Guardian Angels

by Mayet

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. Rating for violence.

10. Chapter 10

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, for this chapter I mixed Vertigo and Unfinished Business together and put my own twist on it. I thought it wasn't a very good use of Count Vertigo, so... Enjoy.

hotkillerz: It will be another couple of chapters of frustration for him, I'm afraid. I have a specific scenario in mind and Oliver will have some other worries first. Starting with this chapter...

highlander348: Oliver probably knows that he'll get nowhere by asking her to reveal herself, but that doesn't mean that he won't try to trip her up or find out some other way.
As for Helena, Oliver's problems with her are manifold. He sees a lot of himself in her (both his need for vengeance/justice and the undisciplined part of his pre-island self), while also having to deal with Canary's disapproval (with whom he's trying to maintain a professional/personal relationship) and keeps being confronted with Helena's determination to go after her father specifically. She's not a psychopath in my story, but she's still very much obsessed with getting her vengeance and, though she cares somewhat about innocents getting hurt (as with Moira), it doesn't stop her from actively putting them in danger. So, I figured Oliver would take a strictly disciplined approach with her, which also makes him an ass as you noticed. That's not just gonna go away, but he'll see he still relies on her. Their relationship will always be complex and I'm not sure she'd make a good permanent addition to Team Arrow, but who's to say she can't make her own way. I have some ideas...

Ferro Ignique: I'm glad you (mostly) enjoy the story. While I try to catch my errors by reading through each chapter a few times, I sometimes don't think I see the forest for the trees. I do apologize for any mistakes and will try to look out for them more in the future.
The story will divert a little more from the series starting with this chapter, though you will still recognize the basic plotlines as the AU keeps with the overall story arc of the Undertaking. Oliver will try - with renewed energy - to find out about Canary's identity, but I'm not going to make it too easy for him. As I mentioned in my answer to hotkillerz' review, I have a specific plot in mind in regards to his discovery - until then, he might also be a little distracted.
Helena is a special case. Her character wasn't treated very well in the series. It made a point to force a difference between her and Oliver that I had difficulty swallowing (i.e. her being consumed by vengeance and him finding an outlet for it through his vigilantism). Though Helena's anger did seem more... personal, I suppose, while Oliver's was mitigated somewhat by his desire to redeem his father. I don't think she'll fit into the team as a regular, but she certainly has potential to be something other than a "psycho ex-girlfriend", to quote the series.

Marcus S. Lazarus: I just couldn't imagine a way in which Laurel wouldn't find out during the Dark Archer incident, other than writing her out of the story and in that case I might as well not have written the chapter at all. Making her a part of it, she couldn't not stumble across his identity, either due to Diggle's involvement or by taking off his jacket to take care of his wounds (she had seen his scars already during his going-to-jail party).
I'm sorry to say that Ted Gaynor's part won't occur in the very near future. Due to changes in the plot I've made, I had to move that episode to a different part of the story. It will take place after Oliver learns of Laurel's identity, so it's still a few chapters away.
As for the large paragraphs, I tend to have the exact opposite problem. I get annoyed at stories where paragraphs are barely two or three lines long. Still, I can certainly try to find a compromise. Please tell me how I did.

Chapter 10: Drug Wars

The club was noisy. So loud and colorful, everything swam in a sea of lights. Bodies of every shape and size writhed with her on the dance floor. Drink still in one hand, she swayed hypnotically to the music, brushing suggestively against the hard shape pressed behind her. Hands on her hips kept her steady when she threatened to fall flat on her face, amber liquid spilling from her glass and onto the smooth dark floor. He pulled her back against him and she felt, she felt – She smirked at what she felt and made a stupid joke, she thought, or it might all have been in her head, but she pressed back against him.

Rubbing herself against him, hearing him groan appreciatively in her ear and whisper dirty encouragements made her feel so powerful, even as her heart sped up with a beat of trepidation. More of her drink spilled onto the floor when she turned around to look at him, but she couldn't make him out. Whenever she tried to settle her eyes on his face, he drifted out of focus as if her gaze shifted sideways, erratic and uncontrollable. Something in her gut clenched, but she couldn't bring herself to move away and when wrapped an arm around her and led her toward the exit she followed without question.

"My friend had a bit too much to drink," she heard him say to the bouncer. "I'll better drive her home."

Friend, she wondered as a blast of fresh air hit her. Was he her friend? Did she know him? She tried to focus on his face again, but all shapes were all fuzzy now; she could barely distinguish between what must be the face and what his sandy hair. Sandy... Friend, yes, friends drove each other home. She had come there with friends in her new car, she was sure of it. So he must have been with them, hadn't he been? She remembered – sort of – getting out of the car and walking a few paces to the club with her girls... Girls... He must have come in with them, this friend. How long had she known him?

Maybe she had met him at the party? But which party? Here at the club or... before? Where had she been before? Why had she celebrated? Her thoughts swirled without rhyme or reason around her head while he walked her to the parking lot. He was rummaging in her purse till he found her keys. The loud clicking-beeping noise of her car made her jump.

"Whoa, easy there, girl," he soothed with a dark chuckle, opening the door and helping her inside once they reached the car. She watched him dazedly walking around the car briskly. His eyes never left her. Even as she felt her head loll backward, she felt his gaze on her, but not on her face. Her guts twisted harder and her heartbeat picked up again and now he looked predatory instead of vaguely amused. She had not drunk that much, had she? She was scared now, but when she tried to get up only a twitch went through her body. "Easy, sweetheart. We're gonna have loads of fun..."

The smirk on his face was suddenly in focus and it scared her more than anything as he began to open the door and slid in. She wanted to call out, call for help, but she couldn't find her voice. Her throat was so dry and the words wouldn't form and then... and then he was suddenly yanked away from the car. There was a low metallic thud when his back his the neighboring car and she looked over to see another shape. Petite and dark with a speck of bright... halo? It moved against the man too and he groaned again, but this time it sounded pained. Some of that clenching reduced to satisfaction as her head drifted to the side and her world turned dark.

Black Canary dragged the spiky-haired scumbag away from the cabriolet and slammed him against a nearby SUV. She didn't wait for him to recover and instead rammed her knee into his gut. In a twisting moved she wrenched the car keys from his hand and catapulted him back onto the sidewalk. He fell on his back and skidded another foot along the floor to her satisfaction. The brat clearly didn't know when to quit because instead of staying down, he jumped back to his feet and tried to punch her as she approached. She tossed the keys into the car, blocked his attack with the other arm, then grabbed on to pull him into her forearm as she smashed it across his face. A quick shot to the gut and she slipped a foot behind his leg and pushed him over it. When he fell onto the sidewalk this time, she didn't give him time to recover. Instead she stepped onto him, so to speak. One foot on his crotch, she pressed down with a fraction of her weight and knew that he saw stars when he screeched at the pain.

"Now that I have your attention, I want the drugs," she told him pleasantly, one hand reaching down in a 'gimme' gesture. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a couple of bouncers had noticed the commotion and came running toward the car. She also noticed with a certain amount of pride that they stopped once they got a good look at her. They remained wary and ready to intervene, but allowed the scene to play out for now, worried, perhaps, about her reputation on the streets. She had hospitalized quite a few of her opponents in her time. "The drugs, please," she said again.

"Bitch! I don't know what you're talk- aah!"

"Watch your mouth!", she warned acidly. "I know you roofied that poor girl, just look at her. It will be much easier for the doctors to counter what you gave her if they have a sample. Now give me the fucking drugs, or so help me..."

And she didn't finish that sentence, because all she had to do was step on him again and his scream probably alerted the entire neighborhood to his predicament. This time, instead of protesting, he pulled out a small, transparent plastic bag filled with innocent-looking white pills. She kept her hand open and made him sit up to place the bag into it, adding only a little pressure to the groin area to deter him from trying anything stupid. He grimaced and handed the bag over, so she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up, walking him back toward the nearest lamp post. She pointed at the bouncers, whose expression had changed from wary of her to disgusted at him.

"Now these gentlemen are going to keep you here till the police arrives. When they do, you will tell them everything – what these are, where you got them from, who you drugged with them. All of it, because if I have to come back for you..." She raised her knee to exert some more pressure on the sensitive area, not caring about his pained whine. "You won't ever be able to have sex again, do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Do you?!"

"Y-yes! Yes, g-goddammit, I g-get i-it!"

She nodded grimly and if she rammed her knee into his groin, well, it was all for good measure. She returned to the car and checked the young woman's pulse. Erratic, but still strong. That was good. She told one of the bouncers that she'd take her to Starling General and that he should call ahead so they knew to expect them. Pocketing the bag of pills, she jumped into the drivers seat, fishing the keys from the floor and getting on the road. Glancing back at the intended victim, she knew two things. That this would be the longest car ride of her life and that she needed to make a phone call. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel and occasionally glancing over at the unconscious brunette, she pulled the phone out of her leg pouch and called the only number programed into it.

"Yes," came the deep voice.

"Which one are you?"

"Which one do you need?"

She glanced at the other woman again and sighed.

"I'm taking Thea Queen to Starling General."

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Hideout)

"Elbow a little higher, unless you want to strain something," Oliver instructed as he re-entered the foundry that night, finding Diggle on his assigned target practice. He had not been kidding when he said he intended to remedy his partner's lack of archery skills, so, in addition to all the close combat training they'd been going through (or beatings, as Diggle himself tended to call them), he had started to teach him how to use a bow.

His bodyguard didn't need the slaps-on-water method, because Diggle was more than strong enough to pull the string. His main issue right now was form; aim would come later. He kept his elbow too low and his stance was not lined up well, thus overexerting the muscles he used. Oliver put down his own bow and walked over to adjust his friend's stance.

"Now, just let go," he told him.

Diggle opened the three fingers that were holding the string how Oliver had shown him and the string snapped back into place, making a cracking sound. The vibration kept the string moving and shifting for a little longer as Diggle observed it. There had been no arrow on the string after the veteran had nearly shot Oliver in the leg during their first training session by accidentally letting go. The vigilante had declared that they'd graduate to armed bows when the appropriate position had gone over into Diggle's muscle memory and he could move with the bow as well as he could without it.

"Better, but you still need to work on your posture. You'll just tear a muscle if you don't keep your elbow up," Oliver announced amusedly.

"Yeah, yeah, you laugh. I bet it took you just as long to learn."

"Longer," Oliver admitted readily. "But it was time well spent."

He zipped open his jacket and pulled out a folder that he waved in front of Diggle's face. The former soldier snatched it out of his partner's hand.

"I take it you didn't shake down some mob boss tonight..."

"Well," Oliver replied with some smugness. "I passed by the precinct on my way back. Black Canary told me that she didn't intend to tell the police about my secret, but... it's time to even the playing field... So I got her file."

Diggle nodded, impressed. It wasn't a bad plan. Since she seemed to have a contact in the police department, they likely knew something about her that could help them figure out who she is. Then again, that same information could have been removed from the file by her contact to protect her. The bodyguard flipped idly through the pages. Some data about height, eye color (presuming she didn't wear colored contacts), weight estimation, body type.

He also found speculation on training background, which included an impressive number of martial arts from all over the world. He glanced at Oliver and wondered, not for the first time, who taught the billionaire how to fight. Granted, he'd been trying to survive on an island among killers – that much he had told him – but now it made him wonder where Black Canary could have found such diverse training environments.

He pressed a little further and found something of an activity report. Witness statements by police officers and civilians alike placed her in various locations around the country and even some more exotic ones abroad. She had apparently traveled quite extensively before settling in Starling City. Whatever had drawn her here; perhaps there was a Mr Canary that had finally made her stop moving? As his eyes flew over the data, and he was surprised there was so much considering they still called her WIB (Woman in Black) in the file, he suddenly noticed something that threw his mind for a loop. His frown must have shown on his face because Oliver came closer to read over his shoulder.

"This can't be right, Oliver," he told his friend.

"What's wrong?"

"According to this, she was first spotted in Central City in May-"

"Yeah, and?"

"In 1976."

"What?!" Now Oliver looked at the file with renewed interest. He hadn't had time to look at it at the precinct and he only glanced at it briefly when he saw Diggle frown. It had seemed straightforward enough; all that travel accounted for her composite fighting style, but he hadn't paid attention to specific dates. After all, it didn't matter since she was here now. Except, from what Diggle said, the dates mattered very much indeed. "That can't be right."

"It says so right here," Diggle told him, pointing at the information. "She was active from 1976 to 1984, spotted in various places around the world. The last couple of years she was mostly seen in Starling City until she just disappeared mid-1984. Wasn't seen again until last year. According to this... she would have to be in her, what? Forties? Or fifties?... You've seen her up close more often than me, but she seemed closer to thirty to me."

Oliver nodded absently. A copy-cat? Someone who had stumbled on or researched the original Woman in Black and had decided to take up the mantle at seeing the state Starling City was reduced to. Suddenly, his theory of her being a cop became even more likely. That way, she would have had access to these files, maybe even heard stories of the time the other Woman was active in Starling from some of the older cops at the precinct.

Otherwise where had she gotten the information from. When he had first done an Internet research on the mysterious female vigilante he had struck out. Before he could share his thoughts with Diggle, the phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it for a moment. He and Diggle exchanged a glance. The timing of that woman was eerie.

"Yes," he answered simply. Had she heard of his break-in at the precinct? Did she know they had her file? He had been so careful to not even alert the cops to his presence.

"Which one are you?"

He frowned, surprised.

"Which one do you need?"

There was a beat of silence and a sigh. His heart quickened. There was something wrong, he could feel it. Her answer actually made his heart stop altogether. When it finally resumed beating, he wanted to throw the phone across the room in anger, but instead he held it pressed against his ear.

"Meet me on the roof there," he told her.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Starling General)

The police was already there when he arrived. So was his mother, though she was alone because Walter had left last week already. They hadn't heard much from him, except that he had landed safely in Melbourne and that he was busy. Judging by her mother's expression when she'd referred that message, she only half believed it. It sounded like an inside joke, albeit not a funny one. Oliver pushed the thoughts from his mind as he rushed through the hallway to join his mother.

She was talking quietly with a doctor in a white coat. Detective Lance was with her, taking notes but keeping quiet, letting the worried mother take precedence in asking whatever questions she needed answered. He was the first to spot Oliver and the two exchanged a wary nod, obviously Laurel had told him that she'd talked to Oliver about Sara's origins. He hadn't had much contact with the detective since the night the assassin came to his room, but there almost seemed to be a quiet truce between them now.

Oliver refocused his attention on his mother. He tapped her shoulder carefully so as not to startle her. When she turned to him, she immediately engulfed him in a hug. Looking past her, he could see through a small window in the door before which they were standing. Thea, whose face was pale and drawn, lying in an impersonal hospital bed that seemed to dwarf her.

She was sweating and shivering from the effects of withdrawal, or maybe from whatever the doctors had given her to stabilize her and its interaction with the drugs in her system. Oliver cursed inwardly; he should have never left her birthday party to go break into the precinct. If he had been there, he might have noticed her leaving. The thought troubled him as he didn't know why she had left in the first place or how she had ended up at the club.

"We're analyzing the sample of the drug your daughter's... rescuer provided now to determine the further course of treatment and if there are any longterm effects to worry about."

"What do you mean; it wasn't GHB?", Oliver inquired, surprised.

"Ah, no, there seems to be a new drug on the market. We've had a couple of victims come in in the last couple of weeks, but this is the first time we got our hands on the product."

Moira frowned.

"How have the other victims fared?"

The doctor shuffled a bit.

"I won't lie to you. They were in a severally altered state of mind when they were brought in. Some of them seemed to have been overdosed and have gone into a coma. They are still here or have been transferred to other hospitals. The others made a full recovery from the drugs, physically anyway. I will recommend counseling for Ms Queen once we reach that stage to address remaining psychological trauma, but for now that is rather getting ahead of ourselves. So far your daughter continues to drift in and out of consciousness, so it's too early to determine what will happen."

Moira sighed, turning her attention back to Thea lying in that bed. She couldn't believe her little girl had been roofied and was now fighting for her life – or her consciousness – in a hospital. Her heart constricted when she thought of her own role in Thea's flight from her own party. The look on her face when she saw Malcolm and her talking quietly in the hallway. It spelled out exactly what she thought they had been doing.

Malcolm had a way of getting too close, an old habit that he continued to enjoy because he knew how uncomfortable it made her. And she refused to tell him off because that would mean admitting that he made her uneasy and she'd learned that she couldn't allow herself that weakness while participating in the Undertaking. She had formed a hard outer shell and an inner coldness that protected her, but she could see Thea's fear and outrage when Malcolm left them. The heated words she had thrown at Moira's feet afterward and the way she had stormed off without giving her the chance to reply should have been a warning sign. She clearly should have waited in giving her the car keys until after the party...

"How long till the forensic report comes back?", Detective Lance interrupted the drawn silence.

"We should have the results in the morning. I will make sure to have a copy sent to the SCPD."

"Thank you."

"Hold on," Oliver protested. "Isn't that a violation of my sister's patient confidentiality?"

"Your sister's blood work is protected by patient confidentiality, but not the drug analysis itself, Mr Queen. Also... the police has already taken their own blood samples for analysis," the doctor clarified.

"Blood samples?", Moira startled.

"We have to convict her attacker somehow, since we can't call the vigilante to the stand, now can we?", Detective Lance countered. "Also, there's some interest in what your daughter was doing at a club at that hour and how she got in. She may be a legal adult since midnight, but she's still too young to drink."

Oliver grit his teeth.

"Hasn't Thea suffered enough?", he asked bitingly and finally, Lance turned his attention fully on him.

"If it were up to me, yes, because this probably convinced her never to drink again in a more effective manner than any police or court action ever could, but it's not up to me. The law is still valid and apparently there's someone else in the department who isn't overly fond of the Queens... Shocker!"

Moira opened her mouth, but Quentin just raised his hands. There was nothing more to say. Even if he wasn't after the younger Queen himself, her family had gotten away with enough over the years that he wasn't keen on helping her either. Laurel was the Good Samaritan in their family. Who knew, she had represented one Queen for multiple counts of murder, maybe she'd represent the other for the underage drinking charge.

He honestly didn't care either way at the moment, particularly as he had his own problems with his daughter. The technician had called him stone cold and he had to admit that trying to use his daughter was rather calculating. He just hoped she would see that he was only trying to do his job and protect her and the city from a dangerous criminal. He cast one last glance at Queen, still not entirely convinced that he was innocent, before he excused himself.

Oliver and Moira stared after the detective as he left, then made their way into Thea's room. She wasn't awake and even if she had been, his mother told him that she had been mostly unresponsive when the doctors tried to talk to her – or so she had been told. Oliver pulled the chair in the corner closer to the bed and let his mother settle in. She gently grasped hold of Thea's clammy hand and held it carefully between her own. Brushing a few strands of damp her from her pale, sweaty forehead, Moira could feel tears sting her eyes.

"She'll be okay, mom, you'll see. Thea is the strongest girl I know; she'll pull through," Oliver tried to reassure her with a hand on her shoulder. He saw his mother nod, but she wouldn't look at him. Her eyes wouldn't leave Thea's troubled face and he knew she didn't fully believe it.

"At least they've got him," she mumbled. "The bastard who... Thank god that vigilante was there when Thea needed her. He won't hurt anyone else."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed quietly, thinking back on the last message he'd given her. His eyes went up to the ceiling for a moment as if he expected to be able to see through several floors and onto the roof. He felt torn between wanting to remain here to support his mother and look after Thea and wanting to go talk to her to find out what she knew about this drug. Anger burned in him at what might have happened to Thea if Black Canary hadn't been there by chance to save her.

His stomach clenched tight as he thought of this drug flooding the market and all the victims it would cause. He hadn't even felt his hand clench on his mother's shoulder until he felt her soothing caress. He let go of her as if his hand had been burned, mumbling apologies that she brushed away with a smile. She suggested he get some fresh air to clear his head; it could be a long wait. Oliver nodded, thankful the decision was made for him.

Instead of heading down to the ground floor exit, he hurried up to the roof access door. A small frown crossed his face when he noticed it had already been broken open and the attached alarm tricked so as not to go off. He walked carefully onto the flat roof, but his tension dissipated when he saw Diggle standing opposite Canary. They seemed to have a pleasant conversation and Oliver wondered if he had brought up the file they'd found. He hoped not, because not only was that not his top priority right now, but they also didn't know what to make of it yet. They needed time to sort it out and a plan of attack.

"Green, right? Forest environment! I can't believe I didn't see it sooner!", Black Canary exclaimed, an ironic hand touching her forehead as if frustrated with her own lack of insight.

"You and me both... I mean come on, it doesn't take a genius to figure out one week after he got back home, Robin Hood showed up," Diggle agreed. "How anyone could be so blind..."

"Hmm, people believe what they want to believe. And the heroic vigilante clashes with his image as a juvenile womanizer, I guess," she mused, then looked up at him. "But I rather suppose that was all part of your brilliant plan, just like having Diggle run around in your Hood."

"It worked, didn't it? Threw everyone off the scent."

Black Canary snorted. She chose not to mention that she and Ted and even her father, separately, had mistrusted the simple solution, even though part of her had hoped for it to be true. Now was not the time to discuss that, or the precariously tipped balance that her recent discovery of his secret had placed them in. Though, if they weren't careful, it could all come crashing down on them very soon.

"How's Thea?", Diggle wanted to know right away.

"The doctors don't really know yet."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What happened?"

"I noticed it mostly by chance. A guy escorting a clearly inebriated young woman, but there was something off. The way he could drape her body into the seat like a doll... so I-"

"No, I mean with the drugs. This problem has been around for weeks and there's been nothing but radio silence from you! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"What, on the off chance that your underage sister might get her drink spiked?!"

"Kids," Diggle tried to calm them down, but Oliver was already getting in Canary's face about the callous comment. Understandable, but counterproductive. There was an energy running between them that almost scared him more than their obvious anger at one another. Perhaps it was the tension from their suddenly uneven positions. Evening out the playing field, Oliver had called it, and if he kept with the game analogy, Diggle had to concede that Black Canary had scored on them. Irritating her now was not in their best interest. Then again, there always seemed to be an undercurrent with these two; he could tell even when he wasn't there with them, but it certainly was more noticeable and more impressive (and frightening) when he was.

"It's not like you've been all that available recently," she added later. Oliver, taken aback, stumbled away from her. When she reached out, Diggle moved to intercept her, but she cast him a look that told him she'd throw him off the roof if he didn't have the good grace to stay out of it. She was with Oliver in two steps, a hand on his arm turning him back around toward her. The hand shifted toward his cheek, but she moved it away when he flinched. Carefully removing her glove, she reached out again and this time he let her. Oliver knew he should take stock of her hand, whether it was old or young, scarred or maybe tattooed – anything that would give them an edge, but instead his mind calmed under its gentle, calloused touch. "I don't blame you. I threw you into a shark tank... or a fire, more appropriately, and left you there to fend for yourself despite knowing you were struggling. I should have been there for you instead, but I figured... if I was going to drag you into this drug case, I... I-"

"You needed to be sure I was ready... I was not."

"You were in the end, though", she asked. "And... you're doing this – I can see it in your eyes, so you have to be." She brushed a thumb over his cheek before slipping her hand back into the glove. "I don't know much, only that for the last couple of weeks small time street dealers have been handed a few free samples to test the product. If they know by whom, they're not talking. And that's despite the fact that two of them are being treated in the same hospital as their victims."

Diggle's eyes went wide.

"You drugged them with their on narcs?"

She turned to him.

"No, I needed them able to talk, so I threatened to burn their narcs instead. When they didn't talk, or couldn't, I burned them anyway and broke a few bones for good measure to discourage future investments in narcotics."

"Point is, you're getting nowhere fast," Oliver summed up.

"No, none of them seem to have any direct contact with the seller. They suddenly find burner phones ringing in their pockets directing them to the pick up location. If they want more they have to deposit money there and they'll find their drugs twenty-four hours later in its place."

Diggle whistled. That was a well thought-out plan. No contact meant no one had any useful information, except maybe...

"What about the pick up sites?"

"That was my first try, but they must have someone watching the surroundings, because even after I got one of the dealers to drop of his money for me and got in position, nobody showed up."

"Not as stealthy as you think?", Oliver teased slightly.

"At least I don't dress like a folklore character who's sleeping rough,", she shot back and he was tempted, so tempted to make a quip about her looking good for her supposed age, but he managed to bite down on it. "And I figured you can go places I can't, talk to people I don't..."

There was a meaningful pause, in which both Diggle and Oliver raised their eyebrows, making her sigh.

"I recognize a Bratva tattoo when I see one, Oliver," she informed him.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Queen Consolidated)

The next day found Moira at the office, despite having wanted to curl back into the uncomfortable chair at Thea's bedside when her CFO had approached her. She had spent the night with her baby, but even she had to admit that she couldn't do anything except sit there and wait and seeing Thea that way in her powerless state had hurt more than leaving her side for work.

She had taken over some of the day-to-day duties that Walter usually performed, not because Queen Consolidated needed her to, but because it made her feel closer to him and now she was practically immersing herself in them. She wondered what that said about her as a mother. Not that she was particularly successful at working either; images of Thea's pale, sickly face flashed through her mind frequently and broke her concentration.

She had read and re-read the same sentence on the report about the development of Unidac Industries after their company's acquisition of them about as often as she could without crossing her eyes. So she took off her glasses and rubbed her hands tiredly over them, because she still couldn't recall what it actually said. The steady beeping of the various monitors attached to Thea had kept her up most of the night and only let her sleep fitfully once she finally did, but this was more than tiredness eating away at her. And it was more than just Thea's situation either, though she pushed all else to the periphery. A soft knock on the door made her look up to find Malcolm hovering unusually wary at the entrance. His face was tight. She would say he looked worried if she thought he had a heart to worry with.

"Rough night?", he joked, but it was without mirth as he approached. "I was just at the hospital to see Thea... Moira, I'm so sorry for what she went through."

Moira's heart stopped for a second, her mind caught on wondering how much Malcolm knew... about Thea. He walked over to sit down opposite to her and grasp her hand. She wanted nothing more than to pull it away, but she had a part to play yet. God, she wished it was over already!

"This is exactly why the Undertaking is so important. So that never again will any mother have to suffer like you are suffering right now. We have to remove the growing cancer before it spreads throughout the city," he told her with conviction. She wondered if he thought that those words would make her feel better. She wouldn't put it past him.

"Well, I wish I could help, but I can't even finish this stupid report right now," she admitted, finally managing to pull her hand away in order to wave the document in front of him. "I keep seeing... everything. Thea, Robert, Oliver – I almost lost them all and Walter..."

"You have sacrificed so much for this Undertaking. More than any of us, perhaps. That's why I know I can count on you to go the rest of the way," Malcolm told her sincerely. She was almost sickened by his compliment, but she managed to keep the bile rising in her throat at bay. Only just. He possessed a serenity in his conviction that she knew was eerily attractive, seductive even. It was what had first drawn Robert in, she wagered, and now that he was gone, she had to contend with it to keep her goal in mind and her family safe.

Moira almost laughed. There was no safety for her family if the last few weeks or even years had proven anything. She'd lost her first husband, her son had almost been taken from her three times by her count and now her daughter had been drugged and her husband wouldn't talk to her... If she believed in such things, she would say that their family was cursed!

"And Walter backed off, just like you promised," Malcolm went on with an approving nod. "No need for our... associate to get involved them."

"No," she said firmly. "I told you I would handle it."

Although, in the end, she supposed, she had really not handled it and Walter had left because he couldn't stand looking at his wife anymore. Before Malcolm could answer, a buzzing sound from her phone interrupted them. She picked it up from the table and gasped at the caller id. Showing it to Malcolm, she gently but firmly ushered him out the door.

"I'm here if you need me, Moira, you know that," he murmured at the end.

A sickening thought nestled itself into her head at that, wondering if he had something to do with this, but, given the caller ID, she could only nod distractedly as she closed the door and picked up.

"Walter," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She could feel desperation clawing at her insides and fought to keep it in.

"Moira... I just heard about Thea. Is everything alrig- stupid question, of course it isn't, but... how is she?"

A hand raised to cover her mouth to hide her sob.

"She... She is stable, for now, but the doctors don't know yet what has been affected and... They're analyzing the drug; it's something new and th-they d-don't know how..."

"Moira, it'll be alright. You'll see, Thea is a fighter, she'll pull through."

Moira chocked.

"Th-that's what Oliver said – he came straight to the hospital..."

"He's a smart lad and Thea will be fine. Listen, I'm on my way to the airport now. I'll get the first flight-"

"No." The word had come out before Moira could even think about it, but despite wanting to have him here, it would be a terrible idea for him to come back at this time. Her heart was beating fast in her chest at Malcolm not so subtle reminder of the fate that awaited him here if he snooped and she couldn't lose another husband. "No, stay where you are."

"Moira..."

"No, nothing's changed, Walter. You can't be here right now."

"Because you won't tell me anything," he spat angrily and it felt like a punch in the gut to her, but he was right to be angry. She kept secrets from him and she kept avoiding him even when she'd agreed to tell him.

"Because you can't know anything," she corrected. "Your life is already in danger, I won't have you endanger my family too."

There was dead silence on the other end of the line and Moira regretted the words as soon as they came out. She hadn't wanted to guilt-trip him, but if it was the only way to keep him safe, then she would use whatever was at her disposal. She had no intention of losing the man she loved to Malcolm's... associate. And as soon as Thea was alright, she'd put her on a flight to Melbourne to stay with Walter – call it a semester abroad or whatever it took. If Thea would be alright...

"I thought I was part of your family," Walter told her tiredly. He sounded resigned and heartbroken and Moira only just realized what her words had implied. She meant to respond, to reassure him it was only a poor choice of words and that she didn't mean it, but was greeted only with a click and the line went dead as her heart shattered.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(SCPD)

She hated doing her night job during the day, though maybe not nearly as much as Ted hated it, but she didn't have the energy or the will to get this done yesterday and it shouldn't wait any longer. So, letting herself fall down from the basement window, she dropped into the SCPD's file room. Taking a deep breath, she oriented herself for a second. She remembered that her father had brought her here under a pretense once to show her the layout. He had even drawn her a map, but he had always insisted that she contact him for files first.

They both knew that was not a viable option as it would arouse too much suspicion if he showed too much interest in cases other than his. Not to mention that she was still trying to avoid her father a bit over what happened with the other archer. Even though she had told him that a masked associate of the Hood had taken him off her hand and Ted had, thankfully, corroborated her story, she had seen in his eyes that he remained suspicious. Not that she could blame him; she hadn't exactly given him a lot of reasons to think she would turn the Hood in either way. At least he seemed to buy Oliver's hood-swapping alibi...

"You're not moving. I can hear that you're not moving," Ted was whispering urgently in her ear. "Remember that your uniform is meant for the night-shift. It does rather give in the eye during the day."

She exhaled slowly.

"I'm in and I've got the room to myself."

"For now. Let's not find out what would happen if a uniform strolled in right now."

Fair point, she supposed. She shook her head to clear it of the distracting thoughts and headed for the vice section. Pulling out the small map her father had drawn her, she identified the drawers most likely to contain current case files, such as the new date rape drug that was flooding the market. She went through the files quietly, but quickly, but found no trace of anything relating to Thea Queen or the drug itself. She wondered if the drug analysis hadn't come in yet.

It was possible, she supposed, what with police crime labs always being beyond busy and considered paying a visit to the hospital lab, which might have been a little quicker. Before she could do anything else, the door to the file room opened behind her. Laurel ducked quickly behind some of the drawers, but she could hear the tell-take sound of a gun being pulled from its holster.

She had been spotted.

"Come out," a confident female voice called out. She heard steps accompanying the voice, coming closer. The cop was not calling for reinforcements. Laurel liked her confidence, especially since it worked in her favor. She could take one officer, even if she had a gun. So she raised herself to her feet, hands innocently in the air. She didn't recognize the other woman, but then she didn't know every police officer in the city. Laurel gave her a quick once-over.

She was a detective, judging by the civilian clothing. Long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her dark lipstick was set off by her hazel skin, unlike Laurel who looked like a zombie wearing it, though that was rather the point. The other woman was slim, fit and clearly not intimidated by finding one of Starling City's notorious vigilantes within the confines of the police station.

She scoffed, in fact.

"You've got balls, I'll give you that." The detective managed to make it sound like a compliment and an insult at the same time, making Laurel smirk appreciatively.

"So do you," she countered, taking a leisurely step forward. The officer's grip on her gun tightened and she shuffled backward. "Or not."

Laurel was a bit disappointed.

"Stay back," the detective ordered. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for your file on the Thea Queen case," she answered sincerely. "I dropped her off at the hospital and wanted to follow up."

"There must be a nest," the woman muttered, making Laurel raise her eyebrows. "You're not the first person to ask about that today."

Laurel's mind raced. Judging by her reaction and the lack of mayhem, it had been Oliver Queen rather than the Hood who'd come for the file.

"It makes sense," Ted murmured in her ear, clearly following her line of thought. "No one would question the concerned brother asking for information on the drug that hospitalized his sister."

Laurel nodded to herself.

"And what did you tell Mr Queen?"

The officer's eyes snapped up at her, but Laurel only rolled her eyes. It was hardly a leap.

"Well, I'm not about to tell you... Turn around, hands on your head."

"I'm giving your father the heads up, so he can create a distraction," Ted announced quietly.

"Detective..."

"McKenna Hall."

"Detective Hall, I'm trying to help-"

"You can help by coming quietly. This city is enough trouble without people taking the law into their own hands."

"It's hardly any different than the number of officers who make headlines by pretending to be the law. I don't see the rest of you rushing to arrest and charge them," Laurel shot back darkly, but didn't move to follow Detective Hall's orders. The woman reacted exactly as she expected, moving closer again with the gun pointed directly at Laurel's face and if she were anyone else, waving the thing right in front of her may actually make her comply. But Laurel knew that the only chance she had of disarming her was if she came within range.

The detective's face was tight, clearly angered by the accusation, but she kept quiet knowing that Laurel had a point. The system was rigged in favor of bad officers and too often good officers stayed silent or even faced threats and discrimination for speaking up. When the door was suddenly opened and Detective Hall distracted, Laurel deviated the gun from her face, pressing her other hand into the right nerves running along the arm to force the woman to let go. The weapon clattered onto the floor and Hall was so startled, she didn't even put up a fight when Laurel pulled her close and hit her over the head with a baton. The last thing she saw was likely Laurel's father coming in and making a show of reaching for his gun, before she sunk unconscious to the ground.

"Dear God, L- Canary, what are you doing here?", he whispered in a panic. "I thought we agreed..."

"I'm not risking you attracting suspicion to yourself," Laurel retorted.

"So instead you break into a police station. Baby, are you insane? What were you looking for?"

"Thea's case file and information on the drugs."

"The lab hasn't gotten back to us yet. The doctor said in the morning, but something must've come up. But from the analysis of previous victims, Vice suspects someone with intimate knowledge of brain chemistry and access to prescription mind-altering drugs."

Laurel frowned.

"I took a peak right before responding to the call that you'd drop somebody off at the hospital," Quentin admitted.

"Yes... No! I mean, prescription drugs means what? Hospitals, practices, psych wards?"

"Pretty much all of the above," Quentin admitted and listened to Laurel curse.

"That's one freaking big suspect pool."

"Yeah, well, could you worry about that from your headquarters. I'll see what else I can dig up – discretely – but you need to get out of here," her father whispered urgently, already pulling her toward the window through which she'd come in. Then stopped in front of it to pull her back around. "Ah, just one more thing..."

His eyes fell on the baton that was still in her hand. Laurel grimaced. She knew he was right, but she didn't relish the thought of hitting her own father. Still, she raised her weapon without protest or hesitation and that just made her feel guiltier.

When Quentin woke up again, McKenna Hall was kneeling over him and a small CSI team was canvassing the room. There was a medic shining a light in his eyes to test his pupils' reaction. Quentin batted the annoying little flashlight away and thankfully, the medic left him alone afterward. He raised a hand to his throbbing head and came into contact with gauze. He flinched and groaned when the slightest bit of pressure sent a spike of pain through his entire nervous system. McKenna helped him up into a sitting position carefully.

"Are you alright, Detective Lance?", she questioned softly.

"God, these damn vigilantes are getting bolder," he complained instead of answering.

"Yeah, they don't even knock anymore," McKenna joked, drawing a chuckle from him against his will – or his better judgment as it drew another groan from his mouth.

"Ugh, don't make me laugh, please. What did she want in here?", he wondered aloud.

"...She came for the Queen file," McKenna answered absentmindedly.

"But... Queen was cleared of being the vigilante," Quentin replied, purposefully misunderstanding. He'd been doing this long enough to know when someone was baiting him. And, in fact, McKenna let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief as she eyed his confusion out of the corner of her eye.

"Thea Queen's, sir. She wanted to know about the new drug."

"Did she get it?", he asked.

"It would seem so," one of the CSI guys answered, joining them. "The file's gone."

"No, it's on my desk. I pulled it out earlier for... well, Oliver came to ask because of what happened to his sister. I had to admit that we don't have much, but we're working on it. And I told him to let us handle it."

But when they went to check on her desk, the file wasn't there.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(CNRI)

After her misadventure at the police station during her lunch break had left her hungry and still without any concrete information on the new drug, Laurel had quickly shrugged out of her uniform at their headquarters and gotten herself a sandwich to go. She hadn't realized how hungry she really was until she'd basically inhaled half of it already. Laurel sighed and slowed down, turning her thoughts to the events at the police station.

Detective Hall had indicated that Oliver had gone to retrieve the police report himself and it made her wonder why he hadn't gone to his Russian friends instead. They had the right connections in the underworld after all and would have access to people the police didn't. Then again, perhaps his time in the Bratva had concluded when he'd made it off the island and if he had finally escaped them, Laurel couldn't fault him for wanting to stay as far away from them as humanely possible.

"Almost back at work," she said into the phone, once she realized Ted was calling.

"Yeah, well, I skirted around Starling General's firewalls again, but apparently they must have noticed our friend's intrusion and have upped their cyber-security. If I couldn't get in before, I certainly won't now. So unless you wanted to ask him for another favor..."

"I'll just go myself tonight. I don't think I could take the grumbling and whining right now," she snorted quietly into the phone as she entered her building. "Find me an in?"

"On it now. I'm glad you got out of that mess at the police station."

Laurel sighed gently.

"Yeah, thanks for calling in the cavalry," she admitted grumpily. She knew her father would find a way to pick up their conversation where they'd left it at the police station eventually. "I'm surprised he bothered going to the police though."

"I'm sure you can ask him later," Ted suggested, knowing instinctively that she wasn't referring to her father. "After all, he'll have no more on the drug than we, given the police is fishing in the dark as well. He'll turn up at the hospital too."

Laurel hummed in agreement.

"Especially since you'll be telling him to..."

The line clicked and went dead, but Laurel smirked, knowing he would do what they needed. She put her phone back into her purse and hurried up the last few steps and into the office space. At first her gaze fell on Joanna's desk. She was still unused to seeing it empty, but letting someone else fill it had seemed wrong so soon after what happened. Still, their new colleague would join them to do her pro bono year with CNRI and soon the desk would be piled high with files and folders again.

She went over to her desk, only to find herself face to face with the object of her quarry. Oliver sitting on her desk made her stop dead in her tracks for a moment, even though his smile was friendly and inviting. He got up from her desk immediately to offer her the space she needed to put down her stuff and waited for her to join him. Laurel swallowed a little, told herself she could do this – she had been doing this for a few weeks now – and walked over.

"Oliver, " she greeted nervously. "I-I heard what happened to Thea from Tommy; I'm so sorry. How is she doing? Has she woken up?"

She hoped he would chalk up her nerves to the desperate situation with his sister and maybe the Christmas party and the firefighter benefit.

"Still no change," he informed her with a shake of his head. "But I may need a lawyer again."

"I'm sorry, I don't handle paternity suits," she quipped at him with a smile, earning herself an amused scoff.

"No, it's about Thea. Her... situation is actually what I'm here about, sort of."

She frowned at him and cocked her head to the side curiously.

"When your father was there to talk to the doctor, he... he mentioned that some people... they'd want to use this opportunity to oust Thea for being at the club and drinking."

Laurel was taken aback. She hadn't heard about that. Anger flared in her at the hypocritical opportunism that came with the very real crime wave that had begun to sweep through their city. Oliver could see the change in her demeanor from concerned and confused to outright angry and leaned back a little to get a better look. He had come here for her advice, but he hadn't expected her to apparently take such personal offense to it.

"As if being roofied, dragged off to her car and almost raped isn't enough, now she's in the hospital fighting for her life and sanity and they're preparing the rake? Sounds like a new form of slut-shaming to me," the lawyer huffed angrily. At Oliver's amused look, she went on. "Don't get me wrong, Thea shouldn't have been allowed in that club and she sure as hell shouldn't have been drinking, but I'm pretty sure this is just someone's way of making a name for themselves as being tough on crime and Thea is the unfortunate name to their campaign."

"Campaign... you think someone is trying to gain favor for the upcoming mayoral election."

"It's nothing new. Convictions and sentences tend to go up in election periods, sadly," she informed him. "I'll ask my father to see where this is coming from, but I can't promise we can change this. If they are going to run for mayor..."

"I know. Thanks for trying."

She nodded.

"Of course... If you or Thea need anything, I'm here," she promised him. That poor girl. She hadn't known Thea very long and if the tabloids were to be believed, she was a rather shallow and materialistic girl, but she had also lost her brother and father five years ago. She didn't deserve to be saddled with someone else's political agenda to serve as a scapegoat for this city's sins. She squeezed Oliver's arm softly and without even noticing, until his hand came up to clasp hers gratefully. She looked up at him then, recognizing the intensity of his gaze even if she didn't quite know what to expect from it. A moment later, he let go and her hand fell from his arm almost as if they'd both been burned.

"Right, I'll... uh," Oliver started, clearing his throat. "...let you return to work. I'm sure you've got more important things to do than to chat with me... Uhm, thanks again for... ah...Thanks."

He stumbled backward away from her and somehow his hand must have gotten caught on the handle of her desk drawer because he nearly pulled the entire drawer out with his movement. Laurel fought a laugh; for someone who moved with the grace of a hunter, he seemed so clumsy right then. Some of the content spilled from her drawer at the hard pull and Oliver scrambled to collect it immediately, all the while muttering apologies.

Laurel allowed herself a soft chuckle and joined him. Her approach must have startled him, because he tried to get up in a hurry with her stuff and banged his head against the drawer. This time he sat down on the floor and simply frowned at his rotten luck, grumbling under his breath. She knelt down to take a look at his head, batting his hand away as it rubbed at the sore spot. Thankfully, it seemed to be nothing more than a slight bruise.

"Today isn't going your way, is it?", she asked when she found him looking at her again and started helping him pick up her stuff to distract herself from the pair of bright eyes boring holes into her head.

"That obvious, huh?", he asked jokingly. A second attempt at righting himself worked out much better than the previous one. Injury-free, as it were.

"Only a lot," she teased him as they put down everything on her desk. She could sort it back into the drawer later. Something caught his eye; his hand disappeared into the drawer and pulled out the velvet box that still resided there. He opened it to find Danny's badge. His fingers softly stroked over the cold metal.

"Joanna gave this to you?", he asked quietly. "Her brother's badge?"

"It's not for me. I promised her to get it to the Hood, but I don't exactly fancy spending another three nights camped out on the roof, so it's just been sitting there until I can figure something out."

"The roof?", he asked, carefully, and Laurel had to give him credit; he was a good actor.

She waved him off.

"Long story. I do take it home with me, in case... uh... he turned up there once," she admitted, trying to sound guilty. So she ducked her head, but peeked up at him to see his reaction. She saw something for a split-second, but it was quickly overtaken by a deliberate frown in her direction.

"He was in your- are you alright? Your father has people stationed outside, right?", he questioned her with what would sound like real concern if she didn't know it to be an act. She placed a hand on his shoulder in reassurance anyway. Before she answered, she wondered if these conversations wouldn't be easier for both of them if he knew her secret as well, mostly because then they wouldn't have to have them in the first place. For a split-second, she considered telling him right then and there, imagined his reaction, but then reality thankfully dropped back in on her.

"I'm good, Oliver, don't worry. He... He wouldn't hurt me."

"Laurel, he's dangerous," Oliver warned, because he felt the need to, because it would be expected of him. Deep down, though, he was holding his breath for her answer, his words testing how serious she was in her faith in his alter ego.

"Not to me," she assured him and Oliver released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He was relieved, glad even, that she felt that way. After what had happened at Iron Heights and the way he had mishandled their conversation on the roof of this very building, he hadn't been sure there was still any good will toward the Hood left in her. "Trust me," she pleaded with him.

He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Okay... okay, just, be careful please," he murmured as he moved forward to envelop her in a hug. Like at Sara's graveside, he wasn't quite sure what prompted him to move, but he felt better for it.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Starling General)

It was the dead of night when he met her at the basement door at the back of the hospital. It had taken some shuffling to even get them there as the entire area around the hospital was well-lit at all times. There was no guard at the door, but it was secured by an alarm, so the minute they would be on a clock. They both ignored the keypad on the door as it required both a code and an individual key card to overcome, instead they manually attached one of his explosive arrows and took refuge several feet away in one of the few shadows that the scene offered them.

They crouched against the wall, their backs to the small explosion as it tore the door of its hinges. No alarm was heard, but they had little doubt that the security office on the ground floor had lit up like a Christmas tree with their little intrusion, so they didn't hesitate to breech the opening. They found a guard after all, slammed into the ground by the door coming off its hinges and groaning softly. Thankfully, he was alive.

Unfortunately, he was not the only one.

Two more guards had apparently been on patrol down here and had hit the floor when the assault started to protect themselves. When they saw the vigilantes come in, they picked themselves up and charged. Oliver slowed his approach and let Black Canary take the brunt of their aggression. As he expected, it didn't even slow her down. She slammed the first into the nearest wall with her body weight, one baton sliding against his throat to control him.

Her foot swung out to kick the second man, making him stumble back. She pulled the guard she was holding forward for a second, only to slam his head against the concrete again... and repeat. He went down without a fight. Moving away from the wall, she ducked under the swing of the second guard, hitting him straight in a liver with her baton as she danced around him. Her foot pulled his leg with her, while her baton came down on his now conveniently located head, making him fall to her feet.

All the while, Oliver was reclining calmly against the wall closer to the entrance. Black Canary didn't look back at him to see if he followed her, which he did after a moment. She didn't even turn around when footsteps indicated that the guards at the rear entrance of the hospital had followed the sound of the explosion. Not that she needed to. Oliver took quick aim with an arrow he had shown her on their first mission together, dropping the two guards with a small cloud of knockout gas that they carelessly breathed in when they thought themselves safe because he had missed them.

He caught up to her at the main entrance to the basement. They exchanged a glance and he cocked another arrow before they opened the door. When there was no immediate threat, she rushed upward to meet the security detail whose descending footsteps alerted them to their presence. She broke through them and rushed out onto the second floor, while Oliver waited downstairs. The silence in the hall assured him that their plan had worked. The first blast had taken out any immediate cameras at the entrance and Black Canary had dealt with the rest on her way to the stairs.

The security office had probably been emptied out to respond to her intrusion and the only people who knew he was there, lay unconscious in the basement. That gave him a small window of opportunity as he hurried up to the seventh floor where the hospital's lab was located. He slammed through the door to the stairwell to an empty hallway. Even the lab was at low capacity at night.

Oliver spotted a scientist from the lab complex housed there come out to see what the ruckus was about. When he saw the vigilante, the man screeched an scrambled back into the lab. He tried to close the door behind him, but Oliver was over there faster than he could slam it. There were several other scientists and assistants in lab coats in the room, some of whom shuffled into a corner at the sight of him. He switched his bow to his non-dominant hand and held out the other as a peace offering.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I need your help," he told them calmly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. He noticed a shuffle in his peripheral vision and turned toward it, left arm raised to protect himself. A large Erlenmayer flask smashed against his arm, breaking into a million pieces some of which cut his arm even through his leather armor. Oliver hissed in pain, but in order to gain there trust by keeping his promise he merely turned the young man around and shoved him back to his friends. He then motioned for them to move to the other side of the room where he could at least see them all without trouble. They did so without question and their expressions were a bit less frightened and hostile. The man who'd attacked him, frankly, looked surprised to even be in one piece.

Oliver tried again.

"You've recently had an influx of victims drugged with a new type of roofie. I'm trying to find out who's producing it so they can't hurt anyone else... but I need your help."

Footsteps made him turn around briefly, arrow cocked on the bow again. Even though Black Canary almost ran right into the tip, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her.

"The guards?"

"A bit tied up," she told him. With their own handcuffs, no doubt.

"Sorry for the mess," was the first thing she said once she turned her attention to the scientists and saw the glass on the floor. He caught her worried eye, but shook his head that they could deal with his injuries later. "We're looking for whoever analyzed the drugs I brought in along with Ms Queen last night."

Stressed silence followed that statement, while the men and women exchanged frightened glances.

"We're not here to hurt anyone," Oliver reassured them again, ultimately placing his bow on the ground before him. One nervous-looking scientist raised her hand until he gestured for her to go on.

"Uhm, well," she started as she moved carefully to a small in-house mailbox, pulling out the top folder. "I didn't work on it myself, but this is the report. Only, uhm... could you make a copy or something, 'cause this has to go to the doctors to...ah... treat the patients."

Oliver exchanged a glance with the Canary, who shrugged.

"Is there a copy machine on this floor?", she asked.

"Oh, yeah, in the room at the end of the hallway. You just need to swipe the key card and uhm..."

She stopped talking when she saw the two vigilantes look at her non-plussed. Going beet-red, she stumbled over to them with the report. They let her pass between them and followed her to the copy room, Oliver picking his bow off the ground. When they were almost at the end of the hallway, there was a large bang against the doors to the stairwell.

"I knocked off the handle on their side but they'll throw the door down soon enough. We've got to hurry," Canary told them. "Cover us."

Oliver nodded. As the two women rushed into the room, Oliver positioned himself in the doorway. He heard the continuous bangs and saw the door rattling under the security guards' or possibly the police's efforts to kick it down. Then he heard an unexpected ding when the elevator arrived. The first thing he saw were the lights attached to their service weapons shining into the hallway. Four police officers in riot gear entered the hallway and Oliver shot two of them in the leg before they saw where he was. They opened fire on him right as their colleagues broke through the door as well. The fire ceased for a few seconds, so they wouldn't shoot each other and Oliver took the opportunity to shoot another few. Two he hit in the shoulder, another in the arm, then they were in formation.

"Duck behind the copying machine and cover your ears," Canary instructed their helpful scientist, who scrambled to do as she was told, and pocketed the documents. Then she looked at him with a quiet apology in her eyes. She hadn't brought him earplugs this time and he hadn't managed to salvage those he'd been given for the Dark Archer situation while she stitched him up. Oliver just grunted and covered her with two more arrows as she rolled her sonic bomb into the hallway. She hissed in pain when a bullet grazed her anyway, but rushed to the window anyway.

He followed on her heels, cursing her for running ahead, then shot his cable quickly into the hospital wall and let it set down gently on the ground. When he watched her land on her feet, he was sure she'd break her legs, but she just rolled across the grass and came right back up. Oliver didn't have time to think about it, because the police continued shooting at them from above.

They made their way to the club in record time. If Black Canary was surprised that he led her there or that this was his hideout, she didn't show it. As it was the middle of the night and he didn't have to worry about running into Tommy, who took his job managing the construction very seriously and was at the club almost constantly, they took the front entrance. He thought about shielding the keypad from her view with his body and she was polite enough to remain a few steps behind him, but ultimately decided that if she had come this far, he might as well not bother. Diggle was definitely surprised when he saw her coming down the stairs behind him.

"You brought her here- He brought you here?", he asked perplexed.

Canary just shrugged.

"Like you said, Dig, she already knows the rest. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this is where we work from," Oliver announced, putting down the bow.

"The rest... So you know about the list..."

"List. What list?", she asked immediately and Oliver grit his teeth. He should have been more careful, he thought, even as Dig cast him an apologetic glance and Oliver wondered if he'd done that on purpose.

"Almost all the rest," he admitted, "and not the point right now."

He looked at her pointedly, making Canary roll her eyes. She dropped the subject, though, and pulled out the documents from her jacket. The three of them gathered around with Oliver and Diggle looking over her shoulders to read the report. They skimmed over a couple of graphs and lists of components for the drug. None of them had the background to fully understand the chemical composition of the drug, but skipping through the pages they found a short written account of the findings that luckily also included some explanatory notes.

"According to this, the drug is made up of a number of prescription strength psychedelic drugs in addition to GHB and the liquid inside the capsules contains water from the East Glades Bay."

"East Glades Bay?", Diggle repeated pensively. "There's an abandoned juvenile correction facility there that would serve wonderfully as a drug lab. Shielded from view, not a lot of police presence... The works, you might say."

"That still doesn't tell us who's making these drugs. Psychedelic drugs have shown up in the blood of previous victims, but that could still be any hospital with a psych ward, a chemist at a pharmacy handing out these drugs or-"

"The Starling City Asylum," Oliver spoke up. He'd turned away from them to the row of computers on the desk behind them. Canary and Diggle turned around to see that he'd pulled up some kind of map. A closer look revealed the East Glades Bay area shown on the map. Two red dots indicated the juvenile correction facility and the asylum, which were conveniently located pretty much next to one another. Oliver then pulled up an article according to which the asylum had expanded into the refurbished prison in order to adequately treat their patients and research new treatment options.

"They even have their own lab to keep track of how newly legalized drugs affect their patients... Or to cook roofies, which is probably more lucrative," Diggle pointed out.

"Then that's our target."

"Then we should get this to the cops and leave them to deal with it," Canary concluded. Both men looked at her non-plussed. "We're talking about a prison. Even if it was for kids, the building is fortified and easily defensible. Trying to take it, just the three of us, would be... Well, we might as well check ourselves into the asylum while we're there."

Diggle nodded reluctantly.

"She has a point. While they're in there, they're practically untouchable... You could use the police as a distraction to get in, but... if they're there anyway..."

They both looked expectantly at Oliver, who was gritting his teeth once again. They did have a point; it was a very risky proposition to attack a fortified drug lab full of armed thugs with a bow and a couple of batons. Even if they considered his trick arrows and her sonic bombs and the element of surprise, the odds were still against them. On the other hand, if they were stealthy enough, they might be able to divide and conquer their enemies. He looked at his two partners in crime. They were waiting for his decision and he knew in that moment that, for all their protests, they would go along with whatever he decided.

He was loathe to let the people who'd hospitalized his little sister get off so easy by calling the police, but could he really lead them into what could amount to a death trap for his personal vengeance? He slammed his fist on the table in frustration, because it seemed he had failed his city and, more importantly, his family yet again. His eyes fell onto the red blinking dot on the map again. His blood boiled at the thought that they were still happily cooking up their drug while he was standing there with his hands tied. He had to get them off the board somehow. Somehow...

"We could draw them out, take them while they're vulnerable," he suggested as an idea hit him.

"How?", both Dig and Canary asked in unison.

"By offering them a deal too lucrative to refuse."

"You want to pose as a buyer," Diggle surmised.

"There's two problems with that the way I see it," Canary told them, exchanging a glance with Diggle. The two seemed to be on the same page, because the bodyguard motioned for her to continue. "You haven't exactly taken stock of yourself recently, have you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oliver, you are an extremely wealthy, good-looking celebrity castaway with a reputation for exchanging women like clothes. I doubt anyone is going to believe that you need a roofie to chat up a lady," she told him with a snort. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Good-looking?"

"Seriously? I'm a straight woman, what is wrong with me noticing?", she said by way of explanation. "And you can't tell me you haven't noticed how... toned my legs look in my own leather pants..."

She let the sentence drift of and watched him as his gaze did fall from her face at the reminder. She rolled her eyes, even as he inclined his head to show his agreement.

"And even if they miss that, there's no way they won't get suspicious when the man whose sister was just hospitalized by their drug wants to do business with them," she continued. "You can't seriously expect them to buy that."

"You got a better idea?", Oliver challenged, but without malice behind the words.

Again, she and Diggle looked at each other.

"No, Oliver, we don't," the bodyguard told him honestly. "But that doesn't make yours a good one. You have to be aware of the risk. We won't have a lot of feet on the ground there."

"Diggle is right; we'll need all the help we can get-"

"We're not calling the police!", Oliver warned her in a deadly tone.

"I meant that we need – and I can't believe the words are coming out of my mouth – Helena there."

Stunned silence encompassed them for a minute. It seemed even Diggle hadn't quite seen this coming, despite their silent communication. Still, the other man nodded absentmindedly at the suggestion.

"Between Black Canary and me, the risk would still be too great. We're gonna need additional man-... or, well, womanpower."

"And what am I, chopped liver?"

"No, you're Oliver Queen – castaway billionaire playboy and I've probably met kittens who punch harder than him," Diggle reminded him.

"He's right, Oliver, you can't fight. If the police got wind of that – ever – they'd start looking at you again. Harder, this time... Which is also why Diggle is going as himself and not the Hood. If somebody realized that there are two of you-"

"It's game over," Diggle finished.

"Alright, alright- we need an in first anyway. I guess I'll talk to my Bratva contacts after all. I don't suppose you want to accompany me?"

"Your ploys are getting worse," she snorted at him.

"Worth a try," he shot back with a grin.

"Diggle will go with you. Call me as soon as you've got a time and place and I'll tell Helena."

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Big Belly Burger)

The way Tommy was wolfing down his burger and fries, one would think he hadn't eaten in a week. Then again, Oliver guessed he'd been so immersed in his new job that maybe he had been skipping meals. Tommy had really thrown himself into it, even going so far as to yelling at their contractors that morning because they weren't keeping the agreed upon schedule and threatening to bring in someone else to finish the job if they couldn't or wouldn't. Oliver had been rather impressed with Tommy's dedication, though he was worried if his friend was doing this because he liked the new job or because of something to do with his father. Proving that he could succeed without him, perhaps, or just distracting himself from the reminder of the broadening rift between them.

"Well, I'm glad I got you out here to eat. It was clearly a necessary intervention," Oliver piped up when Tommy asked Carly for seconds, then took his glass of water and gulped most of it down in record time. "Are you going to inhale that one too?"

"Ah, sorry about that. I didn't realize how hungry for greasy, salty Big Belly Burger goodness I was before it was in front of me."

"No, I get it. You've been so busy with the club and I'm not exactly much of a help, am I?"

Tommy waved him off.

"That's probably a good thing. I told you, you don't exactly have experience at running... anything."

"And you do?," Oliver asked him carefully. "I just realized I never asked what you've been up to these past five years, but... you handled the benefits so well I should have realized..."

"Don't worry, Ollie," Tommy told him. "My father doesn't even know half the things I did the last five years – although, that's maybe not much of a surprise. Mostly I went on as before, but, you're right, I did organize a few... things. Mostly for maritime charities after I tried to f-"

Oliver frowned at him. Tommy scoffed at himself.

"I tried to find you. Flew to China and made a fuss until-" He hesitated for the briefest moment, wondering if he should tell his friend about being kidnapped and threatened, but decided against it. Oliver had gone through enough. "Until dad ordered me home. Afterwards... I threw myself into almost anything to do with sea... work – exploration and mapping, cleaning up the ocean projects, the likes. Most of them didn't even have anything remotely to do with the Gambit or sinking ships in general, but it was a way I felt... connected to you. Getting practice at throwing fund raisers was just an added bonus that pays off in hindsight."

He tried to end on a joking note, but Tommy could see the torn look on Oliver's face. Guilt and pride were two of the emotions he recognized that were warring for dominance in his friend's mind, he could tell. How his friend's pride in him could mean more than even any gesture of his father's affection drove home to Tommy once again that the day his mother had been killed, he had actually lost them both. Her killer had turned him into an orphan and Oliver's family had filled in the void. Oliver's family had been there for him and taken care of him and loved him in a way his father couldn't. Robert had been his real dad, Moira had been practically a second mother with how she hat doted on him and Oliver and Thea were the best siblings Tommy could have ever wished for.

"My father was there for me in all the superficial ways it mattered. He worked, he provided me with food and shelter and he paid my bills, but it was your father who took me to my first baseball match, your father who drove us to soccer training, your father who took us and Thea camping once a month in summer-"

"Much to my mother's horror when she read there might be a wolf in the area," Oliver reminisced laughing. "Even though it turned out to be-"

"A shaggy sheep dog who'd run after a stray sheep and gotten lost for a few months," Tommy finished as they shared a laugh. "Poor thing. He'd been such a sweetheart, really, but I remember your mother nearly having a heart attack when we turned up at the door with him in tow and asked her to call the vet."

"Yeah, a pity we found the owner. Thea wanted so desperately to keep him."

They shared another laugh while Carly put down Tommy's new plate.

"This time, Merlyn, chew your food," she said in warning.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered with a mock salute. He turned back to Oliver when she left, though not until she'd seen him take a careful bite and chew for at least twenty seconds. "The point is, your father did all of those things for me, while my- while Malcolm was simply present in my life. Your dad was a good man. I miss him."

Oliver sighed.

"My dad had his own problems. He told me he wasn't the man we thought he was before... well, before. But, you're right, he was a good dad to me and Thea and... to you... I'm glad you were and still are a part of my family, Tommy. It wouldn't be the same without you," Oliver told him honestly, when suddenly his phone started ringing. He glanced at the caller id and recognized the garage he and Diggle had visited earlier. He wondered if Diggle had managed to get the man Oliver had supposedly killed out of town yet.

He had suddenly been glad that Canary had declined to come along; he doubted she'd have stood by while she thought he murdered someone like Diggle had. The action had still shocked the veteran, even after he had revealed the trick involved. He picked up the phone and simply listened as the mechanic's voice spoke softly to him in Russian.

"We've made contact."

"Glad to hear it,"he replied in the same language. "One moment, please."

He leaned forward conspiratorially.

"It's a Russian model... calling me. Can I have a minute?"

Tommy held up both his hand with a grin. "Now I know how you spend your days when you're not at the club."

He and Oliver shared another grin, before Tommy got up to use the restroom.

"I'm listening," Oliver told them, once Tommy was out of sight.

"They're willing to meet you tonight. Only you, no weapons."

Oliver scoffed.

"Tell them not to insult my intelligence. I'll bring my bodyguard and he will be armed."

"Very well," the other man answered with disinterest. It wasn't his life on the line after all. "As with Mr Lawton, the organization expects you to leave us out of this."

"If I survive, you mean," Oliver said, recalling their conversation about Deadshot. While Big Belly Burger was always full of patrons, he wasn't particularly worried about being overheard. The entire conversation was in Russian, too, so he doubted anyone thought twice about what was being said.

"Indeed... Anatoli Knyzev speaks very highly of you."

"He should. I saved his life... Give me the time and location," he said while pulling out the Hood's phone as well. He typed the information in as he listened to the directions and hit sent even before he ended the call. His eyes fell to his half-eaten burger. It was getting cold, but he was still loathe to tear himself away from it and from his outing with Tommy, but he had some things to prepare. So when his friend returned, he began to excuse himself, but Tommy grabbed onto his arm to pull him back for a moment.

"You know there's nothing between me and Laurel right?"

Oliver must have looked rather flattened, because Tommy snorted and went on.

"Come on, Ollie, I'd have to be blind not to see there's something there when you look at her."

He didn't find Oliver's continued lack of answer off-putting. The same could be said for you, Oliver thought meanwhile. He clamped down on that thought as his mind even refused to deny there was anything there. Perhaps because he was not generally in the habit of lying to himself, he had preferred to simply not think about it. Push it out of his mind rather than confront it head-on.

"All I'm saying is, if you're holding back because of me... don't."

He shook his head.

"It's not you, it's not anything."

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"If anything, it would be Sara."

That statement left a very confused Tommy behind when Oliver practically fled the diner.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

The lights flickered out before she practically appeared in the room out of nowhere. Helena didn't seem surprised. She didn't even get up at first, though Black Canary could feel her tense more and more the closer she got. When Canary stopped a few paces from where she was sitting on the floor, Helena's entire body seemed rigid. She assessed the other woman carefully. Helena was curled around a pillow , legs and arms drawn close to herself. The place was littered with take-out plates and paper napkins, even some leftovers here and there.

The other woman had clearly not taken very good care of herself recently, while hiding away in her and her fiancé's apartment. Laurel's heart constricted a bit, thinking about why she had retreated to this place. Why she had kept it after the man she loved had been murdered. A reminder, certainly, but now also a place of comfort and safety from the demons she had been thrown in with by her and Oliver.

"Helena, I need your help."

Apparently, that had been the last straw, the final bit of pressure that the woman needed to snap, because Helena shot up from the floor and charged Laurel head-on. Canary easily sidestepped the attack. This wasn't the Huntress attacking, it was a tightly coiled emotional ball of fury and guilt and while that gave Helena strength, it took away her ability to act strategically. If Laurel hadn't been convinced Helena had been unstable before, now she definitely would be. However, she noted with a large dose of guilt, it had been her who had finally pushed her over the edge.

Or over again, as it were. She had given the young woman that final blow. Just when Helena showed a bit of the humanity Laurel had pointed out she missed in her, she had, of course, had to point out that that was not the moment to mourn the fireman's death. She had indeed been a sanctimonious bitch to the other woman that night; she recognized that even as she continued to think it necessary and sidestepped another attack. This time she grabbed onto Helena and used her momentum to throw her to the ground in hopes of waking her up. When all she did was kick Laurel's legs out from under her, Canary let out a grunt of anger rather than pain, even as her back hit the floor uncomfortable.

Helena appeared over her, ready to smash a vase in her face. Laurel raised her arm to derail the attack and the vase went flying into the wall. No doubt the neighbors had heard that and the rest of the ruckus; Helena wasn't exactly quiet as she tried to take her opponent down. With a bit of shuffling and maneuvering – and a jab at the soft spot between her clavicles – she managed to get the angry woman under control, face down on the ground. Even now Helena growled and cursed at her. Laurel huffed; she was beginning to regret not having sent her mentor in her stead, but she had figured since she had caused Helena's existential crisis, she should be the one to, hopefully, talk her out of it.

"You're a friend of Oliver Queen, yes?... At least, you were seen eating together at Da Russo's." That wasn't even a total lie; there had been a tabloid article about their romantic candlelight dinner. Because the Bertinelli villa had been shot up shortly afterward, no one really cared enough to blow the story out of proportion as the media would usually have done.

"You heard what happened to his sister?"

That got her to stop wiggling.

"Yeah, I heard... you swooped in like some fucking hero, you heartless bitch!"

"So you do talk?! Progress," Canary couldn't help but quip, prompting another struggle to get out from under her on Helena's part. She let the other woman up a little, only to slam her back down onto the ground to get her to cease. Thankfully, it worked. "Queen's arranged a meeting with the drug dealers..."

She let that sentence hang until Helena shook herself out of the shock.

"That idiot! What's he thinking?!"

"He's not. He just wants to do something for his sister, I imagine. The point is... there'll be a lot of drug dealers with a lot of guns and I'm alone."

"What about your green friend?", Helena hissed. "You two seemed so cozy; bet you were roasting marshmallows over that fire after I left..."

Laurel sighed.

"He's not exactly been the same recently, or hadn't you noticed? If he can barely handle one arsonist, I'm not putting him in the middle of a drug war, which is why – God help me – I came to you. I need you there. I need your help."

"Did it hurt you to say that? 'Cause I'd hoped you'd choke on the words!"

Laurel sighed and simply gave her the time and address, before getting off of her. All the way to the window Helena's curses followed her.

"Will you be there?", she finally asked as she stood in front of the window. She turned around half way to see Helena pick herself up off the ground. Her hands were shaking, in anger perhaps, but Laurel feared there might be something else mixed in there.

"Go to hell!"

Helena still fumed minutes after Black Canary had left, until an idea hit her. She went to grab some things from her closet and rushed out the door.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Parking Garage, somewhere in Starling)

Diggle had stopped the car, but had left the engine running. That was ten minutes ago and still no one had come to meet them. He wasn't quite sure they still would, but if so: greenhouse gases be damned, he and Oliver would need a quick way out of there if things went south. Which he was sure they would and he could always jog to the grocery store the next couple of times. The bodyguard shook his head free of the thoughts as he got out and did a quick analysis of the perimeter, before going around the car to open the door for his client. The parking garage was run-down and abandoned, not that he was surprised given the neighborhood. It was empty, save their own car and for a moment Diggle thought – and hoped – that the drug dealers had stood them up, but then he noticed the headlights coming their way. He sighed and checked the comms.

"Ready?", he whispered.

"In position," Black Canary's answer came promptly. Diggle looked around surreptitiously, but couldn't spot an inch of black leather anywhere. He consoled himself with the thought that therefore neither could the drug dealers, probably.

"Is our mutual... acquaintance coming?"

"...She told me to go to hell, so I wouldn't hold my breath."

Her voice was calmer than Diggle felt.

"Brilliant," he muttered under his breath. "Here goes."

A black SUV stopped several meters from them. The first three people to get out were big, burly men with automatic firearms hanging around their necks. Diggle regretted bringing only his handgun and his spare ankle piece. He looked over to Oliver and wondered if he was armed. He knew Oliver didn't need a weapon to be deadly; if nothing else their recent encounter with the Bratva had proven that; but he's still feel better if his vigilante friend were armed. Diggle's hand went to his ear, poking a bit at one of the high tech earplugs Black Canary had provided them with. He'd heard about how much damage her sonic device could cause and was grateful that if push came to shove they had a way to take down the bunch of them, even though she had warned them that it cause severe bleeding if detonated to close to a living being.

One of the muscle frisking Oliver brought Diggle out of his thoughts. He blinked when he came face to face with a second guard, ready to do the same to him. The search on his partner yielded no results. They had agreed that it would be suspicious for Oliver Queen to carry a weapon, but Diggle had wondered and almost hoped his friend had ignored him, because, to be honest, it had been him and Black Canary who had agreed...

Still, he breathed a sigh of relief that things were proceeding smoothly for the moment. When the other goon tried to frisk him, Diggle held up a hand and pulled away his jacket to show him his holster. He also gave him a measured look to clarify the gun would stay where it was. The other man looked back at the SUV as if for confirmation, then backed off when the back door opened. A middle-aged man in a blue pullover got out carefully, coming forward to stand in front of Oliver. He adjusted his rimless glasses on his nose as he surveyed the two of them with barely withheld suspicion.

"I almost didn't come," the man said in a smooth, cultured voice. A scientist or doctor, perhaps? "After what happened to your sister, you understand, I figured this was a set up."

"Yet here you are," Oliver said jovially, keeping up his persona as a rich playboy, even though he was fuming inside.

"My friends checked the perimeter."

"Hence the delay," Oliver surmised, receiving an unapologetic shrug in return. "I don't like being kept waiting, Mr...?"

He smiled wolfishly, but didn't answer.

"How is Ms Queen, by the way? I did worry when I heard of her... predicament," he taunted instead. Diggle cast a glance at Oliver and saw him go rigid, but the vigilante kept his calm.

"On the way to recovery," he told them. A bold-faced lie; Thea's state hadn't changed last he'd checked in with their mother. He was a horrible brother and son for not being there, but he needed these people out of the way. "But enough chit chat. Time is money, they say, and I've got quite a bit of that burning a hole in this briefcase."

He lifted up the case in question. It hadn't been difficult to obtain the money; the bank employees were taught to be discreet and the man had spoken to had probably simply presumed he was paying somebody under the table for work on his club or that he needed the money for more unsavory pleasures, but hadn't pried. Explaining this to his mother if something went wrong would be a lot more complicated, but he quelled that thought, trusting that nothing would go wrong. In hindsight, of course, he would realize that that was his first mistake.

"And what is it that you want with my drug?"

"I'm about to open a club and I want my guests to have a little something... extra. While I won't deny that I want to punch you for what your drug did to my sister-" Here, he looked around at the suddenly nervous muscle. "-it also proved that you have the knowledge, skill and facilities to supply what I need. Something a bit less GHB and a bit more... ecstasy..."

"A custom job?", the other man questioned, surprised, but Oliver could see his eyes take on a gleam of curiosity, so he didn't hesitate; he placed the briefcase on the hood of his car and opened it to reveal neatly packed stacks of money.

"You'll be richly compensated for diverting some of your precious time and energy toward... pleasing my customers, I assure you," Oliver promised in a rich, dark voice. He saw the other man fixate on the money in fascination. Adjusting his glasses again, he came forward to take a closer look. Oliver picked up few bundles of dollars to demonstrate that there was no trickery involved and the suitcase was indeed filled with them. After he had replaced them, he allowed his opponent to stroke the edge of of the briefcase and glide his fingers over the money for a moment, before closing the briefcase again. "I'm willing to pay in advance for the first supply to showcase my good faith-"

"Oh, yes, I received your little gift from your Russian friends," the other man interjected, extending a hand behind him for one of his goons to place the police file in his hands. "So quaint: Of course, I could have gotten this any time I wanted, but I appreciate the gesture. A for effort, Mr Queen."

"Do we have a deal then?"

Their adversary tapped the folder against his lips, eyes drifting between Oliver's face and the briefcase. He paced momentarily, back and forth, occasionally turning his back on Oliver in the process. Finally, he walked back to face Oliver. The vigilante felt a sense of relief wash over him when he thought that the other man had accepted his deal, but then he pulled a gun from his back and pointed it straight at Oliver's face.

Not that they hadn't expected this to be the likeliest outcome, but it still put a scowl on the vigilante's face. Still, Oliver raised his hands to go along with the drug dealer for the moment and saw Diggle follow his lead out of the corner of his eye. He continued to scowl as the man taunted him by waving the weapon in his face, until something over the other man's shoulder caught his attention.

Black Canary had dropped from the ceiling behind the SUV and crept around the back. When she was close enough, she slammed one foot into the back of one goon's knee, while simultaneously swung her baton. It went over the head of the man she'd brought down onto one knee and into the throat of the muscle standing beside him. While the other man staggered, he watched her ram her knee under the ribs of the kneeling one, then shoved him onto the ground with her foot.

The third goon pulled around to shoot at her and Oliver opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but between Canary ducking behind the car, Diggle pulling out his gun and shooting at the third man, he suddenly noticed that the drug dealer had grabbed the case and run for the exit. Oliver cursed himself for his inattentiveness, sprinting after the smaller man.

As he caught up with him, he became vaguely aware of approaching sirens. He paid them no heed as he tried to grab hold of the man's arm, but it slipped through his finger so Oliver had to follow him out the door into the night. Before he'd fully opened the door, he found an injection needle coming his way. Oliver moved to block the arm, but the man then grabbed hold of the door and slammed it into Oliver's face. The vigilante stumbled backward. He saw the drug dealer follow him, only to be pulled away and spun around by another man.

A few inches shorter than Oliver himself and with a fit physique, but that was about all Oliver could tell about the new guy. He shook his head clear to gain a better look. In a split second, his trained mind assessed the new combatant. He wore knee-high black boots, military style black pants with pouches attached to either leg the same way Black Canary wore them. Instead of a simple leather jacket, though, he wore heavy body armor over it and a helmet in an odd shape with two protrusions that looked almost like...dog ears?

Something wanted to click in his mind, but it refused to settle. The door clearly had done a better job at disorienting him than he had first thought. The new vigilante – or whatever he was – looked him over to see if he was hurt and made to run after the drug dealer, but a bullet zinged off the staircase rails that forced him to duck instinctively. Two police officers stormed down the stairs to apprehend him, unthinking.

They positioned themselves between Oliver and the new guy, perhaps thinking this vigilante had attacked him. Whatever their thought process, they soon came to regret it. One officer was slightly in front of the other one, one in uniform while the other was in civvies. Oliver tried to concentrate, because the one in civvies seemed familiar, but his vision came in and out of focus.

He saw the vigilante disarm the uniformed officer with practiced ease, making sure the weapon was pointed elsewhere as he laid in on him with a powerful punch to the liver. The officer gasped for breath, dropping the gun without any more fight. A second punch to the temple sent him to the floor. The remaining officer aimed for the head but was distracted momentarily by Oliver grabbing his... her?... ankle, wanting to do something.

He needn't have worried; Black Canary's baton slipped underneath the gun and diverted its aim further up. The shot went harmlessly into the ceiling as she spun, taking the officer with her until... she... was sprawled on the ground right next to Oliver. This close, Oliver finally recognized McKenna Hall whom he had spoken to for the first time in years that morning. Her confusion only lasted a moment before her angry eyes fixated on the two vigilantes.

"Glad to see I didn't do too much damage this afternoon," she teased the detective, only to relish a little in the woman's displeased grunt. Bell-like laughter pearled out of her before she could stop it, until finally her partner's hand on her shoulder called her to attention. "Are you alright, Mr. Queen? That was quite the stunt you pulled there."

"F-fine," he managed, trying to urge her to leave before reinforcements came and play the hapless victim. "L-lucky you came... when y-you di-did."

He huffed. He felt a headache coming on.

"Come on, pretty bird, let's go," the other vigilante urged her softly and he recognized that voice despite or rather because of the distortion. What did that say about his life, he wondered, but everything he'd learned about this other guy finally clicked in his head when he heard his voice. The same voice he'd had in his ear during the Dark Archer incident.

So this was Wildcat...

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Starling General)

The light they shone in his eyes only made the headache worse and he ducked out from under it as soon as possible. He heard the doctor sigh in exasperation and mutter something under his breath about difficult patients, but put down a few notes on his chart anyway. McKenna and Detective Lance were standing in one corner of his room, while his mother was glaring at him from the other, all of them waiting for the doctor to finish examining him.

Diggle was standing outside the room, opposite to the door and chatting with a uniform. Black Canary and Wildcat had thankfully gotten safely away if the disgruntled look on McKenna's face was anything to go by. Then again, she may simply be mad at him for having found him in the middle of a drug deal and doing exactly what she had told him to leave to the professionals.

"You're lucky, Mr. Queen. You don't seem to be concussed, but I'd advise against any strenuous activities for the rest of the day. Your brain does not need to be jostled any further. Also, no alcoholics," the doctor's voice brought Oliver out of his reverie. He nodded quietly at the man finishing up his paperwork and signing his release right there. Then he excused himself and took his leave of them. Once he was out the door, the small room seemed to shrink a little further as the tension threatened to suffocate the lot of them.

"What were you thinking?!", his mother was the first to speak, naturally. "Your sister is already in the hospital; were you planning to join her or, worse, did you want the first place she'd go once she wakes up to be your funeral?"

Once she wakes up... If she wakes up, Oliver was beginning to think.

"Mom, I'm sorry- McKenna, Detective Lance, I really didn't want to cause any trouble, but I thought... with how little you got, maybe I could... I did this for Thea! I thought I could-"

"-do the police's job?!" That was McKenna; she stalked over to him and despite what the doctor had just said, slapped him across the face. Hard. "I told you to stay out of this! I warned you these were dangerous crowds and that we would handle it! How would you dying help your sister?!"

"Ah, Hall..." Quentin tried to get her attention when he noticed the shift in Moira's anger, from her son to the woman manhandling him. Not that he blamed her since McKenna had taken to grabbing Oliver by the shoulder.

"Wake up, Oliver! This isn't the island; you can't just go around and do whatever you want or think you need!", she hissed at him, meanwhile, not paying either of the other two any heed. She saw the shift in Oliver almost instantly, saw the way he flinched away from her at the mention of the island. There was pain and... yes, fear in his eyes. She didn't know where it came from exactly, but it caused a sudden flash of guilt to rush through her.

For the first time, she noticed how her heart was racing, how close she was standing and how hard she was gripping his shoulders. Pressing her lips together, she let go and drew a few steps back. He wouldn't look at her, keeping his eyes somewhere at the height of her chest. Normally, she would find that quite maddening in a man, but his eyes were empty. Dull.

He wasn't seeing her at all.

"Look, Oliver, I'm sorry if... if I came across...harsh, but you gotta understand... You gotta leave this to the cops," she finally managed to force out, but his eyes never came back into focus. Instead he grabbed his jacket from the gurney and stormed out of there. She went after him and called his name, but he never stopped as he made his way down the hallway, his bodyguard wisely following a few feet behind him.

"Is he under arrest?", Moira asked belatedly, but her voice was more tired than bitter as she addressed Quentin.

"No," the detective answered equally resigned. "I get what he did. If it had been Laurel or...or Sara, I would have done the same. I did..." But he interrupted himself; this was not the time to talk about his failings toward his daughter. "He can't do this again, Moira."

A beat of silence.

"I know."

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

Without knowing where he was going, Oliver found himself in Thea's room. He stayed there for quite a while, hours to be honest. His mother came and went when she could get no response out of them. He heard her exchange a few whispers with Diggle, but he didn't pay enough attention to hear what was said. His eyes never left Thea's face. Less pale, less drawn, now she only looked asleep. She just wouldn't wake up. Worry and despair crashed into him like tidal waves and Oliver had to bite his lip to keep the sobs from escaping.

Thea had always been so important to him, but he hadn't known how much he would miss her until she was lying here in this hospital bed. So close and yet out of reach. The island had been harsh, but he'd had barely any time to think about his life back home, because it had been a constant fight for survival. Now he had Thea right in front of him and may as well be separated from her by several oceans...

Diggle tried to talk to him, too, but Oliver just never answered. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? Wasn't it obvious that he had no intention of talking? Yet at the same time he wanted to yell at the world. There was so much he had to say, that he and Diggle had to discuss, too, but he couldn't muster the energy. He had failed his sister yet again and now he was just numb. Hours later, Diggle had gone home to rest with a squeeze to Oliver's shoulder and the promise that he could call whenever he wanted. More time passed and he was still sitting there staring at Thea's face.

Nurses and doctors and orderlies had tried to tell him that visiting hours were over and when that had gotten no reaction, one kind nurse had gotten to orderlies to bring in a cot in which to sleep. He hadn't touched it, had barely even looked at it. The nurse had put a cup of chamomile tea on the night stand next to Thea's bed, but it had gone cold untouched. Oliver just kept staring at his sister until he stood up abruptly, gripped by a restlessness he couldn't explicate, kissed Thea's forehead gently and promised to come back soon.

He was sitting in a cab without fully realizing how he got there. An address tumbled out of his mouth, but it wasn't for home. Once they'd arrived, he paid the driver blindly and sprinted his way up the stairs. He knocked gently once, then more forcefully. Determinedly. He knew he would practically have to bang on the door to get a response at this hour of the night, which is why he was surprised when Diggle answered the door within a few seconds. The lights were still on and Oliver wondered how he hadn't noticed that from outside, but he had to admit to himself that he hadn't paid attention to much of anything in quite a while. When he saw the coffee maker was making a fresh pot, he almost backed out the door.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you had... Asked Carly out, did you?", he asked, half-confused because of the time, half glad that the recent incident with Diggle's old army buddy hadn't put her off dating him.

The other man just snorted.

"Grab a mug from the kitchen and bring the coffee. We're in dire need of it in the living room."

With that, he left Oliver hovering in the entrance. The thought of backing out dropped from his mind as curiosity took over. So he did as told and was stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance to the living room. Blinds drawn across the windows, Black Canary and Wildcat were sitting on the couch and in an armchair respectively, half-empty mugs of coffee resting atop a building plan. He noted with interest that it was for the closed juvenile correction facility. They were discussing various entry points in hushed tones when he entered and they looked up.

"You took your time," Wildcat said with a smirk.

"Wh-What are you doing here?"

Black Canary rose to take the coffee pot from him, but hovered for a moment, her head cocked questioningly to the side.

"Were you planning on letting this go? Handing our investigation over to the police and letting them handle it?"

He must have looked offended when she said it, because she chuckled darkly at him.

"Didn't think so."

"But, if we're going in there, we need a plan," Wildcat continued. "Especially if it's just the three of us."

Oliver looked over at Diggle, who shrugged.

"Trust me, I was as surprised as you when I came home to find them sitting comfily in my living room... And I keep saying, it's four of us."

"Unless you're planning on wearing a mask, you're not coming. Too recognizable," Canary commented dryly and it sounded like they'd been having this conversation a few times while he had been at the hospital.

"Well, if your friend has an extra helmet..."

"What, Queen doesn't have a spare hood lying around?", Wildcat taunted, earning himself a slap to the arm by Canary.

"I can offer a ski mask," Oliver finally said as he sat down, finally recovering from the shock.

"It's settled then," Diggle told them. Once the almost friendly banter had run out, though, the three co-conspirators turned nervous, fidgeting in their seats and generally not looking at him. His raised eyebrow had his partner sigh. "There is something- We've been over all the possible entry points all night. Since this was a prison, there's only really three. Front door for the prisoners, access door for employees and transport and the delivery gate. Now the latter two are right next to each other, so we could split into two teams to cover both main entrances – not counting various office windows they might escape from."

"I hear a but coming..."

"It's a big compound," Canary told him. "We may be able to make our way in, but we don't know how many people are in there and if the party gifts they brought to our meeting earlier are any indication, they're well-armed."

"We need the police on this," Wildcat concluded. He continued despite Oliver's eyes darkening. "Our window of opportunity will be small, but it's the only way we can be sure to take them off the streets for good."

There was a challenge in his tone as if he expected Oliver to suggest a more... permanent solution than sending them to jail. All eyes were on him now, questioning or scrutinizing. He had killed very rarely since his initial agreement with Black Canary, but the thought of letting that bastard escape to a comfy prison cell made him want to scream. Still, he would need their help to take the compound, so he might have to play along – for a while. He thought of Thea and her long coma and couldn't help but think how satisfying it would be to give the man a taste of his own medicine.

"Alright, let's go."

"Not so fast!", three voices called out, making Oliver look at them quizzically.

"You've seen enough action for one night, man," Diggle pointed out. "If you can walk in a straight line tomorrow-"

"I was hit with a door, not drunk."

"And then almost drugged, which I prevented. So you owe me and I agree with Mr Diggle," Wildcat reminded him. Oliver opened his mouth to argue that he'd helped stop McKenna from shooting him, but the three sets of glares in his direction made him shut up.

Black Canary smirked.

"Rest now, Queenie. We'll talk more tomorrow."

He glared right back.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Starling General)

Moira sat at her daughter's hospital bed again. She had thought to give Oliver room by keeping her distance for a while after the incident with Detective McKenna Hall. She remembered the detective as a bit of a wild child in her school days, always flitting from one party to the next like a social butterfly. She and Oliver had crossed paths on occasion and usually gotten in trouble together, but she hadn't been a fixture in her son's life like Tommy. Still, apparently her son had felt comfortable enough to approach her about Thea's situation and then had somehow felt encouraged to meet with a dangerous drug dealer to provide the police with sufficient data to arrest the bastards.

Hall may have said that she'd told Oliver to leave it to the police, but clearly that had only stoked him. The detective should have never even agreed to talk to Oliver about the case. She thought he was past the foolishness, but if his appearance at the building inauguration and his pursuit of the Queen Consolidated shooter was any indication – the latter of which, at least, should be public knowledge among the police – he still clearly had a predisposition for stupid stunts that could give her a heart attack.

She looked over at Thea, imagining for a moment Oliver lying beside her in another hospital bed. Her two children both struck down by the same drug dealer – or worse, what if Oliver had died there?! How would she have explained to Thea that her brother had died trying to catch the bastard that did this to her?! A suppressed sob broke through the surface of her mask and Moira raised a hand to stifle it, but another followed. And then another. And then she simply broke apart as all the whirling thoughts in her mind tore her in different directions.

Tears streaming down her face, she subconsciously rocked her body back and forth to soothe herself. Her eyes never left her daughter's face; so still. Too still. After a few minutes, a noise made her look at her phone, hoping it was Oliver. It had been almost a day now since he had last spoken to her. Even hours before at breakfast, he'd simply grabbed a danish and rushed out of the mansion as if her presence stifled him. He hadn't been home since. But when she saw that it was Walter calling again, she chose to decline the call. That was one heart-wrenching drama in her life that she could not deal with right now. He would just have to wait.

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Juvenile Correction Facility)

"Once I place this call," Wildcat announced through the comms, "we'll have ten, maybe fifteen minutes before this place will be swarming with police. Are you ready?"

Oliver merely grunted in response, which Diggle – or Spartan, as they would call him for this op – translated into agreement. They had split into two groups. Because he and Spartan both favored long-range weapons, his bow and Diggle's gun, they'd agreed to each accompany one of their partners. He and Black Canary would take the direct approach as they were the most recognizable and there was a chance, forces would be reassigned to fight them, thus clearing the way for Wildcat and Spartan at the back. Oliver had grumbled a bit as he would have preferred for Wildcat to join him, but he couldn't very well say that. He didn't want to explain that he felt it would be easier for him to disable the stranger rather than turn violently against the woman he'd teamed up with from time to time, but he was determined to see this through for Thea's sake and if he could Canary by surprise, maybe...

He shook his head clear when he heard the call go through to the police precinct. There was a nearby shuffle in which his current partner took out the guard on the outside of their entrance and attached the sonic bomb to the door, before rejoining him around a dark corner. They had decided on the direct approach rather than a second-story window because they didn't want to have to deal with enemies at their backs. They couldn't risk getting stuck in a fight literally at two fronts. The bomb went off, no doubt drawing the right kind of attention away from the other possible entry point.

Oliver felt his earpieces filter out the sound, any sound, and took a millisecond to balance himself. He felt weird, being unable to hear anything. For an archer sight may seem more important, but on the island he'd learned that listening in enemy territory could be vital. Nonetheless, he moved when Black Canary moved, following her inside. His frame blocked the door, while she went to work on a couple of thugs who'd apparently been playing cards to the right. Meanwhile, Oliver shot the third man in the leg and the shoulder, then walked over to where he still lay on the floor after the sonic blast had thrown him, and stepped unceremoniously on his hand. The crunching noise was almost satisfying, though not as much as punch in the face that knocked the guy out completely.

They didn't bother tying the thugs up, trusting that the police would be here before they ever woke up again. Instead he advanced to the stairs, not waiting for Canary to catch up, but sensing her behind himself. Three men came running down from above. The first he shouldered off further down the stairs where he vaguely heard his pained groan at however Canary put him through the paces. He dived under the swing of the second, grabbing onto his arm and ramming his knee up into the man's groin and stomach repeatedly. When he saw the third aiming his weapon, he threw two of his darts into his hand and arm, making him drop the gun.

As he grabbed hold with the other hand and turned the man in his grasp around to slam him into the nearest wall, he noticed his current partner rushing past him. She turned to the side at the last moment to evade a kick, giving his liver a good punch and then pushing her foot into the hollow of his knee. Once he was one the ground she moved to introduce his head to the railing of the stairs. Oliver saw that the man moved to grasp a handgun and let his own quarry sink moaning to the ground in order to cock another arrow that went straight through the man's remaining good hand just as his head bounced off the railing with an audible clonk. He and Canary shared a look. She nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

Finally, they rounded on the main hall, which had probably been the cafeteria originally and was now a drug lab. When they were greeted with machine gun fire, the two quickly retreated back around the corner to take cover. As Canary pulled out another sonic bomb, more gunfire could be heard – singular, precise shots that caused some of the automatic gunfire to cease and the rest to change direction. Black Canary used that opportunity to roll her sonic device unnoticed into the room and once the silence in their ears was deafening, they jumped into action.

Wildcat had clearly beaten them to the punch as he was in the midst of things when Canary and Hood joined him. It was a bit of a mad fight, as Oliver had trouble keeping track of either their opponents or his teammates. He saw that quite a few of the men with machine guns were twisting on the grounds in pain, holding their head. So were many of the people mixing the drugs and all of them had blood trickling out of their ears. They were disoriented in a way that Oliver found it almost too easy to kick them to the ground. Those still standing unleashed uncoordinated attacks that were difficult to predict, but just sluggish enough that he could evade them without much effort.

Unfortunately, some of the drug cooks joined in on the fight, picking up instruments and Bunsen burners and other equipment they could use as a weapon. Once they'd gotten through the armed guards, it seemed almost a joke. He, Canary and Wildcat easily managed to disarm the few men and women that came forward, in his case with considerable prejudice that sent a few of them flying across tables and knocking down gear. They made their way reasonably calmly toward the man Oliver had met the night before, who stood on a stage and the far end of the room. There were two more goons with him, but from what Oliver could see, their muscles were their only weapons. They could hear police sirens approaching, but he knew he had more than enough time to make good on his plan. He eyes the small bags of pills neatly stacked on a table behind the drug dealer. He was wearing a white doctor's overall and a name tag that said Dr A. Webb.

Oliver didn't wait till they reached the good doctor; he shot the two men guarding him in the gut. A third arrow already cocked before they were fully down, he felt more than saw his three teammates stop dead in their tracks. Aimed carefully at Webb's face, he advanced while the drug dealer scrambled back into the table. The movement knocked a few of the bags onto the ground with small thuds, but Oliver didn't stop until the sharp tip of the arrow was poised directly against the other man's face.

Sweat ran along the doctor's face and Oliver could see clearly how blown his pupils were in fear, could practically feel the other man's frantic heartbeat thrum in his own blood. He heard the shuffling as Spartan and Wildcat tried to decide what to do. There was groaning behind them, some of the goons were recovering from the sonic blast. More shuffling had Oliver thinking that they were undecided as to who to turn their attention to. The sirens were close now, practically outside the doors.

"You have poisoned this city with your filthy drugs," Oliver growled quietly. "How many innocent people in the hospital-"

"Innocent?! Ha! You fool, I don't force anyone to take my drugs; they decide that all by themselves. They poison themselves, I only provide them with the entertainment they crave."

"Entertainment? Do you think the women and girls who get roofied with your drug find that entertaining?", Canary asked in a sneer. The sounds of a renewed fight reached them. Casting a glance backward, Oliver took notice of Spartan and Wildcat knocking the lights out of the recovering criminals, then shutting the cafeteria doors and blocking them to give them a few precious extra seconds without police interference. He better make them count.

"I'm not responsible for what my clients do with my product – whether they take it themselves or... graciously offer them to somebody else." The man's grin was sickening.

"Graciously..." Canary fumed, but before she could say anything else, Oliver had pushed the arrow a little further to draw blood.

"Your turn," he said darkly. There was a moment of pause. Perhaps the other two were trying to puzzle out what he meant, but their collective gasp soon followed. Canary's hand made its way to his arm holding the bow. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to calm him down or get his attention and he didn't care. He jerked his arm away from her, causing a nasty rip through Dr Webb's flesh as the arrow tore through his skin. Oliver then tightened his grip even further. "It's time to taste-test your own product, Webb. I'm graciously offering it to you..."

The other man gulped.

"No," Canary protested. "That's not what we agreed on."

"It's what I decided."

"You're not in this alone. Wildcat, Spartan and I get a say and we never once-"

"I don't care!", he barked at her. "He has to pay for what he's done!"

"And he will!", she barked right back without an ounce of fear, shifting to face him. "The police is here; they'll take him in..."

As if on cue, there were shouts from the other side of the doors and banging as they tried to open them by force. Wildcat and Spartan backed away to the back of the room, urging them to go. Black Canary waved them ahead, assuring them that she and he would follow soon. He didn't think either of the other men bought it but they went to secure their only other exit anyway, probably having to wrench it free from police patrols.

"This isn't how it's done."

"Because you're such a saint."

"Hardly, but drugging him will not do his victims any good-"

"It will avenge them-"

"So will his sentencing – and without trampling all over the ideals of the law!"

"Like vigilantism."

"Not a saint. But you have to draw the line somewhere!"

He scoffed and was about to reply, give her a piece of his mind about her sunshine-and-daisies attitude toward fighting crime, when he finally noticed her predicament. She had clearly considered him to be the greater threat and a part of him was inappropriately flattered, but facing him had put her back to Dr Webb. Oliver noticed his movement with horror. Even though he didn't know what the psychiatrist was up to, he reacted by instinct. Letting go of his bow he pushed Black Canary out of the way with less force than he imagined would be necessary to move her if she weren't so surprised and stepped forward right into the drug dealers attack. He felt a piercing sensation in his chest.

Looking down he noticed the syringe that had been stuck through his leather body armor. He watched as if in slow motion while Canary forcibly removed the man's hand from his weapon of choice before he could press all of the liquid into Oliver's system. His bow, previously still held up by his fingers on the arrow and the string clattered to the ground as it took him both hands to remove the syringe from his own chest and plunge it into Dr Webb while he was being held down with his hands behind his back by his partner. He vaguely heard Canary's cry of protest, but by then it was already too late. The remaining drug had been pumped into Webb's system and Oliver had collapsed to his knees trying to fight the way his mind seemed to swim in sluggish sensations and colors and noises.

He wondered if this was how Thea had felt as he struggled to get to his feet. Canary, thankfully, forgot all about the drug dealer and moved to help him instead. With deceptive strength, she laid his arm over her shoulder and pulled him up. The incessant banging in his head grew louder and louder, though a small part of his mind still clung to reality and understood that those were the noises of the door about to give in. He didn't realize they were moving until he found himself in a less intensely lit hallway. Footsteps pounding on the floor had him look up to Willy-, Wily- Wild Kitty Kat- something running up to them.

"What happened?"

"He planned to drug Webb. I tried to talk him down. Next thing I know he takes a stupid syringe for me."

Wildcat raised an unseen eyebrow.

"Can't you two just go to dinner and a movie like a normal battle couple?!"

"Very funny. I'll have a good laugh about it on Sunday." There was a crashing sound. "The police just breached – we need to get out of here!"

"Path is clear to the ground, but we'll never make it whilst carrying him."

"L-Lu... Lea-ve m-m..."

"I'd love to," Wildcat agreed, then took one glance at Canary. "But that's not gonna happen."

They could hear the police assessing the damage to the people and the lab and taking in the evidence. And calling ambulances, but it wouldn't take long before they came for the door ajar to the side of the room, secure the perimeter.

"There's a guard tower behind us, right?," Canary asked. "So, no bars on the windows, right?"

They quickly fell into a concerted effort to carry Oliver to the tower, while Wildcat radioed Spartan to bring the car around. They heard running behind them, then shouting and finally a bullet zinged past them. Wildcat grit his teeth. A little while ago he would have grabbed Canary and high-tailed it out of there without the Green Menace, but then the stupid bastard had to take two arrows to the chest while trying to save civilians and help fight a firebug and... stuff...

The two vigilantes glanced at the window at the same time and sighed. Plucking a bit of metallic string from a pocket in his belt, Wildcat secured their descent by tying it around a concrete column. Then he and Canary grabbed hold of it and Oliver and leaped through the window. The crashing sound, the splintered glass around them, the uncomfortable pull when the cable stopped them just above the ground – he was getting too old for this...

ArrowArrowArrowArrowArrow

(Hideout)

Diggle had shown a little hesitation in letting both vigilantes into Oliver's inner sanctum, even after Wildcat pointed out that it wasn't much of a leap to figure out where it was located after discovering his identity. Still, it seemed an additional concession and an unnecessary one at that, for he could very well carry Oliver in on his own. Ultimately, though, the man was heavy and delirious and clinging to Black Canary's shoulder. Diggle could see his partner had a death grip on the woman and winced sympathetically.

So he let the other two heave him down the stairs and instead went ahead, rushing to Oliver's wooden chest. Under Wildcat's attentive eyes, he dug through its contents frantically until he got hold of a small leather pouch. Grabbing a water bottle from a nearby table, he motioned for the other two to hold Oliver down, while he forced some of his Chinese miracle herbs down the billionaire's throat. Oliver writhed on the table, jerking his head away repeatedly, but finally Diggle managed to get him to swallow some of the dry green foliage.

"That's what he gave you when you were poisoned by Deadshot," Canary noted quietly.

"Yeah, Oliver brought it back with him from the island. No idea what it is or if it's even effective against this drug, but it saved his life and mine from Curare so... worth a shot. No pun intended."

The woman nodded slowly. Then their attention refocused on Oliver who finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Diggle immediately checked his pulse and breathing patterns, but they were steady if a little slow. The three of them breathed a collective sigh of relief. Still, they exchanged glances knowing they would have to monitor Oliver very closely for a while. If he didn't get any better soon, they'd have to get him to a hospital for treatment.

"Can't you give them to Thea Queen?", Wildcat asked suddenly.

"I don't know. Oliver doesn't seem to think so, or else he would have done it already. They are feeding her through a naso-gastric tube; sneaking the herbs into her diet..."

There was a moment of awkward silence as they all considered Thea's situation. Diggle briefly turned to the computers to switch on the news. There was no sound, but the live feed from the juvenile correction facility featured several people being loaded into ambulances and police cars, while law enforcement officers rushed in and out of the buildings with bags of evidence. One particular patient caught their eye as Dr Webb was strapped down on the gurney and lifted into the ambulance without much ceremony.

"Hope those work," Wildcat finally admitted. "'Cause explaining Oliver's condition to Starling General's staff and the police would be a pain."

Canary turned around to him, surprised.

"After he planned to drug Dr Webb behind our backs, I was sure you'd want to leave him for the police to find," she explained cautiously.

"The man also got drugged for you. As I told you, I can't argue with his instinct to keep you out of harm's way. Besides, if that drug had hospitalized my little sister... I don't know I would have stopped at just drugging the bastard."

Black Canary took a shaky breath thinking back to Thea Queen, but nodded numbly.

"What about you?", Diggle questioned her. She looked up at him. Then she glanced at Oliver. Sitting down on the table next to him, she brushed a bit of his short hair out of his face.

"I'm not as angry as I thought I'd be. As I should be. I mean, he meant to drug the guy, possibly risk his life, but... like Wildcat said, if that had happened to someone that I love..."

She sighed loudly, annoyed, but unsure if it was with him or herself.

"Things were simpler before I met him."

"Yeah, he has that effect," Diggle admitted with a chuckle, thinking back to his own chosen profession as a bodyguard. His veteran life was definitely divided into a before and after Oliver Queen period. "When he first approached me, I told him he was a murderer. But I didn't call the cops, because... he wants to help and the truth is this city is in dire need of help right about now. And Oliver- Oliver has been giving himself over to that cause. He needs someone to look out for him..."

He looked meaningfully at Black Canary, which seemed to puzzle her. Then he looked over to where Wildcat was exploring the hideout and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the other man pick up a slim folder from the desk to leave through it. Diggle's heart then proceeded to hammer against his ribcage. His face must have had a deer caught in the headlights look, because Canary suddenly became interested in the folder as well, getting up from her spot next to Oliver to move over to her partner.

"Or look out for information for him...", Wildcat chuckled darkly.

"...Can't fault us for being curious," Diggle replied, trying to keep the mood light as Black Canary snatched the folder out of the other man's hands. She quickly thumbed through it. Diggle expected anger or irritation, maybe even disappointment in her reaction, but instead an almost wistful look crossed her face as though she was reliving fond memories. Her reminiscing brought a small smile to the woman's face, before she closed the folder and handed it back to Wildcat.

"You realize of course that we'll be taking this with us," Wildcat then told him. There was a note of challenge in his voice as if he expected Diggle not only to protest, but to actually fight over this. The bodyguard, however, knew better than to engage these two by himself. Even though he spent a split-second considering his gun as an option, he didn't want to shoot either of them and the subtle shift in the atmosphere told him that they were ready for a fight.

He had seen Canary take out heavily armed men without much difficulty before and she'd also held her own against the Dark Archer for a bit, so his chances were slim and grim. He inclined his head to indicate he wasn't willing to fight over this, although he reprimanded himself for not hiding the folder and for letting these two inside in the first place.

"You knew her," he said instead, nodding toward the file and studying Canary's reaction, but this time her face remained impassive. Instead she looked past him at Oliver again.

"We should go," Wildcat murmured softly.

She shook her head.

"I'm staying. You said it yourself; someone needs to look after him and I... He did this for me. I'm not leaving until he wakes up."

"Canary, that could be hours." Even Diggle sounded worried.

She moved over to his prone form and squeezed his hand one more time. "Then it'll be hours..." Her voice was one of acceptance. "Go home, you two. Catch some sleep. I'll let you know when he's up."

She didn't look up again until she heard the door close, but Diggle was still there, obviously uncomfortable with leaving her in their lair on her own. Still, he retreated to the far corner of the room to practice archery, not wanting to burst that little bubble of privacy around the two vigilantes. Laurel nodded at him in thanks, then focused her attention back on Oliver as she continued to stroke his forehead softly.

"Why would you do something so stupid?! You idiot...", she chided him, before going on more quietly. "Thank you."

Time seemed to crawl as they waited in silence. Oliver didn't move, didn't even twitch while the drug hopefully worked its way out of his system. He just lay there, unconscious, unresponsive and nearly burning up. Diggle had brought a couple of blankets with which they tried to keep him warm, but it worried Laurel that she didn't even see his eyes moving under his eyelids as they would if he were dreaming, but she told herself that he'd gotten through worse, including a curare poisoning, before. And the island, of course, and whatever happened to him there.

He would make it through this as well; she just needed to trust in this. Trust him. She didn't let go of his hand, though, hoping and waiting for the moment when she would feel the strength of his fingers close around hers as he squeezed back. She heard Diggle shuffle to her side eventually. He approached her, apparently tired of distracting himself with whatever he had been doing while they waited. She heard him shuffle closer until he stood on the other side of the table on which they'd placed Oliver.

"A bed down here wouldn't be amiss," she said before she could stop herself. Diggle chuckled.

"Yeah, you'd think so, with how often he comes back injured." The bodyguard cracked a smile that faded quickly as he looked down at the man in question. "You're very attached to each other."

Laurel tensed briefly as if it had been an accusation. She had marveled at how close she'd grown to Oliver and the Hood since she'd met them herself, of course. Though, now that attachment – as Diggle called it – made a lot more sense, given that they were the same person. Perhaps part of her had intuited that from the beginning, perhaps it was just coincidence. Perhaps they just thought and acted along similar lines without knowing, creating a sense of closeness they could not shake. Whatever the case, she had no real answer either for Diggle or for herself, so she said the only thing she could; perhaps the only thing that mattered.

"He's a better man than I thought he was."

Another chuckle.

"You and me, both," Diggle admitted to her. He hesitated for a moment while they both looked at their quarry. "Can I ask you something?"

She looked up, surprised. Cocking her head to the side, she nodded. Laurel had an inkling as to what he wanted to talk about, but she was willing to hear him out. Even if she had no answers to offer.

"Why do you do this?", he asked, surprising her again. She had expected a question about the other Woman In Black. "I mean I get why he does what he does, his motivation-"

"I don't," Canary interjected. She waved his sardonic smile away. "I'm not going to ask, don't worry, but I honestly don't see the correlation. I get learning archery to survive on the island and to protect himself from whoever else was there with him, but I just don't see how that translates to becoming a vigilante upon his return."

"How do you know about the other people on the island?"

"How do you know about the other Black Canary?" Meaning that she'd obtained official records.

"So she was Black Canary as well? You adopted the name from her or do you just call her that?"

"I'm her legacy," Laurel stated firmly, thinking back on all those days and nights that she'd heard stories about her mother. Seen the good she had done. Felt safer knowing she and her dead were protecting them. "She was the Black Canary. I just took up her mantle- and Wildcat. And even The Hood to an extent."

"I'm not sure he would agree," Diggle replied, looking back down at Oliver. "We didn't even know she existed until we stole that file. At best, we had vague, half-forgotten-"

"Stories?", she asked. "But that's all you need. It's all I needed... Because stories are ideas and ideas live forever."

Diggle contemplated this. Perhaps, perhaps. But something remained, nagging and scratching at his mind. Some piece of their conversation wouldn't give him peace, yet he could not put his finger on what it was. He opened his mouth, ready to try and formulate a reply, but a groan brought both their foci on Oliver trying to raise himself from the table. Judging by the noises of protest he made, very muscle in his body must be on fire. Not surprising, really, but Diggle knew there was no way too keep him down if he wanted up, so he gently removed Canary's gloved hand from his friend's chest and helped him up instead, letting the blankets fall away.

Taking the hint, the woman helped steady Oliver. He was facing her, but his eyes had remained closed. He swayed dangerously and she had to keep one arm under his to support him. He was sweat-slicked from the fever and shaking in the cool air. For all the unearthly stillness that had clung to him previously, now his whole body was a mass of twitching limbs. He raised a hand to his forehead, probably fighting a headache or nausea or both. Words bubbled up inside her, angry, worried words that tightened her throat as they fought their way to the surface and she swallowed them down.

He could have died. He looked pitiful, this stupid, brave man.

Her hand suddenly hovered next to his cheek when her eyes fell on her cold leather glove. Without thinking about it, she tore it off. Gripping it tightly in the other hand, her fingers brushed against his cheekbone. Oliver's eyes snapped open to fixate on her. He could see her eyes shining behind the mask, until a few tears slipped down her face. He could feel Diggle removing himself from his position behind Oliver's back, even as he raised his hand to wipe the tears away with his thumb. For a moment, her eyes closed and a small, relieved smile bloomed across her pretty face as she leaned into his touch. Then the moment broke and she stepped back hastily as if his fingers burned her skin.

"Thank you," she said formally, but her voice was barely above a whisper and she couldn't look at him. It hurt in his chest, more so when she rushed away. "Don't ever do something so stupid again..."

He wanted to speak, to say something to make her stay, but no words formed in his throat. He could only look on as she ran away from him, his cheek still tingling from her caress.

End of chapter 10!

A/N: I left out the count and replaced him with a random physician based vaguely on the Scarecrow from Batman, because I wasn't really satisfied with the Count's representation in the series. I also didn't give the drug dealer much of a background, because I wanted this to be less about the criminal and more about Oliver and Thea, his motivation and his evolving relationships in and out of the mask.