Chapter Eight "Is There Gluten in These Breadcrumbs?"

Adeline ran her hand through her dark hair and swallowed a sigh. She longed for some way to relieve the tension that had built up in her shoulders over the past four years—longer, if she were honest with herself. She couldn't hide forever. That was no life, especially for Joe.

"Mom!" the voice of her ten-year-old son filled the small house. He ran into the front room where she was staring out the bay window onto the street below. "I'm bored."

Adeline looked down at Joe. "Read a book," she said. She had lost count of the number of times she said that.

"I've read all the books," he replied. "Can we go to the library?"

"Not today. Play your piano."

"I've played all the songs I know. Can I go outside?"

"No. Not today."

"You said that yesterday. And the day before. And all week." Joe flopped down onto the couch dramatically.

"It's a bad week," Adeline acknowledged. "Why don't you look at the photo albums. You like that."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, but I always feel…" He waved his hands vaguely, unable to express his feelings.

Empty, Adeline thought. All those blank pages in the back. "Yeah, me too."

"Are we ever going to leave here?"

"Not this week."

"Why don't we go find Dad? We'll be safe wherever he is."

Adeline shook her head, unable to formulate a logical answer. "No, we won't."

###

No matter how smart he thought he was, there were always factors Oliver didn't take into consideration. Which should explain why Slade was sitting in a police station at the moment. Detective Lance rolled into the interview room with a sour look on his face. It was the only expression Slade had ever seen him wear. The man had lost his daughter, which was enough to make anyone bitter, but there seemed to be more to it. He hated Oliver, which was also understandable, but that wasn't it either.

"Is this going to take very long?" Slade asked. "I have to get home to feed my cat."

Lance looked like he wanted to laugh but had forgotten how. "You seem pretty calm for a guy whose friend just got charged with murder."

Slade shook his head. "That kid couldn't kill a bird to keep himself from starving. I think you are letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Fortunately, what you think is irrelevant." Lance opened a very thin folder. "I did some research, and the best I can come up with, you don't exist. Least, not on paper."

"I'm a private person."

"Or maybe you're hiding from something. What were you doing on that island anyway?"

"Haven't you heard? My plane crashed."

"You fly planes?"

"Sometimes."

"Alone?"

"No."

"So you weren't the only one on the island?"

"I was the only one to survive. What does this have to do with Oliver?"

"I was getting to that."

"Could you move it along? I really do have a cat."

"All right then, Mr. Wilson." Lance leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "What were you doing on the night of the shooting at the exchange building?"

"I was there. Oliver's family invited me."

"I saw you. But once the shooting started, you disappeared. I couldn't find you on any of the security cameras."

"I was helping Oliver's family get outside safely. When realized his sister wasn't with them, I went back inside for her."

"You went back inside while the whole place was getting shot to hell?"

"The shooting had stopped by then. You can ask Mr. Steele and Mr. Diggle. I was with one or both of them the whole time."

"And where was Mr. Queen in all this?"

"He got outside and then left. Mr. Diggle was injured."

"And you just happened to miss every single camera in the building while the shooting was going on? That's awful convenient."

"Perhaps they need to upgrade their security system."

"Now, see, the cameras did pick this up." Lance slid a photo from the folder across the table. It showed Oliver pulling a hood out of a bag in the stairwell.

"He said he found it there," Slade said. "I'm sure in all the confusion, he must have dropped it."

"You know, I expected you to be more defensive. He's your friend, and you don't seem concerned about proving his innocence."

"Innocence?" Slade laughed. "The man slept with his girlfriend's sister. Innocent is not a word I would use to describe Oliver Queen."

Lance bristled at the mention of his daughters. "Why'd you save him then? How could you be a friend to a man like that?"

"Your daughter asked me the same question. But suppose I had let him die. Maybe I would still have two eyes. Maybe I would be dead too. But what kind of monster would leave a helpless kid to the wolves?" Slade shrugged. "Even if he was an asshole."

Lance shook his head. "Oliver Queen is a murderer. You may not have known it then, but I think you know now. And soon everyone will know the truth. You wanna be charged as an accessory? Not my problem."

Lance backed his wheelchair away from the table and turned toward the door.

"Detective?" Slade said, standing.

"What?" Lance turned his head to face Slade.

"I have to say, I admire your determination. Whatever put you in that chair hasn't slowed you down."

"I got shot," Lance said. "Lotsa guys aren't so lucky. And if you think this—" He pointed at his chair. "—is gonna keep me from taking down anyone involved with the Hood, you are mistaken."

###

As soon as Moira left the office, Laurel flopped down in her desk chair. She couldn't believe Oliver would ask her to represent him with all that had happened between them. She was getting past her anger, but that didn't mean she wanted to defend him in court. It would mean spending a lot of time together, and that wasn't something Laurel wanted to do any time soon. To her credit, Moira had seemed embarrassed by the request.

Laurel knew she should just forget about it, but she wasn't very good at ignoring other people's stupidity.

A fragrant paper bag landed on her desk, startling her out of her thoughts. "Just a bit of heart disease for you," Six said with a smile as he leaned against the desk holding his own lunch sack.

"You know it's sugar that causes heart disease, not fat, right?" Laurel replied, grinning as she opened the bag.

"Pretty sure it's full of that too."

Laurel pulled out the giant cheeseburger and started unwrapping it. "This has got to be the best bad to good day transition ever."

"Of course." Six popped a few fries in his mouth. "Your day is always bad until I show up."

"It's sad how true that is. But I was thinking about my last visitor."

"Hmm, let's see… Well, your least favorite person is in jail, so…"

"First of all, Oliver is not my least favorite person. That would be whoever invented nutrition labels. Second of all, it was his mother."

"The mother of the guy who invented nutrition labels?" Six looked at his burger in confusion as if it might hold the answer.

"No, Oliver. Moira stopped by a few minutes ago. She said Oliver wanted me to represent him."

"What, like in court? Isn't that… crazy? I mean, I'm no one to talk, but that's crazy, right?"

"Completely. She didn't seem to want to ask me, but I guess he insisted. He figures I know he's not the Hood because I know him so well. But it's such a conflict of interest to represent a guy my dad arrested, not to mention someone I was involved with."

Six wrinkled his nose. "You didn't have to mention it." He took another bite and spoke through it. "How is your dad doing with all this?"

"You know him. He hates Oliver and blames him for Sara's death. He hates the hood guy because he breaks the law. It's convenient for him to believe they're the same person."

"Well, it is easier when the people you hate are condensed I suppose. It would take up less energy."

"Maybe if he spent less energy hating people, he'd feel better."

"Hey, didn't I teach you that?" Six smiled like he won something.

Laurel kicked his leg playfully. "You've been good for me. Except I think I've gained weight."

"Most of it is muscle," Six assured her. "Not that it matters."

"You really mean that or are you just saying it because you're supposed to?"

"I only say things I'm supposed to if I think they're probably true."

"Probably?"

"I'm crazy, remember? What's obvious to you isn't to me. And vice versa."

Laurel swirled her fries in a puddle of sauce. "I don't think that makes you crazy. You're just special."

Six made a face. "Somehow, that sounds worse."

###

Slade watched as Diggle wrestled his arm out of the sleeve of Oliver's green leather jacket that was clearly too small.

"What I want to know," Diggle said holding the jacket at arm's length, "is why he didn't ask you to do this."

Slade chuckled. "I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing."

Diggle grumbled something unintelligible as he hung the jacket on the mannequin.

"If you were expecting me to be able to explain half of Oliver's idiotic ideas, you are going to be disappointed."

"You guys are best buddies, right?"

"I find it's better to keep a certain amount of distance."

Diggle shook his head. "That's no way to live, man."

"I had a best friend once. He betrayed me, and I put a sword through his brain."

For a moment, Diggle didn't say anything. He adjusted some of the arrows in the quiver on the table next to him and unstrung the bow. "Then why are you here?" he finally asked, turning to look Slade in the eye.

It wasn't the sort of question Slade expected from Diggle. He had his reasons, but he wasn't about to justify them. "The kid grows on you," he said. "And where else am I gonna go?"

Diggle shook his head. "There's more to it. But you go ahead and keep your deep, dark secrets. Sooner or later, they'll eat you alive."

It was rare that Slade was genuinely surprised. Thea getting him a cat definitely qualified. That, and Diggle in general. What had seemed to be another of Oliver's stupidly risky decisions had turned out better than he could have planned. Slade had to wonder if Oliver knew what he had taken on in making Diggle his partner. At the same time, it was gratifying to know Oliver was in good hands. Not that Slade would ever admit to Oliver that he cared.

"I think this is going to work out nicely, Mr. Diggle," Slade said with a smile.

###

If Felicity believed in fate or stars aligning or any of that, she might think that the universe was conspiring around her. It started when Oliver Queen walked into her office and asked her to retrieve data from a bullet-riddled laptop. Clearly suspicious. Then he sent his friend to her for help finding a missing family. The final piece came when Walter Steele called her into his office. After getting over the fear of being fired, she started to notice a pattern. People kept asking her for help on secret projects.

And she was happy to help. Oliver was strangely compelling with his nervous smile and terrible lies. He appreciated her skills in a way the people she worked with didn't. Slade was a contradiction of scariness and kindness and phenomenal cooking skills. It didn't matter that he didn't work at the company. She wanted to help him because it was a good thing to do. Mr. Steele was actually her boss three times removed, so she didn't have much of a choice, but the way he talked to her like she was important and smart and…

Felicity needed to get out more. She needed to make some friends or something. She had been so isolated since she had moved to Starling City after college. She didn't really have friends at work or in her neighborhood. She didn't know why. She could have gone out and met people. But it seemed like every day she just went to work and went home. She ate alone and slept alone. She didn't even have a goldfish.

There was still so much she didn't know about the work she was doing. There was a good chance it could be dangerous, considering the bullet holes and secrecy. But if she was doing something that mattered more than fixing cubicle dwellers' computers so they could get back to playing solitaire, maybe the risk was worth it.

She thought this as she sat in her office late at night, switching back and forth between projects. She really should go home. There was still some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes calling her name. But the thought of it made her turn back to her search. A woman and a child couldn't just cease to exist. They were somewhere out there. Some ATM or traffic camera somewhere must have caught them. Felicity would find them no matter what it took.

###

The wind whipped his cape behind him as he crossed the rooftop toward the man in the orange reflective sunglasses.

"It's almost midnight," Batman said in his most judgmental tone.

"What's your point?" Six replied, taking a small bag of chips from his jacket pocket.

"The sunglasses?"

"You're wearing a batsuit. I think my trademark is just a little less silly." He crunched his chips noisily.

"Did you handle the situation?"

"I mean, you don't want me to kill the girl, do you?"

"Of course not. But she's going to find something eventually."

"I'll give her a few breadcrumbs. I've done it before."

"Before, he was distracted. Now, he's got nothing better to do with his time."

"Well, there is the cat."

"Take care of it, Six. I don't have to remind you what could happen if Slade Wilson ever finds his family."

Six shook his head. "I know the stakes better than you do, Bruce. If you think I'd let anything happen to them, you don't know me very well."

"Can anyone say they know you well?"

Six shrugged. "Some people try."