Chapter 29: Doing what comes Naturally

"Your wound is healing well, Queen."

The doctor stood over Oliver, carefully examining the young hero's shoulder. Nearly three days had passed since Oliver's arrival at the infirmary, three days of precious calm after the storms that had threatened to overwhelm him. So much had happened over the previous fortnight – the disappearance of the guys, Dean's murder, his own unmasking, trial and imprisonment – that Oliver had barely had time to recover from one disaster before another crippling blow had sent him teetering perilously close to the edge of complete mental and physical collapse. And he had come close to the edge – he realised that now. Lex's revenge was so skilfully planned, so meticulously choreographed, that it left nothing to chance. He had been given no time to recover, no time to rally – exactly as Lex had intended. That was what had made these three days in the infirmary so valuable. For the first time he had been given the space he needed, not just for his cuts and bruises to heal, but also for his reserves of mental strength to renew themselves. Things were bad, he knew that – but at least now he felt ready for the fight. And not everything was lost – Clark and Chloe were still out there, and if anybody would be able to unravel Lex's scheme it was those two. He was going to survive, and he was going to save his friends – despite everything, he now believed that more than ever.

"Ouch!"

Oliver winced, his face grimacing in pain as the doctor's examination of his shoulder wound hit an area of flesh still raw after Smith's sadistic assault. The doctor withdrew his hand, apologising as he did so.

"You're a lucky man," he said, taking a fresh dressing and placing it over the wound. "The damage is only superficial – it could have been a lot, lot worse."

"You know something, doc? I could use a lot of words to describe where I am right now, but lucky isn't one of them."

The doctor smiled faintly. Oliver wasn't like the other prisoners he had to deal with. They were hard men, men who he knew had inflicted wounds as grievous as those that they had suffered. Oliver wasn't like that; despite everything, he seemed to radiate warmth, a humanity that he rarely came across at Nemesis. He had to admit that, whatever he'd read about the crimes of the Green Arrow back in Metropolis, he actually quite liked this fallen vigilante.

"You know I didn't do it, don't you?"

"Do what?" replied the doctor, continuing to bind up Oliver's wound.

"Kill Detective Caruso. I was set up – set up by a man named Lex Luthor."

The doctor hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Oliver before resuming his work.

"I'm not interested in what you've done or not done, Queen – all I'm interested in is getting you well again."

Oliver sighed inwardly. He'd chosen this moment carefully, hoping that the rapport he had built up with the doctor over the previous few days would make him more receptive. The other man's non-committal response was not what he was looking for, but he knew he had to persevere. It had taken him a day or so to work out that his best chance of survival lay in finding allies, friends who could help him fight back against the forces ranged against him. But finding friends at Nemesis would not be easy; many of his fellow inmates wanted nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, whilst those who didn't were to a man cowed by Smith's iron grip on the prison. The guards, too, offered little hope; they were Galton's men, and besides, most were little different from the animals they stood guard over. Only the infirmary offered him any encouragement. The doctor and Roy had a warmth about them which stood in stark contrast to the cold, bestial atmosphere which lay beyond the infirmary's doors. If he could persuade them of his innocence, then maybe they could offer him the help he knew he needed to survive. The doc had a direct line to the governor – if he could just persuade him to talk to him, to somehow get a message to the outside world, to Chloe...

"So you just patch me up and send me on my way," he continued, hoping to find some way to break through to the other man. "You know Smith wants to kill me, right? And Galton's not going to stand in his way – it's clear those two have got some sort of deal going on. Do you really think the governor can protect me once I leave this place? Get real, doc. Please, listen to me – I need your help."

The doctor did not respond. Studiously he continued to avoid Oliver's gaze as he worked methodically to complete the task of applying a fresh bandage to the young hero's wound.

"If you could just speak to the governor – get him to call Chloe Sullivan in Metropolis," continued Oliver, speaking with greater urgency. He sensed he was not getting through, but he couldn't afford to fail. He knew only too well that it wasn't only his own life which depended on getting through to the doctor – Chloe's life was at stake too. Lex was after her, and he had to warn her, whatever the cost. This man held the key, and he needed to find something – anything – that would make him listen.

"Please, doc – you've got to do this. I need to get a message to her – I need to warn her about Luthor!"

"I'm sorry, Queen, but I can't help you," replied the doctor, obviously discomforted by the other man's increasingly insistent pleas.

"You helped Roy, didn't you? I need your help, just like he did – please, doc, you have to listen to me!"

The doctor glanced up at Oliver's face. He could see he was desperate, and for the first time he hesitated. Oliver saw it, and immediately understood. He had found a way to get through to the doctor, and that way was through Roy Harper.

Roy wasn't like the other prisoners – he'd realised that almost from the moment he'd regained consciousness in the infirmary. He stood apart from the others, and not just because of his age. Sure, he had the self-confidence that you might expect of a kid used to life on the wrong side of the tracks, but there was a vulnerability that lay behind his streetwise exterior, a naivety that seemed strangely out of place amidst the overpowering bleakness that was Nemesis. Through snatched conversations with Roy and the doctor he'd managed to piece together the kid's story – and what a story it was! Far from being some punk born into a life of crime, he'd spent most of his life living in comparative luxury, the only son of a wealthy property developer. He'd had it all – the nice house, the holidays abroad, the wide circle of friends – everything a guy in his teens could wish for, in fact. He'd been looking forward to college, with his whole life ahead of him, when disaster had struck. His father had been murdered, and within hours he'd found himself under arrest. It had seemed incredible, but a few months later he found himself in court, facing a murder charge. The weight of circumstantial evidence had piled up against him, but it was only when his stepmother had taken the stand and invented a pack of lies to suggest his guilt that he at last understood. She had set him up, presumably to get her hands on his father's inheritance for herself and her children from her first marriage. He'd tried to protest his innocence, but it was too late; the jury found him guilty, and before he could mount any sort of appeal he had been swallowed up by the system, only to re-emerge here, at Nemesis.

It was a shocking story – something straight out of the plot of some Hollywood melodrama. But this was no movie – the fate that had overtaken Roy Harper was all too real. As Oliver had found out more and more about the doctor's young assistant the more he had felt empathy for him, a bond which drew the two men together. They shared a common background – both came from a life of wealth and privilege - and both were alone in the world, orphans of parents who had been taken from them prematurely. Above all, both were innocent men, victims of miscarriages of justice. And the kid was hard not to like – the sense of humour, the sparkle in the eyes, the winning smile. Oliver could see why the doctor cared for him, and why he'd offered him the protection of the infirmary. Roy was a good man – and if Oliver could convince the doctor that he was the same, then maybe he could get the help he so urgently needed.

"Please, doc – a woman's life is at stake!" implored Oliver, hoping to exploit the other man's momentary hesitation. "Just talk to the governor, that's all I ask – get him to call Chloe Sullivan, warn her about Lex."

"I can't..."

"You can, doc – you must!"

Oliver reached out and grabbed the doctor's arm. He gripped it tightly for a moment, as if the force of his hand would compel the other man to acquiesce to his demand.

"I want a shot, man! Give me a god dam shot!"

A new voice, shrill and desperate, demanded the attention of the two men. Both looked down the ward, where they could see Roy being confronted by another man. Roy was holding his hands out, apparently in a gesture of conciliation. It wasn't working; the other man was squaring up against him, his face twisted in anger.

"Give me a fucking shot!" he screamed, his face just inches from Roy's. His wide, staring eyes made it clear he was some sort of addict, just like about sixty percent of the other inmates of Nemesis. Oliver guessed that the doctor had put him on a programme to wean him off whatever shit was destroying his system, and that for the first time that programme dictated that he be denied the methadone or whatever else he'd been prescribed to help ward off the inevitable withdrawal symptoms.

The doctor glanced across towards the door. The guard wasn't there; typically, he'd chosen this moment to abandon his post. The man was growing more and more agitated by the second. He advanced on Roy, forcing the other man to move backwards. Cursing and screaming, it was clear that Roy's attempts to pacify him were not working. Realising the situation was threatening to get out of control, the doctor left Oliver's side and started to make his way quickly down the ward. He hoped to diffuse the crisis, but instead his actions had the opposite effect. Startled by the doctor's sudden approach, the man made a lunge for Roy. He grabbed the teenager around the neck, spinning him round and pulling him against his own body as if he were a human shield. Roy began to struggle, but it was too late – the man's arm pressed down on his throat, holding him in a vice-like grip.

"Hibbert, stop this!" demanded the doctor, still advancing towards the two men.

"Don't come any closer!" gasped the other man breathlessly. "Don't come any closer, or I'll cut the kid's throat!"

As he spoke he pulled a knife from the pocket of his jeans. He pressed it against Roy's cheek, his eyes filled with madness and fear.

The doctor stopped dead in his tracks. He had no idea where the knife had come from – yet another example of Galton's idea of "security." But that didn't matter – what mattered was that it was just a few inches from the main artery in Roy's neck. One word out of place, one action misunderstood, and the boy would die.

"Okay, okay! Take it easy, Hibbert – let's just all calm down now, okay?" said the doctor, trying his best to keep his voice calm. Inside his pulse was racing; he could see the knife pressing into Roy's skin, the look of terror in the teenager's eyes...

"Give me a shot, doc!" demanded Hibbert. "Give me a shot, or I will cut him, you understand me?"

"Put the knife down, Hibbert – put the knife down and then we can talk about this."

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK!" screamed the other man, moving the knife so that now it was pressed against Roy's neck. "All I want is a shot, yeah! So you've got five seconds – five seconds to give me what I want, or the kid dies!"

The doctor swallowed hard. He knew that he couldn't do what Hibbert wanted. It wasn't just that it was against established procedure – he had run out of supplies of the medication that Hibbert craved.

"Five."

"Hibbert, please..."

"Four."

"I can't – I can't give you what you want. We've run out – I won't have any new supplies until..."

"LIAR!" shouted the other man, pressing the knife still deeper into Roy's flesh. "Three!"

The doctor said nothing. Hibbert was clearly off his head – nothing he could say was going to make any difference. He looked at Roy. The teenager was absolutely still, as if he were a rag doll in Hibbert's hands. But his eyes spoke volumes. They were fearful eyes, but also eyes which understood; Roy knew that the doctor was telling the truth, and that there really was nothing he could do.

"Two!"

The room was completely still, waiting for what appeared to be the inevitable...

"On..."

Hibbert did not get the chance to complete his countdown. Instead, inexplicably, he staggered backwards, letting Roy go as he did so. The teenager took his opportunity; he sprang free, moving clear before turning to make sense of what had happened. Hibbert had fallen to his knees. He was clutching his hands to his face, blood pouring profusely from a wound somewhere above his left eye. It was then that he saw the metal door-stop, lying on the floor a few feet from Hibbert. Was that what had taken Hibbert down? He turned, to see Oliver sitting upright in his bed, smiling broadly.

"Told you I was good, kid," he said. "Better get some help, before your friend there recovers."

Taking Oliver's advice, the doctor made for the exit. Roy, still a little dazed, glanced down at Hibbert, before looking back at Oliver. Just moments earlier he'd been a second or so away from having his throat slit, and now here he was, alive and without so much as scratch to show for his ordeal. The whole thing had an air of unreality about it, but one thing he did know – had it not been for Oliver's quick reactions and remarkable accuracy, he would now be dead.

"Thanks, man," he said quietly. He wanted to say more, but at that moment five or six guards swept into the room, bawling orders as belatedly they took control. Three of them took Hibbert into custody, cuffing him before dragging him from the room. The other two took up positions to either side of Oliver's bed, each training their guns at the young hero's head.

"Hey, what are you doing? Don't you understand? He saved me!" said Roy, advancing towards the guards. It seemed bizarre to him that the man who had saved his life should be treated as if he were some sort of suspect. Oliver, however, did not respond; apparently unfazed, he simply stared at the men who had their weapons pointed in his direction.

Galton entered the room, closely followed by the doctor. He barely looked at Hibbert as he was dragged towards the exit. Instead he walked straight over to Oliver, a strange half smile forming on his lips.

"Looks like trouble follows you around, Queen," he sneered. "I hear from the doc you've been quite the hero, saving the kid's life."

"Just doing what comes naturally, I guess," replied Oliver, meeting the other man's gaze. "This place sure needs a hero or two, given that you and your apes don't seem to know what side of the line you're on."

The smile faded from Galton's face. He wanted to strike Oliver, but with the doctor present he thought better of it; he didn't want him to run off and tell tales to the governor. Besides, he had another way of wiping that infuriating smile off Oliver Queen's face.

"Well, this incident shows us one thing – you're well enough to leave the infirmary," he stated, enjoying the flicker of a reaction he detected on the vigilante's face.

"But he's not ready – I've not finished my course of treatment," objected the doctor.

"Ohhh, I think he's ready, don't you?" continued Galton, turning to the doctor. "Or would you like me to have the kid transferred back to the main bloc? His friends are missing him over there – I'm sure they'd love to see his pretty face again."

The doctor did not reply. The choice was clear; he either let Oliver go, or allow Roy to fall once more into the hands of Smith and his thugs.

"Now get dressed, Queen," ordered Galton, picking up his leather pants from a chair and throwing them in his face. "We've got a cell waiting for you – and I just know you are going to love life in solitary."

Oliver knew he had no option but to comply. Without a word he swung himself out of bed, before pulling on his leather pants and tunic. He stood tall as his arms were forced behind his back and he felt the touch of steel on his wrists as handcuffs were locked into place.

"Remember what I said, doc," he said, staring the doctor straight in the eye. "Please, talk to the governor – I'm begging you."

The two men looked at each other for a couple of seconds, Oliver searching the other man's face for some sign that he had broken through. Once he was in solitary, he knew that his chance to get through to Chloe would be gone – the doctor was his last hope, and he needed him to listen. Part of him hoped that perhaps because he had saved Roy's life the doctor would be more open to his plea, but he was to be disappointed; the doctor said nothing, and his eyes gave no hint that he was prepared to do what Oliver asked.

"Get him out of here," ordered Galton. A shove to the back propelled Oliver towards the door, where Roy was waiting.

"You take care of yourself, yeah?" said Oliver, smiling at the teenager.

"You too, big guy," replied Roy, still not quite understanding what was going on. He could only watch as Oliver was led from the room, closely followed by Galton and the remainder of the guards.

There was silence for a few moments, the doctor and Roy trying to take in the events of the last few minutes.

"You've got to help him," said Roy finally. "You know what Galton will do to him – please, there must be something you can do?"

"It's out of my hands, Roy," said the doctor awkwardly, eager to change the subject. "Now tidy this mess up, will you?"

Roy did not press the issue; he knew the doctor well enough to know when his mind was made up. But as he set about clearing up the mess created by Hibbert, he couldn't shift Oliver's face from his mind. The guy had saved his life, and now he was facing who knew what at the hands of Galton and his apes – and all because the doctor had chosen to protect him, rather than save Oliver. He had to do something, but what?

After five minutes or so he made his way out of the infirmary. He headed off down a corridor to his left, which led to the stores. He was about to turn a corner when he stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear a voice – Galton's voice.

"Relax, Mr Luthor – everything's going according to plan," he heard Galton saying. There was then a pause, presumably because he was talking on the phone.

"Yeah, we've given your boy quite a welcome," he continued. "No...no...that's all under control... I know you're paying me a lot of money, Mr Luthor, but you've got to trust me, okay? We've got some things planned for leather boy... yes, yes, I know he's not to be killed, but you wanted us to make him suffer, yeah? We've just moved him to solitary, and you know what that means!"

Galton laughed, obviously sharing some joke with the man on the other end of the line. Roy had heard enough. Without making a sound, he began to retrace his steps back down the corridor. His heart was pumping furiously in his chest. That name – Luthor - that was the guy who Oliver claimed had set him up! And Galton was working for him! It seemed incredible. Roy felt a mixture of excitement, but also fear. He was afraid, because he sensed the power of the forces ranged against Oliver, and because the course of action he knew that he must now undertake would mean great danger. But he was also excited – excited, because now he had the evidence he needed to convince the doctor to do something to help his new friend.

Once he heard about this, the doctor would have no choice – he would have to speak to the governor.

Roy smiled.

At last, he was going to make a difference.

The Green Arrow had saved his life – now he was going to return the favour.


Is this the break that Ollie's been waiting for? Maybe - or maybe not! This chapter was all about telling us a bit more about Roy (and yes, I know it's not mythos - but it's my story, so I'll do what I want!), developing his relationship with Ollie, and setting up what's going to be happening in the next few chapters. Sorry if there has not been enough angst for you, but I promise I will make up for it - as we move towards this story's climax I have some big shocks in store, as well as a whole lot more angst for our heroes! Things will really start to move in the next chapter, which will also see the return of Chloe - yay!

Sorry it's been a couple of weeks since my last update - to make up for it, the next chapter should appear in the next seven days. Please, please do leave a review if you can - they mean so much, and without them I think I really would give this all up.