a very nice party and track you down to a seedy bar and you let this woman go?"

"Track me down…" Oliver turned his head and saw Chloe walk into the bar. She was still dressed for the party as she scanned the room, he turned away before she saw him. "Another." Oliver slid his glass toward Mary.

"I've been looking all over town for you." Chloe slid on the barstool next to him and all he could think about was how good she smelled and how he wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull her close and bury his head in her shoulder and let her tell him everything was going to be ok. Instead he sipped his drink and reminded himself that Chloe had been holding him for far too long, that it was time someone held her up and Oliver just couldn't do that right now.

"Go home." Is what he said instead. The words were painful and he had to physically tear them from his throat.

"No." Chloe said.

They fought again and this time she was the one to walk away and it took everything in him not to run after her, not to beg her forgiveness, beg her to take him back. "Jack Ass." Mary said pointedly walking away and silently Oliver agreed with her.

Then the music changed and he turned around and she wasn't gone. She was still there and she still wanted him and when the words, "Marry me" came out of her mouth for a second there he thought he was dreaming. He thought maybe he'd passed out from the scotch or something and this was all a dream. But it wasn't and she was serious and before he could talk himself out of it, before he could come up with a reasonable enough explanation as to why this was the worst idea Chloe ever had he was saying yes and she was sliding some sort of bolt nut on his finger and they were engaged.

And somehow that was ok, they were ok, well they were gonna be ok and he knew that because Chloe was there and she wasn't going anywhere. And Carmine Luciano couldn't take that away from him.

*********

In the months that followed he watched Chloe and she seemed to thrive in this new environment. He watched as she planned their wedding, as she happily secured the Stout Goat for the reception, as she reluctantly agreed to an actual caterer instead of Milo the hot dog guy. She was slightly mollified when Oliver suggested Aleska. Oliver had taken Chloe to Mykonos, the restaurant not the island, and Aleska had immediately fallen in love her, declaring it her life's mission to fatten Chloe up. Her first step being to have a special batch of nut free baklava delivered to their apartment every week.

She came home one day and she was practically bouncing off the wall with excitement. She'd found a dress, a genuine vintage wedding dress in the bottom of an antique trunk when she was shopping with Lois. She was so happy and Oliver's mind drifted back to night of the hospital fundraiser, to Chloe standing on the top of the steps of the hospital in the vintage Dior dress and he suddenly got angry.

That's how he found himself at the Stout Goat later that night enjoying a game of pool with Jake. "Jake." He asked as he missed the seven ball and moved back to let Jake play through. "Your brother, you said he worked at the docks."

"Yeah." Jake nodded.

"You said they're always looking for workers down there?" Oliver winced as Jake sunk three balls in a row.

"Always." Jake stood up confused.

"Can you talk to him?" Oliver asked. "See if he can put in a good word for me?" He'll admit he found a little pleasure in the fact that the surprise caused Jake to miss his next shot.

"You want to work at the docks?" Jake asked confused.

"Do you know how my grandfather started Queen Industries?" Oliver sunk the seven ball. "He worked nights mopping floors at a textile company and spent his days building it from the ground up." He sunk the eleven ball and then shrugged. "Everybody's got to start somewhere. Besides what kind of husband am I gonna be if I let Chloe pay for this wedding?"

"Ok, I'll call him tomorrow." Jake nodded.

**********

Within a week Oliver found himself unloading cargo ships at the docks. Truth be told the manual labor felt good even if the pay check he was getting was less than what he'd spent a week on gas before but he was working again. Still that wasn't the point of this little venture. It had been a week now and Marco, Jakes brother was showing Oliver how to work the forklift.

"Marco, that's your Mercedes in the lot?" Oliver asked grinding the gears badly. Marcos jumped up and helped him along.

"Yeah, sweet ride huh?"

"Yeah, it's just, all the other cars in the lot are about ten years old, on their last leg, and most of them break down at least once a week." Oliver looked up.

"You got a point here Queen?" Marcos jumped down.

"I need you to get a message to Carmine Luciano for me." Oliver said, letting the fork lift idle.

"I see." Marcos snorted. "So I'm Italian, I work a blue collar job so I gotta be connected, is that it?"

"No." Oliver jumped down. "You've worked here for fifteen years. You know in intimate detail how this place works, you have access to every nook and cranny here and Carmine would have had to have been a fool if putting you on his payroll wasn't the first thing he did when he got into town." Marcos just stared at Oliver. "You make only slightly higher than minimum wage and you're driving a $60, 000 car. Not to mention you knew exactly who I was talking about, so I'll say again. I need you to get a message to Carmine Luciano for me."

"You got some imagination on you Queen." Marcos shook his head and walked away. Oliver cursed himself for the rest of the day for coming on too strong and was about to give up, find another way when Marcos walked up to him at the end of his shift, slamming into his back and practically knocking him down. "What's the message?"

"Really?" Oliver asked.

"I asked around about you." Marcos shrugged. "What's the message?"

"Tell him I'm ready to share." Oliver said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marcos frowned.

"Does it matter?"

"It does if I'm about to make a jack ass of myself." Marcos laughed.

"Just tell him that I'm ready to share." Oliver said before turning away.

"Whatever." Marcos stopped. "You need a ride?"

"No, I'll walk." Oliver shook his head, finally feeling like he was doing something.

*********

It was another three days before Oliver heard anything back. "I got a message for you." Marcos said shoving a box in Oliver's hands.

"So give it to me." Oliver grunted stacking the box on the pallet.

"Christ I feel like an idiot." Marcos snorted.

"Just give me the message." Oliver panted. He'd been moving boxes all morning and he wasn't in the mood for this.

"He said, 'Why should I share with you? I've already taken all your toys'." Marcos shoved another box at Oliver.

"Is that it?" Oliver dropped the box hard and sighed.

"No." Marcos stopped. "He said to let him know if you could make it worth his while." Oliver smiled and opened his mouth but Marcos held up a hand. "Not through me, give him a call. I'm tired of playing telephone." He passed Oliver a card. "I'm not an eight year old girl you know."

"Thanks Marcos." Oliver slipped the card in his pocket and turned away.

"Hey, we've got three more pallets to stack." Marcos called after him.

"Not me." Oliver smirked. "I got what I came here for. I quit."

"You…you can't just quit." Marcos protested but Oliver just waved goodbye at him.

********

He thought this was all very cliché. Meeting a mob boss in an Italian restaurant. It was the epitome of cliché, but he supposed this was an old fashioned business, one that thrived on cliché. "Sorry I'm late." Carmine walked in and the whole restaurant went still for a minute. His jacket was taken, his chair pulled out and a bottle of wine decanted and left to breathe on the table within seconds and Oliver had to be impressed with the efficiency of the whole thing.

"It's no problem." Oliver stood and waited for Carmine to sit. "I'm at your disposal now aren't I?" Jack pulled up a chair and sat down between the two of them.

"I suppose you are." Carmine smirked. "How's life on the other side of things."

"Fine." Oliver said. "Except you see, my girl wants to get married." He leaned back in his chair. "And I want to give her the wedding she deserves."

"I don't really see that happening, what with the little they pay you down at the docks." Carmine poured a glass of wine for each of them. "Oh but then you quit that job didn't you?"

"Yeah I was hoping for something, better." Oliver said.

"You have something in mind?"

"I was thinking my old job." Oliver shrugged. "What do you think?" Carmine laughed in appreciation. "You need me."

Carmine laughed. "I've got everything I need from you thanks."

"No, Charlie, you really don't." Oliver leaned back in his chair and looked around the restaurant like he owned the place. Carmine didn't miss the way Oliver called him Charlie. "See I can give you what every two bit Mobster spends his whole life dreaming of."

"What's that?" Carmine sipped his wine.

"Legitimacy." Oliver grabbed his own cup. "Where's the waitress?" He asked smirking. "I'm starving." Carmine snapped his fingers and a woman came running. "Dinner's on you right? I just quit my job." Carmine nodded at the waitress. "Just one thing and this is important." Oliver leaned forward serious, no trace of the smart ass from before. "Chloe is off limits. She knows nothing, she hears nothing, she sees nothing. You don't bring her into this and we don't have a problem. That's a deal breaker."

"I believe I'm at your disposal." Carmine smiled.

*******

Just like that he was back, it was all back. The money, the business, the house, his things. Chloe didn't ask questions and Oliver found that probably the most disturbing thing of all. Granted he wasn't exactly ready to tell her everything so he was slightly glad that her innate reporter's curiosity wasn't piqued yet. There were still a few things he had to do. Which is how he found himself sitting in lobby of the FBI's San Diego field office twiddling his thumb for three hours. "Mr. Queen?" A man walked out looking bored.

"You're Conner Mason?" Oliver asked.

"Special Agent Conner Mason." Mason nodded. "What can I do for you today?"

"I think it's more about what I can do for you." Oliver smiled. "I flew more than 700 miles can we possibly get out of the lobby?"

"That depends." Mason rubbed his eyes. "On what exactly it is you think you can do for me."

"I can deliver you Carmine Luciano on a silver platter." Oliver explained. Mason looked up slowly and started at him. Oliver has asked for him specifically. He'd be put on the Luciano case the second the guy stepped foot in the country and had been trying for years to get something on the guy. He was probably the only other person in the world that would go after Luciano with the intensity that Oliver would. Mason's face split into a grin.

"Pam, can you show Mr. Queen to my office and then find out if my partner plans on coming in at any point today? We've got some work to do." Mason smiled at the woman at the front desk.

"Of course." Pam smiled and led Oliver to the back rooms.

It worked fine for the first couple of months. Oliver was back on top; he did what he needed to do with Carmine, reported everything back to the FBI, and kept Chloe busy with the most anal retentive wedding planner he could find. Then one day Jake cornered him in the Stout Goat dragging him into the alley and shoving him into a dumpster. "What the hell Queen?"

"I believe you threw me into the dumpster." Oliver rubbed his nose and leaned against the dumpster. "Am I bleeding?"

"You are an ass." Jake said. "Carmine Luciano. Carmine fucking Luciano."

"Yeah? What about him?" Oliver asked.

"The mob?" Jake kicked the dumpster. "Can even you be that stupid?"

"I had to do it." Oliver said. "I had to. He took everything from me, absolutely everything and I had to get it back."

"By going into business with the mob?" The way Jake looked at him, he wanted to confess, tell Jake everything, about the FBI, about it all but he didn't, he didn't say anything and Jake just slid down and sat next to him. "Does Chloe know?"

"God no." Oliver turned to him. "And you can't tell her, you can't say anything."

"Oliver…"

"You can't say anything." Oliver said seriously.

"Fine." Jake agreed.

"I'll make this up to you." Oliver swore standing up and pulling Jake with him. "Now come on, you owe me a rematch."

"What you want to make it 29 to 0?" Jake joked.

"One day I'm going to beat you." Oliver said.

"Yeah right." Jake knocked his shoulder.

******

The wedding was driving not only himself but Chloe crazy. He felt bad about it, he really did. He knew this wasn't the wedding she wanted, he knew she was happy with her vintage wedding dress and her reception at the Stout Goat but it was keeping her occupied, it was keeping her thinking about the wedding and not thinking about any suspicious behavior Oliver was exhibiting.

He was having a hard enough time keeping her and the team away from all of Carmine's illegal activities, for one thing there were so many of them. She was doing what she did best, finding patterns, making connections. Unfortunately all roads led back to Oliver and he couldn't have that. So he reminded her that criminals were better left to the police to handle and they had more pressing things to spend their time on, things that the police weren't equipped to handle and they should put their energy into those things.

Patience was wearing pretty thin these days and Oliver would be glad when it was all over. "Chloe, wait, Chloe I don't understand a word you're saying can you please slow down?" Oliver looked over at Mason who smiled and grabbed a fry from the box on the table.

"Everything ok?" Mason asked.

"There's some sort of problem with peacocks." Oliver whispered.

"Peacocks?" Mason asked shaking his head. "Rich people are weird."

"Tell me about it." Oliver sighed. "Chloe. Look the faster I can get out of here the sooner I can get home and help you out with the Peacock dilemma. Great, love you too." Oliver hung up the phone and fell into the chair opposite Mason. "So we've got Peacocks now. I'm going to hell for this."

"Just a little while longer." Mason assured him cleaning up the take out containers. "I'm just as anxious for this to be over as you are." Mason stretched. "You think I like living out of a crappy motel room?"

"Not really your style?"

"Not really." Mason shook his head.

"I never asked." Oliver turned to him. "What is your style?" Mason looked at him confused. "Where is home? You got a little condo in San Diego? Living the bachelor life?"

"House." Mason smiled. "The whole nine yards, wife and 2.5 kids. Even got a dog."

"Really?" Oliver paused. He'd never thought to put Mason and wife and kids in the same context. "How does one have 2.5 kids? I always wondered that."

"One on the way." Mason told him. "Enough about me. All we need is the container numbers. Then when you're safely on a plane to Morocco we'll move on Luciano and his whole organization."

"And no witness protection?" Oliver asked, he'd have a hard enough time explaining everything else to Chloe.

"I think we all understood coming into this that was never going to be an option with you." Mason shook his head. "Which is why we've got to take everyone down, that way there's no one left to go after you."

"We're only two weeks out now. You'll be there right?" Oliver swallowed. "At the wedding."

Mason nodded reassuringly. "You should have seen the look on my boss' face when I put in the requisition for a portable coffee cart."

"And you do know how to make coffee?" Oliver checked. "Because if there is one thing Chloe takes seriously, it's coffee."

"Four years at Starbucks." Mason said. "Its how I put my way through college."

"I shouldn't be worried should I?" Oliver asked as Mason opened the motel room door and Oliver stepped outside. "That you want to be there?"

Mason didn't falter. "Standard operating procedure." He lied. "It's a big party; we'd feel more comfortable if we could keep our eyes on the two of you from a little bit closer than a van across the street."

"Ok." Oliver sighed. "So all I need are the container numbers. I can do that." He clapped Mason on the back and walked to the car, trying to figure out from the brief conversation he'd had with Chloe if he was supposed to be Pro-Peacock or Anti-Peacock. He never saw the man watching him from the shadows, the man who had been watching him from the shadows for a few weeks now, but Mason did.

**********

Two weeks came and went and Oliver still hadn't managed to get his hands on the container numbers. Mason was worried, even though he wasn't letting it show. Oliver really wanted to have the whole thing resolved before they left for their honeymoon. He really didn't relish the idea of starting off his married life with this hanging over them but at this point there was nothing he could do. The ceremony was over, the reception winding down and his flight left in a little under ten hours.

The whole day had been perfect, despite the fact that neither of them actually wanted this wedding. The whole thing had gone off without a hitch…well with two hitches. One being Bart and the other being a rather unfortunate incident involving Sissy Parker and a very angry peacock. Oliver was actually convinced that everything was going to be ok until he saw Carmine standing on the balcony of the Marquee Hotel, talking to his wife.

Oliver opened the door as Carmine reached behind Chloe's ear and pulled out a single white tulip bud. "A lovely flower for a lovely woman." He smiled, slipping it behind her ear.

Oliver reached out and grabbed Chloe's elbow and she turned around. "Chloe." His voice was low and strange. "Lois is looking for you."

"Oh, I was just…" Chloe turned back to Carmine.

"I think she's headed home, wanted to say goodbye." Oliver's gaze never left Carmine's.

"Right." Chloe smiled at Carmine. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too." He said with sad smile on his face. As she walked to the door Carmine turned to Oliver and shook his head. "It's a shame, she makes a lovely bride."

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked him none too kindly.

"I was insulted. I didn't get an invite to the wedding." Carmine pretended to pout.

"We had a deal. You and this life…they don't mix." Oliver reminded him.

"I just wanted to see you." Carmine said. "I think of you like family you know. A son I never had."

"I know." Oliver nodded.

"It is easy to forgive family their faults." Carmine pointed out. "If they confess and ask for forgiveness." He grabbed Oliver's cheeks and forced him to look in his eyes. "In that vein, is there something you'd like to confess?"

Oliver stared into Carmine's eyes and swallowed. "No."

"I see." Carmine dropped his hands. "It was a lovely ceremony. Enjoy your honeymoon."

"Hey Charlie." Oliver called out as he headed for the glass doors. "Look I was thinking I've got a warehouse downtown, recently emptied. When the cargo gets here we could store it there. No one knows about it, it's much safer than having it sitting in the port."

"Is that so?" Carmine asked.

"Yeah, so if you want to give me the numbers of the shipping containers…"

"We'll talk business when you get back." Carmine smiled at him. "It's your wedding day."

"Right, sure." Oliver nodded. After he was sure Carmine was gone, Oliver heard movement.

"That was strange." Mason stepped out of the shadows and walked over to Oliver. "What was all that stuff about forgiveness and confessions?"

"You think my covers blown?" Oliver asked.

"I think I'll put an extra man on your house for the night. Have someone follow you to the airport tomorrow." Mason yawned.

"You're worried." Oliver said.

"I'm cautious." Mason corrected him. "You can pull out." Mason turned to Oliver. "We've got more than enough to put him and his guys away for life. You can pull out now and no one will think any less of you."

"And the shipping containers?" Oliver raised his eyebrow.

"There are other ways to get the information." Mason reminded him.

"Ways that you've been trying for almost two months now with no luck." Oliver sighed. "I'm in this, I might as well stay in."

"Your call." Mason nodded at him. "I'll see you when you get back from Morocco."

"Sure." Oliver smiled. "And thanks."

"Just doing my job." Mason assured him. "You should get your wife home, get some sleep. You've got an early flight."

"I'll get right on that." Oliver walked back into the hotel.

*********

They should have gone home, or Oliver should have at least told Mason what he was planning but something stopped him. He wanted Chloe to have something, just one thing that day that had nothing to do with the FBI. He'd manipulated her into that huge wedding so that he could do what he needed to do without her getting involved. He'd had her basically under a microscope all day with Mason following her around, and though she didn't know that, it didn't make it any better.

But at the Stout Goat, it wasn't about mobsters or the FBI or any of that stuff. It was about celebrating with their friends, with their family, it was about making Chloe happy. So he didn't tell Mason and that was probably his first mistake. When they were leaving Jake grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked him confused.

"Marco called me. Wanted to give me a heads up because he says you were a stand up guy. Carmine is pissed at you." Oliver blanched. "What did you do?"

"I…nothing." Oliver shook his head.

"Bullshit." Jake snapped at him. "Whatever reasons you used to justify all this were complete bullshit. This wasn't for Chloe, this was for you. It was selfish and stupid and now you're going to get yourself killed."

"That's not fair." Oliver glared at him.

"Not fair?" Jake laughed. "You see her?" He pointed to the car where Mary was laughing at something a sleepy Chloe was saying. "She is your wife now, and she is the only thing that matters. Not your money or your houses or any of that crap. She is it and I swear to God if you don't do everything in your power to keep her safe I will take matters into my own hands."

"One more thing." Oliver said to him after a second of silence. "I just have to do one more thing and then I'm out."

"You think it's that easy?" Jake scoffed.

"Just, trust me ok." Oliver turned around. "It may not seem like it, but I am doing this for her. Just trust me."

Jake simply shook his head and walked away. The drive back to the house was tense but Oliver tried not to let it show. If they could just get to the house then to the airport they'd be fine. Then they'd be in Morocco for two weeks and they'd be untouchable, Chloe would be safe.

Oliver knew when he saw the car sitting in the middle of the road, when he saw Jack leaning up against the passenger side door, smiling like Christmas had just come early that they'd never make it to the house, they'd never make it to the airport, and they'd never make it to Morocco.

Even as he tried to pull Chloe free, the get her out so that they could make a run for it, he knew it was futile. The point was only further driven home when he was pulled from the car and dragged away from her. Oliver lashed out, giving as good as he got for a brief moment but it was one against three and his head was killing him and Chloe was screaming.

"Here's how this is going to work." Jack told him. "You're going to tell me exactly how much the FBI knows and you're going to tell me succinctly and politely."

"Fuck you." Oliver growled.

"I see." Jake made a move toward the car as the two thugs shoved him to the ground, the same two who had been there when Oliver had his first meeting with Carmine. He turned his head and noticed the fourth guy, someone he'd never seen before glaring at him. "You touch her and I swear to God." Oliver called over to Jack who just smiled and crouched down and said something that made Chloe stop screaming. They talked for a while and then Jack stood up and looked at Oliver over the undercarriage of the car. "Boys, let's show Mr. Queen that we mean business shall we? He's very fond of his right arm I'm sure. That's what makes him such a crack shot with the bow after all."

Before Oliver could figure out what Jack meant one of the thugs grabbed his right arm, straightened it out and then pulled it down, slamming it into his knee. He heard the crack of his elbow before he felt the pain. When he felt the pain he screamed, then he threw up. It took him a minute to get himself back under control, to keep himself from passing out but he managed it, barely. Jack was talking to Chloe again and then he stood up and walked back toward the road.

"Shoot him." He called over his shoulder. "In the leg, just enough so he can't run, then put him in the car."

The guy that Oliver had never met before pushed back the edges of his jacket and reached for the gun sitting in his holster. Oliver could have sworn he saw a flash of something that looked suspiciously like a badge before the man cocked the gun, aimed and fired. He screamed again, unable to stop himself but this time there was no way to get back under control. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was severely outweighed by the pain and the blood loss and he passed out, praying against all odds that Chloe would make it out of there.

********

"Right. You don't talk, every again. At all." Chloe said to Mason and then stood up. "Ok then. New plan, let's get to work." Chloe jumped up as everyone else in the room stared, still slightly dumfounded at Mason's story.

"Chloe?" Bart stepped forward.

"Let's get to work." She said in a tone that left no room for argument.

"Ok." Bart nodded.

"What have we got?" Chloe turned to Victor.

"I've finished sorting through shoe prints, weeding out any police or rescue workers." He patted two piles of pictures on the table top. "Now I've just got to go through the left over's and see if I can make a positive ID."

Chloe looked down at the piles and froze as something caught her attention. "What's this?" Chloe stared at picture of the shoe on the top of the pile. "Is this the discard pile?"

"Yeah." Victor nodded. "Those are the shoes that were supposed to be there."

"I know these shoes." Chloe sat down.

"I know these too." Lois tore the picture away from Chloe's hand and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Detective Love."

"Detective Love?" Chloe tore the picture back and stared at them.

"Yeah, the scum bag who thinks you married then murdered Oliver for his money." Lois told her.

"Son of a bitch." Chloe breathed out, followed by a humorless laugh.

"Is there something we're missing?" Victor turned to her and she just nodded. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Tell me something Victor." Chloe set down the picture. "When did Detective Love visit the accident site?"

"I don't know, must have been earlier today at some point." Victor shrugged.

Wise stepped up. "But he hasn't left since he came in this morning. He's been skulking around."

"Pull up the security camera feed."

"You can't…oh screw it." Mia shrugged, giving up all pretense that she was in any way in charge of this situation. "Pull up the damn feed." She sat down next to Victor as he hacked into the feed.

"Ok, so Bart found the site around 12:30." Chloe pointed out. "First responders would have gotten there around…"

"12:45." Mia said.

"12:45." Victor nodded. "There, he's in the squad room."

"It's 5:30 now." Chloe leaned over his shoulder. "Follow him; see if he leaves the station at any time." She got up and paced the room as Victor worked his magic.

"What are you thinking?" Dinah followed Chloe with her eyes as everyone else watched Victor's monitor.

"I'm thinking that Detective Love has been in this building since I got here this morning." Chloe paced back and forth. "I'm thinking that if Detective Love's shoe prints were found at the scene then they got there before the police did. But mainly I'm thinking that I recognize those shoes."

"What about his wife?" Another voice, a rough voice, asked and Chloe moved her head, tears streaming down her face, listening intently, staring at the men's shoes. She had to keep her eyes on the shoes because if she looked in the other direction she would see the seemingly lifeless body of Oliver being dragged away.

"He's here." Victor turned around, shaking his head. "All day long, doesn't even go outside for a smoke."

"If he was here all day, he was there last night." Chloe bent over and braced her hands on her knees. "If he was there last night he knows where Oliver is. All you need is….Love." Chloe laughed, unable to stop herself.

"So wait you're saying what exactly?" Lois asked.

"He's dirty." Chloe stood up straight.

"Yes." Mason spoke up for the first time since Chloe ordered him silent. She turned and glared at him. "We didn't know for sure." He held up his hands.

"You didn't know for sure if his cover was blown, you didn't know for sure if Love was dirty. True or False." Chloe clenched her jaw. "The things about this case that you don't 'know for sure' could fill the freaking Gobi Desert." She stepped closer to Mason and he said nothing.

*********

"Ok, so if the girl gets the money together and he's still not talking, we take the money and cut our losses." Jack explained to the two thugs. "Three way split."

"And then we kill him?" The taller man asked in perfect Italian.

"Yes, then you kill him." Jack answered back in perfect Italian.

"Oh how I wish I hadn't taken that semester in Italy." Oliver sighed. "Then I could pretend you guys were talking about Biscotti." Jack's lips twitched into a smile.

**********

"True or False." Chloe moved even closer to Mason. "You're probably a better barista then you are an FBI agent."

"Hey." Mason snapped at her.

"You let them take Oliver." Chloe pointed out. "Your job was to protect him, protect me and you failed at it miserably."

"He didn't tell us about the second reception." Mason pointed out. "None of this would have happened if he'd just…" Chloe slapped him hard across the face.

"Chloe." Mason pleaded with her.

"Don't speak." She was shaking with rage.

**********

"Last chance." Jack smiled. "Tell me how much they know; tell me how much you told them…"

"And you'll let me live?" Oliver snorted in disbelief.

"Cute." Jack shook his head. "That was never going to be an option and you know it. You're lucky I'm in such a rush that I'm not going to have the time to kill you myself." The sad thing was, and Oliver knew, that was very, very lucky. "How about this, tell me what they know, and I'll let Chloe live."

Oliver grunted, pulling uselessly at his restraints.

**********

"Don't you dare try and blame this on Oliver. You knew something was wrong, and you screwed up. Look me in the eye and tell me that this is not your fault." Chloe asked Mason, so close now he could feel her breath on his skin.

"I can't." Mason admitted.

For a second, one second it seemed as if Chloe would stand down, walk away. Then almost too fast for even Bart to catch, Chloe's hand shot forward gripping Mason's wrist and spinning him around. She trapped his hand behind his back and lifted his shirt tails, relieving the Special Agent of his service revolver.

She shoved Mason away, checking to see the safety was on and then slipping it in the waistband of her own pants.

********

"I warned you." Oliver shook his head. "I told you from the very beginning not to involve my wife in this, it was part of the deal and you broke it."

"I'm…what's that quaint American phrase, oh yes, shaking in my boots." Jack turned around. "You're not in any position to do…anything to me are you?"

********

"Chloe!" Victor jumped from his seat as she stalked to the door. "Chloe what are you doing?"

"I'm going to get my husband." Chloe said.

"Ms. Queen." She stopped at the sound of a gun cocking and turned to see Sergeant Wise pointing his weapon at her. "I can't let you walk out that door."

"Chloe think about this." Mia stepped forward, blocking the door. "Outside this door is a room full of cops, followed by a parking lot full of cops. How far are you going to get."

"Love knows where he is. I'm going to get my husband." Chloe said calmly. "So either get out of my way or shoot me."

********

"You don't understand." Oliver shook his head in amusement. "It's not me you should be worried about. You pissed off the wrong woman, and I can't be held responsible for what happens next."


Author's Note: Wow, this was quite ridiculously long but I felt it was time that Oliver's story was finally told and when I started writing it, it just got away from me. Hope you enjoyed.