Precipice part 5: Aftershocks

CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: some
Violence: yes
Nudity: none
Sex: none
Other: none

Author's Note:

Props to the Dark Empress' amazing title powers for this chapter! Also, Japanese restaurant name made up based on something I found on the web about posh Japanese restaurants. And whatever movie had Kaiser Sozei in it :X

Precipice 5: Aftershocks

==#==

Oliver dropped the bow and lurched across the threshold, into the barn. His only thought was for Laurel; panic squeezed his heart in fear she was hurt. He got two steps, then his leg collapsed. He hit the musty straw floor and his vision went murky for a moment. He was weak from blood loss, running on adrenaline.

"Oliver," Laurel cried again. She struggled against her bonds, desperate to help him. To help him, when he was here to rescue her. Despite the situation, he felt the warmth of affection.

Oliver sensed more than saw the Dark Archer move around him, skirting the edge of the light bulb's halo. Merlyn got behind Laurel and used his knife on the ropes. She shook loose and came directly to Oliver.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"You're hurt!"

"Are you all right? Are you hurt? Did he-?"

"No, no; I'm fine, but we need to get you to a hospital."

"Police and ambulance are on the way." Oliver tried to stand. He had to somehow clean up any evidence linking his identity to the Vigilante.

"What are you doing?" Laurel put her hands on his shoulders to hold him down. "You should sit still."

She rose, only a bit shaky from her ordeal. "And you. I want to thank you."

Oliver blinked and turned his head to see - yes, she was talking to Merlyn. The Dark Archer had tried to slip away, back out the door, but froze as Laurel addressed him.

"You really are a hero. And I will tell everyone what you've done to help me - to help the people of this city. Especially the Vigilante Task Force."

Oliver blinked again. Didn't she realize Merlyn wasn't the Vigilante? But, in the poor light, in the shadows, there wasn't that much difference between dark green and black. The Dark Archer had the leathers, the hood, the bow and arrow across his back. Then Oliver's mouth went dry. If Merlyn turned, if he tried to talk to Laurel... The longer she had to look at him, the more likely it was she'd notice the differences.

The Dark Archer did not turn, but slowly moved one arm. Oliver heard the tiny blip of the voice changer activating. "You are the hero, Ms. Lance," he said over his shoulder, turning his head just enough to not look suspicious. "The work you, and others like you do - that is what will save this city. Stay with him." He ducked out the door and vanished in the night.

Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. "I have to...," Oliver started, trying to get up again.

"You need to rest. Ollie, you've lost a lot of blood." Laurel sat by him, brushed a hand over his forehead. "You've been brave enough. Thank you for coming after me."

He let it go, then. Whatever would happen would happen. He leaned into her, and she wrapped her arms around him. This is what it could be like, when he was free from his obligation. No thoughts, no worries. Just living in the moment with the woman he loved. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, so temporary.

==#==

Felicity drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. This is where Oliver told her to park, across from the wreckage of the bike. He'd also told her to clear out if she saw any police cars, and they were getting closer by the second. But she couldn't just leave him!

The police cars swooped in, all sirens blazing, but had to slow down to skirt the emergency crew that was still clearing up the mess that was left of the motorcycle. Felicity sank a bit lower in the seat and hoped nobody spotted her. What was she going to say if a suspicious police officer wanted to know what she was doing sitting here?

"Ms. Smoak."

Felicity jumped and let out a little shriek. She looked out the open passenger window and saw... black. Black on black. "M-Merlyn," she stammered in surprise. "Wh-? Wh-Where's-?"

"He's waiting for the ambulance. I suggest you leave before the police cordon is set up."

"Well, get in."

The Dark Archer stepped back a bit. "I don't think your boss would approve." He turned.

Well, he wouldn't. Would he? But... "You can't stand around here while the police put up a cordon, and you can't just walk all the way back to the city!"

For a moment, she thought that he would just walk away, but he came back to the window. She could see his movements were stiff, slowed, like Oliver tended to be after the adrenaline of a rough mission wore off. He leaned down, drawing his hood back. "Did he tell you what I've done?"

"No." Felicity began to wonder, then wondered if she really wanted to know. "He just said he knew we couldn't trust you."

Merlyn snorted. "Then it would be stupid of you to trust me now." He straightened and started walking along the shoulder.

"Wait!" Felicity put the car in neutral to coast forward and catch up to him. "Look, Oliver trusted you enough to call you for help. And you got hurt - again - doing something brave and noble - again - so I think that at least gets you one ride back into town. Now quit playing the martyr and get in the damned car before the police catch us both!"

==#==

The ride back to Starling City was silent, after Merlyn curtly told her he only wanted to be dropped off at Merlyn Global instead of a doctor or hospital. Typical.

Felicity must have opened her mouth at least twenty times, the question on the tip of her tongue, Did you trigger an earthquake in Thailand? But what answer could he give? What if he said yes? That would make him a mass murderer, a man who didn't deserve to live.

What if he said no? Would she believe him? Or did she already believe he was a mass murderer? If so, why the hell was she helping him now? No, it could have been a coincidence, a natural disaster. Merlyn could have had nothing to do with it.

Did she believe that? That other little coincidence with the memory sticks wouldn't allow her to. Which led her back to giving a lift to a mass murderer. What was she doing? But, dammit, he'd helped Oliver rescue Laurel! So was he an evil villain or a hero?

Which led her back to the brink of asking the question all over again. One answer, and she'd know.

But knowing would change everything.

She dropped him off where he directed. She didn't know what to say in parting, so she figured a respectful silence would suffice. She turned the wheel to drive away.

"Wait." Merlyn gripped the lower edge of the window and leaned down, but he didn't meet her gaze. "I had an opportunity tonight to tell Ms. Lance that she is a hero. I don't know if I will ever have another chance to speak with you, so I want you to know..." Now he looked her in the eye. "You are also a hero of this city. The work you do is important. Stay true to your convictions."

Felicity gaped a moment. She jammed her brain back into gear, to thank him for the compliment, or to stammer a modest denial, but he was gone, neither wanting nor needing a reply, apparently.

She swallowed and felt a surge of emotion welling up. She blinked and rubbed at her eye, then turned to drive home.

==#==

Laurel heard the police outside, surrounding the barn, checking the bodies, demanding anyone inside come out with their hands up. "In here!" she yelled, Oliver a weight growing heavier on her legs. "We need an ambulance!"

Her father was the first to burst in, of course, his partner on his heels, gun drawn. "Laurel!" He ran to her side. "Get a medic in here!" Hilton turned and ran back out. "Are you hurt?" Quentin tried to hug her and look her over all at once. "Baby, did he hurt you? Are you okay?"

"I- no- I'm fine. How are you even here?"

"You think I'd stay at my desk when we got the call you'd been kidnapped?" He stopped a moment and looked down at Oliver. He scowled. "So you were the Vigilante all along!"

"I'm not...," Oliver mumbled weakly.

"Arrest him!" Lance barked.

"Daddy, no!"

But Hilton had returned and blocked the entry of more officers to let the EMT's through. "This man needs medical attention," one scolded Lance.

"He's dangerous, and he needs to be cuffed."

Laurel yanked at his arm. "Dad, he's not the Vigilante."

"Come on, Laurel! This place is littered with bodies stuck full of green arrows, and who do I find in the middle, but Oliver Queen, the original prime suspect? I know you want to protect him-"

"I saw him," she insisted. "I talked to him." Both she and her father had to move aside as the EMT's got to work. "It wasn't Oliver. He left."

"Did you get a good look at him?"

"No. Tall, dark, and hooded," she snapped in ire at her father's ingrained police training.

Lance went outside. "Set up a cordon around the perimeter. The Vigilante could still be out there."

"Dad!" Laurel stomped after him. "He saved my life!"

"I'm not ungrateful. I'm not," he insisted when she glared. "But this vigilantism has to end."

"That's like saying heroism has to end." She turned away and went back to Oliver's side.

==#==

Malcolm brushed down his re-donned suit, trying to resume his business persona. Shojunchinyo were going to be even harder to impress after his little bailout. He didn't regret it, but it could have come at a better time.

He stepped out of the elevator, finger-combing his hair, and noticed the hall lights were down, and the receptionist's desk vacant. Were the business delegates still here? He had no sense of how much time had passed. He headed towards his office.

The door opened, and Tommy came out, frowning at his phone. He looked up, startled. "Dad!" He came over, pocketing the phone, worry on his face. "What happened? Is Grandma okay? Uncle Tom?"

"Easy, Tommy," he said, his mind racing. That was one bald and very thin lie he'd told on his way out. "Everyone's fine," he insisted. "It was just a false alarm." And hopefully Tommy wouldn't ask for any details right now.

Relief washed over Tommy's frame. "Oh, thank God."

"What's happening here? The Shojunchinyo-?"

"Yes, they're still here. Catherine and I have been entertaining them."

It was Malcolm's turn to be relieved, then confused. "Neither one of you can speak Japanese."

"Well, Catherine has a tourist phrasebook, and... yeah I think that's what's been amusing them the most." Tommy rolled his eyes at his father's clear dismay. "Come on. Seriously, I called up Izataki Sozei and paid the chef an exorbitant sum to do an instant catering gig. We've been wining and dining them, and Catherine's phrasebook for 'where are the restrooms?' brilliantly handled the job."

Malcolm didn't know whether to laugh at Tommy's humor, or cry in dismay. It would be funny if Merlyn Global weren't on the verge of death. "I've got to talk to them." He moved to brush past Tommy, but Tommy stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Uh, Dad, how do I put this delicately? You need a shower."

Malcolm deflated. Of course, his clothes were clean enough, if a tad rumpled from being on the floor. But after all that running around, mad motorcycle chases, adrenaline bursts, being shot... yeah, he would need a shower. There was a shower in his private washroom, but that was in his office, and he'd have to go past the delegates to get to it. That wouldn't do. He was at a loss.

Tommy studied his look for a moment, then clapped him firmly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing!"

He led Malcolm into his own office, and to the washroom there. It was roomy, but didn't have a shower. "Take off your shirt," Tommy directed him. "Wash up in the sink."

He took the jacket out and draped it over a chair, then returned for the shirt. Malcolm got out of it quickly, hiding the scars on his forearm from his son. Tommy took the shirt, then frowned at the undershirt still covering various other scars, as well as some new bruises. "Geeze, Dad; didn't those go out of style back in Grandpa's day?" He gestured for Malcolm to chuck it off, then scooted him aside to dig in the under-sink cabinet.

Malcolm was hesitant, but had little choice. He pulled the shirt off and dropped it on the commode lid. Tommy grabbed whatever he was looking for and scurried out.

Quickly, Malcolm doused the rag and sponged off, then dried himself with the towel, his stomach knotting in worry. The bruises could be explained by the shooting the other night, but what would Tommy say about his scars? How could he explain them? Tell him they're from fencing. He doesn't know the first thing about fencing; he'll believe that!

Malcolm clutched the towel in his left hand, pressed down between his side and his arm, praying Tommy wouldn't see the self-inflicted scars. There was no explaining those. He nudged the door further open with his foot.

Tommy held the shirt up and was spraying it. "Febreze," he crowed triumphantly, "the bachelor's best friend!" He flapped the shirt once or twice, then took a sniff. "Ah, fresh linen scent in a can!" With a grin, he brought the shirt over. As he looked at his father, his face took on a curious expression. His brows slowly rose.

Malcolm braced himself.

"Geeze, Dad, you are ripped."

Malcolm blinked.

"Man, I got to get myself down to the MG gym."

"Well, active sports tend to have that side effect," Malcolm finally managed. He took the proffered shirt and ducked back into the washroom to put it on.

Moments later, scars (and totally ripped muscles) once more concealed, he emerged and slipped into the jacket Tommy held out for him. He put on his tie while Tommy set the creases and brushed off imaginary lint.

"And every girl's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man," Tommy said, with an approving grin at the ensemble.

"ZZ Top?" Malcolm asked with a quirked brow. "Aren't they 'old'?"

"Not old, classic! Motley Crue is old!"

Malcolm did chuckle, then, with a fond smile. There was nothing team Merlyn couldn't handle when father and son worked together. "Let's go land us a big Japanese fish."

"Now that they're stuffed and happy, this will be a breeze!"

==#==

"I was on my way to CNRI," Oliver said slowly. It had been an hour or two to be transported to the hospital, patched up, and doped up with painkillers. He was drifting, but the police wanted a statement. "When I saw... I saw them... they took Laurel. I... yelled." He rubbed his face, trying to blend reality with his fabrication. "Then I... the Hood Guy. He was there. In an alley. With a bike. I... he said... I needed to drive so he could shoot."

"He just happened to be there?" Lance asked.

Oliver shrugged. "I dunno. I was in a panic. I didn't ask anything, I just did what needed to be done."

"Did you notice anything about him, or the bike, that could identify him?"

"I don't know. I didn't care. I only care about... 'bout... Laurel." He faked drifting off to sleep, and the nurse dutifully shooed the detective out. Laurel remained, silently at his side, brushing a tendril of hair from his temple.

Oliver hadn't wanted so much of the pain meds, but damn if they weren't effective. His body felt wrapped in a warm, fuzzy cocoon, and his leg slowly pulsed, like the ebb and flow of the tide.

He, however, couldn't actually drift off. The feeling of safety, combined with the helpless floating feeling, triggered his survival instincts. His mind kept wandering back to the island. Flashes of danger. Glimpses from the corners of his tired eyes of figures, of Shado. She had her back turned to him. He thought he heard Slade's voice, drifting in and out like the dead man's ghost.

His mother came in to see him, with Thea. Felicity arrived a little later, lurking awkwardly at the fringe of the close family gathering. They bolstered him with their anchoring normalcy.

Then he did finally succumb to the lure of the deep black sea of sleep.

==#==

Laurel got home from the hospital late, and was trying to wind down. She didn't think she would sleep tonight. And if she came in late for work tomorrow, who would blame her?

The phone rang, and she went to get it, worried it was the hospital calling about Oliver. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Tommy?"

"I only just saw on the news... Are you okay?" He sounded worried, concerned for her safety and well-being. When he was in love with her - in love, as opposed to making a score - he had always been attentive, his thoughts on her. Who was she fooling? He was still in love with her.

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied.

"Being freaking kidnapped? And you're fine?"

She had to smile at his outraged tone. "You should see the other guys." She hadn't given up without a fight, and one guy wouldn't be walking on his knee any time soon. Or, well... none of them would, since the Vigilante had killed them all. She shook that thought off. Now was not the time to be stressing over that, and what she truly felt about it.

Tommy chuckled lightly, the sound barely picked up by the phone. "Listen," he said, turning serious, "I know the news is saying Oliver was there with the Vigilante, but you must know the truth now. Don't you?"

"What truth?"

"Oliver is the Vigilante."

Laurel sighed to herself. "No, he's not."

"Laurel, seriously? He was right there! Right there! How can you think it was anybody else?"

"Because I saw Oliver, and the Vigilante. And yes, in the same place at the same time."

"That can't be right."

"I know what I saw, Tommy." Perhaps his continuing love was making him go too far. "Why are you so insistent on pinning this on Oliver?"

"Because I know what I saw. Do you think I trusted some stranger, some hooded mystery man, to perform a homemade blood transfusion on my dad? He showed me who he was. It was Oliver."

"Well, I can't explain that," she said skeptically.

"Are you sure this other guy was the real Vigilante?"

"Yes," she said in exasperation. She saw him. She spoke to him!

"Because he has an accomplice. The cops even admitted it."

"Yes, the copycat archer. But he was killed. Tommy, there's no other explanation. Oliver is not the Vigilante."

"There is another explanation," he insisted. "Ask him. Just ask Oliver, straight to his face, if he is the Vigilante."

What would Oliver say? That he wasn't, of course. Unless he was lying to her. She shook her head. What if it was Tommy who was lying to her? His story made sense; he wouldn't trust just anyone with his father's life. But if he had known this since last year, wouldn't he have said something by now? Tommy was a nice guy, but he was capable of lying to get what he wanted. The truth was, he still wanted her.

"You won't, will you?" he said into the silence on the line. "I knew you wouldn't listen, which is why I didn't even bother trying to tell you before. You just don't want to see."

She set her jaw, her stubborn streak taking over. She didn't like people telling her what to do, or what she would or would not do. "I'll look into it, Tommy, but I don't promise anything." It was all circumstantial evidence. That's what the courts would say. "I'm not going to accuse Oliver to his face."

Tommy sighed in defeat. "All right. Just... Laurel, be careful."

She clicked off, and held the phone in her hand, knuckles against her chin. Count Vertigo had thought the Vigilante was her boyfriend. Was the Vigilante singling her out? Surely, he'd saved other people. There was that girl that had been kidnapped. But this was the second time Laurel had been kidnapped, and then saved by the Vigilante. Also, he came to her aid, albeit indirectly, in other cases. And when she needed help, he was there. When she needed help, she could reach him, and he never turned her away.

Could that be the truth? Despite what she knew?

If so... how could Oliver lie to her, so convincingly, so consistently?

She put the phone back on the charger, and rubbed her arms. She would have to uncover the truth. The unbiased truth.

==X==

End Notes:

I'm not trying to make Laurel look stupid. The opposite, in fact. Okay, for dramatic purposes, it's better for me if she doesn't know that Oliver is the Vigilante. Yet. :X But, honestly... she knows what she saw. Though what she saw was... mostly her seeing what she expected to see. A dark, shadowy, hooded figure with a bow. Talking with a voice-changer.

And the Count, talking about the Vigilante being her boyfriend? Really, he had no idea who the Vigilante is, let alone that it's Oliver Queen. Or that Laurel's boyfriend is Oliver Queen. He thinks the Vigilante is her boyfriend! Uh... okay, so, yeah, technically, he's correct... But he doesn't know that! He could be totally off his rocker. Oh, right. HE IS!

Anyway, Laurel is not going to take even Tommy's word. She'll look at the evidence, she'll do her own investigation. For now, though... She's pretty sure he's not. Mostly pretty sure. Mostly almost totally sure. Mostly. :X